Grant What I Wish

Grant What I Wish - Chapter 23. Two Knights' Endgame

Grant What I Wish

Chapter 23. Two Knights' Endgame

Your old life was a frantic running

from silence.

-Rumi

France

1196

Although evening rapidly approached, Guy decided against making a fire. It had been a damp and overcast day, which had grown damper and gloomier as they progressed further into the depths of the forest. While the men longed for a hot meal and a few moments to warm themselves at a fire's edge, all were well aware of those in pursuit. Smoke spiraling up from even the smallest blaze could quickly bring their enemy down upon their heads.

The entire time they had ridden that day, Guy had the unsettling feeling that their pursuers followed close behind-that they knew where he and his men were, and would do whatever was necessary to intercept him. Therefore, Guy continued to press his compatriots to their limit, passing up on the mid-day break and meal, insisting they ride until darkness would not allow them to continue further. Even now, he peered suspiciously into the gloom about him, feeling a strange prickling of foreboding along his spine.

Archer dropped down on the forest floor next to his brother, leaning back against a fallen log to support his weary frame. "What is bothering you, Guy?" he asked in a soft voice.

Guy shook his head, as if to dispel his fears. "Nothing-some silly fancy, I suppose. I can't help but wonder how far behind us Prince John's men ride."

Archer grimaced. "I would guess at least a good days' ride, but I fear they may have gained some ground yesterday. I am certain that fear of their lordship's wrath compels them to travel day and night." Glancing about, he added with some degree of satisfaction, "Not that it would be easy to traverse these woods at night. I have seldom seen such growth of trees and underbrush! All hereabouts will soon be black as the pit of Hell."

He stared down at Gisbourne thoughtfully, noting the drawn brow, the deep line between his eyes, and the set mouth, all of which bespoke concern. Funny how, in the few weeks that they travelled together, Archer had grown able to read Guy's expressions. He had also come to respect his half-brother for his honesty, fortitude, and determination to complete this task, even though it kept him apart from the woman he loved.

A wave of affection passed through Archer, and he cuffed Guy on the shoulder. "All will be well, you will see. We will complete this accursed mission, and I will soon be on my way to England-while you will be off to the desert, if I do not mistake."

A fleeting smile passed over Guy's features, and was as quickly gone. His hope of rejoining Marian was too fragile to contemplate, let alone discuss. The bleak truth was that he missed Marian to the point of despair, and feared he might not make his way back to her, should things go awry.

Their last night together stood fresh in his memory, and had sustained him during the hard trip to London, the dash to the coast, the rough voyage across the channel to Normandy, and the subsequent race to Aquitaine. He had realized all along that Prince John's men were close behind him. Or would be once his spies ascertained the game afoot, for Guy carried upon his person a game-shifting document that would shake England to its very core when its contents were revealed.

However, this mission was not foremost in his mind. Instead, he found himself longing for Marian, craving her as he would food or drink. It was bitterly amusing to recall that he had been reunited with her but a month, yet that month had been long enough to permanently imprint her upon his flesh and soul.