The Order of the Lily by Catherine A. Wilson Page B

feet as her hood was wrenched from her head.
    â€˜And just where do you suppose you are going, Lady d’Armagnac ? Not to your lover, I am thinking.’ Salisbury’s hand smothered Catherine’s mouth as he dragged her backwards through the crowd. ‘If you are so desperate to leave, perhaps you might like to accompany me?’ His horse was tethered by the outer wall and bore two leather travelling bags. Salisbury drew her closer, his lips brushing her ear. ‘One scream, one whimper and that will be the last sound you ever make.’ He placed his fingers around her throat and forced her back against his stallion.
    A slight movement behind was his only warning as a crushing weight buckled his knees and he fell.
    Simon caught the first blow upon his chin but landed several of his own. He grasped a handful of Salisbury’s hair and banged the man’s head against the ground, over and over, unable to stop himself from wanting to beat his enemy sense-less. Salisbury’s body went limp and Simon let go, aware of the incessant voice in his right ear. Catherine!
    Simon scrambled to his feet and gathered her into his arms. ‘Are you … injured?’
    â€˜Everything is well.’
    He nodded, the lines around his mouth relaxing, but he did not smile.
    â€˜I think we should be away,’ interrupted a giant of a man, who turned twice in quick succession, to peer in awe at Catherine.
    â€˜Agreed. Assist Lady Holland to her mount. I will join you as planned,’ Simon instructed.
    The huge man lifted her effortlessly atop a mare and was soon beside her on his own horse. Guiraud and Gabriel mounted up, neither man looking in her direction. Instead, they watched the crowd.
    Simon removed Salisbury’s saddle bags and handed them to Gabriel. He untied the stallion and slapped it on the rump. It bolted into the crowd as Simon melted into the shadows.
    Catherine peered around her, hoping to find the dark-skinned face of Tariq, but he was nowhere to be seen.
    Gillet’s comrades drew her mount closer to the drawbridge, yet hung back beside a water trough, watching and waiting. A sudden eruption of noise and flame engulfed the centre of the mêlée as a cart exploded. Panic quickly spread through the entertainers, scattering men and women in all directions. Smoke filled the bailey. Catherine’s horse reared, almost dislodging her, as small, fiery particles rained down, smouldering holes in her cloak. Mouse pulled at the mare’s reins and they all sped through the archway, blatantly disregarding the commands shouted at them to halt.
    Simon appeared on the other side of the sluice, his face and hands blackened and his doublet smoking. The party slowed to allow Simon to mount his stallion then they headed towards the city gates and into the open countryside.
    They did not draw rein until they reached the outskirts of Leubringhen. The sun was setting and a light rain began to fall. Simon cast his eyes over the men but his gaze settled on Catherine. She had not complained, even though she was not comfortable on a horse. Her hair hung limp around her face and she attempted to smile at him with bluish lips.
    â€˜We can rest soon. I promise,’ he offered and she nodded as though having heard, yet he was unsure whether she was really listening to him.
    â€˜May I beg a moment of privacy, amongst those trees?’ She blushed.
    â€˜Can you not wait?’
    She shook her head.
    Simon assisted her to the ground and watched as she rushed towards the cover of the bushes. Catherine attended to her ablutions, then hurried back to the men who were gathered around her mare. The largest of the three inhaled sharply, his eyes scrutinising her face.
    â€˜I cannot believe that you are not Mademoiselle Cécile.’
    â€˜Yes, you are most alike,’ added Guiraud.
    â€˜I believe identical, oui?’ added the blonde of the trio. Catherine was mesmerised by his features, so fair