MATHEW, FERDY, A LBERT, and William were seated at a corner table in The Wolf And Lamb when Mowbray pushed through the tavern door, followed closely by his retinue of twenty Royal Guards and a handful of rough looking men whom Mathew and his friends had overheard the foppish nobleman refer to as his mercenaries.
While Mowbray arranged their lodgings with Robert, the newcomers spread throughout the common room, their numbers quickly filling every available space.
He and his friends had gathered at the tavern to share their theories about the healer.
Did they believe she was a witch, or merely another innocent victim of the witch frenzy that was beginning to sweep across the land?
At the appearance of the plainly featured woman in the finely tailored dress, every man in the room fell silent, all conversations ceased abruptly as they turned to stare at her. After a brief appraisal, however, they dismissed her as unremarkable and returned their attention to their glasses of ale.
Mathew watched Mowbray cross the room and take the noblewoman by the arm, escorting her to the horse waiting in the street.
After helping her into the saddle, he mounted his own horse, and together they rode off, disappearing into the noonday crowds gathering in the square.
After their departure, Mathew motioned for his friends to finish their drinks and leave the overcrowded tavern.
He led them back to his forge, where they could discuss their plans without fear of being overheard by the Royal Guards or the mercenaries Mowbray had brought with him.
Mathew knew that what they had agreed to do would not sit well with others within earshot. If their plans to help the healer escape Johnas were discovered.
Ferdy, Albert, and William adjourned to the back area of Mathew's forge where he stored his raw material to keep them as dry as possible.
Though the shed was enclosed, it stood within earshot of Mathew's residence, where Kara and the children might hear them if they spoke too loudly.
The group hastily settled the details of their plan before quietly dispersing, each man making his way home to await the agreed upon hour.
Mathew greeted his wife and children as he stepped into his home, silently thanking the gods for the hundredth time that all three of his children had inherited their mother's beauty rather than his own misshapen features.
Whenever he watched Kara going about her daily chores, he still marveled that she had chosen him over the many far more handsome men who had sought her hand.
And even after all these years, he could not help but wonder why.
Kara was a handsome woman, standing five feet six inches tall. Though considered tall for a woman, she seemed almost diminutive beside Mathew's heavily muscled build and towering seven foot two inch frame. Her long chestnut hair was neatly braided and wound into a tight bun at the back of her head, secured with the iron pins Mathew had forged with his own hands, presenting them to her on their wedding night.
Her deep brown eyes sparkled in the glow of the hearth as she prepared the family's midday meal.
She had once shyly admitted to Mathew, that as she lay upon their wedding bed she had been afraid he might crush her, but he had quickly put those fears to rest when he had settled her upon his erect manhood letting her take control of their pleasure.
Knowing that he had feared the same, only made her love him all the more for it.
Mathew knew that Kara had never cared about his misshapen face.
She saw past the scars and imperfections, seeing only the love reflected in his eyes whenever their gaze met.
As he and his family ate their meal, Mathew worried about Kara and the children's fate should anything happen to him if he and his friends' night excursion went amiss. Mathew knew that if Johnas discovered their plans, he and his friends would either be imprisoned in his dungeon-like cellar.
Or more likely, in his desire for revenge, be sent to the Tower where they would lose their heads for the crime of aiding a witch to escape what Johnas saw as his own personal justice.
Before departing on his mission, Mathew wrote a letter to Kara explaining what he intended to do. He placed his purse, containing every coin he possessed, atop the note as a final provision for her and the children. Then, moving quietly through the darkened house, he kissed Kara and the children gently upon their foreheads as they slept before slipping out into the cold night air.
Ferdy, Albert, and William arrived at the meeting place shortly before Mathew.
They spoke in hushed voices as they made their way across the open field and into the protective shadows of the trees.
They had decided to travel as far into the forest as they could before dawn, stopping only if they discovered a hiding place large enough to conceal the body of a grown woman.
Ferdy glanced nervously between the trees as they ventured deeper into the unfamiliar reaches of the forest, searching for any sign of the crimson eyed demon he and Albert had encountered along the riverbank. He noticed Albert doing the same.
Both men carefully picked their way forward, avoiding fallen branches and the puddles left behind by the recent storm.
With every step, the darkness seemed to grow thicker around them, and neither man could shake the feeling that something might be watching from among the trees.
Unable to use torches for fear of being spotted moving through the dense trees by any villagers who might still be awake at such a late hour, their progress was reduced to a crawl.
Mathew signaled for them to stop, pressing a finger to his lips as he caught sight of a ramshackle structure built beneath an outcropping of rocks. He whispered for the others to remain where they were while he slowly moved forward to investigate.
Approaching the structure, Mathew moved carefully, taking care not to step on any dry twigs that might betray his presence. When he reached the open doorway, he peered into the small interior quietly calling out Eldra's name, assuring her that he was a friend and not a foe.
When no voice answered from the darkness, Mathew took a deep breath before ducking his head and entered the dwelling.
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he began to make out the small details of the room's interior. Careful not to draw unwanted attention, he used the flint and steel he always carried in his pocket to light a small fire in the hearth.
As the flames grew and illuminated more of the room, he noticed the disorder of the belongings scattered throughout the space.
Whoever had lived there had departed with great haste.
Mathew stuck his misshapen head through the open doorway and motioned for the others to join him, and as they moved cautiously about the small room, they noticed the belongings of both a man and a woman scattered throughout the dwelling.
Ferdy picked up a bottle containing a dark liquid.
Cautiously pulling out the cork, he took a careful sniff and immediately recognized the scent of camphor.
Replacing the cork, he held the bottle up for the others to see.
"I saw several bottles of this in the healer's cottage.
I think the woman was here, at least for a while," he said.
"But how do you explain the men's clothing, Ferdy?" Albert asked. "How the hell should I know, Albert? I ain't no seer. Maybe they belong to the phantom of the forest," Ferdy replied with a snide grin.
Mathew moved between the two men taking the glass bottle in his large hand, and removing the cork gave it a cautious sniff, before setting on the table.
"It smells like a tincture my Kara bought from the healer when our Rory had a chest ailment a few months ago," he stated. "I think you're right, Ferdy. The healer woman has been here, and by the looks of things, she wasn't alone. Whoever lived here, they aren't here now. The question is, where did they go?"
He turned to find Ferdy, Albert, and William staring at him expectantly.
"What do we do now, Mathew?" William asked.
"Search for them until dawn breaks," Mathew replied simply.
They left the shack behind, moving in the direction of the meadow. Mathew could only hope that the disorder they had discovered inside the dwelling meant that, if Eldra had been staying there, she and the man who had lived with her had chosen to flee to another village some distance away.
Mathew's hopes were dashed though as he and his companions potted the cottage of the elderly couple and saw Eldra step outside to gather firewood.
"Get down!" Mathew ordered.
"Damn, that's the witch," Albert said aloud before Mathew clamped a hand over his mouth. His enormous hand was so large that it nearly covered Albert's entire face.
"Shhh." Mathew hissed into his ear, pulling him behind a gnarled apple tree at the edge of the old couple's property.
Albert clawed at Mathew's hand, his vision growing dim as he struggled to breathe, certain he might pass out, as the men watched silently, Eldra slipped back inside the cottage.
Only after she had disappeared from sight did they rise from their hiding place and begin their retreat, making their way back into the safety of the forest's shadows.
"Jesus, Mathew, you almost smothered me with that big paw of yers!" Albert exclaimed once they were safely back among the trees.
"Serves you right, you fool," Mathew retorted. "You need to learn how to keep yer bloody gob shut."
Mathew glared down at Albert, fury twisting his distorted features.
"Alright, alright. From now on, I'll keep my bloody mouth shut. What do we do now?" Albert asked.
"What do we do now, what do we do now?" Mathew repeated. "Jesus, Albert, you sound like a Magpie." He scolded the man with an irritated shake of his head. "Let me think for a moment, for Christ's sake!"
The others shuffled their feet through the autumn leaves as they impatiently awaited his decision. Mathew glanced at the lightening sky overhead before deciding to call off the expedition for the night.
After all, they had located Eldra, which had been their primary objective, and since she did not appear to be in immediate danger of leaving anytime soon, Mathew knew he could return later that day to warn her and her man of the approaching search party led by Johnas.
For now, all he wanted was to return home before Kara awoke and discovered he was gone.
He did not have the strength left to face her fury if she learned what he had been up to.
* * *
Mowbray stood beneath the early morning sun, his back straight and rigid, his figure resembling a gilded statue as he waited for Johnas to join him in the back garden of the townhouse. There was much to discuss before the midday mission commenced.
Inside, Mary sat beside the fire in the study, absorbed in her book, unaware of the fate that awaited her. The quiet crackling of the flames offered her an illusion of peace, a brief moment of false safety before the events to come.
Mowbray turned at the sound of Johnas's approach. The heavy man emerged into the garden, breathing hard beneath the strain of his own weight. With a weary groan, he lowered his bloated frame onto one of the wooden benches that lined the garden's perimeter.
Mowbray remained standing, towering over him.
He said nothing at first, his posture, his silence, and the cold authority in his gaze were enough to remind Johnas exactly who held the power between them. As Johnas sat huffing and wiping at his brow, Mowbray looked down upon him, allowing the imbalance between them to speak for itself.
"If you wish to find the woman you seek, then I must be given full authority over the mission. I and my men shall search the forest tonight, and every night hence, until our task is complete. Meanwhile, you and Lady Mary shall remain confined to the house as a precaution. Do you understand me, Johnas?" Mowbray commanded.
Johnas shrank beneath the old soldier's intense stare.
Though he bristled at being given orders within the confines of his own garden, he could not deny the truth of the matter.
Mowbray possessed the experience, discipline, and resolve that he lacked.
The man before him had served the Crown bravely through countless campaigns, had faced the horrors of war, and had emerged victorious more times than not.
Johnas swallowed the bitter taste of his resentment and nodded, realizing that when it came to strategy, survival, and command, Mowbray was the stronger man.
* * *
Mathew and his friends watched as the Royal Guards and the mercenaries gathered in the village square while Mowbray doled out instructions to each group of men in preparation for their search of the forest.
He watched as several men unloaded bear traps and heavy netting from the wagons that had accompanied Mowbray's retinue from Westminster. Mathew's heart sank as he realized they intended to set traps throughout the woods for Eldra and the man who now accompanied her, whose abandoned clothing they had found at the shack the previous night.
The giant man turned to leave, intending to make his way to the old cottage by the meadow to warn Eldra about what he had witnessed, but before he had taken a single step, one of the Royal Guards came running up to him.
"Sir, I've been informed by the innkeeper that you're the village smithy. Come with me, we are in urgent need of your services," he said.
The young guard craned his neck awkwardly to look up into Mathew's distorted face, making no attempt to conceal the look of disgust that crossed his own.
Mathew reluctantly turned to follow the boy, muttering curses under his breath as they made their way to his forge.
Upon their arrival, one of the mercenaries held up an ancient pair of shackles covered in rust...or at least what Mathew hoped was only rust.
It seemed the man had misplaced the key and needed Mathew to fashion a new one before the midday's activities commenced.
The blacksmith took the shackles from the man to examine the rust colored stains more closely.
To his horror, he discovered that they were not stained with rust alone.
Dried blood was caked into the iron, and desiccated scraps of flesh still clung stubbornly to the metals surface.
Though Mathew seemed a hard man at first glance with his ruined face, and massive muscles his heart was as tender as a poets, and the sight before him caused his gorge to rise.
He thrust the shackles back into the man hands before making his way behind the shed attached to his forge to relieve himself of the breakfast Kara had prepared him that morning.
Once his stomach had emptied, Mathew drew the back of his hand across his lips, wiping away the remnants of vomit.
He took a deep breath before walking to the well in the yard, where he rinsed his mouth and spat the fouled water onto the ground.
Behind his back, the young guard and the mercenary chuckled to themselves. Neither would have dared laugh to the giant's face, but once he had fled the forge and they had heard him retching loudly behind it, they found his distress immensely amusing.
Mathew's head might have been misshapen, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing.
As he stood at the well, every snigger and mocking whisper reached his ears, his jaw tightened with barely restrained anger. Turning on his heel, he stomped back to the forge and confronted the two men as they brayed like donkeys over his misfortune.
"If ye want my help, I'd shut yer gobs if I were ye," Mathew warned the two men.
"Sorry, mate," the gruff looking mercenary, Roger Pike, said with a shrug. "I just never expected a big feller like you to be bothered by a little dried blood."
Mathew spat into the dirt at Pike's feet.
"Come back later this afternoon," he growled. "I'll have yer shackle key finished by then."
Mathew pulled his leather apron on, picking up the shackles and tossing them into the fire in his grate to burn off the remnants of the gore that cover them, his stomach still turning over, imagining the terrible fates of the people who had worn them.
As a young lad, Mathew's father had sent him off to war, wrongly believing that a monster of Mathew's size would make a fine soldier. But, much to his father's shame, Mathew had not the stomach for killing.
Though he fought bravely, laying many a man low with his battle axe, he returned home a changed man.
He withdrew into himself, haunted by what he had seen and done, until one day the old smithy saw in Mathew's powerfully muscled frame the makings of a great artist, with metal as his medium.
Old Herbert spoke with Mathew's father, who agreed almost at once.
If the boy was not destined to become a great warrior, then he could at least turn his hand to forging the weapons of war.
Unfortunately, his father had failed to realize that a village smithy was far more likely to shoe a horse or mend a plow than forge a warriors blade. Mathew toiled day and night learning his craft from Old Herbert paying no heed to the crowds that bustled around him until one day by chance he looked up from his anvil and took notice of a fair maiden with chestnut colored hair passing by on her way to market.
Kara and her friends glanced in his direction then burst out laughing.
If the ground would have opened up and swallowed Mathew at that moment he would have gladly let it, accepting his fate with no care at all. Slowly Mathew became aware that Kara began to find small excuses to visit the forge. Asking him if he could mend a damaged pot that her brother had dropped, or sharpen her mother's kitchen knives even if they did not have any need of it.
Until one day as he worked to repair yet another dented pot she asked him if he was ever going to walk out with her one evening.
Mathew nearly brought the hammer down on his thumb he had been so taken aback by what Kara had asked.
He stood like a ninny a look of disbelieving on his face.
"Have I shocked you with my boldness, Mathew?" she asked with a teasing smile. "It's only that, after all this time, you haven't so much as looked me in the eye whenever I have brought you our trade, and father is beginning to complain about all the coin he has spent on the repairs you have done for us of late."
She smiled mischievously.
"I must confess, I've grown rather weary of damaging Mother's pots just to gain your attention."
She finished with a pretty pout. Mathew was dumbfounded.
It had never even crossed his mind that Kara should be interested in his attentions.
He was too large, too awkward and frankly too ugly to have ever entertained the idea of attracting a woman as beautiful as she.
All Mathew could think to do was hand Kara the newly mended pot, and as she took it, her fingers brushed lightly against his work callused hand. "May I walk you home?" Mathew offered, a crooked smile lighting up his face as he removed his leather apron.
* * *
As he worked on the shackles, scrubbing away the years of rust and other things he dare no think about, from their surface, he thought of the first time he and Kara had coupled, to distract himself from the distasteful task at hand.
Afraid that his immense size might crush her beneath him, he had lain upon the bed, lifting her to sit astride his massive thighs, allowing her to lower herself slowly onto his erect member. Letting her take control.
He gazed at Kara's naked body, admiring the soft sway of her breasts as she rode him like a wild stallion. Her breathless moans igniting a fire deep within him.
Her chestnut hair free from its familiar bun, cascaded around her shoulders in gentle waves. She cried out loudly as she found her release moments before he found his own.
Until Kara, Mathew had never imagined that loving another could fill him with such contentment.
When the two men returned at the appointed hour, Mathew's task had been completed. The shackles gleamed in the fading light, their rust and grime scrubbed away, though no amount of polishing could erase the horrors they had witnessed.
Eager to be rid of them, he thrust the shackles and newly made key into the mercenary's hands refusing the coins the man offered in payment.
As they walked away Mathew trembled thinking about who may be the next to wear them.
* * *
After relieving himself of the formerly gore covered shackles Mathew hastened toward the cottage where Eldra and the other were staying, keeping to the shadows beneath the trees so as to remain unseen by Mowbray's men, who had already begun setting their traps throughout the forest.
His greatest concern was crossing the stretch of open meadow that lay between the woods and the old couple's cottage, there he would be exposed to any searching eyes.
As he moved silently through the forest, however, he realized the main body of Mowbray's force had not yet advanced this far, allowing him to continue unobserved.
As he approached the gate he saw a flash of movement to his left. The man struck him hard, knocking him off his feet.
Mathew lay on the damp earth his head ablaze with fire. The man who attacked him had struck him with a shovel that he still held in his hands as he stood over Mathew's pron body.
"Stay down!" Vincent growled, standing over the giant with the bloody shovel he had struck him with his hands.
"I mean ye no harm, friend," he said, raising his hands to show that he was unarmed. "I'm looking for the healer. She must be warned. Dangerous men are searching the forest for her."
Vincent looked down at the giant, his expression hard with suspicion. "How am I to know you haven't come to take her?" the man demanded. "I know who you are. You're Mathew. I saw you in Johnas's company.
You were with him at the tavern a fortnight ago."
"I was at the meeting with Johnas," Mathew admitted, "but I was never one of his followers. He hired me as a guard of the body, and I was fool enough to accept his coin."
Mathew winced as he shifted on the ground.
"Now, if ye will let me get to my feet, and off this bloody wet ground we can talk about it man to man" Mathew stated.
Vincent considered his proposition for a moment, then reached down with his hand to help Mathew to his feet, knowing if the giant of a man tried to attack him he could be at his throat before Mathew could stop him.
"How did you find us?" Vincent asked once the large man had regained his feet.
"Some friends and I found your shelter in the forest last evening. When we discovered no one inside, we continued on here." Mathew replied. "Are the old couple in the cottage? They can vouch for me. John and Maggie have known me since I was a boy."
He paused, studying the man before him, then added quietly, "I would never come here to harm her. Whatever you may have seen me doing in Johnas's company, I want no part in his hunt for Eldra."
Vincent's gaze drifted toward the freshly turned grave.
"I'm sorry, but John and Maggie are dead," Vincent said solemnly. "I found them lying together on the bed inside the cottage. I laid them to rest in the garden."
Mathew followed Vincent's gaze toward the freshly turned earth.
His heart sank at the sight of the grave, and for a moment he could find no words.
He had known John and Maggie since he was a pup.
"Damn it" he murmured. "They were good people." Mathew said with a catch in his throat.
"Look, we don't have much time. That bastard Mowbray and his men could be here at any moment. I need to speak with Eldra before it is too late."
At the mention of Mowbray's name, Vincent's eyes flared a deep, unnatural crimson.
The sudden transformation was so startling that Mathew instinctively stumbled backward several paces.
He stared at Vincent, his face paling as the full weight of what stood before him began to sink in.
"What in God's name are ye?" he demanded, his voice rising as he frantically searched the ground for anything he could use as a weapon should whatever stood before him attack again.
Hearing Mathew's raised voice, Eldra rushed from the cottage, her eyes wide with concern as she saw the giant stoop to pick up a large rock. He gripped it tightly, as though preparing to strike Vincent, his eyes burning crimson.