Chapter 5

Rowena was fully aware that Sir Roland was not in the least bit happy about the appearance of the huge tattooed Moor at their camp. He was astute enough to see at a glance that she had been forcefully taken and broken in by the tall, dark stranger just like the Gypsy woman had predicted.

In a sense she regretted her shameful behavior with the stranger but in all honesty the direct young girl had to admit it she had it to do all over again, she would do it the exact same way. The good friar gave her one of those looks that was filled with unspoken accusation but she let it all run off her conscience like rain off a duck’s back.

They moved the hidden camp that night because the incident on the road proved that there were a number of cutpurses still roaming the area preying on travelers with evil intent. There seemed to be an influx of them ever since the Crusade had ended and female travelers were constantly fearful of rape in the woods and alongside the dirt trails that constituted the backroads of travel in perilous times. It had gotten so bad that the travelers on foot often banded together and presented strength of numbers, if not in brute force.

Rowena had little fear of rape because she was fully experienced in both blade and staff and could handle almost any situation unless faced with overwhelming numbers to subdue her and hold her down for the dirty deed. Most of the reported rapes were usually just a single male or a dual partnership of perverted evil-doers. It was seldom that an entire gang would victimize a lone female traveler. Still, it was commonplace enough in the Holy Land and the surviving female Pilgrims had many tales of brutality on the road to the holy shrines of Christianity.

She had to admit that when the returned Pilgrims and nuns repeated the stories around a campfire it would make her horny and she would rush to find Sir Roland to gain the succor of his certain passion.

Fortunately, her new friend the Moor was attuned enough to select an unattached female from the camp followers and the camp dwellers were amused at the sound of her screams of delight wafting back to the fire from the darkness. Rowena had to admit she was a bit jealous, but she was careful not to let Sir Roland suspect her hidden desires.

It would be far too embarrassing to reveal her dalliance with the Moor because such matters were considered not appropriate for ladies of higher breeding. What was entirely acceptable for the common street females was considered a stain on the reputation of an educated lady even in times of trouble.

The lady Rowena already had a strike against her for repairing to the forest in grave disobedience to her guardian watchers. She had consorted with the disreputable knight Sir Roland who was under suspension for his crimes against humanity in the Holy Land and her friendship with the defrocked Friar was looked askance by the rumor-mongers in the town square. There was even the rumor that he was a fallen-away Knights Templar with so many sins in his past that any priest with an ounce of common sense would refuse to hear his confession. She was ashamed that she had given the holy man some sampling of her favors on a night that was both cold and lonely but fortunately, he knew his place and did not pester her for more of the same.

Sir Roland was in fine mettle and worked her body slowly before relinquishing his creamy deposits in the vicinity of her high born womanhood. It was fine with her because she was most definitely exhausted after the coupling with the mysterious Moor and had no desire to be tested a second time so soon. The others in the camp were already abed and she hoped the Moor would be gone in the morning because she was ashamed to look him in the eye after her dreadful behavior in the forest.

With the early morning’s light, a small group of farmers and sheep herders from the higher regions came into their camp and asked for water and some bread. Since they had plenty of both, they shared it with a blessing on all present within hearing distance. The friar was on his clerical high horse quoting psalm and verse, sometimes even accurately, and dispensing indulgences for a single small coin more out of habit than in a concerted effort to scrape money from the travelers.

His little wooden crosses distributed with a little tale of religious piety were made in the Gypsy camp and they were cheap even though the price was doubled. Rowena had one for her own use and she found it comforting in times of strife.

Lady Rowena collected eggs from the farmer’s wife and prepared breakfast for Sir Roland knowing his appetite always turned to food in the morning unless there was a convenient maiden to consort with under the covers. The tea was hot and flavored with the honey from the forest hiding place carefully removed from the searching paws of the harmless bears that roamed with no interference from their human co-residents.

She had a sense that everything was slowing down this rainy morning, but knew it was just her mood and not the true case of the actual situation. The gaggle of travelers chattered and washed their bodies in the nearby river a goodly distance downstream from the camp. The farmers checked their wares and their stock and the herders counted their sheep to make certain none were missing. There were some signs of wolves in the area, but thus far they had kept their distance from the humans in the forest and on the trail and had not tried to cull some silly sheep from the herd being taken to market for shearing and sale to local establishments for the sale of meals to travelers. They were willing to pay more than the village folk who could hardly afford an entire animal for their family.

It was apparent that the farmers and the other travelers were interested in completing their transactions before the arrival of the Sheriff and his tax collectors looking for their share of the transaction. The faster the farm folks moved from place to place the less tax they had to pay to keep the higher-ups in luxury and their ability to live their lives in style.

Lady Rowena was happy that apparently the big Moor had already left the camp and had taken his female companion from the night before with him. She concentrated on sharpening her arrowheads, all carefully carved from animal bone and coming to a point with increased accuracy and usually fatal results. Sir Roland was tending to a series of small wounds he had received in their last escapade. The poor man’s body was a collection of wounds acquired over the passage of time and the dangerous surroundings.

Rowena had some of the potion she had concocted to reduce the angry red look of the infected areas and gently applied the remainder to the entire area of his skin. They sometimes moved fast and rough in the forest and it would be better to take care of such matters instead of leaving them to God’s will and ignoring them like the Friar often emphasized as the true path to salvation with his superficial hypocritical benevolence.

They watched the travelers all move with steady intent like a string of ants heading into the crossroads market. It was strange that they were so silent but they had nothing to talk about and no news to deliver. The absence of young ones was one of the reasons for the lack of chatter, but it wasn’t that factor alone, it was a pervading sense of impending doom and general uneasiness like a shroud of discontent that filled the air around them.

Rowena scoured the thick clumps of trees all around them and saw no danger.

The three of them moved in the opposite direction because they had business with Jeremy, the metal worker, who had promised completion of repairs to Sir Roland’s armor posthaste. His defensive shell had suffered some damage at the river crossing when they were surprised by a pack of bandits searching for easy pickings. They had considered a female, an old man and a friar as weak links in the food chain and simple victims to be used as desired. There were a half dozen of them and only the youngest one managed to hobble away missing parts of his limbs. That was the reason for Sir Roland’s armor plate needing repair and why they had taken up temporary residence at the forest camp. Hopefully, Master Jeremy’s promise would be as true as his skillful methods with all metals in need of repair.