December 30, 2007
Damsel in Distress.
Elaine was not having a good day. She and her father had been on the road to Camelot to finally – finally! – introduce Elaine to the court, when they’d been set upon by a band of robbers. Now Elaine’s father and their men were dead, their belongings stolen and Elaine’s handmaid taken, and Elaine herself was gagged and bound securely to a tree.
She supposed she should be grateful that her mother’s charms against injury and the unseemly lusts of men held, but after four hours in the rain, with the coarse rope chafing her skin and the gag cutting into the corners of her mouth, Elaine really couldn’t bring herself to be anything other than angry.
What made her even angrier was that here she was, tied up within sight of the road, and two different people had simply passed her by. Okay, so the first traveler had been a drunkard, and quite probably hadn’t even seen her, but the other had been a knight, curse it, and knights were supposed to help.
Angry tears prickled at Elaine’s eyes, which only added to her frustration. She was fourteen, damn it all, and a lady now. She should be calm and composed in all situations.
And of course someone would choose now to come up the road. It was bad enough that whoever-it-was would see her tied up, they didn’t have to see her crying too. Elaine sighed around the gag and glared at the road. This day was just going from bad to worse.
The redhead who walked by had clearly been caught off guard by the rain, and was just as clearly unhappy about it. He walked with a slow but ground-eating pace, squelching along in the mud and muttering imprecations under his breath. As he drew even with Elaine, she caught a glimpse of the badge on his tunic, and her eyes widened.
Another knight! And yet, he too kept walking. He didn’t even look at Elaine.
That was it. Elaine was beyond angry now, and threw all pretense of gentle breeding to the wind. She threw herself forward against her bonds, snarling around the gag.
The man stopped dead, then turned his head in her direction. Sweeping his walking stick in an arc before him, he stepped off the road and picked his way towards Elaine.
Elaine, surprised, fell silent.
The man stopped. “If there’s someone out there, you are going to have to make some noise,” he said quietly, in the manner of someone who’d said the same thing too often.
Elaine gasped. The knight was blind! She began cursing herself for a fool as loudly as she could.
The knight stopped in front of her, laughing softly. “I understood about half of that,” he said, extending a hand. “Pardon my rudeness.”
His hand hit her nose, and Elaine bit back another curse.
“Sorry,” said the man, trailing his fingers gently down Elaine’s face. They stilled at the gag, then followed it to the knot under her ear. “Hold still,” he said, and drew his knife. With one swift movement, he cut the cloth, then tugged it from Elaine’s head.
“Thank you,” Elaine rasped. She coughed.
“You’re welcome,” said the knight, running his hand down her arm. The ropes received the same treatment as the gag.
Elaine staggered, clutching at her rescuer’s arm. He sheathed his knife, then grasped her shoulders to steady her.
“Let’s get you out of the rain,” he said, turning towards the road. “Unfortunately, the nearest inn’s still a bit of a walk.”
“I can make it,” Elaine croaked. “My name is Elaine,” she added, straightening out her sodden dress.
“And I am Mordred,” said the knight, ducking under a dripping pine branch.
Elaine gaped, then trudged after him, noting to her dismay that the sun was already setting. But lights were being lit up the hill a way, and Elaine saw that they did not have so far to go as she had feared.
Together, the bedraggled pair headed into the rain-dampened sunset.
