Chapter 1: Elizabel's Escape

France, August 9, 1342.

Carrying Lady Elizabel, the carriage rolled uncertainly through the forest.

Trapped in her wagon, the girl admired the escape plan she had only just come up with…

“Guards in heavy armor,” she thought, “fat horses and empty heads. They won't be able to follow me through this forest. By the time they find me, I'll already be where Bonifaz is waiting.”

She was encouraging herself, her pale hands gripping her knees, her long blonde hair falling over her face. “Most of them aren't even wearing full armor. Papa must have had a hard time finding good men. Where's the class in wearing your helmet in front of the princess? Oh well, no matter. I would run away even if there were a hundred of them.”

“Bonifaz, my faithful squire, I'm coming!”

Her thoughts came to an end when her faithful knight knocked on the door, humming an old song they used to enjoy on their rides together.

The corny lyrics made the girl cover her ears, blushing all the way to the tips of them.

— Stop it, Kariel!

He laughed, but kept singing: — Elizabel, do not be afraid. I am here to protect you. I will never leave you alone.

— It's not funny! — The girl pulled back the curtain of the carriage and saw the man with fair skin, brown hair, steel armor and a sword at his waist. He was the captain of that small guard of mercenaries.

— When did you grow up and stop liking this song? You were eight, and now you're only fourteen.

— Almost fifteen. — She sighed firmly. — Besides, I'm getting married. I'm an adult.

The blonde girl chose to keep her face pure and well-behaved. Kariel, who had known her since she was little, would never buy it. — Nice try, but you only go quiet when you're scared.

— It's different. I just have nothing to say, that's all. — She rested her head against the window. — And neither do you, apparently. Otherwise you would have given me some idea for stopping all this.

He closed his eyes, thinking of a good answer. From beneath that plain helmet, he said: — Now that our country is at war, fiefs have to unite, not devour each other. You are like the Virgin Mary, and you will give birth to a glorious future. So trust in God.

Being compared to the gracious Virgin was a kindness. The blonde girl lifted her head and looked at him tenderly.

And then the thing she had been planning for most finally happened. Outside, the guards were already jumping down from their horses in a hurry, celebrating the rest that was about to begin.

— Night fell so fast. I think I'll go take a leak — said one of them, laughing.

— Man, there's a maiden among us, show some respect! — scolded another.

Ever since the arranged marriage had been announced, Elizabel had worn the face of a well-behaved girl who would never run away, along with a spirited personality and a gentle smile. Even her closest maids had not bothered her when she asked to stay alone in the wagon, which was unusual for someone of noble birth.

Kariel stepped away from the door and went over to his men. The distance that now stood between them made the young saint hesitate, because that distance would only grow if she kept running.

She would have to abandon her parents, her family, her friends, and the love of her people to become a peasant. She would change her name and her duties and live without luxury.

If you took away every experience that made up the blonde girl, would she still be Elizabel?

When she had spoken to her steward about running away, she had only thought about her own freedom. She had not understood the consequences of a fight until now.

She lowered her head, tears slowly welling up. Faced with fear, even adults cry. The girl had never wanted to be the Virgin Mary. It was too much responsibility.

Still, she wanted to be the one who decided her own future, even if they called her a coward or reckless. One way or another, Elizabel wanted to be free.

The unsuspecting knights jumped back when the small, gentle door of the wagon was thrown open, revealing a blonde girl running fast, leaping over the freshly lit campfire.

— What are you waiting for? Get her! — ordered the leader of the men in the camp, starting the chase. But not every one of them followed. — Elizabel, what are you doing?

The forest echoed, far into the distance, with the metallic sound of those riders crossing the dirt ground. Even wrapped in steel, they needed her.

Not all of them for a good reason.

The young woman's chest filled with even more fear at the thought of being caught. That would mean facing the judgment of her worried father, if she wasn't sent straight to her fiancé, which would make the whole escape pointless.

Tears ran down her face, but she had to keep going. Elizabel had thought the plan was foolproof, but she had underestimated how fast her pursuers were, how well she knew the path, how dark it could be, and even how frightening it would be to cross a forest at night.

The chance of falling to the ground, hitting her face on a tree or, worse, being attacked by a wolf, was very high.

Suddenly the blonde girl's thin legs stopped. Even though she wanted to go on, she could not, because of her extreme exhaustion. The light of the torches her warriors carried was lighting up the forest, and they seemed closer and closer. All of this meant the short escape was coming to an end.

Standing still like that let her understand what her pursuers were really doing. The orange lights coloring the night sky were moving against one another, and anguished screams began to rise.

The sound of swords clashing echoed up to the highest skies. Was even Kariel suddenly fighting?

The sudden, desperate screams of the men drove away even the owls, which no longer had the courage to sing. Was there even one madman in this forest who could help her?

“Why did they stop chasing me?” she thought, before collapsing in total exhaustion. She could hear the painful words of the captain of those men, begging Elizabel to keep running.

— Elizabel, they're after you! They don't want to capture you anymore, run! — those were the words of the captain's shout.

“What? It's hard even to move now… why? Why do you want me to run now? You insisted so much that I stay, you said it was for the good of the people…” And then all the suspicion the girl had felt when she first saw her future family came back to her.

That was why those knights wore no helmets and no plate armor. They were mercenaries, sent by the Arquimedes.

Surely it was very unlikely that anyone there had the courage to help her, since all the young men had already gone to the front line, fighting for their country.

And as clearly as she could see the torches coming closer, the young woman understood that there were traitors among the guard that was meant to protect her. Her escape had not been a mere whim of disobedience. Perhaps it had been her instincts at work? Could it be that God was already stepping in for her?

One last scream sounded like the sleep that comes at the end of mass. Kariel's prayer was over. He had fought a good fight, and now he could put away his sword.

The sacrifice of the leader of those men, her father's personal knight, gave her sudden strength in her legs. She began her clumsy run again toward the nearby village, where Bonifaz was waiting.

She had understood too late that in that world every man fights for his own interest, but she still had to run.

Elizabel had taken too long to start fighting for her own people, for her own life.

The torches, after swallowing up another torch, headed into the thick brush, starting the hard pursuit of the girl all over again.

— She can't have gone far, let's hurry!

— If you find her, I want a piece! — growled one unlucky fool.

— Imagine that? She might already be dead, Gauvain — one of them laughed.

— Haven't I told you? I know you're new here, but call me Bear while we're on a mission.

The harsh words of those men made Elizabel's heart jump. With so much anguish, couldn't the girl even scream? She even regretted not saying “goodbye” the last time she saw her mother.

She could not forgive herself. How could she have mistaken the mask of a saintly, well-behaved girl for a lack of determination and duty?

As she had feared, her thoughts were cut short when she met her own misfortune. She tripped over the vines on the ground, and her weakness overcame the strength of her legs, which were no longer even fueled by adrenaline.

The moon above the trees lit the small clearing where she had fallen. A little ravine stood in front of Elizabel, which in another life might have been the perfect way to throw off her pursuers. But without energy, she could no longer climb it.

She even tried to drag herself there. It was only a little farther, but it was impossible.

— I think I found her, boys! — a nearby voice echoed, and the footsteps, right where the princess had fallen, only made her anxiety worse.

“Please, God,” the young woman begged, and even though there was no one to hear, she screamed: — Help!

It was a desperate scream, full of fear, very loud, echoing through the forest. Once and for all, to anyone who did not know where she was, Elizabel herself gave away her location.

Lying on the ground, her leg was seized by the hand of a very rough man with no scruples at all. The sweet voice of the young woman had already turned into pure horror, screaming once more in pain.

He pulled her by the hair and turned her onto her back.

— Just like they said. — He looked down at her, checking her injuries the way one checks an animal. — The duchess ordered you killed on the road. Lucky for you, he asked for you alive.

Elizabel's eyes went wide, and for a moment she forgot the pain. — Who…? Vernai?

Regaining her senses, she used the leg she could still move to thrash about. She tried to kick him, but her strength was not enough against the size of that bandit.

The only thing that stopped that filthy attempt to defile the girl was a quick answer from a figure appearing at the top of the ravine. — Let her go.

The two of them, tangled together, tried to look toward the deep voice, but only one of them felt relieved. The blonde girl even managed a smile when she heard the sharp sound of an arrow crossing the short space between her and the monster.

At a distance of ten meters, an ordinary arrow fired at chain mail and the cotton cloth beneath it did not always mean a sure kill. However, the lack of movement, together with the end of the man's grunting above her, showed that the newly arrived hunter had hit the mercenary squarely in the head.

With difficulty, she pushed the heavy enemy off herself and got a better look at the face of the one who had, for the moment, pulled her out of this suffering.

She saw a young hunter of average height, his skin as dark as that dim light. The longbow and quiver on the man's body blended into his figure in the night. So there really was at least one madman in the forest.

He was the kind of brave man who had not gone to war because of his young age, but who had decided to look after his family, the people who mattered to him.

— It can't be. Harvey, is that you? — she stammered, a tear rolling down her cheek.