The next morning the servant's gossip was all about the magister that had been captured and was being held in the tower. I couldn't speak to Professor Johnston, so had no way of knowing if he was successful in his attempt to leave some sort of message for the future. But I did know that by the time the sun set the day after tomorrow, Castleguard would be smoking ruins, and La Rocque would be under siege. I had to get out of here.

Perhaps the English weren't my best chance for survival. My hope of returning to my proper century was dimming. Survival of the battle ahead and life afterward was becoming the greater priority. Armed with the knowledge that France would be the victor, not only of the battle for La Rocque, but in the Hundred Years War, perhaps they were my best chance for survival.

I determined to leave the manor house today and find the French and join them. I made my way to the kitchen and slipped out to the garden. From there it was easy to vault the low wooden fence and melt into the village.

I took in my surroundings. It never ceased to amaze me how busy it always seemed. The market was a beehive of activity. Merchants called out to the shoppers and extolled the great virtues of their wares. The clang of metal striking metal rang out from the blacksmith. Mothers called out to and reprimanded their children. In many ways it was surreal in its resemblance to twenty-first century life. Children ran and played, women shopped, men were at work, and goods were bought and sold. The only thing missing was the noise of modern technology. There were no modern machines of any kind. No cars making noise and spewing exhaust. When I gazed into the sky, there were no contrails from jet engines to mar the blue. It was almost perfect. If not for the war, it would be idyllic.

I wandered through the village. I'm sure it looked like and aimless meander to anyone watching, but my circuitous path led me ever closer to the wood line. I spied a cow out to pasture a mere ten feet from the trees. I strode up to it and petted it while checking to see if I was being observed. When I was certain that it was safe, I turned and quickly ducked into the cover of the trees.

I knelt down behind the first layer of low foliage to see if my exit had been noticed. No alarm was being raised, so I turned to get up and move away only to find my escape blocked by a pair of armor-clad knees.

My gaze traveled upward and took in the silver Fleur de Lis emblazoned on a blue tabard over a rather impressive chain mail covered chest. Just as my eyes reached the knight's face, the sun glinted off his helmet. I was unable to see his features.

"Voulez-vous aidez moi, sil-vous-plaits?" Would you please help me? I asked.

A gloved hand moved toward me. I took it in mine and he helped me to stand.

"Merci," I thanked him. I stepped to one side and was three steps past him before I heard him speak.

"Un minute, sil-vous-plaits, mam'selle?" I turned around and felt my heart lurch as I got my first good look at him. He was tall, lean, and well muscled. His face was lean, too. He wore a neatly trimmed brown beard and moustache that formed a frame for the most sensuous pair of lips I'd ever laid eyes on. His expression was serious, but a twinkle flashed in the depths of his green eyes. I couldn't help an audible gasp; so breathtaking was this specimen of medieval masculinity.

"It isn't safe for a young lady to wander about the woods alone." He informed me.

"The woods may be safer than the village at this point. I fear a French attack." I responded.

"You are bold to speak to a French Knight in such a manner."

"Not at all, monsieur. I depend on your chivalry. But I also know of your hatred of Lord Oliver and feel that the village may not be a safe haven for very long."

"It is a poor knight who cannot protect his ladies. Lord Oliver proves himself a churl and unworthy of his title in countless ways."

"No kidding." I muttered.

"What?"

"You speak the truth, good sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to seek Lord Arnaut."

"Then seek no longer, fair maid, for you have found him. What service may I do for you?" He bowed slightly.

"I would ask for your aid. As you say, Oliver is a churlish beast. I have it on good authority that he intends to burn Castleguard to the ground and move his forces to La Rocque."

"What manner of man would burn his own demesne?" Demanded Lord Arnaut.

"A mad one," I replied.

"That is the truth of it," Arnaut agreed with me. "Might I hear you name, milady?"

"I am Philippa Mortimer." I curtsied to him.

"You are English?" The very possibility seemed to make him agitated.

"No, milord. I am not English. I come from a land far away across a great sea. I owe no allegiance to Oliver or to England."

"I am glad to hear it." He smiled and it was like watching the sunrise after a long, stormy night. My heart skipped a few beats and then melted into a puddle.

He held a gloved hand out to me. "Permit me to offer you my protection, Lady Philippa."

I stepped toward him and allowed him to take my hand in his. "Thank you, Lord Arnaut. I would be most appreciative." He raised my hand and gently pressed his lips to my fingers. I couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have those sensuous lips pressed to mine. I reluctantly shook the thought away as he led me into the forest.

His horse was tethered a short distance away. It was a beautiful black destrier. He was quite obviously tired of standing still and appeared happy to see Arnaut. The knight lifted me onto the massive horses back with no more effort than a mother lifting a newborn. Once he settled himself in the saddle behind me, we set off at a brisk pace on our journey to his camp.