Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (14 page)

“Why would I do that?” She flashed the barest hint of a smile, letting one of the vessels sway near to a richly-dressed lady
. The lady
squealed.

Joanna didn’t know whether to be scandalized or to laugh.

“Who’s that?” the guard asked, nodding to her.

“She’s
new,” the saucy maid told him.

“Who hired a Jewess to work here?”

“Someone with more sense than you!” the ma
i
d snapped then
pushed through the open doorway
. Joanna followed.

They
turn
ed
into the spiral stairway immediately inside the entrance. “I like to give ‘em a tweak now and then,” she explained. “Remind them who really keeps the place running.”
Joanna laughed
nervously
.
“
My name’s
Lucy. What’s
yours?”

“Joanna.”

“That’s not a Jewish name.”

“I’m not actually a Jew,” Joanna confessed.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass one way or another.” Lucy shrugged.
“Nice to meet you, Joanna. The dungeons are down that way and
the king’s bedchamber is up this way.
I’m going this way.” Lucy nodded up the stairs and was on her way.

Joanna’s
weak
smile
for the young woman
faded
.
If she was a servant in the Tower she would have made an ally out of h
er in an instant.

She took a deep breath and
started down the spiral staircase to the dungeon
, no idea what she would find.

The stairs opened out to a dark, vaulted cavern the same size as the hall above. The walls and pillars were
thick
.
Joanna
slipped cautiously to the pillar closest to the stairs, peering around it. The air
was
heavy with damp and other
sharp
smells.
G
uards
were
stationed at various points in the room, but they
didn’t look like they were chosen for their job based on brains
.

She
moved on, eyes adjusting to the dark. From the torches flickering on the walls she began to make out shapes on the ground, men
shackled to the walls. Some weren’t even shackled, they’d just given up.
Others watched her from behind barred doors.

“Water!” a man near her called, clutching at her skirts.

Joanna sucked in a breath
. The figure pleading with her was dressed in clothes that might have once been fine but were hanging off his bony shoulders in tatters.
The man could have been Crispin or Jack or anyone who didn’t deserve to be there.
She
glanced around for anyth
ing resembling a water bucket.

“It’s over there,” one of the guards
told her
.

“How can you treat them like this?”
Her alarm came out as
indignation and
she scolded the guard as she se
arched for the bucket. She found it, half full with a ladle sitting in it, by one of t
he pillars
.

“He’s better off than he looks,” the guard sniffed. “The whole lot of ‘em are.”

The prisoner took the ladle full of water Joanna offered and drank with a desperate moan.

“How can you say that?”

The guard shrugged. “He’s in the bleedin’ Tower of London.
The king lives here.
What more does he want?”

The vague sound of trumpets
from the floor above cut off Joanna’s retort
. They were barely discernible through the thick walls and floors but still managed to
heighten
her
sense of urgency.
The guards
throughout the room
snapped
to
attention
as if the king might show up to inspect them
.

Joanna
used the distraction to continue searching
through the dungeon
, carrying water to the men who begged her for it
.
Crispin, Aubrey, and Jack had to be there somewhere.

The only prisoners she found were men. Some were clearly noble. Others
had
been there for so long that it was hard to tell from their clothes who they were.

“Oy! Is that who I think it is?” Jack’s voice
snapped Joanna’s head up from the man she was giving a drink.

She looked around, finally spotting Jack’s ginger hair in the torchlight and Crispin’s pale face standing beside him
in a small cell at the far end of the room
. She rushed the man she was serving and hurried across to them.

“My lord!” She didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry or
reach through the bars to
hug Crispin right there. “I found you! Thank God!”

“Joanna,” Crispin greeted her with relief. He sent a wary glance towards the nearest guard who was watching them, or rather watching Joanna’s backside. “Where is Aubrey?”

Fear coursed through
her
. “I don’t know. I thought she would be with you.”

Crispin shook his head and kept his voice low
and his eyes on their guard
.
“We were separated. They
tried to
put me in a cell
in the chapel
upstairs, but I refused to be housed there with Jack in the dungeon.”

“Yeah, and a right thick-headed move that was on your part, mate,” Jack drawled. “The
food
down here
is
worse than Derby Castle’s dungeons.”

Joanna wanted to smile and laugh at the pair that Crispin and Jack made but the situation was beyond dire.

“Aubrey must be in another part of the Tower,” Crispin figured.

“Where’s Madeline?” Jack asked, his humor disappearing. “And Meg.”

“They’re safe.” Joanna lowered her voice, sending a nervous glance to the guard behind her.
She didn’t have the heart to tell Jack his wife was ill, not when he was a prisoner in a dungeon.
She dipped the ladle into the water and
handed it through the bars
. “We’re staying at an inn called The Stag Hunt. Wulfric is safe too. We’ve found friends there.”

“How did you managed to get out of the Tower?” Crispin asked, taking the ladle and drinking.

“We had help.” She swallowed. There was no point in concealing anything from Crispin. “Ethan
is in London. He showed up as we were fleeing the Tower and
helped us.”

“What?” Crispin and Jack both exclaimed, earning them
a snap of “Quiet!” from the guard
.

Joanna gulped for breath and
took the ladle back from Crispin. “He’s living
and
working at the inn as a dogsbody and calling himself Ethan Dunkirke.”

“Oy, he’s got some nerve, mate!” Jack growled.

If she had had time, Joanna would have spent all day commiserating with Jack.
Instead she handed him the ladle.

“
My lord, what can I do to help you get out of here?
”
she asked Crispin.

“Find Prince John and ask him to speak
to the king
,” Crispin answered. “Beg if you have to.”

Joanna’s heart plummeted. “I tried, my lord. I spoke with the prince yesterday.”

“And?” Jack perked up.

“He’s fled England for Normandy.”

Jack hissed a curse and Crispin banged a fist against the wall of his cell.

“Don’t make me come over there,” the guard warned him.

“Prince John was our only hope near as I can figure,” Jack lamented.

J
oanna pursed her lips as the itching feeling of hopelessness rose up through her back. “He said I should seek Matlock’s help.”

Both Crispin and Jack
groaned and laughed at the statement
.

“I said be quiet,” the guard warned them.

Crispin glared over Joanna’s shoulder at the man. “
Prince John
must
have figured out by now that
Matlock is the
one conspiring against us,
”
he went on.

“I think he
knows.
”
Joanna
checked over her shoulder and lowered her voice.
“
B
ut
he’s too concerned about his own standing with his brother to do anything about it
.
Prince
John
thinks Matlock will help
you
if I remind him he owes his position to
the prince
.
”

Crispin shook his head. Jack risked the ire of the guard by barking a laugh and kicking his toe into the filthy straw on the dungeon floor. “Like Matlock would listen to even Prince John if he had half a chance to see me hang.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” Joanna explained. She cast a nervous look over her shoulder. The guard was still studying her with a wolfish glint in his eyes. It was a terrible way to win them more time to talk. “
It might still work though. This place is mad. People will do anything for power.
I could try to approach Matlock….”

“Don’t bother.” Crispin shook his head. “We have to seek help somewhere else.” He cursed under his breath. “I haven’t been earl or sheriff long enough to
win
supporters
at court
.”

“Yeah, but someone’s gotta speak up for you
,” Jack reasoned. “We have some
friends
. What about Lord Jarvis?”

“He’s a young man still, not powerful enough to make a difference.”

“It’s better than nothin’, mate,” Jack argued.

“
If you want me to send word to him I will
,” Joanna agreed. “I’ll
call for
anyone, try anything to help win your freedom. Anything at all.”

A bittersweet smile touched Crispin’s grim face. “You’re a true and faithful servant, Joanna. A true friend.” He rested a hand on her shoulders
through the bars
, squeezing it.

“Simon!” Jack blurted. Crispin turned to him. “Send word to Simon.”

“Jack, Simon McFarland is a good man,” Crispin began hesitantly, “but he’s a provincial steward. His word would mean nothing in
this world
.”

Jack shook his head. “Simon knows things, mate. He knows far more than you or I about the way nobles work. You’d be surprised,” he added when he saw Crispin didn’t believe him. “Send for Simon. If anyone can get us out of this mess it’s him.”

“I’ll send word.” Joanna nodded.
“What should I do until he gets here?”

“Find Aubrey,” Crispin ordered her without hesitation. “Find out where she’s been taken. She shouldn’t be a part of the charges against us. If anything can be done to have her released it must be done.”

His words trailed off as a commotion started at the far end of the dungeon. In the dim light Joanna watched half a dozen soldiers flood into the room from the stairs. Her heart caught in her chest as they marched straight towards her. The terror of being discovered flashed hotter as the soldier in front barked, “Unlock this door.” He pointed to Crispin and Jack’s cell.

The guard who had been ogling Joanna jumped to do as he was ordered. He pushed Joanna out of the way and rifled through a ring of keys. When he found the right one and unlocked the cell two of the soldiers lunged in to drag Crispin and Jack out.

“Oy! Let go of me!” Jack shouted and fought.

“Subdue him!” the head soldier
barked
. One of his men punched Jack across the face. Joanna
shouted
. “Move on!”

“Where are you taking us?” Crispin demanded as the pack of guards dragged them across the dungeon. Joanna scurried after them.

“Upstairs,” the head soldier answered. “The king wants
a word
with you.”

Chapter
Eight

Ethan
rose from his knees as King Richard passed. War and captivity had taken their toll on the man. The suntan he had sport
ed while they were in the Holy L
and had faded, leaving Richard looking drawn and irritated. It hadn’t changed the swagger of
a
man w
ho knew he was God’s anointed.

Ethan fought down the wave of disgust that filled his gut
at his memories of the
crusade
. Richard was his king, he reminded himself, a man that demanded his allegiance. Even if he didn’t deserve it.

“We have received word that our brother has fled for France,” Richard announced to the room full of eager nobles as he reached the dais and its makeshift throne. His French hit Ethan’s ears like a long-forgotten song he hadn’t liked in the first place. “Anyone discovered to have aided his flight will be severely punished.”

“Rest assured, your majesty
.
”
Pennington popped up from his bow and rushed the dais with an expression of holy vengeance. “Anyone who would dare to collude with your errant brother will be found out.”

Ethan arched an eyebrow. According to Joanna
,
Pennington had been the one to provide John with a fresh horse.
Now he deferred to the king with a courtier’s grace.
The man was dangerous. Far more dangerous than
Ethan
cared to admit.

“Your majesty, would you like me to send a battalion after him?” a grizzled noble near the dais who wore a breastplate offered.

King Richard paused. The whole room paused with him. He turned to the older woman who stood behind the throne, Eleanor, the Queen Mother. Eleanor shook her head.

“
Thank you, Sir Robert.
W
e will let him be for now.
Our time today will be better spent sorting out the riddle that is this festering little island.”

The barest of whispers
swept through the room. The king made no friends by disparaging England. But then, Richard had never made his feelings for his supposed home
land
much of a secret.
Ethan clenched his fists at the memory of being made to laugh and agree with Richard’s low opinion of his home while the Mediterranean heat baked him.

“My justicar informs me that discipline has been lax in England
.”
The king swept the room with a glance, surveying the nobles who had come to his court.
“
London is
rife
with rebellion and the countryside
-”

He st
opped as his eyes met Ethan’s.

“What’s this?” A smile spread across
Richard’s
face. The assembly broke out in mutters. “No! It’s not Ethan of Windale, is it?”

The murmurs burst to all-out curiosity.

Ethan stepped forward, dropping to one knee and lowering his head. His stomach twisted in loathing. “My liege.”

“Rise, Sir Ethan, and come here to greet your old commander.”

Ethan rose, acutely aware of the stares all around him
. Matlock was white with shock and fury. In spite of himself Ethan
smirked at him before striding to the front of the room. At least this debacle wouldn’t be a total waste
if he could tweak the man’s nose
.

“You look well, Sir Ethan.” Richard extended a hand. When Ethan took it the king pulled him into a manly embrace, thumping his back. The room full of nobles watched, jaws dropped in awe.
Ethan’s skin crawled.

“And you as well, my liege.”

“You should have seen this man in the Holy Land.” Richard turned him to face the assembly
as if displaying a falcon
. “The way he fought in Cyprus, in Acre
and Jaffa
, they’ll be writing ballads about him for centuries to come!”

Ethan lowered his eyes, avoiding the stares of the nobles. “I am humbled, my liege.” If any one of them knew the truth behind the king’s assertions of glory
, if they knew what had happened in Acre,
they would be as ashamed to call the man their sovereign as he was.

“What brings you here to our court, Sir Ethan? Why haven’t we seen you sooner?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan caught a glimpse of Pennington. The man stood watching the exchange with narrowed eyes. He fiddled anxiously with a white chess piece of some sort
, calculating
.

“Business detained me, my liege,
” Ethan lied to the king. “
I received word
recently
that my countrymen,
the Earl of Derby and his wife
and Lord John of Kedleridge have been arrested. I came to investigate.”

“
Ah
, yes.” Richard smiled. “They were arrested the day before yesterday
, I believe
.
They caused quite a scene!
Apparently they’re guilty as sin.
We haven’t had time to look into the matter at all yet though.”

“But I can assure you the blackguards will be punished for their sins,” Pennington wedged his way into the conversation. He watched Ethan with hawk’s eyes, waiting for his next move.

Ethan feigned casual interest.
“Which sins in particular are they guilty of?”

“Treason!” This time it was Matlock who butted into what should otherwise have been a private conversation. As he strode to the dais the room full of nobles watched with eager eyes. “The earl and his pet peasant are guilty of treason.” He added, “Your majesty,” dropping to his knees when the king arched an eyebrow at him.

“Have you met Sir Stephen of Matlock?” King Richard asked
, his lips twitching
. “He’s new to my court.”
He leaned closer to Ethan and whispered, “He’s very eager,” with a wink.

“We’ve met.” Ethan nodded, but that was as far as he was willing to go.
The stink of politics was already ripe around him.
“Your majesty, I have a particular interest in the fates of my countrymen,” Ethan continued.
Matlock rose, glaring at him.
“Particularly Lady Aubrey.”

Pennington snapped to attention.

“Oh?” Richard asked.

“Yes, your majesty. Her brother was a close friend of mine. You remember Sir Geoffrey
of Morley
? He was wounded in Cyprus and had to be sent home.”

“I remember.” Richard’s eyes lit with fond memory. “Lost a leg, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

Richard shrugged. “
Poor Geoffrey
.
And the Countess of Derby is his sister, you say?”

“She is, my liege.”

“Fine.
Bring
the Derbyshire lot
here and we’ll see what the
y have to say for themselves.”

Ethan flinched. Facing Crispin was not what he
’d
had in mind
when he sa
i
d he’d
help Joanna.
“My liege, if I could just-”

It was too late.
The king
searched out his guards. “Find the earl, Lord John, and Lady Aubrey and bring them here at once.”

As the soldiers at the back of the room hurried off
Pennington shifted forward, fist closed tightly around his chess piece.

“Your majesty, are you sure you want to deal with this inconsequential matter now?” he said.
With one glance from the man Ethan felt himself being sucked further into a game he didn’t want to play.
“Surely something as dire as treason should be investigated with the full authority of the courts.”

The king crossed his arms and stared down his nose at Pennington. “We are the courts, sir.”

“How right you are, your majesty.” Pennington backed down, bowing with an obsequious smile. His smile turned sour when he glanced to Ethan.
Ethan met it with pretend disinterest. What stake did Arthur Pennington have in this game?

Richard turned his attention back to Ethan, smiling broadly. “You must come stay with us in the Tower, my friend. It is the least we can do to repay you for your valor in our crusade.”

“I am honored, my liege, but I’m afraid I couldn’t.”

“Come now,” Richard pressed. “You would be a celebrated guest at court.”

It took all Ethan had not to grimace. “I have responsibilities, my liege, outside of the Tower
, people who depend on me
.”

His eyes cheated to Matlock before he could stop himself. It was a mistake he couldn’t take back.
Matlock bristled as he guessed
who
those
people
were.

“I insist.” The king’s reply was as definitive as chains.

Neither of them had time to take the matter further. With a clatter of arms and footfalls
,
the pack of soldiers returned. They dragged Crispin and Jack with them. Both men looked as though they’d been wrestling in the streets. Their clothes were disheveled and their faces smudged. The soldiers marched them to the center of the room as the nobles cleared a space.

To Ethan’s dread, Joanna fought her way into the room behind them. She pushed around the soldiers to stand just behind Crispin and Jack as
they were forced
to
their
knees
before the king
. Her desperate, frightened eyes shot straigh
t to Ethan, pleading for help.

Ethan felt her fear like an arrow through his gut
, but he s
hook his head and looked away.
Matlock’s stare grew colder as he glanced between the two of them.
Even Pennington noted the exchange.

“Which one is the earl and which is Lord John?” Richard leaned closer to ask Ethan.

“The ginger is Lord John and the tall one is the earl,” Ethan answered
, doing his best to ignore Joanna
.

Crispin’s struggle faltered at the sight of the king standing so close to Ethan.

“Aw, bloody hell!” Jack drawled. “An’ here I thought things couldn’t get any worse.”

“Let me go!” Aubrey’s blood-curdling shriek sounded from the other room. “Put me down at once!”

Another soldier marched into the room with Aubrey slung over his shoulder. Her hands and feet were tied but that didn’t stop her from banging on the soldier’s back with her elbows.

“Aubrey!” Crispin roared. He tried to jump to his wife’s rescue but received a smack in the gut with the flat of a soldier’s sword instead.

That only stoked Aubrey’s ire. “Crispin!” she shouted. The room full of nobles burst into murmurs and comments on the situation.
Chaos threatened.

“Silence!” the noble with the breastplate bellowed across the scene.

The entire room, Crispin and Aubrey included, fell silent.

“Thank you, Sir Robert.” King Richard smiled. “You’d better put that woman down.”

The soldier carrying Aubrey hefted her off his shoulder and set her on her feet beside Crispin. Aubrey dropped to huddle against her husband’s side. When Crispin threw his arms around her the soldier who had smacked him with the sword raised it again.

“That won’t be necessary.” Richard stopped him from violence.

Ethan snuck a look at Joanna. She stood reeling behind her master and mistress, pale as a ghost. The moment her eyes flickered to him he looked away.

“Really, your majesty, are you going to allow this display from prisoners of the crown?” Pennington complained, gesturing to Crispin and Aubrey. His face was splashed red with irritation.

“You have a point,” Richard said. He motioned to the guards. “Separate them. Have them stand.”

The soldiers grabbed Crispin and Aubrey and wrenched them apart. “No!” Aubrey screamed and fought. Crispin struggled as well, but it was useless. In seconds the soldiers had all three of Ethan’s rivals on their feet facing the king. The buzz of the nobles only added to the itching down Ethan’s back. He’d wanted to find out for Joanna what was in store for her friends. This was overkill.

“I take it these rustics don’t speak French?” Richard asked Ethan aside.

“Not that I know of, my liege.” He pretended the barest level of interest possible. Matlock and Pennington had their eyes glued to him. As much as he wanted to check in with Joanna, to let her know he would handle the situation,
he didn’t dare reveal the connection between them.

“Then translate for me, Sir Ethan.”

“Yes, my liege.”

Richard crossed his arms and stared Crispin and Jack down. Ethan had seen him employ the technique in negotiations with allies he held in contempt. Which was just about everyone that dared to disagree with him.