Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (25 page)

“I’ll not be separated from Lord John,” Crispin argued.

Pennington raised his eyebrows. “I don’t believe that prisoners are given the privilege of naming their own terms.
” He gestured to the guard who
yanked Crispin away towards the stairs
.
Crispin shouted in protest.

“Please don’t,” Joanna begged. She couldn’t keep her tears at bay now. The situation was too horrible.

“What about the other one, sir,” the first guard asked Pennington.

Pennington shrugged. “Leave him here. Break his legs if he fusses too much.”

The guard wrenched Jack to his feet and shoved him
against one of the dungeon’s thick pillars
.

“No!” Joanna shouted. Pennington roun
ded on her. She recoiled
.

“As for you….” Pennington grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the stairs.

Crispin’s shout of protest was cut sickeningly short. Joanna whimpered. Pennington drew her to the far end of the dungeon, towards a different staircase than the one she’d come down. He stopped when they were in a storeroom, away from the prisoners and guards alike.

“Don’t tell me I made a mistake, my dear,” he cooed. Joanna trembled at the false sweetness in his voice. “My business allows no room for mistakes and no room for sentiment. If you can’t do what we’ve asked you to do….”

“I can do it,” Joanna insisted. Her voice wavered like a frightened child. “I can do it and I will.”

“After what I’ve seen today, why should I believe that?”
He twisted her arm until she cried out
. “It looks to me like you’ve deceived
me
to get closer to your old master.”

“No, sir! That’s not it at all!”

“What if I don’t believe you?” He glared at her with such intensity that Joanna’s
knees half buckled.

She held herself up by force of will only. “I was sent here by the cook. It wasn’t my choice to come. I will do what you put me here to do, I swear!”

Pennington stared at her long and hard. He
let her go
and stroked the sharp point of his goatee.

“I believe that you would do anything to free your master and mistress,” he said. “But that’s just the problem. You would do anything, even betray me, if it meant they could walk free.”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t betray you.
”

He could see right through her. She wanted to look away but instinct told her to maintain eye contact with him at all costs
, no matter how impossible it was
. He studied her for several more aching seconds that seemed like hour
s
.

At last he took a breath and shrugged as though nothing were wrong. “Well it just looks like we’ll have to move our plans forward faster than I had originally envisioned.” His smile was smooth and ostensibly harmless again. “You’ll just have to be ready to
carry out
your mission
in the next day or two.”

Joanna’s mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut when she thought she would be sick.

“Now run along,” He gestured to sweep her away. “I’m sure you’ve got work to do.”

Joanna swayed on the spot. It took her too many heartbeats to pry her feet off the ground. As soon as they would move she spun and fled from Pennington as though he were about to throw a knife into her back.

Ethan
squirmed
as he sat shoulder to shoulder with King Richard’s courtiers watching a troupe of players act out
a battle epic
. The widow who he couldn’t seem to shake clutched his arm as the men in masks enacted a rigorous
fight
scene. He had no interest in the show at all. He had seen too much of the real thing. King Richard, however, was riveted.

Ethan adjusted his stance again, glancing to his sovereign lord. He’d spent all day within the man’s grasp and all day he’d been silenced every time he tried to speak
about Crispin and Jack
. His anger had cooled in that time and his guilt was giving him second thoughts. Those second thoughts came in Toby’s voice.

My lord, how much does it really matter? Windale was our home in another life. You have been content in London, in your own way. Shouldn’t you be satisfied with that?

The courtiers around Ethan burst into laughter and applause. Ethan jerked and blinked. One of the players had just mimed having his head cut off. Ethan’s stomach clenched.

“They’re good, aren’t they?” the widow leaned close to ask.

“Yes, yes they are.”

He was distracted from the need to say anything more by a roar in the stairwell. The players stopped their storytelling and the courtiers turned from watching them to the stairwell. Some even stood and craned their necks as though a new show was beginning.

“Unhand me!”

Moments later a pair of guards dragged
Crispin
, fighting every step of the way, out of the stairwell and into the banquet room.
Crispin had definitely seen better days. His clothes were filthy and his face wasn’t much better. A fresh, ugly bruise shaded his cheek. Still he managed to look like fury personified.
The courtiers gasped and the guards holding
Crispin
hesitated.

“I demand that you take me back to where Lord John is being held!”
Crispin
continued to shout when everyone else went silent. He turned his feral eyes on the room full of courtiers. At the sight of the king he stopped struggling and stood still. He moved to bow but the guards held him up.

“A thousand pardons, your majesty,” one of the guards stammered. “We were ordered to move this prisoner to the cell in the chapel.”

King Richard gave Crispin a quick once-over. “Very well. Carry on.” He turned back to the players. “Carry on.”

The confused players looked to their leader, shuffling away from the path of the guards. Crispin didn’t fight as he was yanked straight across the space where the drama was being staged. The courtiers watched him with twice the interest they had for the players.

“Who’s that?” the widow asked Ethan.

Crispin met Ethan’s eyes. The hatred there was as fresh as it had been three years ago, only now there was a sharp streak of panic through it.

“What trouble have you embroiled Joanna in?” Crispin growled at him as he passed.
“What have you done to her?”

“Shut up!” One of the guards cuffed him, checking anxiously with the king to see if he’d done the right thing.
The king nodded.

Ethan turned away, pretending to ignore the outburst. His heart thundered against his chest. How did Crispin know Joanna was in trouble?

The guards dragged Crispin into the chapel at the end of the banquet hall. The courtiers murmured for a few moments as the players stumbled over themselves to regain their places.

“Come on!” King Richard ordered them. He still smiled but Ethan knew the tell-tale signs of impatience in his eyes.

The players resumed their silent battle.
The courtiers watched the mock drama with as much interest as the real one. Ethan
could barely sit still
.
If Crispin knew Joanna was in trouble things couldn’t get much worse. He needed to end this charade and end it now, any way he could.
If he could just take Richard aside, explain who Crispin was and why he should be condemned. Perhaps he could even convince the king to banish him and Jack instead of killing them.

The play was interrupted once again as Pennington appeared at the top of the stairs. His eyes flashed from the players to the king to Ethan.
Ethan’s pounding heart rang in his ears like a pitched battle.

“Oh don’t mind me,”
Pennington
said with an off-hand laugh.

“Carry on,” Richard ordered the players, humor fading fast.

The players moved to action once more. Pennington slipped into the audience of courtiers. He wedged his way straight to the bench where Et
han sat.

“Move,” he ordered the widow. The woman got up and fled to another bench without a peep of protest. Pennington took her place.
Ethan’s gut twisted.

The play continued for several minutes before Pennington leaned towards Ethan and whispered, “Have you thought more about my offer?”

Ethan shot a sidelong glance to the king. Richard watched the play with a vague smile.

“I haven’t been able to get close enough to Richard to say anything,” he admitted. His back itched and ached with far more than the discomfort of the bench he sat on.

Pennington grinned as if pleased with the players. “I’m so glad to hear that we can work together. But I would hurry up if I were you.”

“Why?” Ethan whispered without looking at the man.

“Oh nothing.” Pennington shrugged. “It’s just that your delightful friend
Joanna
seems eager
to have your enemies released.
You know, I think she’d do anything for her masters. Anything.
”

Ethan turned to face him fully. “Stay away from Joanna!” he hissed.

Pennington feigned shock. “I wouldn’t dream of going near the girl.” The courtiers sitting nearest to them snuck sidelong glances at them. “On the other hand, if she should come to me.”

“Ke
ep your distance, Pennington.”

More curious courtiers turned from the staged drama to watch them.

Pennington’
s laugh was barely audible. “I suppose the only way to ensure that is if you tell the king what you need to tell him as soon as possible.”

The room was suddenly too hot, too crowded. Air refused to fill Ethan’s lungs. All he could think about was Joanna. She must have already
approached
Pennington about something.
What was she thinking?
No wonder everything had felt wrong all day.

Ethan stood and turned to the king. “My liege.” He bowed at the waist.

“What is it, Sir Ethan?” Richard sighed.

The words
of condemnation that
Ethan had been about to speak died on his lips.
Some unseen hand held him back.
The scent of cooking herbs and rosewater
seemed to touch the air.
His chest constricted.

“I … I’m afraid I must beg your leave, m
y liege. I fear I am unwell.”

Prickles of defeat for backing down when the opportunity to right all the wrongs in his life stung through him.
Once again he was a failure.

Richard sighed a second time, louder. “Fine.” He waved Ethan away, turning his eyes back to the players. “Leave if you must.
Play on!
”

For a moment Ethan froze, gaping. The king had dismissed him that easily.
The players continued with their farce.

Ethan
didn’t wait. Pennington or not, he turned away, climbing over men and women to rush to the stairwell. He
sprinted
downstairs, fleeing what had almost just happened.
He had to find Joanna.

The sunlight was already beginning to fade as he bolted down to the kitchen.

“Is Joanna Dunkirke here?” he called in through the kitchen door.

“She left half an hour ago,” a voice called out to him.

He didn’t wait to see who it was or what more they had to say. He clenched his jaw and tore up the path towards the gate and out into the city. If Joanna had gone to Pennington
she could be in far more trouble than she realized. Her very life could be in danger.

Fear for Joanna’s life took him as far as the street where The Stag Hunt
stood
.
His footsteps slowed.
Pennington could be bluffing. He knew that Ethan cared about Joanna. He could be using that information to spur Ethan to work for his own ends.
He didn’t really know the truth.
He didn’t know anything.

Ethan
rubbed a hand over his face
as he approached the inn.
It was already bustling with patrons come for a bite of supper. Instead of entering through the front door he squeezed through the gate and into the back garden. Madeline and Rebecca sat on the garden bench in the twilight winding yarn. The
cozy
sight was almost as good as relief.

“Have you seen Joanna?” he asked without preamble.

Both women glanced up at him in surprise. “Ethan, you’re home early. Is everything alright?” Madeline’s smile was so out of context with everything Ethan felt that he ignored her.

“Where’s Joanna?”

Rebecca stood, handing the yarn off to Madeline. Her face was serious and she brushed her hands along her skirt as she approached him.