The Faithful Heart (5 page)

“What’s this?” he asked, able to read his
name ‘Jack’ on one side at least.

Aubrey didn’t have time to answer. The door
to the carriage opened and a page jumped out then turned and pulled
a step out of the carriage and placed it on the ground. Moments
later Arthur Pennington stepped into the courtyard.

“Aw no, not him!” Jack moaned and rolled his
eyes at the sight of the man.

Pennington had come to Derby last autumn,
ostensibly to barter peace between King Richard and Prince John.
According to Crispin the man was nothing more than a richly-paid
assassin. Jack couldn’t stand the pompous prick then and it looked
like the winter hadn’t improved him one bit. Pennington stood in
front of the carriage and stretched, reaching his stubby, royal
liveried arms out to the side with a careless yawn before putting
on a fake smile and glancing up to Crispin.

“Ah! Lord Crispin!” He ambled towards
them.

“Pennington,” Crispin greeted him with a curt
nod.

Pennington’s smile faltered at Crispin’s
complete lack of deference. He twitched before his smile came back
and he held out his hand. Crispin took it, face expressionless.
“Congratulations on becoming Sheriff.” His grin was as oily as his
moustache. “Oh, and earl. I heard all about it from Prince John. He
says a worthier man has never held the office.”

“The Prince acted on behalf of the crown when
he entrusted me with the care of the shire. I have a duty to obey.”
Crispin met the veiled threat without flinching.

“I bet you do.” Pennington grinned as though
he had meant something else entirely.

“I am eager for news from London,” Crispin
got right to business. “We are curious to know what could be so
important that a man such as yourself would be sent.” He glanced to
Aubrey and Jack at his sides as he spoke.

Pennington’s smile turned sour as he glanced
to Jack. “We?”

Jack didn’t need to do anything more than
grin at the man with all the self-satisfaction he felt to get under
his skin. “Lord John is my bailiff,” Crispin explained.

“Lord John. Yes, I’d heard.” Pennington
wrinkled his nose. He cleared his throat and glanced away from Jack
and up to Crispin. Jack rolled his eyes and rubbed his hand around
the rosary on his wrist. “I’ve come to share our country’s great
misfortune with you,” he went on as though announcing that he had
brought tea and cakes for everyone.

Crispin’s scowl deepened. “Our great hall is
being cleaned in preparation for an audience this afternoon and the
banquet tonight.” He gestured towards the cloister and began to
walk towards it. “I could have our cloister stationed with guards
so that we might meet there.”

“What, no top secret heart-to-hearts in your
bedroom?” Pennington referred to Buxton’s eccentricities as they
walked across the courtyard.

Jack and Aubrey fell into step behind the two
men, half an army of guards crowding in their wake. “You’ll find
that things in Derby run very differently now that Buxton is gone,”
Crispin told the man, back stiff. They entered the cloister, lined
with servants already, and the guards closed ranks. “What is
England’s great misfortune?”

Pennington shrugged. “Our king, of
course.”

Crispin’s back and shoulders tightened. “In
what way is the king England’s great misfortune?”

Pennington took his time answering. He rocked
back and forth on his feet, swaying his ample, liveried body for a
moment with a shrug before telling them all, “Alas, Leopold of
Austria is no longer in custody of our good King Richard.” He
waited for the surprise reaction he expected to receive and his
face fell when all he was met with were blank stares. “No,” he went
on, “Leopold has handed him over to the custody of Henry, the Holy
Roman Emperor.”

Aubrey gasped. Jack figured it was bad news.
“What’s the Holy Roman Emperor bloke plannin’ on doin’ with him?”
he asked.

Pennington blinked and cleared his throat.
“Oh, he plans to give Richard back,” he said without answering Jack
directly then smoothed his hands along his tunic as if brushing off
the dirt of speaking to a peasant. “He has asked for a ransom of
one hundred and fifty thousand marks.”

Crispin met the news with very little outward
reaction. Aubrey and Jack were not as stoic. Aubrey’s mouth dropped
open and she grasped Crispin’s hand. Jack planted his hands on his
hips and stared at the man as if he were out of his mind. “You’re
not serious, mate.”

“Oh, I’m quite serious,” Pennington
sniffed.

“One hundred and fifty thousand marks?” It
was more money than any of them had ever heard of in one sum.

“Where does he expect this money to come
from?” Crispin asked.

“From England, of course.” Pennington spread
his hands as if the answer was simple.

“How?” Aubrey asked.

“Well now, that’s really up to you, isn’t
it.” Pennington glanced up to Crispin, his eyes hardening to steel.
“Taxes, levies, fine or tolls,” he shrugged. “Whichever methods
work best for you. Extortion if you want to. Every shire will be
expected to do their part. Derbyshire is no exception.”

“So you’ve come here to ask for more money,
on top of the usual taxes, to ransom an absent king who has let his
realm crumble into uncertainty.” Crispin took a small step closer
to the man. Pennington took a large step back. “Why is Prince John
allowing this ransom to be collected?”

“Ah. See, there’s the thing.” Pennington
smoothed his moustache. “As great a man as Prince John is, he can
only do so much with the provisions that Richard put into place for
the government of England in his absence.”

“In other words he is being blocked and
countered by men in London who claim allegiance to the king.”
Crispin laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. “How much is
Derbyshire expected to raise?”

“Ten thousand marks,” Pennington told him
without pause.

Jack and Aubrey gaped at the sum. Crispin
darkened even more. “Ten thousand marks is a disproportionate
sum.”

Pennington shrugged. “Derbyshire is
disproportionately wealthy.”

Crispin shook his head and pulled himself to
his full height. “I’ll see what I can do about seventy-five
hundred.”

Pennington laughed. “Ten thousand.
Non-negotiable. Prince John has declared it. You are a friend of
Prince John’s, right?” He met Crispin’s intimidating stare with
unyielding frankness. “Oh, and I’ll be taking some of that upfront.
Whatever you have in your treasury should do.”

A stab of panic hit Jack’s gut. He might not
have known anything about anything, but even he knew that emptying
the treasury in one go would spell disaster for Derbyshire.

“The Prince will get his ten thousand,”
Crispin muttered. “When it has been collected.”

“Of course.” Pennington bared his teeth in
what might have been a smile. “Now show me to my room and have
someone send up some of that fantastic roast boar Buxton always had
ready for my visits.”

Crispin nodded at one of the liveried
servants along the edge of the cloister who jumped forward to
escort Pennington into the castle. He then turned to Jack and
Aubrey with a wordless sigh.

It was Jack who spoke the words they were all
thinking. “Where the hell are we gonna get ten thousand marks?”

In the shadows of the corridor that opened
out to the cloister, Ethan and his men listened to Pennington’s
revelation. Toby met the news with a troubled scowl. He stole a
sideways glance at his master. Ethan was clearly conflicted. Toby
was certain that his master wanted King Richard home as soon as
possible and equally as certain that he wouldn’t take it well if
Crispin and Jack were instrumental in the return.

“Come on,” Ethan whispered over his shoulder,
turning to dash down a side corridor. “I’ve heard enough.” Roderick
followed him. Tom lingered by the door. “Come on, Tom!” Ethan cut
back to get him.

“He … he looks well,” Tom muttered, face
slack. Toby followed his line of sight. He was watching Jack. “He’s
gained weight. He looks fit, happy.”

“We don’t have time to stand around
contemplating how much Lord Jack has been eating,” Ethan frowned
and yanked Tom away, pushing him on.

“A hundred and fifty thousand marks!” Toby’s
thoughts flew back to the problem at hand as they skittered down a
side hall and out into the castle gardens. “I can’t believe
it!”

“Well, believe it.”

“What do you think Huntingdon will do to
raise ten thousand marks?” Tom asked as they neared the corner of
the wall where they had left the cart they’d snuck in with.

Ethan didn’t answer. He motioned for them to
wait until the way was clear. “Whatever it is,” he nodded for them
to sprint forward, “you can bet that we’ll put an end to it.”

Toby stopped near the cart as Roderick shot
past him, bending over to catch his breath. “Yes, but do we really
want to stop him if it means bringing the king home?”

Toby’s thoughts were cut short when Joanna
walked out of the kitchen door. She glanced up and gasped, her eyes
popping in surprise. Ethan froze and for the briefest moment his
dark frown of concentration melted away into a cocky grin.

“Well hello,” he turned on all of his charm
even as her surprise hardened to irritation. “Who are you?”

“Joanna!” Toby ran forward, pushing past
Ethan. He threw his arms around his sister and hugged her close.
Then he all but fell to his knees in front of her. “Please don’t
tell! Please don’t tell!”

Ethan blinked and glanced from Toby to his
sister. “Joanna Dunkirke?” he asked, taking another look at her.
“It can’t be.”

Joanna took one look at the way Ethan was
making eyes at her and pursed her lips before ignoring him,
planting her hands on her hips, and turning all of her attention to
her brother. “I warned you, Toby,” she shook her head, “Didn’t I
say if I ever caught him in Derby Castle I would turn you in?”

“Yes, I know, but-” Toby stammered.

Joanna reached out and put a hand on Toby’s
face, leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then tore off past them
and out into the courtyard shouting, “Help! Thieves! Brigands!
Ethan of Derbywood and his gang!” She kept running through the
courtyard towards the cloister.

Ethan’s face dropped. “I thought she was on
our side.” He jumped into the cart’s seat as Tom and Roderick
scrambled into the back.

Toby covered the deep blush coming to his
face by hauling himself into the seat by Ethan’s side. “No, my
lord, she’s not.”

“Pity,” Ethan smirked and snapped the
reigns.

Chapter Three

“Oy! I bloody knew it!” Jack hollered as he
ran out of the cloister along with Crispin and Aubrey after Joanna
sounded the alarm. “I knew I saw those bloody wankers loiterin’
about the place!”

The three of them met Joanna in the center of
the courtyard. “They came from the garden,” she reported.

“How long have they been here?” Crispin
demanded.

“I don’t know, my lord.”

“I’m goin’ after them,” Jack growled.

“Jack, no, wait!” Crispin called after him as
he sprinted for the stables. He wasn’t in the mood to be held
back

Several horses belonging to Derbyshire nobles
were being lodged in the stables, some already saddled and ready to
go. Jack mounted the first one he reached and kicked it to a run.
It was a good steed and shot him like an arrow past Crispin, still
yelling at him in the courtyard, and out of Derby Castle’s gate
into the city. Townspeople leapt out of his way as he charged
through narrow streets.

The cart was nowhere in sight by the time he
galloped through the city gates and into the countryside, but there
was only one place it could have gone. He leaned low over his
horse’s neck and charged along the road toward the Derbywood. There
was a fair amount of trade traveling the streets but none of the
carts resembled Ethan’s. By the time he galloped into the woods
itself the road was empty.

“Come out, you bloody bastard!” he reined his
horse to a stop and shouted when he was deep in the forest.
“Ethan!”

The creaking branches overhead blocked much
of the sunlight. The spring breeze whispered through the
undergrowth. Jack’s mount shifted with anxious steps as Jack turned
him this way and that, peering into the murmuring woods. The road
that wound through Derbywood was empty but Jack could feel eyes on
him from every direction.

“Bloody hell.” He swallowed, nudging his
horse to walk on. “I bloody hate the forest,” he told it, patting
its neck to soothe himself. “Ethan! You’d better show yourself, you
arse-sniffing coward!” Nothing like a good yell to give a man
courage under pressure. “What do you think you’re on about,
sneakin’ around the castle like that!”

A huge bird of some sort flapped its way
through the trees above and Jack flinched in spite of himself. The
swaying branches gave him the feeling that the canopy was closing
in on him. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but it
seemed to be getting darker.

“Oy, now I know why Crispin hollered at me,
mate.” He leaned over his horse’s neck and gave him another pat.
“Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“Hello?” A high, echoing call further down
the road caught his attention. “Hello? Is someone there?”

Jack sat straight in his saddle and kicked
his horse to a trot towards the voice. Ahead on the road, by the
front feet of a tired gray horse, crouched a woman with long
honey-blonde hair. Jack’s eyes blinked wide as she stood, smoothing
her hands across the generous curve of her hips. Her hips weren’t
the only generous curves she had.

“Can you help me?”

He had to shake himself and force his eyes up
when he realized he was staring at the low-cut front of her bodice.
“Yeah, I can help.” He slid from his saddle, the rosary around his
wrist cinching tight as it caught the side of the saddle. Puffing
himself up more than he knew was good for him, he strode towards
the woman. “What seems to be the problem, mate?”