The Rose at Twilight (49 page)

“Do y
’
now, me darlin’? What a pity it is that I cannot read it. I’ll be having to take yer word for what it says.”

“Then do so.”

“Aye, I will that, but e’en his lordship would agree that our need for the horses be greater than yer own. And I see by the packs tied to yon saddles, ye’ve got a bit o’ sup. We’ll be for having that, as well. Build us a fire, lads. We’ve a squirrel or two by us we can roast, and by heaven, we shall have a fine meal. Some of you lot, into the trees wi’ ye! We’ve not seen a sign o’ Harry’s lads, but it don’t do for to be careless. Ye’ll be forgiving us,” he added, grinning at Alys and the others, “if we truss ye up a bit. Ye wouldn’t want to be losing yerselves in this blessed forest whilst we sup, now, would ye?”

Alys sat stiffly while her hands were tied behind her, and when they were alone, Ian muttered beside her, “Devilish heathen Irish. What a mon can want wi’ sich tae fight for him, I dinna ken. ’Tis unnatural. An they dare tae touch you, mistress—”

“They will not,” she said wearily. “They are much too interested in food, and I think he did believe me about Lovell. I had not thought about them not being able to read.”

“They ken his device, e’en an they canna read his letters,” Ian pointed out.

“Aye.” She watched them making their fires, and eating. In the gloom of the forest, she was uncertain how much time passed, but she knew that even if somehow they got away, they would not make Newark now by nightfall. She was leaning against a tree, paying scant heed to the activity in the clearing, when suddenly she was aware of a stillness around her, and glanced quickly at the place where she had last seen the leader. He was talking earnestly with one of the others, who was gesturing toward the woods. The leader said something, and the men all disappeared into the trees and undergrowth. Alys straightened alertly, only to feel the sharp prick of a dagger against her back.

“Ye’ll all of ye be having the goodness to keep silent or the wench’ll be spitted,” the man muttered loud enough for Ian and the other two to hear. They could not have spoken anyway, for as Alys could see now, a second raider was gagging the last of the three. Her gaze was caught just then by movement across the glade. There were riders among the trees, and one, on a huge black horse, was riding straight toward her. Above his head, the branches of a tree began to quake.

“Above you, Nicholas!” Alys screamed, flinging herself to one side, but expecting the sharp thrust of the villain’s dagger to follow her, to spit her as he had threatened he would.

A
LYS SAW NICHOLAS TWIST I
n the saddle, his sword out and up to thrust. The savage who had jumped at him from the tree crashed lifeless to the ground, and in minutes the fracas was over. Nicholas leapt from his horse and ran to untie Alys, while the other horsemen herded the surviving Irishmen back into the clearing. The leader glared at her.

“I doubted ye was at one with his lordship, papers or no.”

“What papers?” Sir Nicholas demanded, pulling her upright.

Alys waited to be sure she could stand before she replied, “I came to find you, Nicholas. I must speak privately with you.”

“What papers?” he repeated implacably.

“The darlin’ wench bears one wi’ our blessed Lovell’s own device on the seal,” the helpful Irishman said, sneering.

Imperatively, Nicholas held out his hand.

“Please, sir, I came to find you,” she said, standing her ground. “I have news that I cannot give to anyone else. I swear to you, the letter I carry was not given me as a safe-passage.”

For a moment, she feared he would insist that she explain herself then and there, but at last, with a glance at the men around them, he grunted and took her by the arm. “Come with me,” he said, “but this tale of yours had better be a good one.”

Alone, away from the others, she showed him the letter, explained how she had come by it, and expressed the fears that had possessed her as a result of what Davy had said about the king. She did not tell him about the medallion she carried, tucked inside her bodice, for whatever else he might accept, she knew he would not tolerate the news that she was to take it to the dowager queen if the rebellion failed. To her surprise, Nicholas believed everything she did tell him, and did not question or scold her. Instead, he called to Hugh to join them.

“I thought the battle might have begun already,” she said as they watched Hugh’s approach. “I never expected to encounter you so far from Newark.”

“I am believed to know more than most about this part of the country,” he said with an ironic smile. “The king sent us to guard the east bank of the Trent hereabouts, and one of my lads saw you taken. He did not know it was you, only that a party of riders had been attacked, and we had to find a ford before we could get to you. Hugh,” he said when the giant joined them, “my lady has cause to think the rebels will make killing Henry their first task. Lovell’s messenger told her they meant to find the king no matter where he hid. Sounds as if they know he means to keep to the rear.” Alys noted that Nicholas had not named the messenger, although she had told him the man was Davy Hawkins.

Hugh nodded thoughtfully. “By what we make out, they are heading south, so Harry was right that Newark is the most likely place to meet them. What will we do with this lot?” He glanced uneasily at Alys. “We’ve no way to look after prisoners.”

Nicholas also looked at her. “Set them loose,” he said, “without their weapons. If this is the best that Lovell and Lincoln have to command, a few more will not worry us. As for you, madam, you go straight back to Wolveston.”

Alys opened her mouth to protest, but Hugh spoke first. “There are like to be more of these louts betwixt here and there, Nick, and we cannot spare men to accompany her. As it is, we can use the three she brought with her.”

“What would you have me do, man, present her to the king? I can scarcely leave her on her own somewhere along the way.”

Hugh chuckled. “Why not take her to Harry? Appears to me that she could not be anywhere safer now that we know the danger, and she will be much better off with us than with only young Ian and those other two lads to look out for her.”

“I shall have something to say to them,” Nicholas said.

“Ian did only what you told him to do, sir,” Alys said. “You told him to serve me, and he has served me well.”

“I will show you what well served means once this business is over and done, my love. Your information may save the king, but Harry himself won’t be able to protect you from me after this escapade. Of all the damn fool things to have done—”

Hugh interrupted him. “Ought we not to be going, Nick? The lord knows when the fighting will begin, but I’d not count on having more than the night to see us to Newark.”

Alys was grateful for the interruption, but it did not spare her from hearing all that Nicholas meant to say to her. She had cause in the next half hour to regret all the times she had wished he would speak to her more when his men were around.

“You might have been killed by those villains,” he snapped once they were mounted.

“But I was not,” she replied, “and had I not screamed when I did, you might have been killed.”

“Had you not been there at all,” he retorted grimly, “I would never have crossed the river.”

“Now, Nick,” Hugh said behind them, “the mistress has no good cause to love our Harry, and yet did she come, all on her own, to warn him of the evil afoot against him.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the company behind them, which consoled Alys but did not seem to affect Nicholas.

“What she did was reckless,” he said to Hugh, “and I mean to make certain she never does such a damn fool thing again!”

A man shouted from behind, “Takes a brave lass to risk her life to save her king!” Cheers followed, and more shouts.

Alys glanced at Nicholas. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He said no more, but she thought he still looked ominously grim.

They crossed to the Lincolnshire side of the river, where they encountered royal forces, but they saw no more sign of the enemy, and it was late when they approached Newark. They could see the glow of myriad torches and campfires on both sides of the river, and well into the forest. There were signs of men and horses as far to the south and west as the eye could see, for it was at Newark that the river Trent changed its course, flowing from west to east now, instead of south to north. Nicholas ordered his men to make camp in an open space that proved to be a newly harvested crocus field north of the town.

“I’ve no notion where we might find Harry tonight,” he told Hugh. “He could be anywhere betwixt here and Loughborough. We will see the royal banners more easily at first light, and we will fight better, when we must, if we have rested.” Turning to Alys, he said, “I’ve no tent for you, lass, but I have furs and blankets. You will sleep with me.”

The men tended their horses and made a hasty, cold meal before making up their beds on the ground, where Alys found that the matted remains of crocus plants provided a soft mattress. She knew that only the flowers were harvested for their saffron centers, used for dyes and the flavoring of foods.

Nicholas still seemed forbidding, and watching him in the light from a scattering of stars and a waning moon, Alys wondered what he was thinking and if he was still angry. She had felt no fear, even when he had promised retribution for her recklessness. His reproaches had lacked their customary sharpness. While she munched cold meat and bread, and drank the ale he gave her in a horn mug he carried with him, she caught his gaze upon her more than once. When he saw her watching, he looked away, but the expression in his eyes before he did made her spirits rise. His demeanor seemed stern, but the look was not. She could not define the expression exactly, but there was no harshness, only tenderness and curiosity—an odd combination, she thought.

By the time she crawled into the camp bed beside him, with her heavy cloak and his brigandine spread beneath the covers to protect them from dampness, she was encouraged enough to speak to him. “Nicholas,” she whispered.

“Aye, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. She breathed more easily, hearing the word. “I feared you were still angry.”

“You frightened the wits out of me,” he said, sliding an arm beneath her shoulders and drawing her close to him. “Did you expect me to thank you for it?”

Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, and she turned her cheek so that it lay against the rise of his chest. “I am frightened, too,” she murmured. “So many men I know will be fighting. I was scared before, but I have been terrified since the moment Davy told me the king would die.”

“I should have thought you would not miss the Tudor.”

“I have come to like him,” she said. “I do not like all he has done, but I cannot wish for his death. I … I could not stop your son from dying, Nicholas, but I hoped I might stop the death of your king. You can prevent it now, can you not?”

“Aye,” he said. “Wherever he is tonight, he will be well guarded, but in the heat of battle, knowing himself well to the rear, he might not have taken care. He will want to send all his best men to the vanguard, and if the rebels planned the business well ahead, as you believe, they might already have a party of men this side of the river, behind us and small enough not to be noted by the royal army. Such a force would be deadly if they come from behind to strike without care for their own safety.”

“And if I had not come?”

“Gwilym could have told us,” he said gently.

“But first I would have had to convince him there was danger, and even then he might have said you could deal with it, that he was needed more at Wolveston. And … and …” She could think of nothing more to say.

“And you wanted to come,” he said.

She tried to see his face, but she could not. “I cannot explain how I felt,” she said. “I did not want to tell anyone but you. I knew if I spoke to Gwilym, he might decide to send someone else, and they might not find you, and moreover, once he knew I had spoken to Davy, he would … he would have made it impossible for me to get away if he did not go himself. I was afraid you would be killed, Nicholas. I had to come.”

“I have it now. You did not trust me to look after myself, let alone to look after the king.”

“No, no, it was not that!” she said hastily, fearing she had offended him again.

He chuckled, hugging her, and said, “Oh, sweetheart, how quickly you rise to the bait. I understand how it feels to believe that no one can do a job as well as one can do it oneself, but one does not expect a woman to put her life in jeopardy because she does not trust men to do a thing properly.”

“Well, I do not see what being a woman has to do with it,” she said indignantly.

“Very likely not,” he said, hugging her again, “but you will promise me something now, or by heaven, I will bind and gag you when I leave you with our Harry.”

She did not believe the threat for an instant and grinned at the thought of what the king would think of such treatment, but she affected a deep sigh and said in a long-suffering tone, “Very well, sir, I will promise whatever you want. What is it?”

“That no matter what you hear or see, you will stay with him until I come for you, or until he bids you otherwise,” he said.

The thought of why the king might bid her to do otherwise was too dreadful to contemplate, so she said hastily, “I will stay with him, Nicholas, I promise—if you will be careful.”

“I will,” he said, “and, sweetheart, about what you said before—you didn’t let our son die. I have never blamed you.”

“I know you said you did not, but—”

“I said what I meant,” he interjected fiercely. “It was God’s will. I understand your feelings now, but you need never have believed you must aid my king because our son was lost.”

“That was not my only reason,” she said. “I just wanted to explain it all to you. You were so angry before, and—”

“I was not angry. I told you that seeing you in that clearing with those savages frightened me witless, and that was true, but afterward, I said the things I did because …”