What the Heart Sees (6 page)

This last was said with an eye toward Cassie’s kiss-reddened lips.

“My thoughts are we have two ways to use this tunnel,” Thomas said, ignoring the jibe. “We can wait until dark and lead the people out, leaving an empty castle for de Caux to throw his boulders at. Or we can take a small party out and scout his camp.”

Sir Hubert took offense at the first option and thus ignored it. “Surprise would be on our side and if he has a weakness, we might find it.”

Thomas nodded in agreement. “We’ll take a dozen of our best knights, then.”

“They will hear you clanking and squeaking a hundred paces away,” Cassie muttered under her breath.

Thomas frowned. “You have a better suggestion?”

Startled that he had heard her, much less acknowledged her, Cassie flushed. “The foresters, my lord. They know the woods, they hunt in them every day and can move through them without rustling a single leaf.”

Sir Hubert growled low in his throat. “Foresters? They would hardly know what to look for.”

Cassie looked up at him calmly. “When you took a hunting party out last month, you caught a fat boar and four of her suckling pigs. When you pitched your camp for the night, how many of the sucklings did you put to the spit?”

Sir Hubert put his hands to his waist and glared. “Two.”

“And how many were there when it came to share the cracklings amongst your keen-eyed companions?”

The rumbling in his chest was enough of an answer and Cassie smiled. “The meat was perfectly roasted, though it suffered for a lack of salt. Two of your men were lying by the fire dozing, as I recall, and if you care to ask—and they care to admit—one of them was missing his poniard when he awoke.”

The rumble in Sir Hubert’s chest grew in volume but Thomas held up a hand. “All right, you have made your point. We will take a pair of foresters with us. They can scout the way ahead. Who do you recommend?”

“Rolf the egg-eater,” she said without hesitating a blink. “And me.”

“
You
? Not likely, girl.”

“Ah. So I was useful enough when you needed my bow arm...and useful enough when I found the entrance to the tunnel...but suddenly useful no longer for going into a forest that I know as well as the lines on my hands?”

It was Thomas’s turn to growl. “Have a mind with that tongue of yours lest you find it pinned to the wall.”

“You wished to be informed of my skills earlier,” she reminded him. “Thus, with no false modesty, I inform you now that I am the best you have. Moreover, Rolf and I are the smallest. We two can move through the treetops like squirrels if need be and scarcely bend a branch. No one thinks to look up when they are guarding a path. How do you suppose we snatched the suckling pig?”

“And if you get caught?”

“Then you lose two woodsmen rather than a party of valuable and much-needed knights.”

Thomas continued to glower. He disliked fighting logic when logic went against him. But she was right. He could ill-afford to lose any of his knights. If there were no weaknesses to be found in de Caux’s camp, then those knights would be needed to defend his people as they escaped into the woods.”

He exchanged a glance with Sir Hubert, who was as galled as he to admit the girl’s arguments held merit.

All but one.

What she failed to consider was that Thomas no longer regarded her as being expendable. His body still ached where they had touched and his lips had not had enough of her, not by a long measure.

Cassie tightened the leather belt around her waist and adjusted the twin sheaths that held a brace of daggers. Her bow was slung over her shoulder, her hair was once again braided into a long, thick cord down her back. She wore clean new hose and a short dark green tunic made of such soft, warm wool she kept plucking at the hem to admire it. Her boots were ankle high, made of calfskin, with no thick soles to obstruct her ability to feel the ground beneath her feet.

Rolf was similarly dressed in dark green head to toe. He had been owl-eyed when called down from the battlements, and when he saw the four burly knights awaiting him, he all but fainted. He was young, tow-headed, and if one looked very close, one might find a score of blondish hairs on his chin. For all that, he was as nimble and quick as a fox, with bow skills that came nearest to rivalling Cassie’s.

Thomas had provided them with daggers from his own stores, the blades thin and honed razor-sharp. He was still not fully persuaded this was the best way to go about gaining knowledge of de Caux’s camp, but truth be told, he could see no other way. Lustful thoughts aside, his admiration for Cassie, for her courage in volunteering to do this knew no bounds. When it came time to escort them below to the tunnel, he felt an unaccustomed tightness in his chest.

“You will take great care,” he warned for the tenth time within the hour. “If you think it too dangerous, come back. Do not take any undue risks. Do not go where you think others might fear to tread simply because you wish to prove a point. And you—” he looked to Rolf— “you will ensure she heeds my words.”

Knowing Cassie well enough, the young forester knew he would have a better chance of catching the wind and making it obey, but he nodded and tried his best to look convincing. “Aye, my lord.”

That said, Thomas adjusted his own weapons and nodded to the others. He and Sir Hubert would escort the pair to the end of the tunnel. He had a thought to remain there until they returned, but Cassie warned, gently, that it could take hours, even a full day or more for them to move close enough to the camp to see anything.

“If we are not back by tomorrow night, at moonrise, then you will know not to expect us back at all,” she said calmly.

“You had damned well best be back by then,” he murmured, his voice tight with the strain. “Or I will burn the forest down around their heads.”

Sir Hubert ducked through the priest-hole first, his torch lighting the way for the three who followed close behind. Cassie tried not to think too much about the narrow passage, the damp, moss-covered walls that were so close they snagged her sleeves here and there as they passed. She walked upright easily enough, but Hubert and Thomas both had to stoop to avoid banging their heads on the rough surface. Smoke from the torch streamed back into her eyes and because the light stretched a dozen or more paces ahead of them, it startled roaches and rats, mice and other furry creatures from their evening meal of guano. The bat droppings glowed white and thick on the walls and earthen floor; now and then they heard a squeal up ahead followed by a flurry of wings fleeing from the light.

Cassie shied from it as well, trying to use Sir Hubert’s broad shoulders as a shield against the glare so as not to sear the light on her eyes. The moon was cut in half, and the trees would block another third, so there would be heavy shadows and she could not afford to ruin her night sight.

Though she began to think the tunnel would never end, it did. The ceiling rose and the walls began to show signs of greenery, vines for the most part, that had crept inside from the forest floor. The ground turned softer underfoot as they walked across layers of half-rotted leaves that had blown in through the opening.

Sir Hubert slowed his pace, then stopped. He lowered the end of the torch, nosing it into the dirt to smother the flames. The next ten yards or so were covered in darkness, with a hand stretched out to drag on the wall and guide them the rest of the way.

After passing through a thick tangle of vines and roots that camouflaged the exit, the four stood tall and breathed deeply of the cool, crisp air. Cassie looked all around, trying to figure out where, in the forest, they were standing. Earlier in the day Sir Hubert had determined the tunnel led in a northerly direction. She could hear the burbling sound of water nearby, so she knew they must be close to the stream that fed the cornfields. They would need a stronger marker, however, to know how to find their way back.

“Rolf,” she whispered. “Up a tree and see what you can see.”

He handed her his bow and in moments had clambered up the trunk of a tall oak and vanished in the boughs above. While he did that, Cassie walked a dozen paces to either side of the tunnel entrance looking for something familiar. She spied a rotted tree trunk, broken in half in some past storm, and fallen over in the shape of a slanted letter A. Directly overhead was a perfectly round patch of clear sky. To the left was rocky ledge of sorts carved into the side of the hill. To the right, halfway up an alder was an abandoned nest.

Rolf appeared beside her, dropping soundlessly off a low branch. “We are less than twenty paces from the edge of the field, just there, over the rise. Less than forty from the stream, over yon.” He paused to point. “I could see the glow from de Caux’s main camp on the far side of the castle, that way, as well as the lesser fires of the sentries posted all around the circle of the forest. It seems we walked right beneath them.”

“He will have patrols,” Thomas warned softly. “Not all of them lit for your convenience.”

Cassie handed Rolf his bow then bent and notched the string onto hers. She checked the snugness of the quiver strapped across her back then took out an arrow, nocked it, and fired it into the trunk of a nearby tree to leave a marker. The
thwangggg
it made striking through the wood seemed as loud as a shout in the silence, and startled Sir Hubert enough to rasp a curse.

She held Thomas’s gaze a moment longer, then turned, and with Rolf at her heels, melted quietly into the darkened greenwood.

Thomas released a breath he had been unaware of holding. He stood for a time beside the entrance to the cave, well-hidden behind a canopy of vines, then at Sir Hubert’s urging, they retraced their steps back through the tunnel.

Thomas paced the night and most of the next day in his chamber, his patience stretched as thin as it could possibly be. The pale pinks and gold of the setting sun were showing through the window and he was ready to gather all his men, return to the forest and take their chances attacking de Caux’s camp.

He had not closed his eyes all night or day. Food sat untouched on his writing table. Wine was consumed sparingly, for it tasted bitter on his tongue. He had broken the prime code of chivalry by sending a mere girl out to do a man’s task. Despite her boasted skills of aerial prowess, she was the daughter of a bowyer and de Caux’s men were trained warriors and killers.

He sat at the desk between pacings and bowed his head, raking his fingers through the dark locks of his hair.

Of all the multitude of thoughts that had ravaged his mind throughout the long hours, the one he had avoided the most was how she had come to know of the tunnel’s existence. She swore she had seen a blind jewel-maker at work in the cellar. Not only at work, but at work making and polishing a pendant that Thomas knew for a fact had been locked in a wooden box in his chamber for the past seven days and nights.

He glanced at the box and frowned. Releasing one hand from his hair, he lifted the carved lid and took the mirror pendant out of its velvet bed. Studying it closely, he ran his thumb over the sharp little point on the back of the setting, the one she claimed had pricked her hand. Out of curiosity, he pressed against it and felt it prick his own skin, then he stared at his thumb, watching the little bead of red blood well up.

Turning the pendant over, he examined the intricate filigree of emerald vine leaves and diamond flowers. Old Godfrey the Lombard did excellent work for a blind man. With a scoff on his lips, Thomas started to put the pendant back into the box, but the mirror winked in the light and drew his eye. Bringing it close again, he saw his reflection on the polished surface. Blue eyes looked back, dark hair, a stern mouth...

He drew a deep breath and held it. In the reflection, his mouth had curved into a smile and he was looking down...down at the beautiful woman he was holding. Her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand was lovingly stroking the long, silky yellow cloud of her hair. They were both naked, lying abed, twined blissfully in each other’s arms.

Thomas dropped the pendant.

He blinked hard to clear his head of the image he had seen...or thought he had seen...for when he dared to pick the pendant up again, he saw nothing but his own eyes staring roundly back at him.

He heard a commotion outside the door and looked up as Edward ushered Sir Hubert into the chamber.

“The boy, Rolf, is back.”

Thomas pushed to his feet. “Bring him to me.”

Sir Hubert turned and waved a hand. Rolf, the archer with a fondness for eggs, came into the chamber, his cap in his hand, his eyes darting this way and that as he looked around the huge room. His face was covered in dirt, his clothes were muddied and his leggings torn at the knee.

“Where is the girl?”

“Cassie stayed behind, my lord, and sent me back.”

“Stayed behind? What do you mean
stayed behind
?”

“We found a good perch high up on a tree where we could see the whole camp. We even heard some of the so’jers talking. She stayed to keep a watch an’ sent me back to tell you she found a chink in ‘is lordship’s armor. She draw’d it out on a leaf with a twig.”

He reached under his tunic and searched a bit, then pulled out a broad green leaf. When he set it on the desk, Thomas and Sir Hubert both leaned forward to study the lines that had been scratched onto the living paper.