Where Love Has Gone (29 page)

“I have left Jean to watch over them,” Elaine
said to Desmond when she joined him and Cadwallon in the cabin they
were using. “Both of them should be able to walk off the ship when
it reaches Caen.

“I also spoke to Lord Bertrand,” she
continued. “He says from Regneville to Caen is a four-day
ride.”

“What did you tell him?” Desmond
demanded.

“Nothing of importance,” she said with a
faint smile. “I am not foolish enough to reveal anything we’ve
learned, not to
him
. I merely reminded him of how I was sick
all the way to Jersey and stayed sick for two days after I first
arrived there, and said I have no wish to repeat the unpleasant
experience. I told him I was going to try to convince one of you to
travel with me overland, and I asked how long it would take. He
accepted my explanation without questions.”

“Four days to reach Caen,” Cadwallon
repeated. “And half a day to find Royce and tell him in confidence
what we’ve learned, so he can warn King Henry. Just enough
time.”

“Providing nothing goes amiss,” Desmond said.
“Unfortunately, in my experience, something always does go amiss.
We will have to expect delays.”

“That’s why splitting up is such a good
idea,” Elaine insisted. “Desmond, you and I will ride to Caen. I
promise, I will not be one of those delays you are expecting.”

“No, Cadwallon and I will ride to Caen,”
Desmond said. “The two of us together are strong enough to fight
off anyone who tries to stop us. Don’t object, Elaine. Remember
what happened to Richard, how he was beaten and drugged. I don’t
want that to happen to you. We can be sure someone has been
secretly established at King Henry’s court to direct the French
king’s murderous scheme from there. Whoever it is knows about
Cadwallon and me, for Lady Benedicta most certainly kept her
correspondent informed about our activities on Jersey. If that
person suspects we are aware of the plan to kill King Henry, then
he is bound to send agents to stop us. They will be watching any
likely port where we might come ashore from Jersey.”

“But, don’t you see?” Elaine cried. “Those
are precisely the reasons why you and Cadwallon must not travel
together. If the two of you are prevented from reaching Caen, or if
you are seriously delayed, who will believe me? Or Jean? Or two
sick squires? Do you expect Lord Bertrand to reveal his wife’s
perfidy to King Henry without either of you present to insist upon
honesty from him? Given a chance, he will offer a story that makes
him, and Lady Benedicta, look like heroes in the king’s cause.

“And if Royce should be away from court, what
will happen then? I know what will happen,” she went on. “I will be
discounted as an ignorant girl who is half mad with grief for her
sister, and I’ll be prevented from speaking to King Henry.

“Besides, the man-at-arms whom Flamig sent to
guard Lord Bertrand cannot stay on duty all day and all night until
we reach Caen. A second strong man needs to be here, just in case
Lord Bertrand decides to attempt some desperate action.”

“She does make several good points,”
Cadwallon said. “With the weather so uncertain, who knows how long
it will take Captain Piers to sail this ship to Caen? From his dire
predictions about a severe storm at sea, the
Daisy
could be
blown far off course. We could be sailing for weeks, and by then
it’ll be too late for us to save King Henry. In the meantime, who
knows what will happen here aboard ship? Like Elaine, I don’t trust
Lord Bertrand to behave honorably.”

“Admit it, Desmond,” Elaine argued. “If you
and Cadwallon travel separately, there is a much better chance of
one of you reaching Royce in time to keep King Henry alive.”

“If I let you go with me, you will be in
danger from the first moment you set foot on shore, all the way to
Caen,” Desmond said to her.

“King Henry is in greater danger than I will
be. By the way, the excuse I offered to Lord Bertrand is true. I
really do dislike travel by sea,” she said, daring to smile at him
because she was sure he was about to give in and accept her plan.
“I will ride astride, as you know I did on Jersey, and I will keep
up with you,” she promised.

“I don’t like it,” Desmond said, “though I
confess, I do see the sense in the arguments you and Cadwallon have
made. Very well, then, Elaine will ride with me. Cadwallon, I leave
four lives in your charge. Guard them well. Even here on the
Daisy
, it’s possible that King Louis’s spies will seek to
harm some or all of you.”

Because of the light wind, the
Daisy
traveled slowly and night fell before they reached Regneville.
Elaine, standing on deck to watch the ship sail around the point
and into the sheltered dock area, saw that Captain Piers had been
right; the harbor was a fine, spacious one. She counted a dozen
ships tied up at the docks and several others moored out in the
harbor.

The town itself was so busy that, as far as
they could tell, no one paid any attention to Desmond and Elaine
when they set off just before dawn the next morning. Desmond wore
his chainmail tunic and he rode his own horse, carried from Jersey
aboard the
Daisy
. Elaine was mounted on Ewan’s grey
gelding.

“Ewan won’t be fit to ride any horse for some
time yet,” Cadwallon had told her. “His father gave this horse to
him on the day when Ewan became my squire. It’s a fine animal;
you’ll have no trouble keeping up with Desmond so long as you are
riding Smoke.”

Elaine agreed with Cadwallon on the quality
of her borrowed mount. Smoke accepted his unfamiliar rider with no
difficulty and he seemed eager to run as fast as she would
allow.

They left Regneville and headed east. In mid
morning they reached the hill upon which Coutances was built. Not
wanting to stop so soon, they bypassed the bustling town and
continued riding eastward.

“We will have to stop at St. Lo,” Desmond
said. “Sometimes, King Henry moves his court there. We don’t want
to ride right past him.”

“Is that where we will spend tonight?” Elaine
asked.

“No; it’s too far for one day’s ride. We’ll
have to find a village with an inn.”

Their horses carried them along a muddy road
that wound across green, rolling hills, past apple orchards heavy
with buds that were ready to burst into flower on the next warm
day. Cattle grazed in the open fields, and here and there houses
clustered together in hamlets that added charm to the pleasant
countryside. Once they were beyond Coutances the sun came out, but
the strong wind kept the day cool and Elaine was glad of her warm
cloak.

“I hope Captain Piers has the same wind,” she
said when they halted at midday at the edge of an apple orchard.
“If so, the
Daisy
will reach Caen well before we do.”

She was relieved that Desmond wanted to stop,
though she’d never admit it to him. Having insisted she wouldn’t
slow him down, she was determined to keep the pace he set, though
she was finding it tiring. He helped her to dismount, then dropped
his arms and stepped away from her. Aware that he was watching her
with a slight frown, she walked about among the apple trees, trying
to appear interested in them while she stretched her shoulders and
arms and bent over a few times to relax the muscles in her back and
thighs.

With every fiber of her being she was aware
of Desmond’s nearness and of their isolation from the rest of the
world. They were alone together in a lovely land. She wished
Desmond would hold out his hand to her, but he did not.

She wished he’d say something. She was sure
he wasn’t the kind of man who’d sulk after agreeing to a plan, so
she didn’t understand the odd tension emanating from him. He’d
barely spoken to her all morning.

With Desmond scrupulously keeping his
distance from her, they sat beneath an apple tree to eat the bread
and cheese they had brought from Jersey, and they drank fresh water
from a little stream.

“Do you plan for us to ride the same horses
all the way to Caen?” Elaine asked, seeking an end to the awkward
silence between them. “I notice we aren’t pushing them as fast as
they could go.”

“We’ll change horses at St. Lo, at the royal
stable there, and leave orders for both animals to be taken on to
Caen after a day or two of rest,” he told her. “Don’t worry about
Ewan getting his beloved Smoke back; he will, and well before he is
healed enough to think of riding. We will probably continue to Caen
on animals left at the stable with orders that they are to be
returned to their owners.”

“I just wondered if you are protecting the
horses or me,” she said. “I don’t want you to hold back for my
sake.”

“I wouldn’t do that, not even to spare you.
Our errand is too urgent.” He jumped to his feet, leaving her to
stand up without his help. “I can see no sense in mistreating a
horse by riding it at top speed until it dies of exhaustion. Or a
person, either.”

Catching her around the waist without
warning, he tossed her into the saddle. She was about to ask him
what was wrong, but she saw the grim set to his mouth and thought
better of it. Desmond was already mounted and galloping down the
muddy road. Elaine hurried after him. They continued on their way
until almost sundown, when they entered a tiny village. A few small
children paused in their play to gape at the strangers, but there
were no adults to be seen.

“The grownups are most likely finishing their
work in the fields,” Elaine remarked.

“We will stop here for the night,” Desmond
said.

“I don’t see any building that looks like an
inn.” Elaine bit her lip to keep herself from confessing that she
had been looking forward to warm water for washing the dust off her
face, and a hot meal and wine.

“I do see a little church,” Desmond said.
“Let’s ask the village priest if he knows of a place where we can
sleep.”

He dismounted in front of the whitewashed
cottage next to the church and knocked on the door. A plump,
elderly woman opened to him. Her blue woolen gown was clean, as was
the white linen headdress that completely covered her hair. She
looked from Desmond, tall and handsome though dusty from travel, to
Elaine, still mounted on Smoke. Desmond made a formal bow.

“This is Lady Elaine of Dereham,” he told the
woman, using the Norman French that most folk in King Henry’s lands
understood. “I am escorting her to Caen, but she can ride no
farther tonight. Do you know of a room in the village where she
could sleep?”

“No.” The woman looked at him doubtfully.

“Is this the priest’s house?” Desmond asked.
“Are you his housekeeper?”

“Aye, to both questions,” the woman answered.
“But Father Paul is in the next town, seeing to a funeral.”

“Then, could my lady sleep in the church,
since it’s not being used?”

“Certainly not!” The woman looked as if she
wanted to slam the door in Desmond’s face. She stepped back and
placed a hand on the edge of the door, but she paused when Elaine
spoke.

“I really cannot ride any longer today,”
Elaine said, in a slow, sad voice. She did her best to droop as if
she was ready to fall out of the saddle. It wasn’t hard to feign
exhaustion. Her legs and back ached after her long day on horseback
and her stomach felt hollow with hunger.

“There’s no room to be had in this village,”
the woman said in a kinder tone, “but ye can stay in the shed out
back, so long as ye leave at sunrise. In return, ye can make a
contribution to the church mitebox. Father Paul wouldn’t object to
me offerin’ shelter to the stranger at his door.”

“Thank you.” Elaine knew she sounded utterly
weary.

“It’s that way.” The woman pointed around the
corner of the house.

The shed, which was much too small to be
called a barn, was as neat and clean as the old woman, and it
housed one brown and white cow. Two empty stalls suggested that
horses were kept there, too, though not at present.

“I gather that Father Paul rode to the next
village,” Desmond said, “and apparently took someone with him. How
convenient for us.”

Together, in the tense silence that had
marked most of the day, they cared for the horses, removing the
saddles, watering them, brushing the animals down, checking their
hooves for embedded stones or any other problems and, finally,
filling the small trough in each stall from the supply of feed that
Desmond found in a barrel.

“I’ll leave coins to pay for what we use,” he
said.

Having finished with her horse, Elaine
gathered some straw into a pile and sat down on it.

“I don’t mean to complain,” she said, “but I
am very hungry.”

“So am I. Perhaps I can buy a loaf of bread
from our hostess. Stay here.”

Elaine wasn’t sure she could move if he
wanted her to. The pile of straw was as comfortable as many a
mattress, the shed smelled of clean, sweet cow, and she was happy
to stretch out her weary limbs. She drew her cloak around herself
and closed her eyes.

“Elaine?” Someone was shaking her shoulder.
Only slowly did she realize it was Desmond. “I’m sorry to waken
you, but you ought to eat while the broth is still hot.”

She felt pleasant warmth just under her nose
and smelled a delicious fragrance. Early spring greens, she
decided, with just a hint of chicken, perhaps the final rendering
from the bones of an aged hen who had stopped laying eggs and thus
could be sacrificed to the soup pot. Elaine inhaled deeply and the
tempting odor gave her the strength to open her eyes and sit up.
She winced at the ache in her hips and thighs, then forced a smile
when she saw Desmond watching her in the light of the lantern on
the shed wall.

“We have been given a feast,” he said.

Next to her on the dirt floor of the shed sat
a flat basket in which rested a wooden bowl containing the soup she
had smelled, along with a wooden spoon, a few thick slices of brown
bread, a tiny wedge of cheese, half a dozen slices of dried apple,
and a large pottery mug full of milk.