De Vere looked horrified and disgusted. “My God. Gaston must be frantic!”
Antonius could only nod, knowing Gaston was far beyond frantic. He was consumed. “Gaston is riding for Mt. Holyoak as we speak.”
“Alone?” de Vere demanded.
“Aye, my lord. He insisted on going alone.”
De Vere turned away and crossed himself, the possibilities cutting him. With everything Gaston had done for him, and for Henry, he was helpless to assist his friend.
Except to keep Dane safe.
“Where do you go now?” he asked the knight.
“To Deverill,” Antonius replied. “He asked that I wait for him there. My wife and Lady Skye remain in London under the protection of Martin de Russe for the time being.”
De Vere nodded, still stunned with the turn of events. He glanced at Antonius questioningly. “I am curious, however misplaced. Did the papal board agree to annulment?”
“On the basis of Father de Tormo’s sworn statement, they were seriously considering the plea. But beyond that, I do not know.”
There was nothing more to say. Antonius had delivered his message and was obviously exhausted. De Vere turned to de Norville, lingering near the hearth, and insisted the man show the knight food and bed.
The earl of Oxford sat heavily in the nearest chair, shaking his head in disbelief. Gaston had known so little happiness in his life, and now he was being subjected to even more heartache. Was nothing simple about the man?
As much as he wished to help his friend, there was nothing he could do. His fate, as well as Lady Remington’s, was consigned to God.
*
After the menhad retreated from the bailey, Dane had feigned an ill stomach and retreated to the interior of the castle. They believed he was ill, of course, for he had never once been ill or injured since he had arrived. So his master let him go and told him to rest a bit. They had enough faith in him to know that he was not a weakling boy, attempting to be free of his vigorous lessons.
Something inside him told him that the situation was terribly amiss. Antonius could not be at Oxford for a good reason, and the way he had looked at Dane made his skin crawl.
Something had happened to his mother. Instinct told him that he must find out exactly what that was.
Dane was cunning and silent as he trailed the earl and Antonius. When they disappeared into Lady Anne’s solar, Dane had simply slipped into the servant’s corridor that flanked the room and lodged himself against the wall by the hidden door. From his position, he could hear almost all of what was said.
And what he heard terrified him.
His father had escaped and his mother was with him. Dane’s eyes stung with hot tears of fear, knowing what his father was capable of. And his mother, so sweet and loving, was terribly incapable of defending herself. He felt somewhat heartened to know that Gaston had gone after them, but his father hated Sir Gaston and would try to kill him, too.
Not only would Sir Gaston be fighting to save his mother, but also he would be fighting for his own life against a man who had never known the taste of compassion, a man with a lump of coal where his heart should have been.
A body suddenly bumped into him from behind in the dark corridor, and Dane startled sharply until he looked into familiar smoky-gray eyes.
“It’s me,” Trenton hissed. “What’s happened?”
“What are you doing here?” Dane countered harshly.
“I faked a fainting spell in the heat so I could come inside, too,” Trenton informed him. “What are they saying?”
Dane looked sick. “My father escaped from prison and took my mother captive. Antonius says that they are heading for Mt. Holyoak, and that Sir Gaston is going after them.”
Trenton’s eyes bugged. “Will your father kill Lady Remington?”
Dane shook his head miserably. “I do not know. Trenton, I have got to help her.”
Trenton frowned. “You can’t. There’s nothing you can do.”
Dane shot to his feet, his entire body tense. He shook his fist at his brother. “I can, too! I can go to Mt. Holyoak and protect my mother while Gaston takes care of my father.”
