“Not until my lady does,” he said firmly. “She has had a rougher time than I, let me assure you.”
Remington ignored him, putting her hand beseechingly on Alex’s arm. “We must send word to Gaston right away, my lord. He must be told where I am.”
“Absolutely,” Ingilsby agreed. “Adam, see to it.”
The second knight nodded sharply and Hubert put in, “My lord, I would have Adam deliver the message personally.”
Ingilsby nodded again. “Agreed. Not knowing where exactly the duke might be, it would help to send a messenger who would know him on sight.” As Adam strode from the hall, Alex stopped him.
“Nothing written, Adam. If Stoneley or his allies were to intercept the message, we’d have them all over us like a horde of locusts. Dress well, lad, and return to me before you depart.”
When the second knight quit the hall, Alex turned to Remington again. “Do you have any idea where Gaston would go?”
She thought a moment. “Mt. Holyoak, to be sure. But he and Brimley have become allies. Or he might even come here, since you are loyal to him as well.”
“True enough,” Alex was lost in thought a moment longer before gently grasping Remington’s hand. “Come now, my lady. I suspect you would like to rest now after your most harrowing experience.”
She nodded, passing a final glance at Hubert before allowing the baron to lead her upstairs.
Hubert’s gaze lingered on the stairs a moment, even after she disappeared. He was actually a bit remorseful that their adventure together was over, because he had so enjoyed getting to know lovely Lady Remington. He thought the Dark One to be a very lucky man indeed.
*
Except for beingnearly deserted, Mt. Holyoak looked better than Guy had ever remembered. Seeing his fortress for the first time in two years actually brought tears to his eyes, tears of joy but also tears of sadness. He could not occupy his keep for the moment, and that distinctly upset him. Yet, he reminded himself, the situation was only temporary.
He could see sentries up on the walls, patrolling the keep vigilantly. Guy lingered in the shrubbery, smelling the beech wood and pine and reluctantly agreeing that there was no possible way he could rid his keep of the soldiers that occupied it. There were several dozen, mayhap even one hundred. As much as he wanted it back, one man against one hundred was deadly odds.
He sighed heavily, reluctant to leave his beloved keep. But he knew the sooner he reached Knaresborough, the faster he would regain what was his. No doubt Botmore would pledge manpower to regain the fortress, and Guy was positive he could convince Archibald to contribute forces as well. With as little as two hundred and fifty men, he was positive he could take back his keep. He had, after all, built the thing. He had made it impenetrable, but he was confident that he could think of some way to regain it.
Keith Botmore had been stunned to see his old friend ride into his keep. Surprise turned to glee as the two greeted each other, speaking of the glory of the Yorkists all the way into thegrand hall. Even as food and drink were brought forth, Botmore kept up a running conversation about Richard and Edward, and how someday soon another Yorkist would sit upon the throne. Buckingham and his weak rebellion had failed, as had the uprising that reached as far north as Trent. But someday soon, Botmore swore, the Tudor would fall.
The subject of Remington inevitably came up, to which Guy explained the events in Stanford-on-Avon, in his own way; Remington had tried to kill him and ran off when her attempt was unsuccessful, he said, and was obviously insane. Which explained why she was trying to seek an annulment and why she had willingly gone with the Dark One. Somehow, de Russe had poisoned her weak mind. Botmore clucked with sympathy, promising that they would send a search for her.
But Guy wasn’t interested in searching for his wife yet. He was far more interested in regaining his keep. Changing the subject back to the Yorkist resistance, Keith followed admirably.
Guy listened less enthusiastically with each passing moment, sorry he had not seen fit to broach a subject other than this. He did not care about putting another Yorkist on the throne. He wanted his damn fortress back.
“Tell me what you know of the occupation of my keep,” Guy interrupted a rich speech, bored.
Keith looked thoughtful. “De Russe keeps a skeleton guard there, but nothing more. The wealth and employment of Boroughbridge depends on the keep, and I suppose keeping it running is the only good thing that bastard has ever done. How do you plan to get it back? Petition Henry?”
Guy shook his head. “Hardly. The crown would not award an escaped prisoner his lands returned.”
“But you are only an escaped prisoner until the church declares you freed.”
“The church cannot declare me free. Only the Tudor can do that, with a great deal of pressure from Bourchier. I have no doubt that in time my pardon will come, but I do not want to wait that long to regain what is mine. I need your help in this matter, Keith.”
“Help? How can I help you?”
“Men,” Guy leaned forward on the table, his ice-blue eyes glittering. “I want your army.”
Keith looked at him for a moment. “I have nearly five hundred men. As skilled as they are, I have been told that de Russe left behind a block of his elite guard. They’re the very best. Moreover, how in the hell do you plan to lay siege to a fortress that is designed as yours is? I’d lose all of my men in the first wave.”
Guy would not be dissuaded. “I can find a way. ’Tis my fortress, is it not? If anyone can breach it, I can.”
Botmore shook his head reluctantly. “I shall support you, of course. But I would hear this plan before I commit my men.”
His lack of confidence angered Guy, but he hid it well. ’Twould not do for him to strike his host. Instead, he forced himself to smile.
