“I know,” Peter said. “We were told what was happening.”
“Youknow?” Roi said. “How do you know?”
Peter was trying to keep an eye on the fighting around them, making sure they took Roi some place safe before they set him down. “Cheltenham’s knight,” he said. “None of this would have been possible had Mathis de Geld not come to Lioncross to tell us about the plot. Papa sent us all to find you—some of us went to Pembridge, some to this godforsaken village of Colesborne. But we found you. Thank God we found you.”
They’d reached a crest on a hill, away from the pockets of fighting, and Peter had the men lay Roi down, very carefully. Roi grabbed at his brother, weakly.
“Mathis?” he repeated. “Robin was in on the plot, Peter. Mathis serves Robin!”
Peter looked around, catching sight of Mathis on the road cutting down a Cirencester man. “I do not think he wants to serve him any longer,” he said. “Were it not for him, you would now be dead. We owe him everything, Roi.”
Roi understood. Sort of. He was so exhausted, so muddled, that all he could do was nod faintly and close his eyes. As Peter and Andrew worked on him to seal up the hole in his chest with the field kit they’d brought with them, they noticed the tears that had begun to stream down Roi’s temples. Stricken with sorrow at the sight, perhaps indicative of the real fear Roi had been subjected to, Peter cupped his brother’s face with one hand, touching his forehead to Roi’s.
“You will be fine,” he whispered. “We will patch your wounds and take you home today. You needn’t worry, Roi. I promise you will heal.”
Roi’s voice broke. “I just want to see my wife again,” he said. “I did not think I was going to.”
Peter felt great pity for his brother, one of the strongest men he’d ever known. “You will see her again,” he said softly. “I swear you will.”
“Peter?”
“What is it?”
“Thank you,” Roi whispered. “For my life… thank you.”
Peter kissed his forehead, but Roi didn’t feel it. He was in a haze and fading fast. He could feel Peter and Andrew moving him around, stripping off his tunics and protection to get to the wounds, packing the holes with clean linen soaked in wine. As he lay there in limbo with the darkness calling softly to him, he happened to open his eyes. There was a shadow over him, and he swore, as he lived and breathed, that he found himself looking at Beckett.
His son, blond and handsome, with that cheeky smile he remembered so well, was gazing down at him. Roi’s face lit up as he beheld his beloved son. He even lifted a hand, trying to touch him. But Beckett was beyond his reach.
He simply smiled down at his father.
“’Tis not your time yet, Papa,” Beckett said, his voice as faint as the wind through the trees. “Go home now. Go home and love.”
With that, he was gone.
Blissful unconsciousness finally claimed Roi.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cicadia Castle
He was pacingthe floor like a nervous cat.
It had been almost five days since Robin had sent Mathis to Cirencester with those fateful words—the time is now. But Mathis had yet to return, and Robin was becoming more impatient by the day. He couldn’t imagine what had kept Mathis from returning right away. Everything was hinging on Cirencester’s plans, and Robin didn’t even know what those plans were other than they’d discussed everything happening at the village of Colesborne. That was where he assumed Cirencester would strike, and that was where he had told Roi to join him.
But he wasn’t even at Colesborne.
He was still at Cicadia.
But not for long. It had all started a day ago, when a man traveling from the south told the gatehouse guards about some raids near Colesborne. People were being burned out, he said, and Eddard was at the gatehouse when the reports were given. He immediately went to Robin and told him. Pryce, in command with Mathis away, sent scouts to the southern end of the Cheltenham property to see what was going on, but the menhadn’t returned yet. By the end of day, Robin grew agitated and impatient, so much so that he ordered Pryce to muster the army.
They were moving south.
Robin began to suspect that something must have happened to Mathis. Perhaps the man was set upon as he traveled and was now dead in a ditch somewhere. That was the only explanation for Mathis’ absence, because he knew the man was dependable and loyal. He’d served Cheltenham flawlessly for nine years, so Robin trusted him completely. He was quite concerned for Mathis, but more concerned that he had no idea what Cirencester was planning beyond the raid at Colesborne.
Robin was in quite a state about it, but he didn’t plan on riding with his army. That way, he could tell Christopher that he hadn’t been in the field when Roi met his end. Surely Hereford couldn’t blame him if he wasn’t even there.
He’d let others do his dirty work for him.
