“All ready,” John, though meek and introspective most of the time, was nonetheless a logistical master. He considered details even the most seasoned of men might overlook. “We’ve rations, a smithy and a surgeon ready at your command.”
Matthew nodded, satisfied. “Add a carriage to the entourage.”
His brothers looked at him. “For what?” John asked.
Matthew met their curious gazes. “For my wife. She is going to London with us.”
For a moment, no one said a word. A woman on a battle march was unheard of and it had certainly never happened in the world of the House of Wellesbourne. But no one was brave enough to voice what they were thinking, at least not yet.
But Mark finally spoke. Someone had to. “It is not safe for a woman on the road, Matt. You know this. Moreover, we’re a fully armed battle contingent and a prime target for an oppositional army. What happens if we’re engaged before we get to the safety of London? Do you want another happening like we had a couple of days ago with Dorset’s men?”
“There will be twelve hundred men,” Matthew replied steadily. “There will be plenty of men to protect Lady Alixandrea should it come to that.”
“But what about the men from Whitewell?” Luke wanted to know. “You cannot possibly think to leave them here, which means they must go to London, too. Do we really march to London with four hundred rebels in our midst?”
Matthew wasn’t used to being questioned, especially by his brothers. He found himself fighting down irritation. “Have you lost faith in me, brother?”
Luke shook his head. “Nay. But I am asking a valid question.”
Matthew’s initial reaction was to become angry at his brother’s doubt in his judgment. But that would accomplish nothing. Still, he was offended and forced himself to calm.
“Last night after we discovered Ryesdale’s plans for insurrection, I sent a rider to Oxford,” he said. “Gaston de Russe’s army is camped just outside of the city. I have asked de Russe to ride for Wellesbourne, meet our army, and ride into London with us. With The White Lord of Wellesbourne uniting with the army of The Dark Knight, all of England will tremble in fear of us. So you see, brother, even if the men from Whitewell decide to revolt, twelve hundred additional men under the command of de Russe will ensure that our army stays stable and powerful.”
The uniting of two legends. It was like the army of Cuculainn uniting with the army of King Arthur; there would not be a man in England that would not look upon the alliance as invincible. Luke looked at Mark, who merely shrugged. They had no more questions of their brother. John wasn’t concerned with the implications of the strategies as much as he was the logistical issues of bringing a woman on their march.
“We will have over two thousand men,” he said to his eldest brother. “She will need her own contingent of guards unless you plan on being with her every moment. And she will need her own tent, and bathtub, and…”
Matthew put up a hand. “She is my wife, John. She will be in my tent. As for the rest of it, I leave it up to you; however, I will hand-select the guard that will be assigned to her protection.”
“Won’t they become suspicious if you do not select Whitewell men to guard her?” John asked. “They came with her, after all. It would only seem logical to select them to guard her.”
“It will be a chance I shall have to take,” Matthew replied. “No one from Whitewell, including her manservant, is to be allowed anywhere near her. I don’t care how you do it, John, but you keep that man away from her. Assign him something so remote that there will be no chance of him coming into contact with her.”
“Perhaps we should just leave him behind with the maid,” Mark suggested. “We can cut the troops off from the manservant, as he apparently gives the commands, thereby lessening the chance of revolt.”
Matthew thought seriously on the suggestion. It was a good one. “That is certainly something to be considered.”
Finished with his bread, he moved to pour himself some watered ale. The brothers settled down to the benches now that they were comfortable with the conversation and a plan of action was being formed. There was much that lay ahead, and much more to do. Matthew sat next to Mark, across from Luke and John.
“Now,” he said. “To discuss the situation once we reach London.”
CHAPTER SIX
Though she wassupposed to be with Caroline, Alixandrea ended up in her chamber. Caroline wanted to sit before her massive loom and continue her needlework, a giant cohesion of color and birds and other creatures, but Alixandrea had no talent in such things. She found it boring.
She did, however, have some talent with drawing, mostly the flowers that she had grown in her garden at York. So she went up to her chamber, a floor above Caroline and Mark’s, and went in search of her drawing case. All she could find were clothes and other assorted items and realized that not all of her cases had been brought up. It was a small chamber and it appeared as if only the necessary cases had been brought up and placed in the small alcove off of the chamber. She would have liked to have asked Jezebel where her drawing supplies were, but the woman was missing. Still. Frustrated, bordering on angry, she went in search of her maid.
There was another small chamber across from hers with a bed and other clutter in it; it was empty of human life. Down the flight of stairs was Caroline’s chamber and Adam’s right across from her. Still no maid. Descending to the second floor, the great hall was to her left and she could see Matthew seated with his brothers at the great table. She stood there a moment, watching his strong profile from a distance, hardly believing she was married to him. She did not feel married. Tearing her eyes away from him, she peered into the small room off to the right, a solar with a massive table in the center of it and a well-worn map spread out across it. The room was empty. Puzzled, wonderingwhere to start looking next, she suddenly caught movement out of the corner of her eye.
She had barely seen the twitch, but it had been unmistakable. Nearly out of her line of sight was the large gallery that lined the upper portion of great hall. Tall, tapering lancet windows were embedded in the wall all around the room, hanging just above the gallery to allow ventilation and light into the chamber.
Alixandrea took a couple of steps towards the entry of the great hall, watching the gallery above. The balcony-like protrusion was built of wood with wide guardrails lining it. However, there was just enough room to be able to see between them. And she could see someone on the walk.
The narrow staircase to the gallery was just inside the hall. Silently, quickly, she darted to the entrance and slipped up the first two steps. Matthew hadn’t seen her, but John and Luke did, as they were facing the stairs. She put a finger to her lips to silence them. Then she pointed the same finger at them and twirled it in a couple of circles, indicating for them to turn away from her and put their focus back on their brother before he turned around, too. Like obedient children, they did as the lady told them, but she could tell they were uncertain about it.
When she was sure they would not look back at her and give her away, she shimmied up the steps until she reached the top. Down on her hands and knees, she peered around the side of the guardrail and had a clear vision of whatever might be on the gallery.
It was Jezebel, down on her knees, watching the men through the slats in the railing. Alixandrea’s heart sank; if she ever had any doubt of what Matthew had told her, it was quickly dashed. Her maid, the woman she trusted, was spying. She had probably been there for some time. Though Alixandrea would allow the woman to explain, she could see no other explanation. She thanked God that Matthew hadn’t shown her any affectionwhen she walked in the room, for it would most likely be filling Strode’s ear right now. Matthew had known exactly what could have happened and had made sure they were careful. Their lives had depended on it.
