“Thomas,” she called out. “I found my lady’s ring.”
One of the men held up a familiar jeweled dagger. “This was found behind a curtain.”
Margery paled at the sight of Lucy’s dagger. Thomas’s hands tightened on the bejeweled hilt. “She is nowhere to be found. Our lady is gone without a trace.”
Urgently, he turned to Margery. “Pack quickly. We leave within the hour.”
Mouth dry with fear for her mistress’s safety, Margery swiftly packed up their belongings. All the while, her mind spun with questions. Who could have done this? And where had they taken their lady?
By the time they were ready to leave, the men Thomas had sent out had returned, telling him there was no sign of her and the road was too well-traveled to make out any tracks.
Thomas and the knights assembled in the courtyard, mood grim as tension crackled in the air. Margery hurried out to join them, bags packed and Lucy’s ring tucked securely in her own small satchel.
Thomas, his face pale, patted his horse. “Winston. Ride for London, find our lord, and tell him what has happened.” He looked each man in the eye. “We will find her.”
As he swung up on his horse, Thomas squared his shoulders. This was his fault, and he would suffer the consequences when Lord Blackford found out what had happened.
“We meet tonight at the Boar’s Head Inn.”
Dividing his men, Thomas sent groups of two along the roads in all directions, seeking any travelers who might have seen their lady.
He took two men and Margery with him as they rode to the nearest village. If it was bandits, Thomas thought they would ride at night or early in the morn, likely staying in the woods when possible.
For hours they rode, questioning any peasants or travelers they encountered. Most had seen nothing, but finally they came across an old man who stroked his chin.
“Aye, there were odd happenings.” He leaned on his cane, scratching his head. “’Twas deep in the night when the dogs started barking. When I looked out, I glimpsed men in hoods, but they were not monks, not with all that steel. Had hard looks about them, likely French,” he sniffed.
“One had a woman tossed over his horse.” He scratched his chin. “Knew it was a woman when I saw the long hair and heard her curse.” He grinned. “She curses like a sailor.”
“Aye, she does.” Hope bloomed in Thomas’ chest.
Then the old man frowned. “It was most peculiar. She yelled something about a rack and a shine on the moon?”
It was his lady. When she was vexed, she liked to say, ‘You are more bonkers than a raccoon swimming in moonshine’. Then she had to explain what she meant. Thomas had heardone of the stable boys using the expression of late, making him laugh.
“Which direction did they go?”
The farmer bobbed his head toward a narrow track that cut through the trees. “They were riding hard for the old forest road.”
Coins changed hands in gratitude for the information before Thomas spurred his mount down the rutted trail as the men and Margery followed.
They stopped beside a stream to rest the horses. Thomas was drinking from the stream when Margery came running, holding her skirts in one hand, and something fluttering in the wind in the other.
“Look what I found,” she exclaimed. “It is her hair ribbon.” Margery held out the ribbon as Thomas took it from her.
“See?” Margery touched the crooked embroidery that looked like a child had made it.
“Her stitches are getting better. See where she embroidered the L+W?”
Thomas knew the ladies laughed that his lady did not know all the womanly skills, but he thought she knew how to handle a dagger and that was more important, though he guessed she could always stab her attackers with the embroidery needle if needs be.
“She left this on purpose.” Thomas handed the ribbon back to Margery. “Keep this with our lady’s ring. We will find her.”
The fading light forced them to ride to the inn to meet up with the rest of the men. In the morn, they would all continue together, find Lady Blackford, and kill those who had dared to take her.
Several monotonous daysblended together until Lucy had forgotten what day it was. The bland meals, the surly men guarding her, and the Scottish prisoner in the cell across from hers.
The day after she’d tried to whisper to him, the guards took him away, and he still had not returned.
