The other passengers were already assembled. The father and son looked to be a shade of pale gray-green. They were obviously not over their travel sickness. Annabella caught the sleeve of the cabin boy, asking him where she might hire a horse.
“Just follow the nobleman, sir. He is going to the stables, and the captain has already given him the directions.”
Annabella thanked the lad.
The gangway was lowered. The earl strode down it, followed by the father and son. Annabella came last, her saddlebag over her shoulder as she hurried behind the earl, following but attempting not to attract his attention at the same time. He reached his destination, bargained for his mount, and waited for it to be saddled. Annabella did the same. Fortunately the animals were led out together. She paid the stable owner and mounted up first, pretending to fuss with her saddlebag while she waited for the earl to complete his transaction and be on his way.
Finally he was ready. Mounting up, he rode off. Annabella followed, keeping her husband in sight, but leaving a careful distance between them. Just as they left the town behind, she noticed a horseman enter the road from a side lane. She heard another rider behind her. She didn’t know why, but all her instincts were suddenly aroused. In his travels from Duin to Leith nothing had caught her interest as did the man before her and the man behind her. Was it her imagination, or were they following after Angus?
As the late summer sun set and twilight spilled over the land, Annabella began to worry. If they had to sleep rough this night, would the other riders use the cover of darkness to attack the earl? The man ahead of her turned off the road. She rode on by him, but her ears strained for sounds of the man behind her. He turned off the road too.
Was it a coincidence? Then she saw a lighted structure ahead of her. It was an inn, and the earl was turning his mount into the inn-yard. She turned her horse too, instructing the stableman in precise French to check its feet for stones, then feed, water, and stable it until she was ready to leave.
He entered the inn just ahead of her. The taproom was not crowded, and the inn upon close inspection was just barely respectable. She watched as the earl sought a table in a corner that allowed him to keep his back to the wall while observing the whole room. The landlord, recognizing nobility when he saw it, hurried over to personally serve the earl. Annabella chose a small table placed in such a way that she could see both the door to the inn and her husband’s table. A serving wench came to inquire what she would eat, recommending the pot-au-feu. Annabella ordered it, along with a small goblet of wine.
An elderly serving woman struggled over to the earl’s table beneath a large tray of food. The landlord had obviously given the earl everything in the kitchen. Annabella hid her grin. Angus had a good appetite, but she knew he also preferred his food plain and well cooked. She watched him as she slowly ate her own pot-au-feu, which was surprisingly good. It was full of vegetables and bits of clearly identifiable poultry. If she wasn’t mistaken it was flavored with both ground pepper and wine. There was a thick slice of warm fresh bread spread with butter that she dipped into the soup.
Angus, on the other hand, took a large piece of beef, bread, butter, cheese, and what appeared to be a salad of new greens. The rest he told the old woman with a warm smile to return to the kitchen. “Tell your master that I am a man of simple tastes, old mother,” Annabella heard her husband say. The old woman chuckled and tottered off. Annabella watched as her husband devoured his meal. Would he remain here, or would he attempt to travel on in the dark? she wondered.
The innkeeper came and announced to the few guests eating, “Alas, monsieurs, I am a small establishment. I have no rooms to let, but you are all most welcome to remain the night where you are now seated. Or you may share the barn with your horses. Either way it will cost you a copper more in addition to your meal.” He then walked from table to table to collect his coins.
The four other men in the room elected to retire to the barn. The earl, however, remained, and so did Annabella. The candles were snuffed, and only the fire remained to take the night chill from the room as well as light it. Annabella found a comfortable position, pulled her cloak about her, and nodded off after taking a quick look at her husband, who appeared to have done the same.
Annabella didn’t know for how long she slept, but suddenly she was wide-awake. She focused her eyes and saw the inn door had opened. Two men quickly and quietly stepped into the inn. Even in the dim light of the single candle that had been left burning, Annabella knew they were the same men who had followed the earl from Brest. What on earth was this all about? The two hesitated briefly, looking about. Then one pointed to the Earl of Duin, who was apparently sleeping deeply as he sat hunched over behind his table.
What was she going to do? Annabella knew immediately that the intent of these two was wicked. The men stepped into the small dining room. Her eyes wide open in the darkness, she saw one draw something from his waist. A weapon?A knife!They crept forward, moving stealthily, heading directly for the Earl of Duin. Closer and closer they came, and just as she shouted out a warning, Angus Ferguson stood up.
“Are you looking for me, monsieurs?” he said in a pleasant voice. His French was perfect, and even tinged with a bit of Breton.
The assassins stopped, confused, gazing up at the shadow of the very tall man. But then the one with the knife leaped forward. The earl caught him quickly, and twisted the weapon from his hand. There was the distinct sound of a breaking bone. The knife dropped to the inn floor with a clatter. The cutthroat howled in pain as his companion dashed for the inn’s front door. The wounded man turned and stumbled after him.
“Are you one of them too?” the earl asked in the darkness.
“Non, monsieur,” Annabella managed to say, but her voice cracked as she spoke. She had been absolutely terrified by what had just transpired, knowing she would have been helpless to aid her husband had he actually needed assistance. It was then that Annabella truly realized for the first time the madness of this venture she had undertaken. She should have insisted that Matthew go with him. She would have been of more use to her husband keeping the castle than trailing after him disguised as a young man. A sob escaped her with the knowledge that she had possibly put him in even greater danger.
Angus Ferguson heard the sound. It was clearly female. But the only other person in the room was a young man. Or was it? He stood up again, walking out into the entry and picking up the lit candlestick. Coming over to where Annabella sat hunched up, he reached out with one hand. Annabella drew back, trying desperately to keep her head down, but his fingers grasped her chin, and he held the candle high. Their eyes met, hers terrified, his filled with astonishment.
“Annabella!” he said. And then, “Jesu and Mary, woman! Did I nae tell yeno?” He set the candle down upon the table, and then sat next to her.
“I had to come, Angus!” she burst out. “Something deep inside me warned that ye would be in danger if ye came alone. I realize now I should hae insisted Matthew come wi’ ye. When I saw those awful men just now attempting to kill ye, and I didn’t know what to do, or how I might help ye other than shouting out, I realized my own foolishness, but I love ye so, my lord. I love ye so verra much. I should rather die wi’ ye than be wi’out ye, Angus. Do ye understand? Can ye forgie me?”
He put his arms about her. “I love ye too, ye stubborn, wonderful woman,” he told her. “I probably wouldn’t hae let Matthew come wi’ me, and he would hae obeyed my directives and been loyal.” Aye, he loved her. And the thought of her facing any danger because of him was terrifying.
“I know,” she said in a small voice, “but I couldn’t let ye walk into danger alone.”
“How did ye manage to get so far wi’out me discovering ye?” he asked her.
“I had to be very careful,” she admitted. “If ye had caught me before ye set sail, ye would hae found some way to send me home.”
“Aye, I would hae,” he agreed.
“I sailed on theGazellewi’ ye,” she told him.
“God’s blood! The young man who shared the cabin. How did I nae know ye then?” he wondered aloud.
“Ye spent all or most of yer time wi’ the captain, and I was very careful not to let ye see much of me,” she said with just a hint of pride in her voice. “And I followed ye to the livery in Brest, and the rest was easy. I noted those two villains following ye along the road yesterday. One was behind ye, the other behind me.”
“I expected something like this,” the earl told his wife, “but until we reach Mont de Devereaux and I speak to the magistrate, I cannot know for certain what is going on.”
