Nursie took up the earl’s hand and kissed it. “God bless you, my lord,” she said. “I will keep the bairn safe.
My life on it!”
The earl picked Adair up and kissed her on the lips.
“Be brave, daughter, and remember you are a Radcliffe.”
“I promise, Da,” she answered him as he set her back down again.
“And remember how much your mother loved you, my darling daughter,” Jane Radcliffe said softly. There were tears in her violet eyes, but she would not shed them. “And be certain you tell your sire that the Radcliffes stood strong for him.” Then she hugged Adair before pushing her into the narrow little tunnel.
“Farewell, Adair. God bless and keep you,” she called as her husband closed the hidden door and pulled a de-crepit cabinet in front of it to conceal it even further.
“Mama?” Adair’s voice trembled at the suddenseparation and the darkness around her. She jumped, frightened, as a hand touched her sleeve.
“ ’Tis me, my precious,” Nursie’s comforting voice said. “Come along now. We must reach the tunnel’s end as soon as we can.” Elsbeth—or Nursie, as Adair called her—knew that the sounds of the battle in the house above them would not be entirely drowned out by the depth in which they now stood. She did not want the little girl’s last memory of her parents and Stanton Hall to be that of screams and dying. So she hurried the childalong the underground passage lit only by the scant light from the flickering lamp. The air was fetid, but chill. As they went she noted that the corridor they traveled, while dug from the dirt, was buttressed with stone along the walls and wooden beams above them. She had lived in this place her entire life and never known of this tunnel’s existence.
The wolfhound went before them, sniffing, alert.
When they reached the end of the passage it opened into a small cave with a narrow opening to the outside.
There were, to Nursie’s relief, three stalls in which the two animals the earl had promised them were now saddled and tethered, placidly munching upon the hay and grain in their feed boxes. Beiste immediately went to each horse and sniffed and nuzzled it. The horses replied in kind.
“Now listen to me, Adair,” Nursie said quietly. “You must be very, very quiet. We do not want those wicked Lancastrians to find us here. They would kill us. Do you understand me?” Her mild gray eyes looked into the child’s violet ones.
Adair nodded. Her ears seemed to pick up just the faintest sounds of shouting, and she was almost certain that she smelled smoke, but she said nothing.
Nursie went to the horses and took the two blankets from the rear of their saddles. Entering the empty stall, she spread the blankets out. “Come, child. You must sleep now,” she told her.
“Will you sleep too?” Adair asked her.
“Not yet, my precious, but later,” Nursie promised as Adair lay down. She spread her wool cloak over the little girl. “What fun to sleep in a lovely bed of sweet-smelling hay,” she told the child.
“Will the Lancastrians kill my parents?” Adair wanted to know.
“Yes,” Nursie answered her.
“Why?” Adair’s eyelids were growing heavier, but she needed an answer to her question.
“Because they are loyal to good King Edward, and the Lancastrians are loyal to the mad old king, Henry of Lancaster,” Nursie explained as best she might. “Now that King Edward has returned to England he has been welcomed by the commoners, and the mad king sent packing. The Lancastrians are angry. They strike out at Yorkists whenever and wherever they can, my precious.
But they will not get you! I have given my word to your father and your mother, my little lady. Nursie will keep you safe. Now you must go to sleep, for we have several hard weeks of traveling ahead of us.”
Adair yawned. “Good night, Nursie,” she murmured, and was fast asleep, the wolfhound stretched out by her side, his great head next to hers.
Elsbeth sat in the hay, her back to the wood of the stall, listening. A great troupe of horsemen thundered by just a short distance upstream of the cave. The smell of smoke became stronger. Then there was the sound of thunder, and the rain began to pour down outside the cave, but inside they were dry. The horses stirred restlessly once or twice, and finally, convinced they would be safe for the night, Elsbeth allowed herself the luxury of sleep, curling up on the other side of the child.
She awoke as the faint light of the new day shone beyond the thick brambles hiding the entrance to the cave.
Again she heard the sound of horses, but this time they stopped briefly at Stanton Water. Beiste raised his shaggy head up, listening. She tensed nervously. Then she realized the men outside her hidey-hole were only watering their animals and relieving themselves. They were shortly on their way again. The dog laid his head back down. But she waited until the sound of the troupe had faded into silence again. Then Elsbeth leaned over and gently shook Adair.
“I must leave the cave for a short while, my precious,”
she said. “You will remain until I return. Beiste will stay with you and keep you safe.”
“Do not be long,” Adair said sleepily, lowering herhead back down again. Her eyes closed, and the dog pressed closer to her.
Elsbeth stood up, brushing the hay from her skirts.
