Then, going to the entrance of the cave, she listened hard before drawing the greenery aside and sidling out. The day was gray. The rain was still falling, but now it was a fine mist. All around her it was silent.
There was not a note of birdsong, or animals lowing.
Carefully Elsbeth slipped through the woods and quickly crossed the open meadow before Stanton Hall.
What had been a gracious home was now a smoking ruin. The air was heavy with the smell of wet, burned wood, for the rains had tempered some of the destruction. Bodies were everywhere, and Elsbeth recognized many of them.
She found the Earl of Stanton where he had died fighting before his home, his sword still in his hand.
Lady Jane, his wife, was in another area. She had been stripped naked and obviously violated before her throat had been cut. Her delicate limbs were all skewed crookedly, her fair skin bruised and beaten. Elsbeth could not help but weep at the sight of her gracious mistress so abused. She had to bury them. She could not leave them here for the birds and beasts to ravage. She looked about for something with which she might dig a grave. Finding nothing, she wept harder. What was she to do? And then she knew, although the realization pained her deeply. Turning, she left the scene of destruction and returned across the meadow into the woodland and to the cave where Lady Adair Radcliffe, the Countess of Stanton, was waiting for her Nursie. Adair was her first priority. The dead were dead. Their pain and tra-vails were over now. Adair had to be saved. She had to be taken to the man who sired her so she might grow up and return to Stanton one day with a fine husband who would rebuild it all.
“I was becoming frightened,” Adair said as Nursie reentered the cave. “Where were you? You were goneso long.” She had awakened and was walking nervously about the little cave.
“I went to the hall,” Elsbeth said candidly. “They are all dead, my lady. Now we must leave here. The countryside is like a tomb. Not a creature is stirring.”
“I have shaken the blankets and rolled them up,”
Adair told Nursie. “But I am too little to replace them on the horses.”
“I will do that,” Elsbeth replied. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” Adair answered her. “I should like some oat porridge and ham.”
“I can give you bread, a sliver of cheese, and an apple,” Elsbeth said quietly.
Adair pressed her lips together with disapproval.
“We have no fire, no kettle, no oats, or a larder,” Elsbeth continued, “and many like us have not what we have, my lady.”
Adair sighed deeply. “Give me what you can then, Nursie,” she said.
Elsbeth portioned out the food carefully. Who knew how long it would be before they would run out of the supplies the earl had had packed for them? Or where they would be able to purchase more? If they were fortunate they might come upon a monastery or convent, and beg a night’s shelter and a meal or two. But she suspected their travel would be rough for most of the way south to London. There might be inns here and there, but such places were to be avoided. They were peopled by thieves and dishonest folk who would consider her and the child she shepherded vulnerable to their chi-canery. No, the weeks ahead of them would not be easy.
She quickly fed the child.
Then she led a horse from its stall, tightened its cinch, replaced the blanket behind its saddle, and looked to Adair. “Have you relieved yourself, child?” she asked.
Adair nodded solemnly.
Elsbeth picked her up and set her astride the animal.
Then she tightened the cinch on the horse she wouldride, put the second blanket behind the saddle, and tied on the small bundle she had packed the previous day.
Then she clambered up onto the horse, and with the wolfhound by their side they exited the cave. The woman turned her mount to the right as they came forth, remembering the earl’s instructions. For several hours they followed Stanton Water, which flowed in a fairly straight line through the trees into the fields.
When the stream turned east they left it behind. Around them the countryside was both silent and desolate. The herds of cattle belonging to Stanton were nowhere to be found. They saw no one. The raiders had done a fairly good job of destroying and stealing, although Elsbeth knew there would be some who had hidden away like themselves, and escaped the fury of the Lancastrians.
It was several days before they saw any sign of life, but those few people they saw hurried by them in the fields or woodlands, eyes averted. No words were exchanged at all, only furtive glances to ascertain whether they were dangerous. One man did look enviously at their horses, but Elsbeth’s hand went immediately to her belt, where a large knife was visible, and Beiste growled menacingly. The man lowered his eyes again and passed by.
After almost two weeks of travel they had the good fortune to come upon a convent just at sunset. The nuns took them in, and when they had heard the story Elsbeth told them—although she was wise enough to leave out Adair’s natural paternity—the sisters invited them to remain for a few days to rest their animals and regain their strength. They bathed Adair, fed her a good hot meal of vegetable potage and buttered bread, then put her in a comfortable bed, and Elsbeth wept as she thanked them for their kindness.
They remained two full days, and then departed. Elsbeth had dug out two silver pennies from her little hoard and left them on the altar of the convent church, as was the custom for visitors. She knew the nuns wouldbe surprised to find them, and she smiled to herself as they rode along again. The farther south they traveled, the more difficult it became to keep from the roads, which it seemed were everywhere. And villages—there were so many of them. Elsbeth had never been more than five miles from Stanton, and as they traveled she realized how different the rest of England was from the wild Northumbrian countryside along the Scottish border. It frightened her, but she would show no fear before her charge. And Adair was fascinated and intrigued by what she saw. Especially the towns. But Elsbeth would not go into them. Seeing them from a distance, she would circle about them until she could head south again.
The autumn was almost upon them. The days were growing shorter, and their hours of travel were fewer.
Adair had caught a cold, and Elsbeth was worried it might develop into something worse if they did not reach the king soon. The child had always had good health, but these past weeks of long travel, little food, and sleeping outdoors on the damp ground were beginning to take their toll. They both needed an end to their journey, and warm shelter. Then one afternoon they were forced to cross a wide, high road, and Elsbeth saw a sign. Unlike many women of any class, Elsbeth could read. It had amused her ancient father to teach her in the months before his death, when he had grown too frail to do anything else. The sign read LONDON, and pointed toward one of the four roads before her. Elsbeth considered. Perhaps now that they were so far south it would be safer and quicker to follow the road, especially considering Adair’s worsening health. She turned their horses in the direction the sign indicated.
They saw only a few folk as they moved along the road, and as with those they had seen in the woodlands and fields they traversed, everyone was minding their own business. Elsbeth began to feel that perhaps she had made the correct decision. And then she heard behind her a troop of horses. Reaching out to grab the reins of Adair’s animal, she struggled to get out of the way, but she was not quick enough. They were quickly surrounded by mounted men. Elsbeth pulled her mount and Adair’s to a halt, that the others might at least pass them by. But to her surprise the others came to a halt too.
