‘Go to your chamber. I will come to you soon.’ He knew it was safer for her there, though he didn’t like leaving her. She nodded in assent and turned away, walking towards the stairs.
Even after she had gone, he could still smell the delicate fragrance of her skin. It allured him, making him wish she belonged to him in truth.
Warrick strode across the inner bailey, searching for his men. He let his instincts command him, and although there were sentries upon the wall, he trusted Rosamund’s suspicions. Even if men were changing positions, the post would never be left unguarded.
As she had confided, there was no sign of his men. Which was wrong, for he had commanded one of them to be on duty at all times. He surveyed each and every guard, noting which ones stiffened at his presence and which seemed unaffected.
One of the torches was out at the bottom of the wall Rosamund had shown him. Warrick took another torch and brought it over to light the extinguished one. And when it caught the flames, he saw footsteps in the mud. Near the top of the wall, he spied the end of a rope.
Someone had been allowed inside the gates. And he suspected it was Fitzwarren, as Rosamund had told him. But there could be others as well.
A sudden thumping noise caught his attention. It was rhythmic, like someone pounding against a door. He followed the source of the sound to one of the towers used for prisoners. The narrow entrance was hardly large enough for two men to stand inside, but there was a pit below ground. On the opposite wall was a wooden ladder. Warrick entered the space and called out into the darkness, ‘Bennett!’
‘I am here. And Godfrey as well.’
Warrick cursed and unbolted the heavy grate, lifting it up. He started to lower a ladder into the pit, when a sudden motion caught his eye. He rushed towards the door and threw himself at it, preventing the soldier from closing it.
The man was not one of the soldiers he recognised, and Warrick shoved the door open again. He seized his enemy by the chainmail hauberk and shoved him back against the outer wall. ‘Who are you?’
The soldier didn’t answer but struggled against his grip. Warrick pressed the man back, resting his hand upon the soldier’s throat. ‘Who else came over the wall with you?’
‘Aldred Fitzwarren,’ the man uttered. Which was no surprise at all, given the attack against Rosamund. But where was the man now?
‘How many others are here?’ Warrick demanded.
The soldier grimaced. ‘I could tell you only two or I could tell you ten. You would not believe whatever I say.’
The man was right about that. There was no way to know how many men remained loyal to Lord Pevensham. He turned to Bennett and Godfrey. ‘Throw him in the pit and keep him there for questioning.’
There was no sign of what had happened to the former commander. And right now, the man in the most danger was Alan de Courcy.
His men obeyed his command, taking their prisoner back while Warrick hurried towards thedonjon.Though Rosamund had done as he’d asked, locking herself in her chamber, he had no way of knowing whether she was safe.
He took the stairs two at a time, shoving open the heavy oak door. At the back of the Great Hall, he saw a shadowed form moving towards the stairs.
His heartbeat quickened as he followed the man.
* * *
Rosamund nearly shrieked when the connecting door opened on the opposite wall. Alan was standing there, and she covered her heart with her hand. ‘Dear God, you frightened me.’
‘Were you expecting someone else? Warrick, perhaps?’
She felt the blush rise over her cheeks, but she denied it. ‘No.’
He eyed her closely as if he didn’t believe a word she had spoken. ‘Then why are you wearing a cloak, Rosamund? Where have you been?’ His voice held a jealous tone she didn’t like. Especially when it had been his idea from the start, for her to conceive a child with Warrick.
‘I came to you earlier,’ Alan said, ‘but you were gone.’
‘I went to the chapel to pray,’ she said. ‘I was just returning now. Ask Father Francis if you don’t believe me.’ She removed her cloak, wondering if she should say anything about the unguarded wall. Her husband was behaving in an unpredictable manner, and she told him, ‘It’s late, and we should both go back to sleep.’
She started to walk towards her bed but soon realised he had no intention of leaving. An uneasiness slid into her veins while he stood on the far end of the room and watched her. ‘I am weary, Alan.’
He crossed the room and from the heated look in his eyes, she knew why he was here. But she did not want to lie with him, not now.
Perhaps not ever.
‘Go back to your own chamber and rest,’ she urged him. ‘It has been a trying day.’
