‘They called you the Blood Lord.’ The commander studied him, as if wondering if it were true. ‘You slaughtered Henry’s enemies.’
He gave a nod of assent. The truth was, he hadn’t cared whether he lived or died. When Rosamund had married Alan, Warrick had welcomed the thought of death. Every time he swung his sword, it was a means of fighting back against both of them.
‘You want me to fight again,’ he stated. And so he would—but this time, he would fight for his future with Rosamund.
‘You were imprisoned because you were accused of murdering Alan de Courcy of Pevensham. But none of that will matter if we don’t survive this battle.’ The commander drew closer, unsheathing his blade. He sliced through the ropes at Warrick’s ankles but kept his hands bound. ‘Your reputation among our men has saved you. Come and fight alongside us.’
Warrick didn’t move. ‘Free my men, and they will join with your army. They are strong warriors as well.’ It was a grave risk, but if they survived this battle, his loyalty to the king would stand true.
And it was the only means of seeing Rosamund again.
Two weeks later
‘Your father bid me to say that the king has not answered your request for an audience, my lady.’ The young serving lad bowed and was about to leave when Rosamund stopped him.
‘Wait, please.’ She was not surprised that the king had ignored her pleas, but she had another tactic in mind. Only a day ago, she had spied a familiar face among Henry’s knights. ‘Send word to Sir Ademar of Dolwyth that I wish to speak with him. I understand he is here, fighting with the king’s men.’
‘He is, my lady, but...’ The boy’s words trailed off with confusion.
‘I have my reasons,’ she said. ‘Send word that Rosamund of Pevensham, wife of Warrick de Laurent, has need of him.’
The boy hurried away, and Rosamund went to sit for a moment. Ademar had been an adolescent boy when he had attempted to help them escape. She knew he had been forced to betray their location against his will. And now, he might want to make amends for it. They needed allies, and she hoped Ademar could help them.
The baby kicked within her, and she rested her palms upon her swollen middle. Her back ached, and she tried to calm the worries rising inside her. If anything happened to Warrick, she could not return to Pevensham. And she knew not if her father had the power to help them.
While she waited, she spent time embroidering a length of white linen for a baby gown. The white thread created a raised pattern, and she passed the time by stitching with her needle. As morning stretched into afternoon, her serving lad eventually returned with Sir Ademar.
He was still very young, perhaps sixteen, but he had been knighted on the battlefield by the king himself. He had grown into the height of manhood, and he wore chainmail armour. For a moment, he was silent, waiting for her to speak.
‘Was it you who betrayed Warrick and me?’ she asked quietly. Rosamund was careful to keep the anger from her voice, for she did not blame the lad for what had happened.
He gave a single nod. ‘N-n-not by choice, m-my lady.’ He tightened his lips as if trying to hold back the stammer.
‘I understand this. We both know it was not your fault.’ She took a breath. ‘But Warrick and I have need of your help. He is the king’s captive, and Henry will not grant me an audience to plead for my husband’s release.’ Without waiting for him to speak, she plunged forward. ‘I want you to try to free my husband. He has done nothing wrong.’
Sir Ademar eyed her with regret. ‘I m-must stay to fight with the K-King. But I w-will do what I can.’
It was the best he could do, and she understood this. ‘Thank you.’ She braved a smile at him. ‘When you see Warrick, please tell him that my father and I are here.’
At that, Ademar’s expression turned grim. ‘You sh-should know, he fought for the k-king at Alnwick. We have not heard from them yet.’
A coldness rushed through her skin as she understood what had happened. Her husband had tried to prove his loyalty by fighting with Henry’s men—but she didn’t know if Warrick had survived that battle. Her heart quaked at the thought.
‘And what of Owen de Courcy?’ she ventured. ‘Have you seen him at all?’
‘N-no, my lady.’ Sir Ademar regarded her with understanding, as if he understood the silent threat. But there was nothing to be done for it.
A knock sounded at the door, and Ademar answered it upon her signal. Two armed soldiers approached. ‘We are under orders to escort you to King Henry,’ one of them said.
Rosamund’s pulse quickened, for this was what she had been hoping for. And yet, she could not dispel the rush of nerves. Everything rested upon this meeting with the king. She reached for her cloak, and Ademar followed. Although she wanted to believe that the king would protect her, she could not be certain. Beneath her breath, she pleaded, ‘Do as I asked and send word to my husband, Ademar. Please find him, if you can.’
He lowered his head in acknowledgment. ‘W-will you be all right?’
‘Yes. But we need your help.’ She pulled the large cloak across her shoulders, pinning it with a brooch.
The knight departed, leaving her with the two soldiers. They kept a swift pace, but try as she might, she struggled. The weight of the child was so low, she had to hold one hand below her girth to manage it.
‘Make haste,’ one of the men ordered, and she stopped walking to glare at him.
