Atticus stood up as well, knife still in hand. “I do not,” he said. “But I will find out.”
Isobeau waved him off; she was already moving away from the table. “I will ask one of the wenches.”
Atticus wasn’t so apt to let her go alone; he followed. “You will not travel by yourself, madam,” he told her. “I will escort you.”
Isobeau came to an irritated halt and faced him. “There are some things that women need to do in private,” she said. “This is one of those things. I am sure the privy is out back and there are plenty of people about, so nothing will happen. I will scream if I need you.”
Atticus wasn’t swayed by the clipped tone. “I will escort you.”
He took her by the arm but she pulled from his grasp and charged on ahead, asking directions to the privy from the first serving wench she came across. The woman pointed to the rear yard where there were animals and other implements used to run a tavern. Isobeau headed for the back door with Atticus on her heels but before she crossed into the cold, muddy yard beyond, she turned to him and held a hand out.
“Please,” she said quietly but firmly. “I will tend to this alone. I ask that you return to the table and eat your meal. I promise I will yell if I need you.”
Atticus was unhappy but he wasn’t accustomed to not granting a lady’s wishes. He looked around the yard outside, only seeing animals milling about, and a shack with a trench dug beneath it that dumped out into a stream that ran behind the tavern. He even went so far as to go out into the yard and throw open the door to the privy only to be greeted by a horrifically smelling hole in the ground with a hollowed-out stool poised over it. Satisfied there were no dangers lurking about, he went back into the tavern.
“Go on,” he told her. “But if you are not back in two minutes, I will come looking for you.”
Isobeau didn’t reply. She slipped out into the dark, muddy yard and ran for the privy, slamming the door. It didn’t take long for her to relieve herself, and use a nearby bucket of water to wash with, but when she was ready to leave, she barely opened the privy door to see if Atticus was still standing at the back door of the tavern. She didn’t see him but she knew there was every possibility he was lurking about, waiting for her.
But she didn’t want to go back into the tavern, not at the moment. She wanted to find Titus and tell him what she had not had the opportunity to tell him, what her fainting spell yesterday had prevented. She wanted to spend a moment with him. A brief moment was all she wanted, a last moment with her husband before they put him in the ground forever.
In the darkness, she dashed out of the yard gate and into the street beyond.
*
Warenne returned tothe tavern to find the entire structure in chaos.
People were running from the building as if the devil himself were inside, demanding their souls, and the closer he came, the more he could hear yelling and banging about. Curious, and on guard, he unsheathed the sword at his side, the sword of his forefathers,Lespada. The ancient blade glimmered wickedly in the weak light as he stepped into the tavern, expecting a fight.
The first thing he saw was an empty room. Chairs were tipped over, meals half-eaten, and ale was spilled out over the floor. The dogs who usually congregated by the hearth were happy as larks as they wandered around the room, eating off vacated tables. Cautiously moving further into the common room, Warenne could see three serving wenches clustered in the back of the room near the kitchens as the tavern keeper hovered near them, evidently fearful of someone Warenne couldn’t quite see.
There was a great deal of banging and crashing going on just out of his line of sight, back in the kitchens. As Warenne approached, on guard, Atticus suddenly appeared, sword in hand and a large pitcher of something liquid in the other. He hurled the pitcher across the room, smashing it against the wall on the other side and spraying wine everywhere.
“Do you understand that the next thing I throw across this room will be you?” Atticus bellowed. “If you do not tell me where she is, you will not have a tavern left when I am finished. Is that in any way unclear?”
Shocked, Warenne rushed forward. “Atticus!” he gasped. “What has happened? What are you doing?”
Atticus glanced at Warenne but his gaze quickly returned to the tavern keeper and the three wenches, who were, by now, huddled and weeping.
“Lady de Wolfe went to the privy a short time ago,” he said, his eyes riveted to the employees of the tavern. “She never made it back inside the tavern. I checked the yard and the privy myself before she went in, and it was clear of danger, but she has somehow disappeared. I would wager to say that these people know who has taken her and if they do not tell me, I will crack a skull against a wall as easily as cracking that pitcher of wine.”
Warenne sheathedLespadaimmediately. “I know where she is,” he said, reaching out to pull Atticus away from the thoroughly terrified people. “I just saw her. Come with me, Atticus, and leave these poor people alone.”
Atticus looked at Warenne, shocked. “You justsawher?” he demanded. “Where in the hell is she?”
Warenne tugged on him. “With me,” he ordered quietly. As he yanked Atticus along, he spoke loudly to the tavern keeper. “I will pay for the damages. It is a misunderstanding. Please make sure our rooms are prepared, as we will return shortly.”
Puzzled, enraged, Atticus allowed Warenne to drag him out of the tavern but the moment they hit the muddy road outside, Atticus pulled Warenne to a halt.
“Whereis she?” he asked, insistent. “The last I saw her was back in the tavern yard.”
Warenne reached out and grabbed him again, pulling him along. “She is at the stable where the wagon is housed,” he said quietly. “I was there bedding the horses down when she came in. She did not see me as she made her way to the wagon where Titus is. I was going to announce my presence to her but she climbed onto the wagon, sat on the coffin, and began to weep. The poor girl… I simply could not announce myself and embarrass her, so I slipped out through the rear and came to find you.”
Atticus looked at the man at first with puzzlement but then with great relief. But that relief was quickly replaced by anger.
“She should not have run away,” he said. “I thought she knew better than to run off. If she wanted to see Titus, why did she not ask me?”
“How did she know where Titus was?”
