But what was the point in such thoughts? He was a mercenary, to be bought and paid for. Alice of Rennoc would not consider such a man seriously. Women had always seemed like another country entirely to Jervois, and one he was far from certain he wished to explore. Now he had seen one that he liked, but she was not for him.
“I would I did not have to leave,” Radulf began in a low, weary voice, “but I have no choice but to see an end to this matter once and for all. You will remain here to guard my lady.”
That brought Jervois’s head up with a jerk. “But my lord, you do not mean to go alone!”
“I do not fear a trick, but no, I will not go alone. I will take four of the men and they can wait for me nearby. Make your choice and tell them to be ready.”
Jervois hovered uneasily. “You have many enemies, lord.”
Radulf’s eyes were full of grim humor. “That may well be so, Jervois, but I am immortal, am I not?”
Jervois refused to smile. “Others may believe the legends, but I know you are but a man, my lord, and a man can be killed. What would become of your lady wife then? The king would marry her to another, perhaps one not so inclined to cosset her as you do.”
Radulf hesitated, and then nodded, clapping a hand on Jervois’s shoulder. “Aye, you are right as always, my careful friend. I will take heed.” He turned toward Lily’s bedchamber, taking a couple of steps toward the door before stopping. No. It was better he say nothing to Lily. She had an uncanny knack of reading his moods and he did not want to answer her questions now. He would see her when he returned. Perhaps he would even explain to her what he had done.
Or perhaps not.
With a deep breath, Radulf turned away from the bedchamber and toward the inn door.
Chapter 14
Seated upon Alice’s docile gelding with her cloak wrapped tightly about her, Lily could have been any York housewife making her way home after staying too late at the house of a friend or relative. Or she might be taken for a foolish young maiden keeping a secret assignation. The last was not far from the truth, except that it was not her assignation.
It had been much easier than she thought. Alice’s clothing fit her well enough, although Una had had to lower the hem, which left a narrow band of a deeper color. But the men didn’t notice that; they rarely looked at a woman’s feet. Jervois had called a farewell, but Lily had ignored him.
Radulf had not spoken at all, and although she had been sure she felt two burning holes in her back where his eyes were fixed, everything had gone to plan.
A splatter of rain rattled upon the road and a droplet splashed against her cheek. The servant, his tangled beard and long hair proclaiming his non-Norman origins, ran before her, perfectly comfortable in his role as guide. He had listened with eyes averted as Lily told him where he was to take her. “I know it, lady,” he had assured her.
Lily had smiled her thanks and felt a stab of pity for the man. There was an ugly brand on his cheek, which had puckered the skin and scarred him badly. Such cruel marks were the Normans’ way of accounting for their property.
If Radulf should discover her, she would not allow him to punish this poor man. This excursion was her idea and hers alone. Not that she expected to be caught. All she had to do was wait for Radulf, watch his meeting with Lady Anna, and then . . . Well, then she would most probably go back to the inn and sob herself to sleep. But at least she would know.
She shivered suddenly in the damp air. The warm day had stirred up a storm that brought early darkness. It still hung about the city, rumbling bad-temperedly, with the occasional flash of lightning. She might regain her bed tonight soaked to the skin, but at least the bad weather ensured the streets were empty . . . and safe. Lily and her servant met not a single soul as they traversed York.
Several times tonight, Lily had asked herself why she was doing this. Why was she putting herself, and possibly others, in danger of Radulf’s retribution? The answer was simple and always the same: she had to know. Whatever the cost.
“Here ’tis, lady,” the servant mumbled. He flicked a sideways glance toward a curving lane, its edges hidden by shadows. At the far end squatted a small building—the chapel. A providential flash of lightning showed a closed door and dark windows. All was still and silent. Lily turned the horse down the lane, just as thunder roared above them and the heavens opened in flood.
Lily bent forward to murmur soothing words to the gelding as she glanced quickly about, searching for a good vantage point. A deserted wooden cottage looked promising—there were many such places in York, left to rot by those fleeing from various waves of invaders. The rain poured down upon Lily and she wiped a hand across her eyes, blinking, blinded.
If she did not find shelter soon she would be drowned, she thought irritably. The servant had followed her, his thin shoes sinking in the mud, and now stood at her side, muttering English curses. Shielding her face, Lily dismounted and pulled the gelding through the cottage doorway.
The air there was heavy with decay, the smell of abandoned hope. The roof thatch had partially fallen in and the rain hammered down.
Lily found what shelter she could, the servant huddling close by. His face was a white blur in the darkness, and although Lily was not afraid, he was. She felt his fear, acrid and cold, when he brushed against her shoulder in the confined space.
“You can go home now,” she shouted above the rain. “Or better still, go back to the inn and find Una. She will feed you while you wait for my return. Then you may escort your lady home.”
He hesitated, plainly torn between what he knew was his duty, and his terror at being in such a place and the consequences it might bring down upon him.
“Go,” Lily insisted, touching his arm gently. “I do not need you now.”
When the servant had gone, stumbling over some fallen timbers in his haste, Lily stood alone and listened to the rain. She was truly on her own now. Just as she had been on her own before Grimswade. Hiding, running, a vixen pursued by hounds; alone, abandoned, in a changing world.
Standing there now in the summer storm, Lily felt as if nothing had really changed. Radulf might never have been. A dream, that was all it was.
Slowly the rain began to ease. It must be near Compline now, she decided, just as a frog started up a noisy song nearby. The gelding trembled, and as Lily reached to soothe him, she caught the sound of horses’ hooves, coming closer.
