“We must go back,” he commanded in his most authoritative tone. “We must find Julianna and my son before the Governor of Alnwick does.”
“Why?” Rauf asked watching him struggle to sit up. “What does she have to do with him?”
“She was married to him,” Nicholas told them. “She…he died. Or so everyone thought. He was buried alive and escaped his grave.”
They both shivered in their skins. Rauf recovered first. “That is damned unnervin’, Nicky.”
Nicholas nodded. “He accuses Julianna of conspiring to kill him. He has gone after her.”
Rauf paled.
“He will…” he ground his jaw and began again. “He will beat her.”
Rauf leaped to his feet. “I will go get her!” he pledged loudly. “Simon and Margaret will remain here and see to ye. Aye?”
“Aye,” they both said in agreement.
“I will go back to Lismoor. They have to be there. What of Lancaster?”
“Let the king deal with him,” Nicholas said. “He is the reason for all this.
There is nothing more we can do.”
Nicholas warned him about the Viscount of Bamburgh who had been sent to Lismoor to get her. He set out alone on his horse a short while later.
Nicholas grimaced then smiled when Margaret caught him trying to rise. “I hate that he is alone.”
“He is quite a capable man, my lord,” Margaret told him as if he didn’t already know. “He checked every cart until he found you. When he finally did, he rejoiced with Simon.” She smiled, remembering.
Nicholas smiled, too.
“But, of course, there are those who are not here that he wishes were. Julianna, Elias, Agnes.”
Nicholas’ smile warmed on her blushed cheeks. “Does Agnes return his affection?”
Margaret nodded emphatically. “She does!” Then, just as quickly, her smile faded and left a dark frown in its place. “But she could be dead. Many of Lismoor’s villagers are dead.” She stopped to weep a little, then apologized, vowing that it was beyond her ability to stop.
He understood. The villagers were his responsibility. Many were dead. The bishop was dead. Who else? “I must get well.”
“You will, lord,” she comforted. “But you are just over your fever and your ribs have not yet healed. You must rest now. ’Tis the best thing for you. Here, have a sip of tea.”
He didn’t want to rest, and he didn’t want tea. He wanted to go to Alnwick in case Bamburgh was following his orders and taking her there.
“You two must help me,” he pleaded.
“We are going to, my lord. Here, just a bit. ’Twill help you feel less pain. Do you feel its effect already?” she asked when he drank some and stopped struggling.
“Aye,” he answered drowsily.
“Good,” she whispered. “You will heal and then we will go.”
He closed his eyes, but he didn’t sleep. How could he rest? How could he wait, not knowing what was befalling Julianna and his son?
His legs felt a bit like melted butter, which he guessed was an effect of the whisky, so he had to wait until it wore off. In the meantime, he watched Margaret and Simon prepare some dried meat and mushrooms for his breakfast, she informed him.
He wolfed everything down like a man who hadn’t eaten in a sennight. He hadn’t. He felt better when he was done and insisted on Simon helping him to his horse.
“You may have to secure me to my saddle, my young friend.”
