“Two days ride at most, my lord.”
Warwick’s gaze lingered on Pollard for a moment before rising from his chair again, this time with a purpose. Hehad plan in mind, or at least the beginnings of one. He seemed fueled by something, perhaps an undigested sense of vengeance that was always lingering in his belly when it came to the battle for England’s throne. Sometimes he hungered for enemies of Edward and sometimes for enemies of Henry, but at this moment, he was hungering for something against the commander of Conisbrough Castle if, in fact, it was the man and his troops who not only reclaimed Babylon but captured Kenton le Bec. The agitation was in the not-knowing.
He had to find out.
“Send twenty men to Bradley Manor,” he instructed his advisors. “If the St. John girl is there, I want her. Tell Lady Holland that the girl’s brother has taken ill and has asked for her; anything to take the girl peacefully. I do not want her damaged… yet.”
Lord Pollard lifted an eyebrow. “But the information, coming from you, might seem strange,” he pointed out. “You do not fight for the same cause that St. John fights for.”
Warwick waved him off. “I have been on St. John’s side before,” he said. “Who is to say I am not again? Do as I say, now. Go get the girl.”
The advisors were already on the move, without question, but Wellesbourne and de Russe seemed uneasy about what was happening. Wellesbourne caught Warwick’s attention.
“For what purpose would you take this woman?” Wellesbourne asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.
But Warwick fixed on him factually. “Simple enough,” he told the young knight. “If le Bec is at Conisbrough, mayhap we can exchange the life of St. John’s sister for that of Kenton le Bec. Surely the man would not let his sister die.”
It was a ruthless act in a war that had been full of ruthless acts, although no one was particularly thrilled with introducing a woman into that mix. Wellesbourne turned to look at de Russe,to see what the man’s reaction was to all of this, but de Russe was characteristically emotionless. He seemed to be focused intently on Warwick, however.
“So you take St. John’s sister hostage if, in fact, she is even at Bradley,” de Russe said to Warwick. “You exchange her for le Bec. But what do we do about Babylon and Manchester?”
Warwick fixed on the big, young knight quite seriously. “We take them back,” he said flatly. “Did you truly believe I will leave both of those valuable assets in Edward’s hands? Of course not. We go and take them both back, starting with Babylon.”
It was the order Wellesbourne and de Russe had expected, one they had hoped for. But there was one thing in both of their minds, and probably Warwick’s, too, that had not yet been resolved.
“What about the traitor?” Wellesbourne wanted to know. “If he happens to be one of the men who survived and is still in our ranks, he could send word on to those who hold Babylon. We cannot let them be forewarned if we are to succeed in regaining the castle.”
Warwick was well aware of that. “You say that only le Bec’s inner circle knew of his plans?”
“To my knowledge, the knights were the only ones who knew.”
Warwick’s eyes glittered in the dim light of the tent, a serious and deadly cast. “With Forbes dead, le Bec presumably captured, and de Birmingham presumed dead at Babylon, that leaves you and de Russe and le Mon,” he said. “I suppose we have narrowed the field down to find out if there is a traitor among the knight corps.”
He meant either one of them and they weren’t too terribly insulted by it. Warwick didn’t trust anyone implicitly, and they knew they had nothing to hide, so they weren’t worried. Still, the thought of a traitor among them was unpleasant at the veryleast. If it wasn’t either one of them, that left le Mon, and they couldn’t imagine the man to be a traitor. But stranger things had happened.
As they left Warwick’s tent to prepare their mounts to depart once again for battle, Matthew muttered to Gaston.
“Do not say anything to le Mon about this,” he said quietly. “Let us keep Warwick’s plans between ourselves and only tell le Mon when we have to. If it is he who is sending word to Edwards’s camp, then we must discover it before he does any more damage.”
Gaston was silent as they walked across the frozen earth, heading for the corral where their horses had been tethered. The sky above was pewter as a storm rolled in and bad weather once again threatened.
“I do not believe it is any of the knights,” de Russe finally said. “For all we know, only the knights had been told of Kenton’s plans. But we cannot control whoelseKenton told.”
Matthew looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Gaston cast him a long glance. “Who was Kenton close to who had ties to Edward?”
Matthew scratched his head. He replied without hesitation. “Lady Thorne.”
“What if he told her his plans and she is the one who sent word to Conisbrough?”
Matthew simply shook his head. He didn’t have an answer for that, mostly because it made perfect sense. “But why?” he wanted to know. “She seemed as fond of him as he was of her. Why betray him?”
De Russe’s gaze lingered on the horses up ahead, his manner weary and serious. “It is possible she only pretended to be fond of him,” he muttered. “It is possible she was using him for information just as le Bec claimed he was using her.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do not know what to believe.”
