St. Winifred’s beard, that was close at the gate! Isobel thought he was joking when he said he imagined her held captive by a hunchback. The image was so real he’d almost forgotten the end of that absurd sheep joke.
Because their lives depended upon it, he carried off the facade of easy bonhomie. But the sweat ran down his back.
And now? He rubbed his hand over his face and cursed himself. Riding through the countryside with no other men-at-arms was an open invitation to the worst kind of trouble.
He felt better as they neared the wood. At least they would be safe here for the night. In the morning, he would watch the road for a large party they might join. It would be a long night for him, keeping watch alone. He might have to tell himself stupid sheep jokes to stay awake.
What was that?It sounded like the snort of a horse coming from the wood. He put out his arm, signaling for the other two to stop. Praise God, they had the sense not to speak.
His head hurt from the strain of listening so hard. What was that? A rustle of leaves? A footfall? He drew his sword soundlessly and urged his horse forward.
“Stephen? Is that you?” came out of the darkness.
His nephew should be halfway to Caen by now. And yet it was his voice coming from the high grass just off the road.
“Jamie?”
Jamie rose up from the grass, as beautiful to Stephen as Venus rising from the water.
Jamie shouted over his shoulder, “ ’Tis my uncle!”
Several shadowy figures came out of the trees, calling greetings. The tightness around Stephen’s heart eased, and he laughed.
“I see you ignored my orders,” he said as he dismounted. He put his arm around his nephew’s shoulders. “Thank God you did!”
“In sooth, I never intended to follow them,” Jamie said. “If you did not come by morning, I was going to ride into Rouen and get you.”
“François! Isobel! Stephen!”
Stephen heard Linnet’s shouts as she ran toward them, her fair hair shining in the darkness.
The ride back to Caen was a nightmare. Every hour, Stephen had to weigh the exhaustion of his charges and horses against the need to reach Caen before the king departed for Chartres.
The Armagnac men who controlled the often-mad French king had proposed a secret meeting between the two monarchs at Chartres in just a few days’ time. King Henry agreed, since such a meeting could lead to a negotiated end to the conflict. To keep the meeting secret, King Henry would leave his army behind and travel to Chartres with only a small escort.
If the Armagnacs intended to murder King Henry, the rendezvous in Chartres provided them with the perfect opportunity.
Stephen had allowed his group only two or three hours’ rest in the wood outside Rouen. This morning, they rose early and rode hard all day. He called a halt tonight only when darkness made riding too dangerous for the horses.
He found Isobel sitting before the crackling fire with Linnet’s head in her lap. She looked up as he approached and gave him a weary smile.
“I hate to wake her to finish her supper,” she said.
“I’ll see she gets an extra portion in the morning.” He knelt to lift the girl. “You should sleep, as well. We’ll break camp at first light.”
It hurt him to see how drawn Isobel’s face was.
“I have never been so tired,” she said, pushing her hair from her face. “Still, I cannot sleep just yet.”
Linnet’s arms and legs hung limp against him as he carried her to the blanket she would share with Isobel. When he returned, Isobel was gone. He looked across the fire to where Geoffrey, Jamie, and François were rolling out their blankets.
“She went to the stream to wash,” Geoffrey said.
“Watch over Linnet,” Stephen ordered, irritated that they let Isobel go alone.
By moonlight, he followed the bank of the stream away from the camp. All day he had wanted to speak with her. But the ride was too strenuous for serious talk, and he had to keep constant watch. Now that he finally had his chance, he was uncertain how to broach the subject with her.
He heard a splash of water and spotted a dark shape squatting at the edge of the stream. He hurried to her and helped her to her feet.
