“Desist,” he boomed. “We are here only to request your presence at the behest of our lord.”
“Our presence?” Guy asked, clearly stalling.
The man who’d spoken looked at her then. “Nay. Yours alone.”
She knew what Guy would do before he said a word. Already shaking her head, she continued to do so even as he spoke softly in her ear.
“Go to Roger and stay there. If I am not back by morning, flee.”
“No. I am coming—”
“No, you are not. Go.”
He intended to sacrifice himself.
Sabine shook her head. “I will not.”
“Sabine,” he whispered, his lips close enough to her neck for a kiss. “I am sorry. For everything.” He slipped something into her hand. “Keep this safe and use it if necessary. Now go.”
He did not give her a chance to respond. To ask exactly what he had apologized for. Before she could even say goodbye, her brave husband was walking past the men toward the stable, presumably to get his mount and ride to Noreham.
And likely to his death.
Chapter 30
Noreham’s men were as silent as the room in which he’d been sleeping at the inn. Alone. Without Sabine.
They passed familiar landscape, skirting the village that had become Sabine’s refuge these past days. Even now, as he awaited almost certain imprisonment, he thought of her.
Not the disappointment of having failed his friends.
Not fear for his life.
Not regret for having never sought out his mother so he might tell her what her abandonment had done to him.
Nay, he thought of his wife.
Guy had no doubt she would be resourceful enough to escape. With her own coin and the promissory note from the bishop, Sabine would have plenty of resources to find an appropriate escort to Licheford. And Conrad would keep her safe.
If Noreham had discovered her true identity, surely his men would have taken her as well.
She would be safe.
He repeated it over and over and over again, all the way to the castle and into the keep. Doing so made him forget, at least temporarily, that his short life was likely at an end. Cursing de Chabannes, as he’d done so many times of late, he followed Noreham’s men to the stables.
Surprisingly calm given the situation, he did wonder when they would remove his weapon. The men hadn’t so much as glanced at his sword, nor had they flanked him.
Odd, that.
Earlier, he’d assumed they knew he would not dare to use it. Sabine had been standing right there with him at the inn. Her presence had ensured his acquiescence. So why did they hesitate now?
Did they know something he did not? Did they have men watching her, ready to retaliate if he should attempt to flee?
“Lavallais.”
Noreham joined their small group. The young baron was not armed, and yet his men departed, leaving them alone together.
“Will you walk with me?”
Guy looked for a knife. For any weapon. But Noreham appeared to be completely unarmed.
He followed the baron back outside and through a passageway that led to one of the four stone towers visible from the outer walls. It opened to a long chemin de ronde, called a wall-walk here in England. He and the baron stepped onto it, quite alone, and the only guard in sight moved away.
He could kill Noreham with one stroke.
He might even make it away from the keep and through the gatehouse undetected.
But curiosity stayed his hand.
“That would be unwise.”
Guy had neither moved nor looked at his sword. He would have smiled then had Noreham not been his enemy.
“Perhaps wiser than bringing me here. Armed. And alone.”
“Do you believe so?”
Noreham started to walk, so Guy followed.
That’s when he saw them. From this vantage point, the entire Bande de Valeur camp was visible. White tent after white tent. Hundreds of men. The largest mercenary army in the world.
“Why do you believe they are here?” Noreham asked.
Guy did not hesitate.
“To fight for the king. Against his own people.”
“John says otherwise.”
Guy nearly laughed. “Does anyone believe they are here simply to ensure peace?” He looked Noreham directly in the eyes. “Do you?”
The answer was suddenly as clear as glass. Guy Lavallais might be a famous swordsman, but he was an idiot.
How could he have made such a grave mistake in judgement? Never in his life had he been so unaware, but of course, he knew the answer.
He had misread this situation with Noreham so erroneously because he was deeply in love with his wife. She’d eclipsed everything else.
Chapter 31
“Go now, my lady.”
“But—”
“Ol’ Roger never led a battle or defended a castle against a siege. But he’s lived three of your lifetimes, and he’s tellin’ you to go. Now.”
Sabine’s father had always told her that while it was a mistake to trust the wrong person, it was a much worse error to trust none at all. Though she had coin, along with the promissory note she refused to use under any circumstances since doing so would implicate both Guy and the bishop, Sabine knew no one in town other than Master Roger.
If she hoped to save the man she loved, she needed to get to the Earl of Licheford, and soon. Which meant she required help. Although it chafed her pride to admit she could not go alone, she knew it was so. Time was of the essence.
Teary-eyed and unable to form the words at first, she’d broken down nearly the moment she entered the shop. Sabine had then proceeded to tell Roger everything.
He’d immediately suggested that she hire the services of Eric the Earl.
“My father would never have trusted a man named Eric the Earl with my safety,” she mused. Most especially, she added silently, since he was a disgraced knight and not an earl at all.
“Would he trust me?” Roger pressed.
“Aye. As I do.”
“I knew Eric’s grandfather. And his father. He’d served the earl until a disagreement put them at odds.”
According to Roger, it had been quite the scandal some years ago, though none knew the circumstances behind Eric’s dismissal. One day, he’d been removed from the castle. He was never seen speaking to Noreham again. Spending his days in the field with his father and nights training for tournaments, which he still regularly won, Eric began to style himself “Eric the Earl.” It seemed a jest between him and, well, himself.
When Sabine reluctantly agreed to his suggestion, Roger left her in the shop to speak with Eric. Sure enough, he was more than willing to escort her.
But Guy had asked her to wait until morning.
She said as much to Roger.
“You admit he is likely in danger,” the older man said, insistent. “As are you, my lady. Please do not delay.”
She hesitated.
Go to Roger and stay there. If I am not back by morning, flee.
His instructions had been quite clear, and yet . . . if she had not listened to her parents, perhaps Sabine would not have been imprisoned in Holybourne Abbey.
“If Guy comes . . .”
Her words were cut short by Roger, who had circled around his worktable to engulf her in a hug. She squeezed the old man back. Although they’d only spent a few days together, they’d become close nonetheless. She would miss him.
“I will tell him.”
Eric the Earl had already suggested the best route for them to take to Licheford, which Roger could share with Guy if he did indeed return in the morn.
Oh, please let him return.
Every time she thought of those men on horseback, staring at her . . . at Guy.
Why had they not taken her if de Chabannes had indeed betrayed them?
Where was Guy at this moment?
It was the answer to that last question that worried her most. F
or if the worst had happened, he might not even be in Noreham’s dungeon. Nay, he might be on his way to London to await the king’s displeasure . . .
Sabine shivered.
When she finally made eye contact with Roger, the girdler attempted a smile, though it was the same fixed expression he’d had a couple of days ago, when they’d discussed the room upstairs that had been intended for his children, the ones he and his wife had never had. He’d tried to convince her it was just as well he’d never had children. That his happy marriage and the joy his belts gave people had been enough.
But it was a smile filled with regret and edged with a lie that no one believed.
Least of all Sabine.
* * *
“Gone?”
Surely he hadn’t heard the girdler correctly.
“To Licheford.”
Guy froze.
“She told me everything,” the man continued.
A chill ran through him, not unlike the one that had finally alerted him to Noreham’s true purpose.
He quirked his brow, waiting for Roger to explain. When the man didn’t start speaking immediately, he said, “I told her to wait until morn.” Impatience gave his voice a hard edge.
“I convinced her it wasn’t wise.”
Guy’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis not a journey I’d have her make without me.”
“She’s well protected. I ensured it.”
Roger had always looked so soft around Sabine, but his face had reverted back to the hard, leery look he’d had that first day they’d wandered into this shop. This was a man who’d faced down trouble many times.
“So you’ve not been accused of treason, then?” Roger pressed.
Guy did not begrudge his knowledge of their plans, but neither did he wish to speak freely with a man he hardly knew. This was Sabine’s confidant. Not his.
“I am here, am I not?”
That earned him another hard look, this one deserved.
“Who did you send with her?”
“A man who was once in Noreham’s retinue. She is well protected.”
“Once?” Guy’s mood was not improving.
“’Tis a long story, one you’d do better to ask the man himself.”
If only he could. But Guy was not at liberty to leave just yet. Not before the deed was done.
“She is well protected?” Roger had just said as much, but he needed to be sure.
“She is,” the older man answered with certainty.
Guy made for the door.
“Will you go to her?”
Every part of him wanted to say aye. To leave immediately for Licheford. To find his wife, hold her in his arms, and never let go. But he could not do that today, certainly. And maybe not ever. He’d send word to Conrad in the morn, but for now, he had a mission to complete.
With a final farewell, he left the shop and attempted to shrug off the fear that had gripped him the moment he realized she’d left.
I will be alone soon enough. No longer your concern.
How many times had Sabine said those words to him in the past few days? This time, he had no choice but to listen.
Chapter 32
“This eve, we will be hosting an important man loyal to our cause.” Conrad folded his arms as if he were in his solar rather than on horseback. “He claims to have news.”
Sabine slowed her mount to a stop, pulling her mantle tighter across her shoulders. The weather was changing more rapidly this year, the air already cool. Still, the land around Licheford was lovely, and she’d been pleased to accept Conrad’s invitation to take a ride.
“Oh?”
On the first morning of her arrival at Licheford, Sabine had not known what to do. Where to go. She was a stranger here, even if she had gotten on well with the earl on her previous visit.
But Guy’s friend had been more than welcoming. He’d sent a maid to tend to her needs—a welcome though unnecessary courtesy—broken his fast with her each morn, and included her in every machination dealing with the rebellion.
A sennight had passed without word from Guy.
No news from London either.
If he’d been named a traitor, news of it had not yet reached Licheford, and the small group of men Conrad had sent out to Noreham to make discreet inquiries had not returned either.
“A man by the name of Stephen Langton,” Conrad continued.
Sabine tore her gaze away from the spectacular view around them, rolling green hills that reminded her of home, and looked at the man beside her in surprise.
“The archbishop of Canterbury?” Certainly she’d not expected that.
“Apparently Bishop Salerno spoke to him. He knows of our cause.”
Our cause.
Like Guy, Conrad had treated her as a part of the order from the very beginning. It made her want to take a more active role in the rebellion her father had started.
Thinking about the rebellion, and more what could be done, was preferable to thinking of Guy. To wondering if he still lived.
Waiting here, not knowing what had become of him, was as excruciating as it had been waiting for her parents at Lord Burge’s residence.
“Think of the importance of this meeting instead,” Conrad said.
She didn’t need to ask for clarification. He had been watching her, and must have noticed her far-off look.
“I wasn’t thinking of Guy, but of my parents.”
Conrad’s sigh spoke of both sadness and understanding. She wanted to ask more about the circumstances surrounding his own parents’ deaths, but it would feel wrong to pry. Instead, she asked another question that had been on her mind for some time.
“The day you met.” She looked out at the heathland’s purple and yellow flowers, knowing they would soon be gone for the season. “The day you all met, Terric’s sister . . .”
Sabine stopped. She was unsure how to ask the question. Even though she and Conrad had shared confidences, it was still a very personal question. And certainly they had more important matters to attend to with the archbishop of Canterbury on the way.
But she could not banish the image of a young girl quailing from an older man’s violent attack. Her father had warned her about the possibility of being taken advantage of . . . but she’d never truly considered it until the safety of her home had been taken from her. Then, it had seemed an ever-present concern. And while she trusted Roger, those first few nights traveling here with Eric . . .
She shuddered at the direction of her thoughts.
Conrad was watching her.
“Cait.”
They’d become friends, brothers, defending this woman’s honor, but Guy rarely spoke of her.
“’Tis the first I’ve heard her name.”
Sabine had not meant to stare at Conrad’s scar. He touched it with the tips of his fingers. It happened so quickly, she wondered if he even realized he’d done it.
Sabine forced herself to look elsewhere.
“I’ve not seen her since that day.”
“Did she ever marry?”
Conrad shook his head. “Nay.”
They fell into an easy silence then, Sabine thinking of her own marriage. Though Conrad had insisted she remain at Licheford for the interim, she refused to stay indefinitely. But as Conrad had said, the future was as uncertain for every single member of the order. He’d convinced her to think only of the present, an easy task with Guy’s whereabouts still unknown.
“We should return to the keep.”
“Of course.”
He would want to prepare for what promised to be an interesting meeting. Stephen Langton had been exiled to France years earlier by King John, who’d refused to recognize his appointment. Langton had been allowed to return to England after a bitter negotiation, and John’s relationship with the pope had suffered because of it.
Some said the archbishop, despite his public declaration in support of the king, privately held a grudge against him. If he was coming here after speaking to Salerno, i
t would appear those rumors were true.
Which meant more people were learning of the rebellion. They needed the support, of course, but the more people who learned about the order, the more dangerous their position became. Each of them, Sabine included, would become a target. Of course, she’d been one already, and her husband with her.
Urging her mount to a gallop, Sabine caught up with Conrad just as she saw the riders approaching.
* * *
“I’ve never seen such tapestries before.”
Sabine still had difficulty believing she sat one seat away from Stephen Langton, the famed archbishop of Canterbury. Some called him one of the first rebels to King John’s rule. Others argued his beliefs were too radical, even among those who despised the current king’s practices.
“’Tis good to be back.”
“His Grace has been in Burgundy these past years, am I correct?” Conrad said, a rather polite way of asking about his brief banishment.
The meal long since over, they still sat at the high table. Sweetmeats had been brought and placed before them, but none indulged. The hall had remained bustling for a time, due to the earl’s continued presence, but Conrad had dismissed his retainer. And then he’d dismissed the servants too.
Sabine had thought the men would retire to a more private chamber, perhaps the solar, but neither seemed inclined to do so. Which was just as well for her as Sabine very much wanted to be a part of this discussion.
Powerful, at times hot-tempered if Guy were to be believed, but always in control, the earl was unlike any man she’d ever met. A lifetime ago, she’d have seen him through the eyes of an unmarried maiden. At least, her father certainly would have. But there was only one man for her.
There was only Guy.
Her heart lurched as it did each time she thought of him. Wondering where he was. If he was safe. In pain. Alive.
“Sabine?”
“I apologize, Your Grace.” Thankfully, she’d heard the conversation through her thoughts. “I’ve heard little of Pontigny Abbey”—she allowed herself a private smile—“though I do have more experience with abbeys of late.”
The Mercenary: Order of the Broken Blade Page 13
