"You are here, and caught. Now that I know you work against me, what's to say I do not dispose of your treasonous arse right now?"
Arthur dropped to his knees, surprising all three men, who each took as much of a step back as they could in the cramped musty corridor.
"Cap'n, please! I beg of ye! Do not kill me. I can serve ye, and serve ye well. I shall report to Kent nothin'; that I see ye only about yer duties." Arthur clasped his hands in front of him and looked at the low ceiling of the tunnel, mumbling something about God and his mother.
Michael raised one brow in a bit of shock and humor. "I won't be killing you boy. While I think you are in great need of a loyal and honest heart, rule three states to protect the weak and defenseless—and you my boy are both of those in abundance. However, I stand by my rule to never turn a back on a foe, and believe you me, I will not take my eyes off you. Stand."
Arthur struggled to gain his footing, his knees knocking violently. Finally, with a deep held breath, Fletch lifted the boy up by his shoulders.
"Thank you, sir," Arthur muttered, looking down at the ground.
Michael gave a terse nod. "You will come with us as we traverse these tunnels. Fletch will instruct you in your new duties as his page. One false move and you will regret it. If you can show us you are honorable, you will be rewarded with more than your life, Arthur. Remember your namesake and be true to it."
Arthur nodded emphatically, the fear receding in his eyes to be replaced with something akin to hope.
"Lead the way, and show me what it is I must see," Michael indicated to Bernard and Theodore.
Elena gazed out the window of her chamber toward the lower bailey. At this early hour, when dawn had barely broken, the sky was an illuminated gray, and fingers of fog spread wide over the grounds. A worker here and there could be seen trudging to their posts, but the courtyard would not be teaming with life for another hour or two yet.
She blinked rapidly, trying to take the sting from her eyes. She had not slept the night before. The cause of her sleeplessness due to many things. Would Kent change his mind and not allow her to go to the abbey? Would Abbot Hunsden deem her not worthy and turn her away? Would they be attacked along the road? And the questions most haunting her sleepless night were of Michael. How could she make amends with him? Could she ever recover the words she'd thrust into his heart like a dagger?
Movement in the bailey just below her window caught her attention, and she leaned out to look closer, her hands pressed to the cool moist stone of the windowsill.
"Michael," she breathed out in a whisper.
He stopped his long strides and gazed up toward her window, even though there was no way he could have heard her say his name. He was thinking of her too! Her heart lurched at the realization.
When his eyes caught hers, his lips parted as if he were to say something. His brows were furrowed, but his expression was not one of anger or frustration. Instead, an intensity filled him, an urgency that was evident despite the dim light of pre-dawn. She wanted to run down the narrow winding stair and fling herself into his arms. Kiss him until they both felt no more pain.
But she reined in her strong emotions, pressed her lips together and pulled back inside the darkness of her chamber. Was she not already in danger because of her impulsive behavior? Was not Michael's life also in peril? If she had not wished for him to come to England out of selfish reasons, then he would be happily ensconced elsewhere. Not dealing with the horrid deeds—the attack, the murder—most likely arranged by her husband to send some sort of message.
For whatever reason, and she couldn't fathom how he'd figured it out, Kent knew of her affections for Michael. Obviously his spy ring went further than even she realized. A paranoid flutter of her mind wondered if one of her ladies was on Kent's side, but she quickly thrust it aside. She knew her ladies better than anyone, and all of them had been by her side through the worst of it, suffering along with her. She trusted them with her life.
When again she looked out the window, Michael was gone.
She breathed deeply in regret and closed her eyes to ward off tears. Despite how wrong it was, she wanted him to hold her, to seek comfort from his warm embrace. Why did life have to be so rigid, and she do the right thing? She was so confused. Her heart screamed for her to go to Michael, and yet her mind slammed down the portcullis through the gate that would lead her to him.
A small tap-tap on her door, had Elena jumping, her bare toes stinging against the cold wooden floor. She pressed her hand to her heart to quell its erratic pace. Was it Michael?
She gulped praying at once that it was and that it was not him.
"Enter," she said hoarsely, and then again a little louder, "You may enter."
Raelyn opened the door, and despite her need to separate herself from Michael disappointment swirled in Elena's belly.
"My lady, all has been prepared. Your steward arrived moments ago with word that St. Augustine's Abbey is willing and pleased to have you join them for however long you seek solace."
Elena nodded and watched as Raelyn floated on nimble feet to her wardrobe to lay out the only gown left there. Raelyn's excitement rolled off her in waves. Her betrothed would meet them at the abbey, where they'd be married and Raelyn would leave Elena's side to make her own way as Countess of Warwick. Her lady pulled out a chemise, hose, stays, and riding boots as she hummed a tinkling ballad.
"That is good news indeed," Elena said hating the way her voice wavered.
Raelyn must have noticed the tremble in her reply and looked up sharply, her gaze meeting Elena's. She stopped what she was doing and came toward her. Without asking for permission, she pulled Elena into her arms, stroking her hair down her back.
"Oh, my lady, all will be well."
Elena pressed her face against Raelyn's shoulder and slid her arms around her lady's waist. She let her tears fall freely against the soft satin of Raelyn's gown, and listened to the crooning of her dearest lady friend.
"You shall be safe there, and I have a feeling, a deep sense that soon happiness will be with you always. Do not fret, Elena. Do not cry."
Elena pulled away, kissed Raelyn on the cheek. "You have been forever, the best of my women, the best of friends. I can never thank you enough for all you've done for me, Raelyn."
"And because we are sisters, although not of the same blood but of heart, you do not have to thank me. I would do it all again, just as I know you would do it for me."
Elena nodded, a smile curving her lips.
"Promise me something." Raelyn's eyes were suddenly filled with intensity.
"What is it?" Elena held her breath, feeling the magnitude of Raelyn's unuttered request.
"Do not lose the love that has found you once more."
Elena took a step back, shaking her head. "What are you saying?" Michael's face floated into her mind.
"You know of what I speak. Do not let him leave England, Elena. You can only find love as great as the one the two of you share once in a lifetime. When you are in the room together the air fairly sparkles with tension and emotion. Do not forsake him."
Aye, Elena did know what Raelyn meant. She'd poured tears on her maid just the night before, telling her all that had been between them, their handfasting, their lovemaking and their argument, the harsh words she'd spoken.
"But how can I? I am already married. ‘Twould be the death of us both."
Raelyn shook her head. "I know, I know. But… 'tis just…"
Elena pressed her hands into Raelyn's and squeezed gently. "You need not say more. I will speak to him. I will make things right between us again, even though I know he will never be mine in God's name, perhaps he will stay in Kent's service…" Her voice trailed off as she knew the magnitude of what she would be asking him to do. To forgo his own life and stay by her side even though there was nothing he would gain from it. She just prayed his love for her was strong enough to withstand it.
The ride to the abbey was quiet, save for the
pounding of horse's hooves against the earth, and the chink of metal from swords and armor worn by the two score guards escorting them.
And if Elena was completely honest, those noises were nothing compared to the roaring of her heartbeat. Blood rushed around in her brain frantically, making on odd humming noise in her ears.
Elena rode between two guards and Michael in front of her. Her ladies were behind her, equally surrounded and then more retainers behind them. Riders had gone ahead of the entourage to make sure the road was clear of ruffians, and would-be attackers. And the men Michael sent behind to make sure no one followed her escort was not left unnoticed by Elena.
Kent had not yet risen when they left, and so she'd requested the steward tell him she'd departed. Her husband would be of ill temper knowing she'd left without bidding him farewell. Perhaps her error in doing so was now going to cause them a backlash from his anger.
Thank God for her training as a child. She wouldn't give up without a fight should they be attacked. The press of her bow and quiver against her thigh where she'd attached it to her saddle made her feel safer, but still, she'd rather they pick up the pace, so they might reach the abbey before nightfall.
She'd yet to find out all Michael knew about the situation at Kent and the tunnels, given the circumstances she wasn't surprised he didn't want to confide in her. And she had not yet found a time where she could ask to speak with him in private, to make amends with him. But that was not for lack of trying. She'd opened her mouth to utter the words requesting for him to ride ahead with her, but found no words would issue. Even when they'd stopped to rest the horses and break their fast, she had started to approach him, only to turn away in a moment of cowardice.
The longer the day went on and the more he ignored her, the more she thought it hopeless to even seek him out.
Her musings were interrupted when suddenly Michael jerked around in his saddle to stare, at first she thought at her, but then she saw that indeed his eyes were not looking at her, but beyond her.
Then she heard it, the neck-breaking pounding of horse hooves, and the shouts from men.
She turned in her saddle to see the men Michael had sent to scout behind them, rushing toward their entourage.
The men were flushed, the horses foaming at the mouth, showing they'd been ridden hard and fast. Michael called a halt to his men, and whirled his horse around to ride toward his retainers.
Elena pulled on her horses' reins, and would have ridden after Michael, intent on finding out what was happening, had his man Jon not put a hand on her reins to stay her.
"My lady, I can best protect you if you stay put." His eyes bored into hers and held no room for argument.
She nodded briskly, and turned to each of her ladies, trying to offer soft words of comfort to them. But even still, having the retainers flying down the road looking as if the very devil were after them left everyone on edge. Her husband was bent on seeing her truly finished and dead in a ditch. It may be that the devil was after her indeed.
In an effort to take everyone's concentration from Michael's animated discussion with the retainers, and the scowls on their faces, she asked, "How much longer until we reach the abbey, Sir Jon?"
The newly knighted young man, colored at her use of his title. "We have not much further to go, mayhap two hours. We should be there before nightfall, I imagine." His voice trailed off as his gaze turned toward Michael, most likely realizing that whatever it was that had caused the alarm would hold them up in arriving at the time he suggested.
Michael turned, his gaze meeting hers, his expression stricken. He appeared to issue orders to his men, and then turned his horse toward her, trotting briskly. Elena's heart constricted. What news could they have brought?
"My lady, if I may be permitted to speak to you in private?"
Elena nodded immediately and Michael led the way to the edge of the road, his eyes scanning the forest at their backs. She was anxious to hear what he had to say, and at the same time relieved to have him finally alone so she might apologize.
"Michael, before you tell me whatever it is that is transpiring, I must apologize for my harsh words to you." Her hands came up to cover her heart, and she gazed directly into his eyes. "What I said was wrong, and I know how wrong it was, I spoke… I honestly spoke to hurt you, to push you away."
His gaze pierced hers. "Why?" His voice cracked with emotion.
"To save us." She chewed her lower lip, wanting to reach out and hold his hands in hers, rest her head on his shoulder as she poured out her heart to him. But she sensed the urgency in his demeanor and knew she had only a moment more to pour out her heart to him before he bade her hush so he might convey to her the issue at hand. "Our love, our liaisons, they are known to too many, and should Kent find out, he will have us executed for our treasonous behavior. Adultery is a sin." She took a deep breath, her eyes cast to the ground, then raised them again. "I thought to push you away because it is so hard for me to stay away from you. But even after only a short time, I could not let you think I meant those things, for I did not."
Michael's eyes showed sadness. "Oh, Elena, my love. Kent knows."
A gasp escaped her lips. "No."
Her champion's head dropped briefly before he met her eyes again. "Aye, he does, and he has sent men even now to ambush us. We must make haste to the abbey."
"An ambush?" Her hand came up to her throat, and for a moment she was unable to breathe. She felt cold all over. Her limbs shook and her fingers tingled.
Michael simply nodded, offering her no comfort. "'Tis the truth. We must away now. Tell your ladies to ride hard. His men have made double time, and are gaining on us. We shall speak further when you are safe and I've dispatched of the heathens."
Elena blinked a couple of times, then, gripping her reins tight, made her way briskly over to her ladies. Within minutes, they were cantering down the road, Michael's shouted orders heard over the thunder of hooves every so often.
While the critical situation unfolded, her mind had been numb. Now that they barreled down the road, her mind found opportunity to wander. Michael had not accepted her apology. In fact, he seemed to almost dismiss what she'd said, acted as if she were a fool to ever think her husband wouldn't know, and an even bigger fool for not knowing so already.
Tears of anger and regret stung her eyes but she blinked them back rapidly, and with them the dirt that clouded around her and disturbed her vision. Michael was not one to hold a grudge, she reminded herself. He had said he would find time to speak with her later. And truly, she had picked an awful time to talk with him about her feelings when they were on the verge of being attacked. She should have known better. He was a knight after all, and a damned good one. The safety of everyone would come before his feelings, before her own feelings. He hadn't brushed her off to be cruel, but simply because time was of the essence and if they sat there much longer ruminating on her harsh words they would have been overtaken.
She swallowed back her pain and concentrated on staying on top of her horse. Her leg, hooked around the pummel of her saddle, strained, and her rear bounced against the hard leather. She would be in pain come the morrow, but the pain would be welcomed to that of death. With that thought in mind, she urged her horse to go faster.
When at first they had planned to arrive at the abbey just before the evening repast and prayers, with the devil hot on their heels, they arrived in early afternoon, covered in a layer of dust, grime and sweat.
The horses' coats and mouths were frothy, and when the abbey gates were opened to let them in, pages ran hither and yon to take care of the horses. The servants who'd already arrived were eager to assist Elena and her ladies in dismounting, but their excited faces turned somber when they saw the state in which the entourage appeared.
Abbott Hunsden scurried from the cloister walkway toward the group in the churchyard, his bald head down as he walked forward, fingers jumping over the rosary tied at his waist.
"Lady Kent, may I we
lcome you to St. Augustine's Abbey—and trust that God has seen you well to us."
Elena curtsied to the Abbott, bowing her head and accepting his blessing. "Abbott, I humbly thank you for allowing me sanctuary. I shall go and rest and pray for the remainder of the day. I believe Sir Devereux has need of the utmost urgency to speak with you."
Heat radiated from Michael's rigid stance at her side. He bowed and accepted the Abbott's blessing before following him through the throng of onlookers and disappearing from sight.
"Come, my lady, we must get you behind walls where it is safe," Fletch said before turning to several monks by the gates. "Lock those up tight, and do not let anyone else pass without permission from either Sir Devereux or myself."
The monks nodded, even if they looked a bit perturbed. Elena could understand their annoyance since she had disrupted their harmony and prayer, and on top of that now added danger to their normally peaceful existence.
A friar stepped from the crowd. "My lady, I should be pleased to show you and your ladies to your chamber."
Elena nodded, and when they had only walked five feet, a loud male shout from beyond the gate was heard.
"Admit me, monk!"
There was a wolf among these sheep.
'Twas he—the wolf—and he would devour them all. He snickered, but quickly recovered himself lest someone see.
They had no idea.
He played his part well, and he'd be compensated for it too. No one would dare to turn their backs on an agreement made with him. Should that agreement not be upheld, he would require blood and pain to appease him.
His eyes shifted from side to side taking in the luscious curves of Elena's ladies. What he wouldn't give to have one of them writhing beneath him. And perhaps one night, while these sheep were fast asleep beneath a comforting blanket of feigned security, one of them would go missing.
He'd enjoyed seeing their panicked faces when the front gates were banged upon. Too bad it was only that sniveling lord come to offer assistance to Captain Devereux.
Knights of Valor Page 19
