The Loyal Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “I have,” she answered, telling the lord and Crispin at once. “We are to play a match for the entertainment of the prince after the negotiations. Pennington means it to be some kind of symbolic last battle after bringing peace to England or some such nonsense.”

  “Do you not believe peace will be brought to England?” John asked her, his blue eyes twinkling.

  Aubrey flicked a guarded glance to Crispin. “I don’t see how Derby figures into the dispute between two brothers over the crown, if that’s what you mean.”

  “But, my lady,” John protested, “the power of princes resides in the hearts of the people.”

  “Try telling that to Buxton.” She punctuated her comment with a snort. Crispin’s smile wavered. Aubrey caught her mistake and had the decency to blush and slap a hand to her mouth.

  John simply laughed. “Sir Crispin, your lady wife has a mind and a tongue of her own.”

  “She does, my lord.” He frowned at her, caught between frustration and tender amusement.

  “And she carries a sword? Perhaps we should have her travel to London to set King Henry’s sons straight?” Crispin was more relieved than he could tell that John had a sense of humor.

  Aubrey glanced at the ground before looking up through her lashes at John. And now she was trying to flirt her way out. Crispin didn’t know if he wanted to throttle her or ravish her. “My only concern, my lord, is an end to instability in our land.”

  John laughed again. “You remind me of my own wife, although she is not quite the Boadicea that you are, my dear.” He smiled at her. “Will you accompany your husband and myself?”

  “Where are you going, my lord?”

  “To see Buxton.”

  “Your friend?”

  “Or so I’ve been told.” John winked at her. They shared a conspiratorial laugh. The tension drained out of Crispin’s shoulders. “Tell me more about this human chess match you have been challenged to.”

  Crispin took Aubrey’s hand and threaded it into the crook of his arm as the three of them strolled along the corridor towards the Great Hall. “I don’t know quite what to make of it,” she explained, talking as much or more to him as John. Crispin could tell by the way she clung closer to him than usual that she was more unnerved than she was letting on. “I understand the rules and I think I get the gist of how it is played. I’m just not sure why. There must be some ulterior motive.”

  “You don’t trust your opponent?” John asked.

  “I don’t trust anyone at the moment,” Aubrey muttered. She may have vowed never to lie to him again, but Aubrey was a cunning liar when she wanted to be.

  “And do you plan to play yourself?”

  “Of course.” She broke into another genuine smile.

  “Which piece?”

  “The queen.”

  “Aubrey, I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.” Crispin bristled and held her closer.

  “A very daring move,” John replied with a grin. “The queen is often at the center of the action.”

  “You are putting yourself in too much danger,” Crispin echoed John’s words, far from the man’s admiring tone.

  “I can take care of myself,” she replied to both of them. John laughed. Crispin did not. “Besides, it’s not real fighting, just practice weapons.”

  “You could still be injured.” Crispin wished for once she would not be so stubborn, that she would listen to him and keep well out of harm’s way.

  “Then you can patch me up.” She shot him a wink behind John’s back and his face flushed.

  John continued to beam at Aubrey, not bothering to hide his admiration. “Well, my lady, if you are to be the queen, then I would humbly ask permission to be your king.” He stopped and bowed low to her.

  Aubrey paused and bit her lip. “I … thought Crispin…”

  “No, no, no, my dear.” John straightened. “You will need your husband to be one of your knights. The king spends most of the game in a passive role. A knight jumps into the fray. You will need your best fighters as your knights and your bishops.”

  She hadn’t considered that. It was true. “Thank you, John. I accept you as my king.”

  He took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss once more. “Someday, my dear, I hope to hear you speak those words to me again.”

  Aubrey raised her eyebrows at John. “And you,” she turned to Crispin, “will be my knight?”

  He sighed and frowned, taking her hands, heart pounding in his chest. “Always.” She went up on her toes to kiss him in thanks, glancing apologetically to John when she was finished. He seemed more charmed by the display of affection than anything else, although Crispin stood stiff and embarrassed. She took his arm as they continued the rest of the way down the hall.

  Crispin breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Buxton’s voice booming from Great Hall as they approached. When they entered from the gallery there was a small crowd of nobles already assembled, along with Pennington, entertaining themselves by watching a young man from the town who put on a passable juggling act.

  The second they were seen it was as if lightning struck the room. Buxton took one look at his ‘old friend’ being lead into the room by Crispin and Aubrey and glared a bolt of pure loathing them.

  “My liege!” he shouted and bowed to his knees. Those who knew who they were seeing had just as immediate a reaction. Those who didn’t quickly followed the example of those who did. In seconds the only people left standing were Crispin, Aubrey, and John.

  Aubrey dug into Crispin’s arms with both hands when she realized that the man who had just asked to be her king was already her prince. She dropped into a deep curtsey, pulling a stunned Crispin to his knees with her.

  “My liege, forgive me,” Crispin begged, not daring to look up into Prince John’s face.

  Prince John laughed as he motioned for Crispin and Aubrey to stand. “So now you know,” he sighed. “My ruse is up. It was a good one too.” He stepped closer to them and added in a quiet voice, “It’s always nice to see how people treat you when you aren’t their sovereign. It tells you who your real friends are.” He followed his comment with a wink, then marched down the gallery stairs into the hall towards the stunned Buxton.

  “My dear Alfred, I am most impressed with the welcome I have received today. And I am very impressed with the provisions you have made on my behalf.”

  Buxton’s eyes flickered past the prince to Crispin. “Ah, yes,” he ground through a false smile. “Huntingdon, uh, does good work. But why didn’t you tell us your arrival was imminent? We could have really given you a greeting then. Why, I had fifty white doves brought in for the occasion.”

  Crispin didn’t hear a word more of Buxton’s greeting. As the crowd of nobles coalesced around the prince he took Aubrey’s arm and pulled her out of the Great Hall.

  Too shocked to speak, they walked through the hall and into the cold rain of the cloister. For a moment they just stood there looking at each other, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

  “Crispin?” Aubrey found her voice first.

  “Aubrey?” He breathed as if he had just run all the way from Windale.

  “I believe … I believe we may have just made a new friend.” She burst into wide-eyed giggles.

  Crispin shook his head and gripped her arms. “We’ve just signed our own death-warrant.”

  “What?” Her grin dropped, replaced by panic.

  “Buxton brought the prince here for a reason and we were already walking on thin ice.” He couldn’t shake the unspoken threat Buxton had shot at him when they entered the room.

  “Don’t send me away, Crispin.” Aubrey’s glare was almost as fatal as Buxton’s.

  He crushed her into his arms and rested the side of his face on her hair. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head.

  His eyes snapped wide when he remembered the other events of the day. He stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “Did you know your br
other was in town?”

  “Geoffrey?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “No? Where is he?”

  “He told me he was staying in an inn.”

  “Which one?” She let go and tried to storm past him into the courtyard.

  He caught her and pulled her back. “He didn’t say.” She whipped around and tried to struggle out of his arms. “Aubrey, I saw him give a letter to Ethan’s man Toby.”

  She gaped up at him then stopped struggling as she put the pieces together. “He wouldn’t. He knows better than that. Ethan is an outlaw now.”

  He let her go when he was certain she wouldn’t run away. Instead she paced.

  “Why is he doing this? What is Ethan up to?” She shook her head in answer and turned towards the courtyard again. “I have to find him.”

  Again Crispin caught her. This time he wasn’t going to let go. “I’ve sent Jack into the forest to try to talk to his brother. If Buxton or any of his lackeys sees you anywhere near your brother or anyone else associated with Windale….” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. Buxton would kill her on the spot which would kill him as well. Every way he chose to look at things ended with their deaths.

  She saw the well of emotions in his face and went from straining to get away to throwing herself into his arms. Her arms were tight around him and her head rested on his shoulder. “We will figure out a way through this.” Her words were more of an order than a promise. “We’re together now and nothing can stop us.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The boughs of the trees in Derbywood sagged low with rain, creaking as if they might break at any second. Jack had never liked the forest, and the constant drizzling, dripping, creaking and cracking from above made him more nervous than he already was. He considered himself too clever to believe fairy stories about hauntings, but at the moment he wasn’t so sure. His horse wasn’t convinced either and it was a job to keep him steady. The beast was so spooked that it didn’t surprise him at all when Tom’s shout of “Jack!” caused it to rear.

  “Oy, Tom! Am I glad to see you!” He let out a sigh of relief and dismounted to stride towards his brother. His sharp eyes caught movement in the surrounding bushes. They’d known he was there for hours, probably fetched Tom in the first place.

  “What do you want?” Tom stopped and folded his arms across his chest as Jack approached, his voice quiet and his eyes suspicious.

  “What, now I can’t even check in on my baby brother without a chaperone?” He gestured to the men concealed in the bushes but kept his eyes glued to Tom.

  Tom darted his glance to the surrounding forest, shoulders bunched. “You’re not welcome in the forest, Jack.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Jack shifted his weight and crossed his arms in mirror of Tom. “But I’m here for a reason.” He hoped he could come up with a good one on the fly.

  “Shouldn’t you be bullying folks around Derby for your masters?”

  There is was. It didn’t matter how much he’d hoped Tom would understand. He didn’t.

  “Ah, that’s the thing, see,” he shrugged and feigned indifference. “Prince John is coming and they’re gonna to be blockin’ off the forest. I know it’s probably useless, but I wanted to come and warn you not to try anything. This is serious.”

  “We know it’s serious, Jack.” The trace of vulnerability on Tom’s face as he glanced down and dug his toe into the mud gave Jack hope. The threatening specter of Roderick striding out of the shadows of the undergrowth yanked it away again. “Which is why you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah but you can’t blame me for trying to warn my old friends of danger.” He raised his voice to include Roderick in the comment as he approached Tom’s side, in spite of his itching desire to test out his newly acquired swordsmanship on the murderer. “So if Ethan is thinking of trying anything, tell him … don’t.”

  Tom glanced up when he realized Roderick had joined them and scowled. He dropped his arms and his hand twitched towards the dagger in his belt. Jack narrowed his eyes and rubbed the rosary around his wrist. “Thanks for the warning, Jack,” Tom dismissed him.

  “I’m serious, mate.”

  A sick grin twisted Roderick’s face and he started to laugh under his breath. The muffled sound coupled with the color draining from Tom’s face made the hair stand up on Jack’s neck. If that wasn’t proof that Ethan was about to cause a mess of trouble nothing was.

  “Oy, why don’t you come back with me.” He stepped closer and suggested in a mutter so Roderick couldn’t hear. “I got pull with Crispin now. I could find you a place.”

  Tom’s eyes snapped up as if Jack had spit at him. “You want me to turn traitor like you?”

  “It’s not like that.” Jack scowled.

  Tom shook his head. “You’re always like this. Thinking you’re someone important, that a wink and a smile can get you anything you want.”

  “Yeah, well at least I know how to wink and smile.” Jack’s heart sank. He couldn’t bear the confrontation. He rested a hand on his sword and turned to go. “Don’t try anything.”

  “Good-bye, Jack.” Tom turned away.

  “Oy, I’m just trying to get your back, alright?” he burst out in frustration.

  “Is that what this is?” Tom whipped to face him, color splotching his face and making him look half mad.

  “Yes! You’re my brother, Tom. You don’t forget family-”

  “The way you forgot me? The way you walked out on me?”

  Jack blew out an exasperated breath. He could have stood there and argued with his brother all day, but Tom was determined to see what he wanted to see and nothing else.

  “Wanker,” he muttered as he strode towards his horse.

  His pride wouldn’t let him leave like that. He spun back. “Look, Tom, I’m sorry for whatever you think it is that I did wrong. I was just looking out for what’s best.”

  “Looking out for yourself, you mean.”

  “And you too!”

  “Oh?” Tom shot back. “How do you figure that one?”

  Jack rolled his eyes and glanced up at the treetops above him. “Right. Whatever. Be that way.” He gave up and rushed to mount his horse. Crispin had other jobs for him besides arguing with a dough-headed idiot. “I don’t care what you think of me,” he snapped before he could stop himself. “You’re my brother and I will look after you one way or another, whether you want me to or not.”

  He didn’t wait to see Tom’s reaction. He kicked his horse into a trot, desperate to get out of the forest. The fruitless encounter left him with the feeling that someone was going to die, someone that didn’t have to. He would be damned if it was anyone he cared about. Ethan would pay for mucking up everyone’s lives with his foolish pride.

  Jack hadn’t returned by the next afternoon. In spite of Crispin’s reassurance Aubrey couldn’t shake the dread that sent constant cold fingers down her spine. She had to do something. As the afternoon sun began to break through the clouds, while Crispin was busy accompanying Prince John on a tour of the castle, she stole out into the city to find Geoffrey.

  It was a surprisingly easy task. All she had to do was ask after a noble with one leg and she was steered towards an inn near the city gate called The Falcon’s Perch.

  She found Geoffrey sitting at a table near the stairs, scribbling on a worn piece of parchment next to a diagram of a castle. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She flew at him without preamble, turning heads in the crowded room.

  Geoffrey jumped in shock and left a fat ink blot on the parchment. “Aubrey! You startled me.”

  She stormed to his side, wavered between fury and joy at seeing him, then bent over to peck a kiss on his cheek. He dabbed at the parchment with a scrap of blotting paper to hide what he was writing.

  “A letter?” Her tone was more accusing than she wanted it to be but there was no time to play with him.

  “No, no.” He waved his hand to dismiss her. “Well, yes. But just some instructions fo
r Henry.”

  Aubrey knew Morley’s steward needed instructions about as much as a fish needed wings. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. He cleared his throat and withered under her glare. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “I don’t believe you.”

  Geoffrey fumbled with the parchment, folding it and stuffing it into his pocket. “I’m not sure that it matters what you think.” He grabbed for his crutches propped against the table and struggled to his feet while she gaped. “You must excuse me, little sister. I have things to do.” He pushed away from her.

  “Geoffrey!” He paused with a sigh and turned to her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in town. I haven’t seen you for months and now you’re running off.” He looked at her for a moment, eyes wide with guilt and anxiety. “I … I haven’t had a chance to ask for your advice about this strange human chess thing I seem to have gotten myself into.” She winced as she manipulated him into talking to her. All she wanted was an admission that Ethan was planning something and that he was involved.

  Geoffrey dropped his weight to his crutches and stared at her with brotherly concern. “You have to get out of that any way you can.” He propelled himself over to her. “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either. I don’t trust Pennington. But I can’t back out. Besides, the prince seems eager for the game as well.” She laughed at the memory. “He asked to be my king.”

  “Well he would.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He isn’t the man we thought he was. He’s quite charming.”

  Geoffrey stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Never trust a charming man.”

  She stared at him. “What, like Ethan?”

  He shook his head at her the same way he did when they were young and she challenged his authority. “Stay out of it. I want you as far away from Prince John as possible. Ethan ….” He stopped himself on the verge of saying more. Prickles of anxiety raced down Aubrey’s spine. “Just stay away.”

  He turned to go, but Aubrey grabbed his arm. “Geoffrey, I know you mean well, but now is not the time to get involved in politics.” She stared at him and he dropped his eyes. “Promise me you will not get involved.”