Very well, she admitted, growing more disgusted with herself, perhaps that wasn't exactly what he had said. That annoying sense of fairness gained a foothold and reminded her what Gareth had said: "I love you, Elena, and I would take you to the farthest ends of the known world if circumstances were different."
"Well it doesn't matter what he said, does it?" she muttered. "I'm still here and he'll no doubt end up dead by year's end."
"My lady?" the kinder of the three guardsmen said.
"Nothing," Elena replied abruptly, and then, since he had been polite to her while the other two men had been barely respectful, "I'm just talking to myself. How much longer must we travel tonight?"
"We shall reach a small inn before midnight and rest there until morning. With this full moon, we could travel all night, but the horses will need food and rest as, I'm sure, will you, my lady."
Elena said nothing but thought that she would not be able to sleep no matter how far they rode tonight. Her nerves were still taut from helping Gareth escape and worrying that her role in his escape would be discovered. She didn't think there could be a way of connecting her to him other than the guard, but he had become so drunk, surely he could not remember what she looked like. She did hope, however, that he remembered what name she had given him. She grinned in the darkness as she thought of Catherine being suspected of aiding a traitor. It would be no less than she deserved. Amazing, was it not, what court life could do to some people? Elena shook her head with disappointment. Poor Catherine had become the epitome of the manipulative, calculating and single-minded courtier. And in such a short time, too.
Blissfully ignoring the fact that until a month past, she could have put Catherine's actions to shame, Elena returned to her litany of curses against Gareth.
Chapter 31
"And you've no idea when you were set upon by these two large men?" Sir Jasper asked the bleary-eyed Osgood.
"I told ye, sir, I was on watch since dawn this morning. Since there's no windows down there, I've no idea if it was morning or evening, day or night. All I knows is that these two men came down and knocked me over the head. I only came to when my relief came on duty and that was not more than an hour ago. If ye look here," Osgood said, bending his head and pointing to the top of his head. "I've got the knot on my head to prove my story."
Sir Jasper scrutinized the increasing bump beneath the guard's greasy hair and asked, "Where, then, did this tankard, which smells like it had good wine in it, come from?"
Osgood swallowed visibly and shrugged his beefy shoulders. "I guess one of the men who attacked me brung it with them."
"So you didn't have even a sip?"
"Well, uh--"
Sir Jasper held up a hand and said, "Before you answer, Osgood, you should know that the guard who found you smelled spirits on your breath and spilled wine on your shirt. Are you sure you didn't merely pass out from drink allowing the prisoner to escape on his own?"
"No sir! I was knocked unconscious! See? Here's the bump I got. It still hurts, too."
"Yes, I've already examined it, Osgood. I'm sure it does hurt. But you did drink the wine, did you not?"
Not overly keen even when sober, Osgood's befuddled mind succumbed to Sir Jasper's gentle but insistent questioning. "Yes, sir, I did. I'd been on watch since dawn and I hadn't had a bite or drink all day."
"I understand. Where did you get the wine from?"
Clearly, Osgood had not thought of a response to this question, but one look at Sir Jasper's set face told him the man would accept nothing but the truth. "A lady."
"What lady? A serving maid?"
"No sir. She was a lady. She smelled real good and she didn't talk like a wench."
"Did this belong to her?" Sir Jasper held up the delicate necklace Osgood had pulled off of Elena with his drunken clumsiness.
"I don't recall." Belatedly seeing a way to shift some of the guilt, he changed his story and embroidered it as well as his feeble imagination would allow. "Actually, I think I broke that when I was fighting her for the keys. Ye see, she gave me this wine and said food was on the way. I thought she was just a wench bringing me my dinner so I started to drink it. There must have been witchcraft in it because it was stronger than any wine I've ever drunk. Anyhow, when she saw it was affecting me, she grabs for my keys, but I tried to fend her off. That's when I must have broke her necklace. Then she pounds me on the head and knocks me out."
"I see," Sir Jasper said with a frown. "And I don't suppose you've seen her before or know who she might be?"
Osgood shook his head gingerly for it still throbbed. "I thought she was a new servin' wench bringing me my supper."
"I thought you said she was definitely a lady."
Osgood licked his lips. "Well, lady, wench, not much difference, eh?"
Sir Jasper pressed against his temples with the thumb and midfinger of his right hand. Dropping his hand, he returned his weary gaze to Osgood. "Do you remember what she looked like?"
"She was real pretty."
Sir Jasper waited for more information. When none was forthcoming, he prodded, "Her hair? Her eyes? Do you remember their color? How about the color of her gown? Surely you must remember more than that she was pretty."
"It's real dark down there and she did trick me into drinking that wine. But it seems..." Sir Jasper felt he could see Osgood's mind struggling to remember. "It seems she told me her name. It was Clarice." Osgood shook his head. "No, but something like that."
Sir Jasper's patience clearly shortening, he said, "Oh very well. She's pretty and her name is something like Clarice."
The strain in the knight's voice was not lost on Osgood and fearing for life and limb--no one allowed a prisoner to escape in King Richard's guard--Osgood kept babbling. "No, it wasn't Clarice, it was...Catherine! That's it! I swear it on the grave of my father, whoever he may be. Her name was Catherine. She told me right before she hit me with the tankard. Her name was Catherine and she was real pretty and she smelled good. I think her dress was red and she had long silky hair," Osgood was obviously making up things now, so worried was he that Sir Jasper would have him flogged. "She was real fair, too."
With a loud sigh, Sir Jasper said, "You are dismissed, Osgood. Return to the barracks and do not leave until I grant you permission. If you remember anything else, send word to me immediately."
Osgood bowed awkwardly and backed out of the room, congratulating himself for having so cleverly gotten out of that mess.
In the small antechamber where he had questioned the simple-minded guard, Sir Jasper wondered what in all of England would have possessed Lady Catherine to assist Gareth in escaping. Had she taken a fancy to the young knight? Sir Jasper didn't see how the two would have even come in contact with each other, but there was no accounting for the fancies of the young. What the king would do to the chit, he knew not. Shaking his head in pity for the no-doubt love struck lass, Sir Jasper rose and left the room to search out the king.
***
"Lady Catherine."
"Your Majesty," Catherine said with a deep curtsey. This was it, she thought. He was now going to tell her that she would become a countess as soon as her wedding trousseau could be prepared. She had been nothing but honeyed sweetness to Earl Brackley and she had no doubt he was well taken with her. She had even thought of a way to convince her new husband to allow her to remain at court for a while so she could lord her exalted position over the other ladies who had thought her a ninny since she first came to court, nine months before. Smoothing her face into a pleasant expression that could instantly pinken with surprised pleasure at the news the king was sure to impart, she looked up into Richard's narrowed gaze. What she heard made her mouth drop open in an unbecoming gape.
"Lady Catherine, how is it that you came to help Gareth ap Morgan escape from Our prison this day? Do you not know that you have committed an act of most heinous treason?"
"What? Gareth who? Your Majesty, I--"
Richard slammed his h
and down on the arm of his chair. "Do not toy with Us, lady. We are well enraged at your betrayal as it is. Where is Gareth ap Morgan? Has he left for France to meet up with the dog Tudor or is he headed for Wales?"
Though her legs were quaking with the effort to remain standing, Catherine cleared her throat and said, "Your Majesty, I humbly beg your forgiveness, for I do not know of what you speak. Who has escaped? What have I done?"
"That is what We would like to know." Richard's voice was hoarse with anger.
Sir Jasper stepped forward and without the king's permission, addressed Catherine. "Good Lady, were you in the lower chambers anytime today?"
"Heaven forbid, no! It's horribly nasty down there. Why on earth should I go there?"
"Would you mind telling us where you spent the day?"
"I was with His Majesty's entourage as he hunted! Remember Your Majesty? I rode with the Earl of Brackley? I was wearing a blue gown."
Sir Jasper turned to Richard for confirmation. Grudgingly, the king answered, "I do not remember seeing you with Us, but I did authorize your presence with Us."
Turning back to the nervous Catherine, Sir Jasper asked, "And what did you do upon returning to the castle?"
"I went upstairs to bathe and dress for the evening meal. Margaret was in the room, you can ask her."
"That won't be necessary." Pulling the broken necklace from his pocket, Sir Jasper asked Catherine, "Is this yours, my lady? A guard found it and thought he had seen it round your neck."
Catherine recognized the expensive piece as Elena's and was tempted to claim it since Elena would never be back for it. Her lingering fear over being barked at by the king stopped her. "No, Sir Knight. That necklace belongs to Ele--Lady Elena."
King Richard stood so abruptly and forcefully that his chair tipped backwards, crashing loudly against the stone floor. "Of course it does," he bellowed. "Why have you wasted Our time, Jasper? By now that conniving bitch could be anywhere. She's probably met up with Morgan by now and they are on their way to tell Tudor all they can about my troops!"
Catherine's eyes were wide with fear and surprise at seeing Richard nearly mad with rage. Bowing quickly, she backed out of the room as fast as she could. Once outside the room, she leaned against the cold damp wall and tried to stop her trembling. For an instant in there, she had thought to visit the executioner at dawn. Now that she was safely out of Richard's sight, she realized that his rage was directed at Elena and she smiled. Straightening from the wall, she began humming a tuneless song as she walked upstairs. Perhaps it does help to tell the truth, she thought.
Chapter 32
Elena was going to drop out of the saddle if she rode one more league. Was it but a few hours ago that she had thought she'd never be able to sleep? She now felt as though she could fall asleep in the narrow culvert that ran next to the moonlit road. "How much longer to the inn?" she asked wearily.
The two soldiers who had ignored her thus far looked at each other and then returned their attention to the road. The ever-polite guard--did he have a slight accent? Elena was too tired to decide--urged his horse up next to hers and said, "We should arrive any moment, Lady. Do you think you can last a few more minutes?"
There was a definite lilt to the man's speech, Elena decided. Not bothering to answer his question (after all, she had to go on whether she thought she could hold out or not), she posed one of her own. "Are you Welsh? Your accent reminds me of my recent visit there."
One of the unfriendly soldiers turned in his saddle and stared at Elena and the third man. Disgusted with his ill manners and physically exhausted, she did not suppress the urge to stick her tongue out at him. The rude man turned back around and Elena returned her gaze to her companion just in time to see him hide his look of unease at her question behind a broad grin. "I am from all over England, lady. I've traveled so much that I don't remember where I'm originally from."
"Well, you sound Welsh," she replied. "Though your are a bit taller than most Welshmen."
"There you have it. For I am indeed tall. Perhaps I'm a Viking. I understand they are a tall breed."
"So I've read. But they are also a large people and you are rather scrawny to fit their mold."
"Scrawny? Lady, you wound me to the quick!" By the cool light of a nearly full moon, she saw him grab his chest and pretend to be injured.
Elena laughed and thought that, while he might have reminded her earlier of Gareth, he now seemed very much like Cynan. Suddenly realizing that she did not know his name, she requested it.
"My name is David, good lady, at your service." He executed a little bow and leaned toward her. In a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "And I am a good sight more fun than those two up there, as, I can tell, are you."
"Even though you escort a fallen favorite of the king's into exile?"
"The king's loss is my gain."
Elena laughed again and decided she would make it another league or so. Nonetheless, she was relieved when they came round a bend in the road and found the small inn perched beside the road. The windows were dark, but the brusque guards pounded on the wooden door until the innkeeper answered.
"We've need of rooms."
The old man in his nightshirt and cap rubbed his eyes and surveyed them.
"Now old man."
Elena wondered if Richard was aware that the training of his troops was greatly lacking in chivalry and patience. It occurred to her that lately, Richard himself was greatly lacking in chivalry and patience. The old innkeeper moved back to allow the men to enter and as David passed he said, "Many thanks, good father. Though my comrades are too exhausted to say it, we are very sorry to wake you from your well-deserved slumber."
Elena, spurred on by David's courtesy, smiled at the surprised old man and added, "Yes, we thank you for your service." Again she was amazed at the response that small phrase seemed to evoke in people. First Annie the seamstress, now this innkeeper.
With white nightshirt billowing, the old man deposited the two surly guards in a dank room at the back of the inn and then showed Elena to a room upstairs. David elected to stand watch outside her door.
"We shall need to be on the road shortly after sunrise, so if we could have breakfast waiting for us, you will be well rewarded," David told the man.
"Of course, Sir Knight."
"Sir Knight? Ho I like the sound of that. But not me, cousin."
Elena smiled wearily at the old man as he passed back by her room and then she shut the door and collapsed fully clothed on the bed. She was asleep before she could even think of undressing.
***
Moments later, a pounding on the door woke her. She lifted her head from the lumpy pillow and forced her eyes to part. They were momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight that poured in the small, thick window. The pounding came again and Elena pushed herself up and staggered to the door. David burst in and quickly closed the door behind him.
"Lady, did you help free Gareth ap Morgan."
Still sleep befuddled, Elena said, "What?!"
David shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Either you are innocent and I must help you or you did help him and it will be my honor to help you."
"What are you talking about?" Though she whispered, panic made her voice squeak.
"More of the king's guards have arrived. They are outside waiting for the innkeeper to rouse our fellow travelers. They are here to haul you back to Nottingham to stand trial for helping a traitor escape." Elena began shaking and her eyes opened so wide they hurt. "Don't worry, Lady. Even now the innkeeper's boy is saddling our horses. We will be away before they realize what has happened."
"Why...why are you helping me?"
"Because I am indeed Welsh, my lady, known more often as Dafydd rather than David and I would not see Richard execute another person to satisfy his paranoia over losing the throne. Come now, and step quietly."
Torn between confusion and terror, Elena allowed David--no, Dafydd--to lead her out of the room and down the stairs.
At the foot of the staircase, he paused and peeked around the corner. Turning back to her, he said, "They are still outside waiting. We must sneak out that back door where we will find our horses. Are you ready?"
Elena barely managed a nod, but gathered up her skirts for the run. When Dafydd said, "Now," she bolted after him, ducking out the partially opened back door. A young boy closed it behind them and then gestured for them to follow him. They ran across the small patch of hard-packed dirt to the stables where their horses were ready and waiting. Dafydd quickly helped Elena into her saddle and then leapt onto his own horse. He swung his horse around, nearly trampling the young boy who was holding a sack.
"Here," he said. "Grampa put some food in here for you."
"Thank you lad," Dafydd said softly with a grin. He scooped up the sack and led the way into a tall field of wheat behind the inn.
Her heart pounding with fear, Elena kicked her mangy horse to follow Dafydd's. They tore down row after row, sometimes trampling the tall strands of wheat. They were soon out of the field and Dafydd led them up a narrow wagon trail, casting worried glances over his shoulder from time to time. Afraid she would lose her balance and tumble to the ground should she risk a look behind them, Elena clung to her horse and concentrated on following as closely behind Dafydd as she dared.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dafydd led them into a cove of trees that soon turned into an ever-thickening forest. The weak morning sun barely penetrated the dense span of trees overhead and the horses hooves made only a dull thud on the mossy ground. The palpable silence combined with the hazy light lent a sense of security and Elena slowed her horse. Dafydd also slowed his mount until the two horses were even.
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