"Then I will speak with God directly. Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you."
"You put your immortal soul in peril."
"I do not; God knows my innocence."
He pointed a long finger at her. "Being a man of God, I will give you another chance."
At last, he left. She followed him to the door and leaned against it, trembling.
Brendan rode long and hard, Eric, Thomas de Longueville, Hagar, Liam, and Collum with him all the while.
They stopped only briefly to rest the horses, and to discuss what manner of approach they might take. They could not storm the castle, not with six men.
"We have the colors taken from Lord Gilly's men. We can ride in as the English escort," Eric mused.
"If Hagar keeps his mouth shut," de Longueville said. "His French has a heavy Scottish burr."
Hagar frowned.
"They will be expecting a much larger contingent of men," Brendan said thoughtfully. Then he lifted his hands. "I have no better idea. We can say that Lord Gilly was taken ill. I will be Sir Humphry Sayers, taking his place. There would have been many more in our party, but the Scottish raids have become more virulent in the last week. We've lost men, we are in danger of losing English fortifications."
"Who knows you at Clarin?" Liam asked him.
Brendan shrugged. "Eleanor, of course. And her maid ..." he began hopefully, then shook his head. "Count de Lacville traveled with some of his retainers. They will know me."
"We wear the armor beneath the tunics, and keep our visors down," Liam suggested.
"All we have to do is get a distance from the castle, and then attack the sheriff, and his men," Eric said slowly. He smiled suddenly. "It might well work. Most English don't believe that we savages are capable of so many languages."
"I don't believe that Hagar is," Thomas said, grinning.
Hagar gave Thomas another frown. "It's a language for pretty boys—and English," Hagar drawled.
"Why you—" Thomas began.
Eric cleared his throat. "Gaelic, French, they are both languages for pretty boys. Norse, my friends, is a man's language.''
They both turned on him, and saw that Eric was laughing.
"You're all far too amused," Liam said glumly. "We are about to ride to the devil."
Eric rose, ready to mount again. "It's all a ride, my friend. We should laugh to the bitter end. Come."
They were barely back on the road before Brendan raised a hand, hearing the sound of a horse coming their way. With a gesture, he warned the others.
They melted off the roadside. Brendan dismounted, keeping a hand on his horse's nostrils to keep the animal from shaking his head, and giving away his position.
A lone horse trotted along. The rider suddenly became aware of danger, and paused. Brendan frowned, waiting.
The horse took another step; the rider realized his danger. He started back.
Not wanting anyone to ride ahead and give warning that there were riders coming, Brendan quickly leaped on his horse, and started after the lone horse. It was a harsh ride; his quarry knew he was coming.
But as he drew alongside the mount, he saw two things. The rider was not alone atop the horse. A young woman rode with a man.
And the man was Gregory.
Gregory recognized him at the same time. They reined in.
"Brendan, Sir Brendan, oh, my God, thank God!" Gregory exclaimed. "I thought you were the English, the Scottish! A cutthroat out to kill us. I can't believe that I've reached you; we meant to ride night and day, praying! Brendan, you don't know what has happened—"
"Aye, but I do, lad."
"They're going to kill her! The Lady Eleanor. Execute her for supposedly poisoning her husband!"
"Aye, lad."
"There has to be something to do. There has to be."
"Aye, Gregory—"
"I saw her, and she said that I mustn't come to you, that you would die, too, and—" He broke off. "You know?"
"Aye. We came upon a group of men who were summoned to be the escort to bring her south."
Coming up behind them, Eric said, "Perhaps we should draw off the road here, and hear what else Gregory can tell us."
They did so, sitting in a circle, sharing the food Molly, Gregory's pretty young sister, had brought. Brendan hadn't thought about food. Not until the bread hit his stomach. He thanked Molly.
"She is indignant, of course. She is kept in her room, and they aren't letting her family see her at the moment. I kept my head low, and worked about the castle."
' 'And no one recognized you?''
"Of course. But I have many friends at Clarin."
"Tell me," Brendan said, "the English were called in force because the sheriff thought there would be trouble taking her."
"Aye, there could be."
"What of her family?"
"Alfred and Corbin seem distraught; Alfred is withdrawn and worried. Corbin is passionate, saying they must do something."
"What about the Frenchmen who accompanied de Lacville?" Eric asked.
"They seem to disbelieve what they are being told. They were with her at the count's estates in France, and in Clarin."
"So ... if there is a fight, it will be with the sheriff's men," Brendan mused.
"The guard at Clarin will be obliged to a pretense of fight, naturally. And there are many trained men there."
"It will be best if we slip in, and slip out, as we have said," Eric advised.
"Actually, we don the English apparel, and ride to the gates."
"Keeps us from the fear of being caught immediately," de Longueville commented.
"Aye. Hagar, you will do no talking," Brendan said. "Not that I don't, personally, enjoy your French. We just don't wish to be caught."
"You will be the brawn," de Longueville said. He tapped his head. "We'll do the thinking."
"What about me?" Gregory asked.
"You will take Molly on north," Brendan said.
Gregory shook his head. "You need me."
"And why do we need you, lad?" Eric asked.
"Because I know the castle. I even know the sewage system, should we be forced to use it. There's a maze of channels beneath the place. Say we ride in, and ride out—as planned. I know who people are. I can warn you."
"You've your sister."
"I can wait in the woods," Molly said. "I'm not afraid. You do need Gregory. He knows the layout of the castle. In fact, you'll need to speak with Eleanor, to warn her, lest she try something on her own to put everyone in danger."
Brendan was silent for a moment. "Our plans sound good, but we could be caught with a single word or deed; we could be given away by someone we don't expect to know us— Gregory is right; we need him."
"Aye!" Gregory said happily. He looked at Eric. "Do you trust me now, then?"
Eric looked him over and shrugged. ' 'More than less. If you should ever betray us, though, I'll have Hagar break your neck before we're cut down."
"I'll not betray you," Gregory said steadily. He gave Brendan his attention. "The lady must be warned. She is not a woman to sit idly about, waiting for a headsman's axe."
"That's true," Eric murmured.
"Well, Gregory, my fine friend, have you any ideas?"
Gregory grinned. "I think I do."
Chapter 16
She was ready.
She remembered the ship, and the house in Paris, and gave herself courage by realizing that she would have gotten away then ... if not for Brendan.
Sir Miles Fitzgerald was not Brendan. He didn't know her, and wouldn't expect her to risk a broken limb—or a broken neck—in her determination to flee their mockery of justice.
She moved to the door of her room, leaning against it. She heard nothing outside.
From the bed, she gathered her long cord of bed sheets, and hurried to the window. Looking out, she saw that no guard had been posted on the inner caste parapets below. Her breath came fast.
She had a chance.
> She fixed the cord strongly to the heavy wood bedpost. As she did so, she kept an eye on the door—praying she wouldn't hear a tapping. She tightened the linen cord, tightened it again, and watched the door. Then she moved to the window, tossing the cord outside. As she watched it fall against the stone, desperately hoping she had given it enough length, she heard a sound in the room.
She spun around.
The door had opened and closed without a tap.
And the wretched priest was back again. There was no way to hide her means of escape. She moved quickly to grasp the sheet.
"No!" The word emitted harshly from him. Or had she spoken herself?
The man was across the room before she could get her form out the window. His hold was brutally strong.
"Man of God!" she cried. "You wretched, self-righteous, bastard." She squirmed and kicked.
"Wildcat!" he exploded, pulling her away from the open window. He did so with such impetus that they fell to the floor together. She was angered, fighting wildly against him, scratching, clawing ... managing a kick that caught him unaware. He groaned; releasing his hold for a minute. She took the advantage, flying to the window again, but he was right behind her. Again, he caught her. She spun, striking out. The arms of the man were like shackles.
"Shush!" he commanded
"Let go—"
"You little fool! Stop it!" He swung her again, arms about her, bringing her down. She squirmed madly on the floor, but no matter what she tried, he caught her, and in seconds his weight stilled her legs, his fingers clamped around her wrist, and she could barely breathe.
She was thoroughly caught, vised, and all but stilled. She nearly cried out with the sheer frustration of being so beaten. His hand then fell over her mouth. Stunned, she realized there was a soft burr in the voice, a voice she knew well. The cowl fell back, and she saw his face. She lay still, stunned. His hand moved from her lips. Her gasp escaped.
This time, the "priest" was Brendan.
"Brendan!"
"You should have known!" he grated. "It's not as if I have not worn this guise before. Madam, you have injured me grievously. The future of my line in Scotland might have perished here."
"I didn't know—"
"Again, it is not a guise I have not used before."
"A priest—a real priest, not my own, came before. I thought then that it was you—"
"Oh? You assumed I'd risk the entire English nation and come for you?"
"No! It was the robes!" she protested. They still lay entangled. She could not believe he was there. His face, so close. Eyes sharp on her, flesh warm, vibrant. She clenched her teeth, trying not to tremble. This was madness.
"You shouldn't have come for me," she said. "I was doing quite well on my own."
"I don't think so. Your escape line wasn't long enough."
"It was! I worked long and hard. And it was a plan," she lied suddenly. "Only if I thought it necessary."
"Only if you thought it necessary! When else would it be so!"
"Ease up, I beg you!"
He did so, rising, pulling her to her feet. She lowered her head, longing to throw herself into his arms, determined that she must not do so now. She turned away from him, walking to the window. The sheet hung to the stone floor below.
He was right. It had not been long enough. She might well have fallen to the stones, and broken her neck.
She kept her back to him, feeling a greater sense of fear with each moment that passed. He was here, with the sheriff's armed men, Englishmen. There would be no fighting his way from this threat of death!
"You'll note the cord by which you would have escaped, lady."
She had done so. She turned to him.
"I'm good at jumping."
"And crawling down more walls with a broken leg?"
"I remain in the castle now, and I might have been on my way through the water tunnels We're not out of here yet, are we?" she demanded. She was shaking. He was there; he had come for her. She should have been on her knees in gratitude. At the least, she should have been in his arms ... one last time. Touching his face. Remembering.
He was mad.
She looked quickly to the outer door. They could burst in at any time.
"Where is the real priest?" she asked.
"Gone to converse with his maker."
"You killed a priest?" she demanded.
"He's trussed like a hog in the crypts below the church. There's another fellow there much more friendly to our cause. Of course, he instructed me to tie him up as well—he has a fondness for the food of the women of Clarin—and for his own head as well."
Her heart skipped a beat. "He helped you?"
"Aye, he did."
"How did you ... manage?"
"My lady, we can play such games of question later. I dare not stay long; you are not penitent, and you are a shrew."
"I am not penitent for what I did not do—"
"Eleanor, I am not accusing you! I am telling you the situation. I have but a minute here. Tomorrow, you'll see me as part of your escort."
"What?" she demanded, astounded. "This is truly madness—unless I begged pardon of King Edward and came to the English side?"
"Now, that would be madness!" he said.
"Sir, you are the outlaw with a price on his head then—in England."
"And you've barely got a head left, my lady, so pay me heed! When you see me tomorrow, do not recognize me, do you understand? Eric is with me; de Longueville as well. You must pretend that you've never seen any of us."
She stared at him, trembling still, unable to believe he was there, so overwhelmed by the sight and scent of him that she could barely concentrate on his words.
He had turned to die window and was hastily drawing in the sheets.
She set a hand on his arm.
"What of Fitzgerald's men?" she asked.
He shook his head. "What would you have me do, my lady? If they put up a fight..."
"He is only doing his duty."
"Then I pray that he'll have the good sense to surrender."
She was silent, hoping that he was right—and that Fitzgerald would be the one needing mercy.
She lowered her head. "I didn't want more men to die for this!" she said with anguish There is still a way out. I am accused, not condemned."
He was very still, studying her. "I won't leave you here. Because you're mistaken. They will see to it that you die."
She looked up at him. "As you noticed, I did not intend to stay. But perhaps it would be best if I did. Surely, they will have to give me a trial. I have been known as Santa Lenora. Legends travel. No one has offered me any harm; it is not unusual that I should be taken to London for a trial. I can defend myself in court, and that way, no man risks his life—"
"Our lives are risked being here!" he told her. "But there will be greater danger! You and your men should go. Tonight! Before there is a chance you'll be discovered. And I won't have my people killed either. I must be able to clear myself. If he was poisoned, then someone else is guilty. If I run, it will appear that I did do the deed. And before God, I didn't. Someone will speak on my behalf. I do believe in God, Brendan. And he will intercede. I didn't do it. I'd have never killed Alain, never—"
"God has interceded, my lady. We are here," he said angrily. She backed away from him, shaking her head. "You cannot get away with this!" she said softly. "You take too many risks; you've grown too desperate—"
"We've grown able!" He stepped forward, catching her by the shoulders. His jaw was clenched as he stared down at her. "Listen to yourself!" he said harshly.
"There are laws in England, good laws—" "And justice can be miscarried."
"Brendan, I am grateful. Good God, I am grateful. Don't you see? Grateful enough not to let you die for me!" "We won't die!"
"I—won't go along with your plan. You must get out of here, leave Clarin now. I'll betray you in the morning."
"No, my lady. You will not. You're arguing this, b
ecause you want to believe that in the end, your precious England will save you. You know it's a he. Otherwise, you'd not have been halfway out the window."
"I've had time to think it clearly through. My cousins will not let me go alone. One of them will come to London. I will be defended—"
He let out an oath of frustration. "What?" He demanded harshly. "Damn you! You will not stay behind! You'll not risk your fool neck to the block. Why would you, lady? For a pile of stones; this land, dirt, your dead husband's riches?"
"For my good name!" she cried out.
"It's far easier to clear a name, lady, alive than dead!"
"Brendan—"
"I have to go. They know that you will not confess. Don't dare think to betray me in the morning, if you truly want this to end without bloodshed. You don't recognize me, or any of the men."
"Don't you see? It's impossible. Some of Alain's people will know you—"
"Not as I appear tomorrow."
"Brendan, I'm begging you, warning you, this is a fool's plan—"
The door suddenly opened before she could speak again. The guard looked in. "Father, is there trouble?"
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