"I know," Henri said. It was difficult to look at her, and he could see de la Guerche several paces away, watching him. Louis-Philippe had given them a small cart to take him up the mountain. Geneviéve and Jeanne stood beside it. Jeanne held baby Philippe in her arms.
"Maríana, they are leaving now," Louis-Philippe said. Moving forward to Henri, he grasped his hands and stared solemnly at him.
"They will be after you, too, Bauçais," he said.
Henri shrugged. "I have a disguise in mind."
"What about baby Philippe?" Louis-Philippe motioned to the infant in her arms. "Would you take him to Bauçais?"
His own son. But no, he could not. "It is better that he be taken to Maríana's people. A baby and nurse would slow me down. Nor do I think he would be safe here." Henri glanced up at the sky, then lifted a hand to Geneviéve. "I must be leaving before dark, if I am to outrun whoever Durand sends."
"Would you accept a traveling companion?" Louis-Philippe grinned.
To not go alone. And this man was worthy. He fought well; he did not flinch. Henri gripped Louis-Philippe's hand. "You would be welcome, Baron." He turned to Maríana, aching to draw her into his arms. But de la Guerche's dark gaze pinned him. "Farewell," he whispered, then raised his hand in salute to Richard.
Henri stood outside the walls beside Louis-Philippe and watched the wagon until he could no longer see it.
HIS SKIN itched. Henri rubbed the top of his head and looked at Louis-Philippe. He had done a good job with his knife. The Baron de Reuilles' tonsure looked quite authentic. But he bet it itched, too. Henri scratched at the round bald spot Louis-Philippe had shaved on the crown of his head. They had ridden hard and were far to the east of the château now.
Time to turn north. Henri drew up his reins, settling his black robe around him and waited for Louis-Philippe to catch up. Henri's years in the abbey would help him make this disguise believable. But de Reuilles!
"Louis-Philippe," he said as the baron pulled up beside him. "You must remember to round your shoulders more. Humility, my dear baron!"
"Yes, Brother Henri!" Louis-Philippe chuckled, slouching in his saddle and tugging at the black robe so it would fit better. Alys had stolen robes for both Louis-Philippe and Henri from Father Gregory's chapel. She had found it necessary to add several inches of cloth to the bottom of Louis-Philippe's robe so it would cover his long legs.
Henri touched the secret compartment Alys had sewn into the body of his robe. The cup rested there against his skin. Every time he touched it, a warmth radiated, spread out over his side and reached his heart. Listen, the Breton knight had said. Well, it did not exactly speak to him, this cup. He patted it.
He found he had an urge to go north. He had wanted to see where the Lionheart had reigned. Not Poitou, though. Not the Aquitaine. His eyes took in the rearing slopes of Navarre, the purple shadows, the brightness that dazzled the air. Across the sea. That was where he would go.
He turned to Louis-Philippe. "Well, we must get moving, Brother Louis-Philippe. North!" He dug his heels into the sides of his horse and rode on.
* * *
Carol Lynn Stewart
Carol Lynn Stewart lives in Northern California with her 13-year-old son and a cat christened "Demonspawn." She has a doctorate in Social Psychology and works at a major university.
DOOR IN THE SKY is her first novel.
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