Three Dog Knight

by Tori Phillips

  My own Alicia—

  Mere words cannot tell you of the joy you have given to me this day. For the past two nights, I have asked myself if my happiness is not an idle dream. The feelings that I have do not belong on this earth, but in heaven. My heart overflows with such emotion that I do not know where I am. A hundred thousand kisses I give to thee, my sweetest joy. I look forward to being with you soon again.

  Trust me.

  Alicia started to rip up the note when the last sentence, written at the bottom as an afterthought, stopped her.

  She collapsed against the thick bolster, and stared at the blue velvet canopy above the bed. Those were the very words that he had whispered before he left her. Could it be? Alicia refused to be gulled again. Thomas was too spare of words, especially sweet ones. This was Andrew’s idea of a wedding prank—to plague her with endearments of love.

  She read the letter again and tried to think of what she should do. A heavy drowsiness crept over her. Her eyes fluttered in mild protest against the invasion of sleep. Just before she drifted into that sweet cloud of oblivion, she pushed the note down between the headboard and the mattress. She did not want any curious servant to stumble upon it while she slept.

  The lamplighter had already begun his rounds when Isabel and her travel-stained retinue lumbered into the stable yard of the Black Dog Inn at Ainsty, just outside the walls of York. She glared at the creaking sign that hung over the doorway. Would she never be rid of those flea-infested creatures?

  Though her servants dripped with weariness after the bone-shaking trip over rough roads, Isabel herself felt wide-awake and anxious to set her plan into motion. While her bodyguard made lodging arrangements with the greasy-faced landlord, Isabel sought out the stable boy.

  “You look like an intelligent lad,” she remarked to the hulking oaf. She held her scented handkerchief to her nose to ward off the boy’s foul odor.

  The costernoggin grinned, displaying a lack of front teeth. He tugged his forelock until Isabel expected his dirty hair to come away in his hand.

  “Aye, lady. I am, so please ye.”

  She stepped into a darker patch of shadow. She did not want the boy to get a good look at her face. “I fear I am in distress.”

  The dullard’s expression changed to concern. “Can I help ye, lady?”

  Isabel clasped her hand to her heart. “Oh, if you only could, good youth.”

  He practically drooled with eagerness. “Tell me what you want, and I will do it!”

  She grinned into her handkerchief, then affected a deep sigh mixed with a sob. “Alas, alack, I am in such trouble.” She lowered her voice. “I am being pursued by an evil man.”

  The idiot looked over his shoulders. “Where?”

  “Up the road apiece. I am a poor widow with only a few sticks of furniture and a few rags of clothing, yet I fear for my life.”

  The boy gripped the handle of his hay rake. “I will defend ye!”

  She gave another sigh. “Ah, you are too kind—a real gentleman, even though you work in a stable. But you are a little young for the dire villain who is my enemy. I need two grown men with strong arms and sharp knives. Do you happen to know of any like that around here?”

  The lout nodded so vigorously that his cap slipped off his filthy head. Isabel stepped away from it lest its vermin leap onto her gown.

  “Aye, lady, I do! But they are rough, and not used to gentlefolk.”

  She could barely contain her glee at this news. Exactly what I need! “No matter. The brigand who endangers me requires rough handling. Can you fetch these friends of yours, and bring them to the taproom within the hour? ‘Twill be worth a…a silver penny to you.” Best not to let him know how much hard money she carried under her skirts.

  His eyes widened at the mention of a fee. “Aye, lady. I will. But my friends will want to be paid for their trouble, methinks.”

  “Of course,” she purred. “Tell them that if they do my work well, they will be royally paid.” She chuckled at her little jest—royally paid for royal blood.

  The lad tugged his forelock again. “I will this minute!” He dropped the hay rake on the spot. Isabel jumped as it clattered at her feet.

  She ground her teeth at the lackwit’s behavior. At least he could run fast enough, she mused as she watched him race down the street, then duck into an alley. She hoped the men he knew were what she wanted. She would have a devil of a time getting rid of them if they proved to be as addle-brained as the stable boy. Isabel shrugged to herself. If one was going to prosper in this world, one needed to take a few risks. Humming to herself, she joined Meg, who had been waiting by the courtyard’s pump for her mistress.

  The maid yawned. “By Saint Sebastian’s arrows, I am sore, and could sleep for a week.”

  Isabel shook her by the shoulders. “Do not think of it yet, Meg. We will be entertaining company anon.”

  Meg screwed up her face in protest. “In this dingy place? By our larkin, my lady! What manner of folk would come a-visiting us at this hour?”

  Isabel swept past her toward the inn’s back door. “An excellent question. We shall see in good time.”

  An hour later, Isabel discovered just how unsavory her guests could be. She thanked her good sense that she had decided to meet with the stable lad’s friends in a corner booth in the crowded taproom. These two brigands would have slit her throat if she had entertained them alone in her chamber. Her hands grew clammy while she regarded the two villains who sat opposite her, quaffing their second jacks of ale at her expense.

  The leader called himself Flash. “Handy with a knife, see?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leered at her. Tall, though not like the Cavendishes, he had long powerful arms, and huge hands, that looked as if they could strangle her in a trice. “What be your pleasure, lady?”

  His companion, introduced as Demon, merely belched and signaled for another round.

  Goose bumps dotted Isabel’s bare neck and shoulders. She wished she had worn her cloak, but the room was very hot and smoky. Under the table, she clutched the small leather bag full of gold marks. She tossed her head, then looked squarely into Flash’s watery gray eyes.

  “I wish to have someone abducted.”

  He coughed, then spat on the floor. “Sprout told me that a man was after you. That I can understand.” He openly appraised her, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts.

  She narrowed her eyes. This ruffian made her skin crawl. She almost wished she had not been so anxious to implement the deed. No doubt, she could have hired someone less coarse by light of day. Too late, she realized. Let us see what mettle these churls are made of.

  “I seek to have a lady stolen away from Wolf Hall.”

  Demon whistled under his breath. “‘Tis the Cavendish roost, or I will dance in hell.”

  Flash brayed a laugh, then slapped his friend on the back. “You will dance there anyway, my friend. But he speaks the truth, lady. Wolf Hall belongs to a family of powerful lords.”

  She allowed them a superior smile. “Your news is old. All the lords you fear died of a fever just two months ago. There is only one Cavendish left—Thomas. He should give you no trouble at all. He is lacking most of his wits. He prefers to wander through the woods with his dogs, than to protect his home.”

  Demon snarled at her, baring his teeth like an animal. “I a-fear no one on this side of the grave.”

  She smothered a squeal of fright. She knew she would have nightmares tonight. “I am glad to hear that. Then stealing one lone woman will not tax you at all, will it, Master Flash?”

  He hooded his eyes. “Do not say ‘steal,’ lady. ’Tis a foul word, and could hang a man. Me and Demon—we convey the goods.”

  Demon chortled into his ale. “Aye, that we do!”

  Flash leaned across the table toward her. “Myself—I am the best of cutpurses, or cutthroats, in these parts. Who is the coney?”

  She blinked. She had no idea what the ruffian had asked
.

  He grinned. “Your pardon. I forgot I was conversing with a lady of quality.” He crooned the last word. Then he smacked his lips.

  She pressed her back against the dingy wall. If he so much as laid a finger on her, she would scream the very rafters down. She leveled her gaze at him.

  “You will abduct Alicia Cavendish, Sir Thomas’s wife. You cannot mistake her, for she is as tall and thin as a stripling boy, and her hair is the color of firelight.”

  Demon nudged his companion. “Sounds like a bit of fun.”

  Isabel hurried with her instructions before her courage gave away completely. “You are not to kill the woman, nor Sir Thomas—but you may keep whatever jewels or money you might find on her person.”

  Flash cocked an eyebrow. “I had intended to do just that with or without your permission. ‘Tis my right.”

  Demon nudged Flash again. “How about this Alicia’s honey pot, eh? Can we take that, too?” He laughed amid a series of hiccups.

  I do not care a groat. She shrugged. “Take whatever you will. You can deliver her in her shift if you wish. Just do not kill her, or ‘twill come down on your head, I promise you.” Two can play their nasty little game. She leaned forward, and whispered, “‘Tis king’s business, so do it well, and you will be amply rewarded.”

  Demon’s dark skin turned a shade paler at the mention of the king. Flash stroked his bristly chin for a minute or two in silence.

  “Why does the king want this woman?” he asked.

  Isabel gripped the coin pouch tighter. “She is the sister of Perkin Warbeck, who tried to claim the throne. He pretended to be Richard of York.”

  Demon scratched his filthy head. “Who?”

  Flash gave him a cynical smile. “Last son of King Edward—the one who died years ago in the Tower.”

  His companion crossed himself. The reverent gesture took Isabel by surprise.

  She pursed her lips. “Warbeck is a traitor to our gracious king, and so is his sister.”

  Flash narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much for the lady?”

  Isabel plopped the leather purse on the table. The coins jingled faintly inside. “Ten marks now. Twice that when you have delivered the woman to me here at the inn. And, good masters, know that you will be watched. His Grace, King Henry, does not like to have his money ill spent” She prayed they could not hear the pounding of her heart.

  Flash eyed the pouch as if it might suddenly leap up and bite him. Demon showed no such qualms, but pulled it open, and plucked out one of the golden coins.

  His black eyes gleamed. “By the cross, she speaks the truth!”

  Flash covered Demon’s hand with his own. “Put it away, you clodpole. Do you want to have your belly slit afore you can spend it?”

  Under the table, Isabel knotted her hand into a fist. Take the money, you pigs, and leave me. Your stench sickens my stomach.

  Flash swept up the pouch, then stuffed it in his filthy shirt. “We will undertake your piece of work, lady, and we will discuss further payment afterward.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Bring Alicia Cavendish here as soon as you can. His Grace does not like to be kept waiting.”

  Rising from the booth, Flash gave her a snake’s smile. “Nor do I like to wait, lady. Remember that.”

  He pulled up Demon by the collar of his jerkin. Without a backward glance, he strode through the crowd, dragging his henchman behind him.

  Isabel expelled a deep breath of relief. A wave of elation washed over her. Soon Alicia would be in her clutches. She could not wait to hear that upstart beg for her freedom. The king will reward me well when I deliver the last Plantagenet bastard to him. Why go home to my father’s madhouse when I can find a better place in court?

  Buoyed by that enticing prospect, Isabel rose from the food-encrusted table, and made her way up the stairs to her chamber, where simpleminded Meg awaited with warm rose water and clean sheets.

  Dream sweet dreams tonight, Alicia. ‘Twill be your last night of freedom!

  Chapter Fifteen

  The muted sound of a hunting horn woke Alicia from a deep sleep. She rubbed her eyes, then glanced around at the unfamiliar chamber. The horn sounded again in the darkness outside. Vixen raised her head, then thumped her tail against the coverlet.

  Alicia sat up. “Has our lord and master returned, Vixen?”

  The usually silent greyhound barked once. Her tail continued to wag. She stood up in the middle of the bed, gave herself a shake, then leapt to the floor. She stretched her forepaws out in front of her, while her hindquarters rose in the air.

  The horn blew once more, nearer this time. The clatter of many hooves and the jingle of harnesses signaled the hunting party’s immediate approach. Alicia swung her feet over the side of the bed. In the darkness of the early evening, she felt around with her toes for her discarded slippers.

  “We must be down in the hall when Thomas arrives,” she told the dog. “I cannot see if my gown is a mess or not. Sweet angels! How could I have slept so long? Why did no one awaken me?”

  As if in answer to her question, someone rapped lightly on the door. “My lady?” Audrey called. “Are you up?”

  “Aye!” Alicia replied. Her groping toe found her shoes. “Pray come quickly!”

  The maid pushed the door open. She entered, carrying a lit taper and a pitcher of water. Vixen dashed out, leaving her new mistress to fend for herself.

  Alicia smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirts. “What is the time, Audrey?”

  The maid poured some water into the basin on a stand by the fireplace. “‘Tis an hour past supper, my lady. Quick now, afore my lord comes from the stables. Have a wee wash.”

  Alicia patted the warmed, rose-scented water on her face. “Is my hair all in tangles? How could I have left our guests for so long? The noble ladies will think me very ill-mannered.”

  Audrey handed her a piece of rough toweling. “Nay, the day being so warm, they have drunk a great quantity of wine, and are now in mellow spirits. If you will pardon me for saying so, I do not believe that they noticed you were gone.”

  Alicia dried her face and hands. Then she tightened her braid and pinched some color into her cheeks. “How now, Audrey? Will I do?”

  Smiling, she nodded. “Aye, my lady. You look glowing.”

  So will Thomas, once I have given him a large piece of my mind. Alicia whispered her thanks to the maid, then sped out of the chamber. She practically flew down the stairs to the great hall. Just as she reached the bottom step, the small army of boisterous men burst through the entranceway at the far end of the hall. Alicia paused, gathering her strength. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the trestle tables were lined along one wall. They groaned under the weight of platters of sliced roasts, cheese, fruits and sweetmeats. Ewers of wine and widemouthed wooden cups awaited the company. She closed her eyes for a moment of silent thanksgiving for Stokes’s thoughtfulness.

  “Good eventide, Lady Cavendish!” In the center of the hall, Lord Bolton bowed, followed by many of the other hunters.

  Alicia cleared her throat. “Good evening to you, my lord. I trust that the hunt was successful?” She searched over their heads for Thomas.

  A general round of laughter and much back-slapping greeted her inquiry. From the looks of the men’s fine clothing, it appeared that Thomas had led his neighbors through a mire, a marsh and every one of last year’s fallen leaves. It amazed Alicia that men never seemed so happy as when they were covered in mud.

  Several deep barks brought the hall to silence. As if cued by a master of the revels, the company parted down the center. With a proud bearing, Georgie marched through the doorway. He looked five years younger. Beside him, Taverstock pranced as if he were a little boy harboring a big secret Looming in the shadows behind his dogs stood Thomas.

  He is afraid I am going to berate him for leaving me. I will do him the courtesy of waiting until we are alone. Alicia lifted her voice. “Welcome home, my lord. Did you shoot anythi
ng?”

  More laughter erupted as the bridegroom proceeded down the makeshift aisle toward his wife.

  He is dirtier than the rest combined Alicia lifted her chin, and waited. If nothing else, her husband owed her some sort of explanation. As he drew closer, she stifled a cry. It looked as if he carried a large red bear in his arms. He appeared extremely pleased with himself. Andrew, his fine clothing reduced to a bedraggled state, followed behind his master.

  Without uttering either an apology or a greeting, Thomas threw down the furry load at her feet. She gripped the stone banister, and willed herself not to flee. When she looked at the bundle, she nearly bit her tongue. A large pile of dead foxes! Their blood puddled on the flagstone floor. Vixen edged toward the carnage, then sniffed at a bloody neck. Alicia gripped the banister tighter. Dear Lord, do not let me faint now.

  Thomas sank to one knee beside the foxes. “A gift for my bride!” he announced to the assembly in ringing tones.

  A cheer answered him, though Alicia spied many of the nobles and their wives smirking behind their hands. One of the men tapped his forehead, and crossed his eyes. Others snickered.

  She was glad her husband could not see what happened behind his back. His gaze was on her alone.

  He continued in a whisper. “I had no time to get you a proper gift, Alicia. Until I can buy you something worthy at the Michaelmas Fair in York, these will have to do.” His blue eyes brimmed with hope of acceptance.

  She swallowed down her revulsion at the sight of the dead animals, then she lifted her head so that everyone in the great hall could see and hear her. She forced a warm smile on her face. “Foxes! I have often yearned for one, and you have given me an entire family, my husband. I am overwhelmed with joy and gratitude.”

  The snickering and sidelong glances ceased. Thomas beamed at her. Alicia stared at the pile, and wondered what on earth she was going to do with a dozen smelly foxes. She did not realize that Andrew stood behind her, until he whispered in her ear.