by Lisa Shea
Martinus grinned. “Well, I think you lasted about a half mile after we stopped for lunch. You’ve been out ever since.” He glanced over at the sun which was drooping low in the sky. “I’d say another hour until we reach the inn and sunset.”
Alicia shook her head. “Let’s just hope I can fall asleep tonight,” she murmured. “Otherwise I’ll be all topsy-turvy tomorrow as well.”
Martinus looked to Benet. “Could you rein in for a moment?”
“Sure thing,” agreed Benet, gently pulling back.
Martinus guided his steed around to the back of the cart, then tied his reins to the back with a length of rope. He put a hand up to Alicia. “Come walk with me for a while. The exercise will help wear you out, so you’re able to sleep tonight.”
Benet called back, “An excellent idea. I think a walk is exactly what you need.”
“All right,” agreed Alicia. In a moment the caravan was in motion again, with her moving easily alongside Martinus at the back of the group.
Martinus looked over to her. “So, have you ever been to London before?”
She nodded. “I came through London on my way to Canterbury. But we only stayed there overnight. I didn’t get to see much of it.”
His gaze held hers. “A long trip for someone who grew up in a small Welsh village.”
She chuckled. “My family tends to be fairly stick-in-the-mud. With the exception of my uncle Benet, I’m not sure anyone else has ever ventured more than twenty miles from home. My two older brothers are married with families of their own – they can barely keep up with the youngsters. My mother and father still have four more at home to tend to.” The corner of her mouth quirked up. “I suppose it fell to me and Benet to be the explorers of the family.”
His brow creased. “The roads can be dangerous. You saw that yourself, the day you saved me from the ambush.”
She gave a wry smile. “A white weasel must have crossed your path, with the poor luck you’ve had.”
His eyes twinkled at that. “Your father would have at you, for all your pagan talk.”
She nudged him. “And my mother would praise my common sense,” she countered. “One has to be aware of the messages the world is sending us. For everything is interconnected. There’s a reason for everything.”
His gaze held hers. “Is there?”
She nodded. “I knew I had to get to Canterbury. I did whatever it took to make it here. And look. Now we are on the road together to London. What do you think of that?”
His breath eased from him. “I think … I don’t know what to think. It seems … a miracle.”
She chuckled. “That’s my father talking,” she countered. “God and his plans. But if I’d sat back and waited for God to save me, I’d be married to Owen now and digging out new pig-holes for the piglets.”
A stillness came to his face. “Owen?”
She nodded. “My parents were sure, with Dylan dead, that Owen was the next option for me.” She shrugged. “I tried to like him. Really, I did. But he seemed to see me as little more than someone to make food appear on a regular basis. Where Dylan made me feel …”
She wrapped her arms around herself, a glow shimmering through her. Just thinking of him, she could remember the sensation.
Martinus gazed at her, his eyes shining in emotion.
At last Alicia gave herself a shake. “In any case, I was given the sword, embarked on my training, and when that pilgrim group came through with the flock of ravens overhead, I knew my path. I did everything it took to put my foot onto it. At the time I was sure it would bring me to Dylan.” She blushed and looked down.
Martinus was quiet for a long moment. “You are a special woman, to have dedicated yourself so fully to his memory. How long were you together?”
Alicia gave a wry smile. “One year, eight months, and four days. He has now been gone from me for longer than we were together.”
She sighed. “The first year after he departed, at least, I knew each day that he was on a holy quest and would be returned safely to me.” A shadow eased through her. “Then came the messenger with the news. I suppose I refused to believe it was true. I thought, though the power of my faith alone, that I could change the course of events.”
She looked forward to where the horse walked contentedly along, occasionally swishing his long, elegant tail. “My family was understanding at first, but after a few months they began to tire of my stubborn insistence that Dylan would return. Another few months and they were pushing hard for me to marry Owen. It became unbearable.”
She gave a wry smile. “But it spurred me into action. It got me moving. Otherwise, who knows? I could still be sitting in the pig pen, mucking it out, waiting for Dylan to return home to me.”
Martinus was quiet for a moment. “Are you happier in Canterbury?”
She glanced to Benet, where he steered the ox cart, and smiled. “My uncle treats me like a person, rather than a mindless set of helping hands. My parents would order me about and not ask for my opinion. Benet cares what I think. My parents assumed I’d just want to live in our town, marry Owen, and live the way they did. With Benet, I see a range of choices. I get to talk to people from around the world about any type of topic you might imagine. He encourages me to learn and grow.”
Martinus raised an eyebrow. “So, would you like to return to your home village at some point?”
She pondered the question. “I’m not sure. I would like to visit, certainly. But I’m not sure if I’d want to live there again. They speak with one voice; they have one view, with a few shades of grey, of course. In Canterbury, there is a wealth of voices. There are many styles of views. There are merchants from Sicily and nuns from Morocco.” She smiled. “It’s rather hard to give up, at least for now.”
He smiled. “I understand. The world is an amazing place, and the more one learns, the more one realizes how much there is still to find out about.”
He looked forward to the road again. “Let me tell you about the time …”
The miles passed beneath their feet, the sky deepened and colored, and it seemed the blink of an eye before Benet was pulling up before the tavern fronting one side of a large green. Shops and a well-cared-for church sided the other edges. The tavern sported lovely mullioned windows and the traditional post-and-beam construction, and as they stepped through the door they saw that warm candles glowed from every table. The rich fragrance of rabbit stew rose from numerous bowls.
Alicia’s stomach rumbled. “Oh, I think I’m going to like this place.”
Ale was brought, stew was placed all around, and soon they were all laughing at Tibault’s string of increasingly fantastic stories. It seemed he had met every mythological creature from the unicorn to the pegasus along his travels, and half of the Greek gods as well. Ethelfleda adored the tale of the five-headed cats. And by the time he wound up his story involving Medusa meeting up with Saint Patrick, Alicia’s eyes were streaming tears of laughter.
She stood, wiping her cheeks. “And with that, I need to step away for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
Tibault’s eyes sparkled. “Hurry, or you’ll miss the story of Cyclops playing chess against the one-eyed pirate.”
She grinned, then headed out the back door. The outhouse was just on the other side of the small courtyard. She hurried there through the darkness, doing her business as quickly as possible. She stepped back out into the courtyard –
A hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her around behind the building. The point of a dagger wedged into her spine. The sharp voice at her ear snapped, “Let’s try this again, shall we? This time, if you call out at all, I swear I will make you regret it. Understand?”
She nodded mutely against him.
He turned her so her shoulders were pressed up against the back side of the outhouse. They were in the shadows between the outhouse and a high fence which circled the property. A roar of laughter rang from the tavern, a mere thirty feet away.
The man’s ice-blue eyes bored int
o hers. “Now keep your answers short, sweet, and quiet. All I want from you is information, and I’ll let you all on your merry way. Where are you going?”
He carefully released his fingers.
Her brow creased. Surely this was not a secret. “To London.”
He growled, needling her with the dagger. “Of course, London, you foolish git. Where in London?”
She blinked in surprise. “Well, I don’t know - we’re just going to London. My uncle needs to purchase some unusual supplies. He has a friend in town so he, Ethelfleda, and I are staying there.” She shrugged. “The Scottish pilgrims, well, I assume they’re eventually returning back to Scotland, aren’t they?”
His gaze darkened. “But where are the three men going? Martinus and his clients?”
She blinked.
Clients?
“Ummm, I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully. “We are all just going to London. I hadn’t quite thought beyond that.”
He blew out his breath in exasperation. “Don’t you know anything at all, silly girl? Who are they going to see?”
Her brow creased. “They’re going to see someone?”
It made sense, when she thought about it. They had clearly come all the way up from Southern France to do something, and it probably wasn’t just to buy a loaf of London bread. It was logical that they had traveled this distance to meet with someone.
But about what?
The man spit on the ground. “God’s teeth. How many days have you been with him, you brainless dolt? And he hasn’t said one word about why he was heading north?”
She shook his head. She realized, now, that she knew very little about him at all. He’d told her countless amusing anecdotes from his journeys, certainly, but nothing about his childhood. Nothing about his plans for the future.
He gave her shoulder a sharp push. “Are you an imbecile? You never thought to ask?”
She paled. Had she been foolish to trust Martinus? He had seemed so much like Dylan, her beloved Dylan, that she had fallen easily into a friendship with him. He had seemed honest and true. But what did she really know about the man?
She licked her lips. “Benet said that he had a friend in London, and that if I wanted –”
He gripped her arm tightly, the fingers pressing hard against her flesh. “I don’t give a toad’s eyeball about what you and your uncle are doing,” he ground out. “All I care about is Martinus. If you are holding out on me, I swear –”
“I’m not,” she pleaded. “I don’t know anything.”
He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then blew out his breath in a huff of exasperation. “That’s for sure,” he snarled. “Well, I have a word of advice for you, miss know-nothing. Go home. Take your uncle and cousin and head back to that little shop of yours. Martinus is trouble. And if you stay around him past your arrival in London, you’ll get wrapped up in something you can’t escape.”
There was a creak from the tavern, and Martinus’s voice called out. “Alicia?”
Alicia’s captor growled, then in a breath he was gone, fading into the black night. All that remained were the sharp pain in her lower back and the bruises on her arm.
She stepped around the corner of the outhouse, wrapping her arms around her chest.
Martinus strode up to her, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “There you are. Your uncle thought you might have fallen in.” As he drew nearer, his brow creased. “Alicia, are you all right?”
She took in a deep breath, striving to steady herself. Could blue-eyes be right? Could the man before her be hiding secrets behind that concerned gaze? She bit her lip. “Martinus, I think we should talk –”
His hand dropped to the sword at his hip, and he spun his gaze, looking around. “What is it, Alicia? Did someone accost you? Who was it?”
His fingers wrapped more tightly around the hilt and his brow darkened. “God’s teeth, I’ve been a fool to take you along. I’ll get Benet. You three will leave immediately to return home to Canterbury. This very second. I knew in my heart I was making a huge mistake. I never should have talked to you. I never should have allowed you to join us, to travel with us –”
Alicia could barely hear his tirade. Her ears pounded with the noise of her heart thundering against her ribs.
One word resounded in her mind, over and over again.
No.
They could not be parted.
No matter what it took, no matter what she had to do, she could not leave him. Not now. Not when their souls were mingling together like cinnamon and nutmeg.
Whatever risks they had to face, whatever dangers might lie ahead, she would face them at his side.
She put her hand on his arm. “Please, Martinus, I promise I’m all right. Really. There was … there was …” Her mind flailed for an answer. “There was a night jay. By the outhouse. It was a bad omen. That’s all.”
He stopped his scan of the courtyard and drew his gaze down at her. His eyes carefully swept her own. “It seemed far more than that. Are you sure that was all that happened?”
She bobbed her head. “My mother always took those portends seriously. I’m afraid I might have gained that from her. But you’re right. It was just a bird. I’m sure our trip will be fine. After all, we’re with a large group of pilgrims. It’s not like a few bandits could cause us any harm, right?”
He glanced around again, but his shoulders eased. “No, they wouldn’t,” he agreed. “Especially after the thrashing we gave them last time. It would take them a week, at least, to gather up for another try.”
She drew on a smile. “And by then we’ll be safely in London. So there’s nothing to worry about.” She looked back toward the tavern. “Please, can we go in now? I’m sure I’ll feel better inside, with all the candles and friendly faces.”
His eyes flickered to the dark shadows, but at last he nodded. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand landing in the same place that the assailant had gripped her.
She held in the wince of pain.
But as she settled back down at the thick oak table, the words of the man in the shadows rang in her ears.
Just what was Martinus involved in?
Who was he?
Chapter 9
Alicia walked alongside Martinus in the shimmering morning sunlight, the landscape of their travel becoming more and more congested. There were now farmhouses on top of mills, the mouth-watering aromas of bakers, and the clank of blacksmiths along their route. The road had become far more traveled now. The stream of people in the opposite direction had picked up, from soldiers in neatly pressed colors to simple pilgrims, from gaudy merchants with wagons to families out for a trip to visit treasured relatives.
She glanced to the side at Martinus. He had entertained her with countless stories of his travels; had asked after her own family and childhood. But throughout their time together he had never once discussed his own youth. He had never mentioned anything about his current task. He had never once given even the slightest hint of why he and his friends … or clients, as blue-eyes had called them … were heading to London.
Alicia wet her lips. She was not used to drawing information out of others – but the mysterious assailant from last night was right. Something odd did seem to be going on here. Why had those bandits lain in wait for the trio as they first tried to leave Canterbury? And hadn’t Martinus said that he had also been attacked earlier, near Dover? She needed to find out – for both her own sake and for that of Benet and Ethelfleda.
She kept her eyes steadfastly on the swishing tail of Martinus’s steed which walked placidly before them. She had never been good at subterfuge. Her best chance lay with Martinus not seeing her face. “So, the last time in London the women and I stayed at a small inn at the southern edge, right near a church. Our priest back home knew the priest at the church and all was made ready for us. Where will we be staying this time?”
Martinus’s voice came rich and flowing. Alicia had gotten used to his southern France rhythms,
to the full sounds which brought to mind a warm sun and fields of flowers. “Benet expects that his friend will insist on having you three stay in his home, so that the two men can talk deep into the night. If that’s not possible for some reason, you’ll stay at an inn right across the street. Both are in the merchant district – quite a safe part of town. There’s be no problem at all there. I’m sure you three will be secure there.”
Alicia blinked, looking over despite her best intentions. “You won’t be coming with us?”
His gaze swept her for a moment, his attentive eyes seeming to miss nothing. “I’m afraid not. My friends and I have other business to attend to.”
She blurted out the words before thinking. “You won’t be far, will you?”
A smile softened his face, and he put out a hand, gently taking hers in it. “We’ll only be a mile away,” he assured her. “Just down at the docks. Those two sections of town are not far from each other, for obvious reasons. Lots of traffic back and forth between the two.” His brow creased. “Still, the dockyards are far from safe. Bad elements roam the streets, looking for those weaker than themselves. You shouldn’t go anywhere near there while you’re in London.”
Alicia’s throat went dry. “Why will you be down in that area?”
He nudged his head forward. “Tibault and Simon have business in the dockyards, and I need to make sure they get through that without much bodily harm.” His mouth gave a wry quirk. “It would be poor luck to have seen them safely all this way from the south of France only to let tragedy befall them as they reach their destination.”
Alicia’s heart stilled. Blue-eyes had been right. There was some sort of a business relationship between Martinus and the other two men. She strove to keep her tone even. “I thought they were your friends..?”
He nodded. “They are, and they are also my clients. My task is to ensure they get from point A to point B with the least amount of trouble possible. So far, with minor hiccups, it’s going reasonably well.”
“But what will they be doing at point B?”
A veil slipped over Martinus’s gaze, and he looked forward again. “I’m afraid that’s between them and the man they’re meeting with,” he murmured.
