by Ann Benson
The message light flashed.
“Hello, Janie,” Bruce said to the PDA in his hand. “Long time no see.”
A few moments later, he found himself standing outside Lany’s door between the two watchers, not remembering how he’d gotten there. When she answered his knock, he sent Fredo and the other man away.
“Would you come with me?” he said.
As she followed him, he talked. He didn’t bother with questions about how she’d slept or if she was less upset than she’d been when he left her the night before. He went straight to the heart of the matter.
“The woman you were traveling with is Janie Crowe.” He put the PDA down in front of her. The message light was flashing. She picked it up and was about to open it, but Bruce stopped her. “Wait just a minute. Don’t look yet. This morning I sent a message to her, using a word that I thought might prompt a reaction, if it was indeed her.” He glanced down at the flashing light. “It’ll be a short message. If I’m right, it will probably say toy.” He looked into Lany’s eyes and said, “Go ahead and open it. If that’s what it says, then I think there’s a trip west in our future.”
With her eyes still on him, Lany reached down and picked up the PDA. She opened the cover and pressed the Receive button, looking down just long enough to read the single three-letter word on the screen.
“Son of a gun,” she said. She glanced up at him. “What should I do?”
“Send back factory.”
Thirty-one
Sir John wished it had been the Jew, and not Kate, who had taken the detestable little French count out of this world, but it had been her hand that fashioned the distinctive arrow that he’d pulled from Benoit’s chest, and her hand that would understand how such an arrow ran through the air. The head was merely wood, not the forged iron that King Edward’s archers sent flying into the air, but it was hard and well shaped, strong enough to do the job for which it was intended. It had smashed right through Benoit’s ribs and lodged in his upper chest, and for a few moments, great gushes of blood spurted out. When Sir John yanked it out by the shaft, the cracking noise had sickened him.
Benoit’s still-dripping body was draped over his horse, his eyes hideously open. The only sound was the buzzing of the flies that swarmed around the wound. Sir John sat astride his own mount and waited, with seasoned patience, in the woods at the side of the road, knowing that sooner or later Alejandro and Kate would have to move from their hiding place.
The lush spring foliage was good cover; he hid to one side of a stand of brush with his sword unsheathed. It had been hours since the birds had betrayed their position, affording Kate the fatal shot. Sir John marveled at their patience, but at some point they would have to move. He would be there when they did.
The shadows were long when they finally passed him. The horse on which they rode was quiet and looked to have been well trained, for the animal moved carefully over the tree-sheltered road at his master’s urging with very little sound. Chandos nodded in respect as his quarry passed, giving them the silent well done that they were due. But now he had them.
Alejandro did not realize Chandos was directly behind them until he heard Kate’s gasp of surprise to feel the point of his sword pressing into the middle of her back.
“Turn the horse around,” he heard Chandos say. “Slowly.”
Alejandro brought the horse to a stop and then guided the animal through a half turn so he was facing their captor.
Behind Sir John, draped over his horse, was the grotesquely contorted body of Benoit. By now, Alejandro knew, the rigor of death would have begun. He let out a long sigh on seeing the dead man but said nothing about him. Instead, he looked directly into Chandos’s eyes. “We meet again, sir, after all these years. Under different circumstances, I would say it is a pleasure.”
With the sword still extended, Chandos said, “I would return the same sentiment to you, Physician.” He glanced to Kate. “My apologies, lady, if I caused you any injury just now; it was not my intent to do you harm.”
“All pleasantries aside,” Alejandro said, “you must tell me, what precisely was your intent in raising your sword, if not to cause harm?”
A moment passed. “To effect a delay. I would have you reconsider.”
“You would have me reconsider what?”
“Taking the lady away.”
“Ah, yes, well…I am sorry to say that I cannot. She is my daughter, and I will not be separated from her, sir.”
“She is, sir, the rightful daughter of the King of England by papal decree, which—though you may not realize it by virtue of your heathen status—is as good as the word of God Himself. You are kidnapping her, a crime against my king, and now also against God, both punishable by death.”
Death. The word settled over him like a shroud. For what had he come all this way and through all these years? Certainly not to find death; no, it was for a continuation of a life that he already knew would seem too short, no matter how long it ran. And to attain it, they would have to escape this man.
But with two on the horse, they could not outride him; Alejandro knew that Chandos would happily leave the remains of Benoit behind and make chase if they attempted to run. Still, he stiffened in his saddle; on sensing the defiance in his posture, Kate clutched him more tightly.
“She is as much my daughter as if she had sprung from my loins. Certainly more so than she is the child of the man from whose loins she happened to spring, by some cruel twist of nature. Tell me why I should not remove her from this island, with all its threats against her safety.”
“Because if you attempt to do so, I will engage you in combat, and you will be vanquished. And because if you release her, I will protect her, I swear a holy oath, without harm to you. I will allow you to escape—the king will not fault me if I return without you. He only wants his daughter back again.”
Alejandro deliberately ignored the offer; he pointed at Benoit, then turned his attention back to Sir John. “What sad fate befell your comrade? He looks rather unwell.”
With his free hand, Chandos pulled the arrow he had taken from Benoit out of his own quiver and tossed it forward. Reacting instinctively, Alejandro plucked it from the air. He examined it briefly before tossing it back.
“Goose feathers,” Chandos said. “I have seen such a design before in an arrow.”
Now it was Kate who stiffened.
“Of course, I cannot be absolutely certain who it was that used this missile; in the haste of your departure, you might have dropped it, and it may have been picked up by a highwayman, who used it on the unfortunate count.” He smiled cynically. “Or something like that.”
“Most assuredly, that is what happened,” Alejandro said. “But tell me, just for the sake of satisfying my curiosity, by what means will you manage to protect my daughter?”
After a long pause, Chandos said, “I will take her to wife myself.”
It was an answer for which Alejandro was totally unprepared. He had expected to hear a vow of championship, or perhaps a bargain with the king.
“But—you are an old man!”
Chandos laughed aloud. “You might look in the glass, sir.”
“I am her father, not her husband.”
Chandos dismissed Alejandro’s protests and pressed his offer. “’Tis not unusual for a man of my age to take a young bride. Experience is a desirable quality in a husband, or so I am told. If the lady will have me, her safety and standing within the royal family will be assured.” He looked at Kate, though he was still speaking to Alejandro. “I promise that I will treat her kindly and with respect. She will never lack for anything that she should desire.”
“But you are near thrice her age, and a man of war! She is—”
“She is what—a woman of pious tranquillity? Let us speak truthfully. I know her to be a woman of great virtue and honor, but there are those who would claim—with some basis—that she is a witch. She is a traitor to her family, and—if my suspicions are correct—a
murderess, though only those present here need ever know that. She can reasonably be accused of many vile and punishable deeds. Such a woman would require whatever protection she could find.”
Alejandro remained still and silent, stunned by the viciousness of Sir John’s diatribe. Still, it was guaranteed that one of them would live through this encounter.
He turned back and faced his daughter.
“Père, please…” Kate said quietly. “This is a matter for me to settle.”
She climbed down from the back of the saddle and went to Sir John’s side, where she stood on the ground and looked up at him. “Your words are harsh, sir, but I cannot deny that you speak the truth of what I have become. I would beg your indulgence; under different conditions, I might have chosen a more ordinary path. I might not have been forced to live as an outlaw against the king, but you of all people should know that it was the king himself who forced that upon me. And yet, knowing all these terrible things, you do me the great honor of requesting my hand. And were our circumstances different, your offer would be a matter of great pride to me, worthy of serious consideration, and the difference in our ages would be of little import.” She glanced at Alejandro briefly. “I would press my father to accept your proposal on my behalf.”
Alejandro tried to speak; she shushed him by holding up her hand. “But I cannot imagine any situation in which my sister will choose not to torment me. Her hatred of me is merciless and, it would seem, insurmountable.”
“I have some influence with the king,” Sir John said in a soft voice. “I would intercede on your behalf. And Isabella will soon depart for France with her husband. Her vitriol arises from covetousness; she is envious of your kind nature, your beauty, your intelligence…. These are but a few of the many attributes that I have come to admire in you, now that you are a woman grown.”
A blush rose up momentarily on Kate’s cheeks, but her expression quickly hardened. “You are kind beyond what I deserve, and for that I thank you, again and again. But I am no longer the sweet little girl you knew from times before. I have seen much in my travels and I know the ways of this cruel world too well. You will not find me to be a cultured lady of the Windsor court, if that is your desire. I will always seek to be away from that place; it holds no attraction for me. And I will not leave the father of my heart ever again, no matter how hard our path.”
Chandos looked at Alejandro for a moment before directing his gaze to Kate again. “I beg you to reconsider. You would live in the comfort afforded by a husband of means.”
“I will tell you what I told my sister: I have already wed, and I will not wed again until I find the same love that I had in Guillaume Karle.”
The sword wavered slightly. “And you did not find this sort of love with Chaucer?” When she did not reply, Chandos added, “There was an attraction between you and him, easily seen, even by one such as myself, who takes little note of the romance that surrounds him.”
Quietly, she said, “No. He is a worthy fellow, but—no.”
Alejandro said, “She has made her sentiments known. She will not wed you.”
Kate watched in silence as the tension built between the man she called Father and the man who would be her champion, given the chance.
Finally, after a long sigh, Sir John said, “Well, I suppose the matter is settled, then.” He raised his sword again with such swiftness that neither Kate nor Alejandro saw it until it was resting on Alejandro’s chest.
“Since your decision is not to my liking, you shall both come back with me and face the consequences of your crimes.”
My sweet companion,
I tremble now as I write these next lines and pray that I shall not have to add another, yet more tragic, within the next few days. Guillaume is stricken by measles. So many have gone ill, one can only think of the plague years. I myself am unaffected; as a very small child I took ill with a long fever and a red rash, and I must now assume that I have already had my visitation. One day you and I must try to determine by just what magic it is that some ailments visit a person only once, even though all around him are afflicted.
The poor child was so hot yesterday that I could hardly touch his forehead. He coughs incessantly, and though I give him tea of sassafras, he cannot seem to help himself. Yesterday, he sat up in his bed and began to scream for you; your manservant came to summon me, and I ran to Guillaume as fast as I could. When I entered his room, he had left his bed and was cowering in the corner, pointing to the floor and ranting about some dark swarm of insects that he thought he saw. I told him that I saw nothing myself, but he would not lie down again until I took a broom and swept at them. I swept right through the air—there was nothing to be banished, but in his mind’s eye, there was an encampment. He is calmer now, but his fever still rages, and his poor little body is a sea of red welts. One day perhaps we shall have some magic to scratch into his skin to ward off the measles as you did the pox!
And now I am truly alone, for de Chauliac has returned to Avignon. Damn the pigeons with their little messages! He left some days ago, with promises to stay only as long as necessary and not one moment more, for he would be here to celebrate when you return. Hurry back; my heart aches with missing you.
Chandos took their knives from them before they set out again. They stayed one length ahead, and with each step toward Windsor, their misery grew.
When it was too dark to ride any farther, Chandos told them to stop. He made Alejandro put his arms around a small tree, then tied his wrists together.
“Gather some faggots,” he told Kate. “But hurry back, for if you take too long, the physician will pay dearly.”
Sparks rose up from the small fire he built between them. The ghoulish glow of the flames cast a cruel light on Sir John’s lined face, which was now devoid of all his previous sympathy and bore a dark and determined expression. Alejandro remained completely silent, lest he anger or provoke the man into doing something regrettable.
He was relieved when Sir John pulled out a strip of dried meat and began to eat it. The knight tore small strips off the length of beef and offered some to Kate, who accepted it with a nod of gratitude. Before Sir John could protest, she rose up and put a piece of the food into Alejandro’s mouth. Thereafter, Chandos gave her no more.
An hour passed in near silence as Alejandro and Kate watched Chandos finish his rough meal. A short time later, the knight rose up and went to his horse, where he found a flagon among the items in his traveling bag.
“Wine,” he said. He held out the flagon in offering. “Will you have some, Princess?”
She refused it with a wave of her hand.
“As you wish.” He drank alone, all the while watching his captives. Soon a melancholy overtook him, and he began to speak in a bitter tone. “I do not blame you for taking Count Benoit out of this world. Were he to be my spouse, I expect I would have done the same. He was a snake of a man, at his best.”
“Why,” Kate asked, “were you and he alone in hunting us?”
“Because the good Baron de Coucy was eager to return to his fiancée, and because there was an ill man among our party who had to be brought home.”
This caught Alejandro’s attention. “Ill how?”
Chandos took a long pull on his flagon, then wiped drops of wine from his lips. “One cannot say. He was quite feverish when last I saw him, three days ago. By now I imagine he has gone to his reward, whatever that might be. It is quite within the realm of possibilities that de Coucy has found a reason to leave him by the side of the road somewhere, but I instructed my men to bring him back to Windsor.” He drank again, then said, “If they managed to do so, there will be a bit of a tumult, but that cannot be helped. I will not leave a man by the side of the road to be picked at by vultures before his flesh has even gone cold.”
Neither Kate nor Alejandro responded.
“Well, I can see that I will get no conversation from either of you. A pity. Discourses around a fire can be quite entertaining.”
Sir John leaned the open flagon against a nearby rock and rose up, still remarkably steady on his feet, in view of how much he had drunk. “I’ll need to make water,” he said after a while. “A consequence of the drink. I shan’t be a moment.”
He saw Alejandro’s eyes upon him.
He stopped before turning away, to say, “Do not make the mistake, Physician, of assuming that I am inebriated.”
He turned to a nearby tree, setting his sword against one side of the trunk so he could see it clearly.
Alejandro frantically searched the nearby ground with his eyes as Sarah’s words came back to tease him. There are many beneficial things that can be obtained by simply looking at the ground….
But not this…
The vial of laudanum was still in the pouch attached to his belt. Chandos had not found it noteworthy when he searched him. It might well be, he knew, their only opportunity. Alejandro caught Kate’s attention and gestured with his eyes toward the right side of his belt. For a moment she did not seem to understand. And then finally his meaning became clear to her.
She glanced at Chandos, who still stood with his back to her. She rose up quietly and went to Alejandro. When she found the small bag, she pulled it free with a quick yank.
She poured half of the vial of laudanum into the flask, then hid the half-empty vial in the pocket of her own breeches, just before Sir John turned around.
“There,” he said. “I am myself again. Now, were we discussing something? Plague showing itself as an unanticipated guest at Isabella’s wedding?” He laughed bitterly. “Now, there is something one can drink to!”
He took another long pull on the flask, downing its entire contents. He tossed the flask aside and leaned down on his elbow.
“You might try to sleep, lady,” he said to Kate. “There is a long road ahead to Windsor. I myself shall remain awake, but do not worry, I will not take advantage of you in the night.” He laughed briefly, and then his expression hardened again. “I am not the sort of man who would do so in front of a woman’s father.”
