by Lisa Shea
She gave the bag a heft and shook her head. “In London by the seventeenth. It should be fine.”
He put a hand out, taking her fingers and pressing a courtly kiss to them. “Well, then, I wish you safe journey and success.”
She nodded at him, then turned to the gray steed. Philip boosted her up into the saddle, and she tied the leather sack there alongside her own bag. The men secured their belongings to their own steeds and mounted. In a moment they were moving single file out of the stable. Philip took the lead, and they wended their way through the throngs. The roads quieted as they reached the edge of town, and by the time they were ascending the low rise, the calls of the seagulls were a distant echo.
The road widened as they reached the flatter plateau of the main countryside, and without a word Johann rode up to a spot on Philip’s left, while Luigi and Braun fell in side by side behind Isabel. The men radiated alert watchfulness as billowing white clouds sailed slowly across a cerulean sky. Low meadows of grasses shhhhed around them, and in the distance denser forests provided a darker contrast.
Johann murmured to Philip, “I don’t like not knowing the stops.”
“First one would be Kingston,” returned Philip, his eyes not straying from the road ahead. “At the pace he’s set, that’s the logical first location. Interesting he’s not having us go full on to Canterbury. It’s much larger.”
Johann gave a shrug. “Maybe that’s why. Too many eyes.”
Philip nodded.
A farmer appeared up ahead, his hunched form almost seeming a part of his wagon. He nodded as they passed, then continued his creaking way down the muddy road.
Johann turned to peer back down the road behind them. “Barely anybody out, with the roads as wet as they are. It’ll make it easier to keep an eye on potential threats. Hopefully by the time the roads dry out, and traffic increases, we’ll be safely in London.”
Isabel’s mind jumped back to Talbot’s warning in the stables.
Lord Bedemor has been seen in the area.
Molten anger seethed through her, and she clenched her hands on the reins. After all her father had sacrificed to watch over the Tower of London, after the decades of service he had given to them, King John was going to just sweep him away? Replace him with a newcomer who had never even stepped foot within its walls? It was too much to bear! If, at least, the King had chosen one of the captains-of-the-guards she had grown up with, one of the many worthy men who knew the keep’s defenses and strengths, she might have accepted it. Her father was aging, and even she had to admit that his eyesight was not what it once had been.
But Lord Bedemor? Some stranger with a noble title that the King was rewarding for who-knew-what favor? Some outsider was going to rule over all she held dear? Was going to kick her father out onto the rubbish heap as if he were week-old turnip greens going soggy and gray?
Her gaze narrowed.
Not while she had life left in her body.
Philip glanced back, his brows drew together, and he reined in so that Isabel came up to his side. He clucked into motion again, riding alongside her.
His voice was low. “Is everything all right?”
She couldn’t bring herself to nod. “I’ll be fine,” she stated.
He was quiet for a long moment. His eyes glanced at the road ahead, scanning it, before coming back to her again.
His tone was carefully neutral. “What is your relationship with Lord Bedemor?”
She bristled at the name, and her response was curt. “I have no relationship with the King’s lap-dog, and I wish to keep it that way.”
The pause was longer this time, and when he spoke, she could almost see the tension in his voice. “If I might ask –”
She shook her head. “I do not wish to talk about it.” The thought of bringing up her father’s failing health, his transition from cherished leader of the community to worn-out refuse was more than she could bear. To speak it aloud would bring it further into reality.
Philip’s gaze shadowed, but he nodded. He gave a shake to the reins, and in a moment he had regained his position at Johann’s sides.
Isabel sank into a slow simmer. She poured herself into inventing a myriad of ways she could impact Lord Bedemor’s health so the King’s chosen one would be completely and utterly infirmed.
So her father would be safe.
* * *
The first houses of Kingston were coming over the rise when a young boy scrambled across the edge of the road from a bank where he’d been waiting. “Talbot sent me,” he stated with a quick nod of the head. “Follow me, M’Lady.”
He walked at the right of Philip’s steed as they passed a few wattle and daub farmhouses. Then the larger, timber-framed houses and shops appeared. The boy tilted his tow head left, guiding them to a quiet but well-kept inn off the main way.
“Horses in here,” he instructed.
There were five stables waiting for them, the feed and water freshly laid. The lad waited patiently while the group removed the saddles and tack. Isabel tucked the leather pouch on her own belt before rejoining the group.
The boy then led them the short distance across into the tavern. “All paid for,” he explained as they walked into the quiet room.
An elderly woman hurried forward, her grey hair askew out of its braid. “Sit right down by the fire,” she insisted, her voice creaking. “Ales and stews will be right out.” Indeed, a table for five was placed just before the fireplace. The group had barely sat down before the drinks and food were brought.
Luigi raised a brow to Braun. “At least we won’t go hungry on this particular mission,” he murmured with a grin. “I could get used to this.” He dug into the stew with enthusiasm.
Philip glanced at the few other patrons in the room – a quiet collection of farmers and townsfolk – then back at Johann. He nodded, working his way steadily through his meal. The table remained quiet except for the occasional clunk of spoon on bowl.
When the group was finished, the woman appeared and gathered up their empty dishes. She was back by them in moments. “Shall you be needing anything else, or shall I show you to your rooms?”
Isabel glanced at the others before responding, “The rooms would be fine.”
The woman bobbed her head, leading the way to a set of stairs in the far corner. At the top, she indicated two rooms opposite each other. “The men share that room there. There are mats, blankets, and pillows.” She pushed open the other door. “You’ll be in here, M’Lady. The room is immediately over mine. I’ll be able to hear if you need me. Even the smallest call, and I’ll come up to help. Don’t hesitate – I’m a light sleeper. I don’t mind.”
Isabel nodded, holding herself from glancing at Philip.
She forced her voice to be even. “Thank you, we appreciate your assistance. We should be fine now.”
The woman nodded again, stepping back. “Remember, I’m just a call away.” Then she turned and eased her way back down the stairs.
Philip stepped into the room past her, going over to the lone window and checking the lock on the shutters. Then he turned in place, eyeing the low bed, the simple dresser, and the table with washbowl. He nodded in satisfaction. “You should be safe here. Just be sure to bar the door once I’ve left.”
Desire and loneliness swirled in her core, and she brought her eyes up to his.
He crossed the room to her in two long strides, drawing her into a strong embrace. She drew her arms up along his back, and for a long moment she was complete. The world coalesced down to the feeling of his cheek against her forehead.
Then he was stepping back from her and glancing down. His voice was rough when he spoke again. “We will be right across the hall, should you need anything.”
The only thing Isabel needed was to hold Philp tight – and to never let him go.
His mouth quirked into an understanding grin, then he gave a formal bow before turning. He closed the door behind him with a solid thud.
Isabel mo
ved to the door, slid the bar in its channel, and returned to wearily sit on the bed.
Three days. She had only known Philip for three days, and already he had soaked into her soul.
Chapter 7
Glorious sunshine streamed down across the quiet path, and swallows danced from a stand of birch to the right. Canterbury had come and gone, and Isabel had barely glimpsed the famous spires before they were back on quieter paths. Philip had insisted they steer clear of the crowds, and she saw no reason to argue. She understood all too well the dangers.
Now they were passing a trio of dust-coated priests, undoubtedly on a pilgrimage of some sort. Philip waited until the priests were far out of sight behind them before dropping back to ride alongside Isabel.
“How are you feeling?”
She smiled. “I’ve never explored the world by horseback. My rear is a little sore, and my leg throbs occasionally, but other than that I’m enjoying this immensely.”
“So you never traveled much, before you got married?”
She shook her head. “Never went more than two miles from home, I warrant. I dreamed about it, of course. Every chance I got. Concocted long lists of where I would go and what I would see.” She shrugged. “But my father had been in the Crusades when he was younger. He warned me that the world was full of danger. He insisted I was better off staying home where I was safe.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What did your mother say?”
She looked down. “My mother died in childbirth with me. I love her, in some sort of an abstract fashion, but I never knew her at all. My father rarely talked of her. He never remarried, either. So it was just him and me.” Her mouth quirked. “And the soldiers, of course.”
“The hand signals, during the attack on the ship.” His brow creased. “I’d wondered how you knew them. At the time I assumed you had a husband in the military.”
A laugh burst from her lips. “Diggory? In the military? The man was afraid of cutting himself with his eating dagger.” She looked off at a pair of spiraling swallows, enjoying the lightness of the day. “No, it was the men I grew up with. They were my playmates. They taught me their battle language, target practice with a crossbow, and just about anything else I asked about. I suppose I was a mascot of sorts for them.”
His voice was even. “And yet you married Diggory.”
She sighed, looking down at the horse’s mane. She twined her fingers into it. “I married Diggory,” she agreed.
“You said it had something to do with avoiding a Lord? Was that an alliance someone was proposing between you and Lord Bedemor?”
She snorted. “I have a different type of ceremony in mind for him,” she snapped. “No, in this case it was Lord Ingram.”
He blinked in surprise. “Lord Ingram? You said before … Lord Ingram was the man who shot you?”
Her hand went automatically to her leg. “Shot me clean through,” she agreed. “And when he came thundering over the rise to claim his kill, he seemed almost annoyed with me for being human rather than deer.” Her look darkened. “That is, until he got a better look at me, and it seemed like he might want to claim me after all.”
She chuckled. “And then dear Hilly nearly ripped out his throat.”
Philip’s brow drew together in confusion. “Hilly?”
Her shoulders eased. “My guard dog. I’ve had him since I was quite young. He’s … protective of me. When Lord Ingram came storming over to stand above me, Hilly went wild and lunged for him.” She ran a hand through her hair. “It all seemed to happen in an instant. Hilly snarling ferociously, Lord Ingram reaching for his dagger, and I honestly think one or the other of them would have died.”
“ … but?”
She smiled. “Thankfully the dense haze of pain cleared, if only for a moment. I was able to call Hilly back to me.” She waved a hand. “Then my father rode up, they got me to a doctor, and I was eventually healed.”
Philip’s gaze held hers. “But that wasn’t the end of it, I take it.”
She shook her head. “Lord Ingram started visiting every few days, first on the pretense of checking on my injuries, and later with no excuse at all. I told him I didn’t want to see him. I made sure I was busy. But he was persistent, and a gnawing ache wore into me. He has connections to the King. If the King ordered me to marry …”
She flushed, looking down. “I don’t know what I would have done.”
Philip tapped his saddle in thought. “But why not marry one of the soldiers you had grown up with? Surely some of them were fond of you.”
She chuckled. “I suppose – but I would still have been too near to Lord Ingram for my liking. I got a sense that nothing as feeble as a marriage vow would stop him.”
She shrugged. “So when Diggory said he was going to France to study at the great libraries there, I jumped at the chance. I let him know that I had always wanted to see France – and that I was fond of him. Apparently it appealed to him to have a traveling companion. In short order we were wed and on our way.”
Philip glanced over. “What did your father think of all of this?”
She sighed. “He was quite disappointed in me. He was sure to let me know it, too. But in the end he gave me his permission. Said it was my own life, and if I wanted to waste it, who was he to stop me. So I left behind my father, and Hilly, and the small boundaries of my world.” Her tone was dry. “I headed out on a grand adventure.”
He gave a wry smile. “Which didn’t end up being very grand, it seems.”
She shook her head. “I had known Diggory was a gambler, but it’s one thing to hear about it and another to live it every day. We barely had the clothes we wore and a cloak to hold off the weather. It was just after Christmas when we landed in Calais, and the roads were mud pits that could pull you in to your knees. It took us two weeks just to make the first five miles. We had to work for our meals, scraping platters and hauling water.”
She sighed. “When, at long last, we finally reached Paris, he was off in the dusty research archives for the entire day. I was left to huddle in our room, for he didn’t want me out on my own. And then, when night came on, he delved into the taverns.” She twined a lock of hair around her finger. “Not quite what I had been imagining.”
His lips pressed into a line. “You were married like this for a year?”
She nodded. “The weeks and months ran together like a painting left in the rain. I pleaded with him to let me come to the libraries or taverns. But he said they were no place for a woman. I asked him to let me paint – to draw – anything! – while locked up in our room. But he didn’t want to waste the money on supplies. I thought I would go mad.”
“So, what did you do?”
She smiled. “I sang.”
His eyes brightened. “Oh?”
She nodded. “It was completely free. It lifted my spirits. And, often, a voice would join in with me, from down on the streets, or from a room down the hall. I could share in with others, even from the confinement of my room. It was my one escape.”
Philip sat back in his saddle. “Sing me a song.”
She flushed. “Oh, I’m not sure –”
Luigi launched into a traditional love song, his smooth alto soaring over the path. She joined in almost instantly, twining her harmonies into his. The verses followed the couple through hurdle and obstacle, through back-stepping and uncertainty, until at last it came around to them holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes, and being whole.
The men clapped enthusiastically when the song came to an end, and she blushed. “Luigi, you have quite a voice,” she praised. “You should be in a church choir.”
“I was,” he informed her with a twinkle. “Until the priest thought I might fill a more personal role in his life. I ran off with the next group of soldiers leaving Rome, as their drummer boy, and never looked back.”
Philip smiled at her. “I’m glad you found singing as an escape, but he had no right to treat you like that in the first place.” His voice
lowered. “Maybe it is just as well his life came to an early end.”
She looked down. “I would not have wished that on him,” she countered. “After the first few months, I would have been content just to return to my father and let Diggory go his own way.” She shook her head. “But Diggory would not allow it. Said a woman’s place was by her husband’s side. Every day he would leave for that cathedral, and every night I would sit in that window waiting for his return.”
She sighed. “I still remember Diggory’s final day so clearly. It was late evening, and the sun had that golden sheen to it that seems to bring fairies to life. Diggory was walking down the street toward our inn, and he had this spring to his step, as if he were pleased about something. He looked up to my window, and his smile lit his face.” Her throat tightened. “I thought, for a moment, that perhaps we could finally be happy. He would come home to me with a smile, we would be a couple, and somehow we would make this work.”
She shook her head. “And, because he was looking up at me, and not watching where he was going, he never saw the carriage that was barreling down from the side street. It was midnight black and burst from the shadows like an explosion. It plowed straight into Diggory and never stopped. It just raced down the street and was gone.”
She looked down at her hands. “I screamed. I screamed, and screamed, and the innkeeper came and found me. And that was that. Diggory was buried in a pauper’s grave. I had to sell my sword to cover our bill at the inn and the gambling debts. I was left with nothing.” She shrugged. “I had to work my way across the country to get back to Calais and to earn my passage on that ship you found me on.”
Philip looked over, his eyes somber. “I am sorry for your loss.”
They rode for a while in silence, as she thought of all she had gone through. The high hopes of adventure – and the long despair of her marriage. At last she shook her head. “It is over and done with,” she stated. “I made my decision, and I learned a lesson. Now I can start afresh, with a clearer view of the world around me.”
