The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  She was right. “Aubrey can do it. How hard can it be?”

  “Very hard.” Joanna pursed her lips. “I know. I’ve tried. Aubrey’s brother taught her from the time she was young. He made her practice for hours every day. It took her years to develop the skills she has now. Have you even held a sword before? They’re heavier than you think.”

  Madeline wavered on the spot, biting her lip and forcing herself not to cry. She couldn’t cry when she needed to be strong for Jack. “Then I’ll get a dagger.” She continued on her quest.

  Joanna followed. “How are you going to go back there? We were shot at and we don’t know if we were anywhere near where Jack is being held. Tom isn’t here to guide you.”

  “I’ve found my way through forests on my own before,” she brushed the problems away. “I made it here from Coventry and half of that was through forests.”

  Several guards were practicing in the armory. She ignored the clash of metal on metal and the smell of sweat from the shirtless men sparring. Joanna eyed them warily but Madeline was on a mission. She found the shelves where weapons were kept and helped herself to a long dagger. When one of the guards moved to stop her from taking them Joanna stopped him with, “It’s okay.”

  She followed Madeline out of the armory and across the castle garden to the cloister.

  “It’s still early afternoon,” Madeline figured aloud. “I can make it back to the forest before dark. Whatever errand Ethan went on, chances are he’ll be back soon.”

  “My lady, you cannot go back today.” Madeline whipped around to glare at Joanna as they paused just inside of the hallway leading into the castle. “When was the last time you ate something? When was the last time you slept?”

  “I’ll eat and sleep when Jack is safe.” She squeezed her hands around the dagger’s hilt and marched on.

  Joanna left her when they reached the main hall. She hardly noticed as she climbed the stairs to her room in the High Tower. Plans for finding Jack filled her mind. There was no time to waste.

  She tossed the dagger on the bed when she reached her room and stood still, taking a breath to organize her thoughts. Joanna was right about one thing. If she was caught she wouldn’t be able to fight back, dagger or no dagger. She wasn’t Aubrey.

  A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She sat on the bed and bent to remove her shoes. Her body didn’t want to straighten again. With a frustrated breath she curled to her side and shut her eyes. She did need to sleep. But Jack needed her. He was in danger now. She frowned and fought the heaviness that descended over her, but in the end she lost to it.

  When she awoke the scent of stew was in the air and Aubrey was sitting in a chair by the window reading a book.

  “Joanna told me all about it,” she said without preamble when Madeline rubbed her eyes and sat up. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

  A flash of anger gave way to the aching tension of doing nothing. “I’m not sure you could have done anything to make it better,” she sighed, getting up and walking to the table to help herself to the stew and bread.

  “We’ll try again tomorrow.” Aubrey set the book down and stood. Her stomach was round enough that the thought of her jaunting off into the woods to fight outlaws and rescue Jack and Simon was ridiculous.

  “Has anyone heard anything from Ethan?”

  Aubrey shrugged. “No. Joanna didn’t say where he was going.”

  “Neither did Ethan,” Madeline sighed. She sat on the chest of old clothes Aubrey had had brought to her room on her first day at the castle to eat her stew. She supposed it was good, but eating was just one more useless activity keeping her from getting to Jack.

  Aubrey paced in front of the bed, rubbing her stomach. “Part of me wants to send someone to bring Crispin home,” she spoke her thoughts aloud. “Or at least send a messenger to let him know that Jack has been captured. But if I do that then we’ll be that much more behind on collecting the king’s ransom. We can’t drop one problem to fix another. No, it’s best to wait to tell Crispin about all this until he gets home.” She let out a frustrated growl as she reached one end of the room and turned to pace back. “Nobody tells you how irritating it is to handle all of the problems of a shire at the same time!”

  “Anyone who wants to be in a position of power is a fool,” Madeline muttered her agreement, her mouth full.

  Aubrey huffed an ironic laugh. “Crispin didn’t want to be sheriff or earl, you know. All we wanted to do was live a nice, peaceful life in Windale as a minor noble, not a baron.”

  And all Madeline wanted to do was live a peaceful life in Kedleridge with Jack. She wouldn’t let that dream go. She’d risked too much for it. “Why don’t you go find something to eat, Aubrey. It looks like it’s nearly supper time.”

  “I’m always hungry these days,” Aubrey grumbled. “Ever since the morning sickness stopped.”

  “You go get something to eat then.” Madeline stood and crossed to give her friend a hug. “I’ll come down in a bit and sit with you. Are those minstrels still at the castle?”

  “No, they left a few days ago. A few of the pages are pretty handy with a lute though.”

  “Could you get them to play for us?”

  Aubrey smiled. “Sure. No problem.”

  “Thanks.”

  She hugged her friend again and walked her to the door. As soon as she heard Aubrey’s footsteps disappear down the hall she swung around and raced to the chest of old clothes, untying her kirtle as she did. She pulled it over her head and tossed it aside before squatting to throw open the lid of the trunk. The shapeless excuse for a dress she had traded her hassock for had to be in there somewhere. She’d insisted Joanna keep it instead of burning it, telling her it could be useful for chores if nothing else. It would help her stay hidden in the forest. The chest was packed with Aubrey’s old dresses and kirtles, all too brightly colored to let her sneak through the forest, even at night. She lifted them out armful at a time, setting them on the floor and digging deeper.

  Her heart stopped for a moment when she neared the bottom of the chest. A dull green-gray cloak sat there, folded into a tight package. It was the exact right shade to blend into the trees. She pulled it out. A pair of small, sturdy boots lay underneath it. As she moved to set the cloak aside it fell open and a shirt and small set of chausses tumbled out. Madeline knew right away what it was.

  “The Derbywood Bandit,” she whispered, reaching back into the chest for the boots. Aubrey had been disguised as the Bandit when she and Jack waylaid her and Sister Bernadette’s carriage on their trip to Derby last Spring. She wondered if the Bandit had been seen or heard of since or if Aubrey had packed her disguise away for good when she married Crispin. She’d have to find out. Later.

  She scooped the Bandit disguise into her arms and carried it back to the bed, tugging her under-dress over her head and tossing it aside. The Bandit shirt fit her well enough, though the sleeves were a little long. She tugged on the drawers and chausses and tied them to fit her. Aubrey was taller than she was but with a few fancy knots she was able to get the disguise to fit well enough. The vest hung loose even with the laces pulled as tight as they could go, but when she fastened the belt over top of the vest and tucked the dagger in it was comfortable. And it was just her luck that Aubrey had the same size feet as hers. The boots fit perfectly. She donned the cloak, tucking the mask into her belt to put on once she was out of the castle.

  Stealing a horse from the stable was trickier than she thought it would be. It wasn’t quite dark yet and more than a few people were out and about in the halls and the courtyard. She had to take the back stairs, press herself into corners as servants passed, and dash from corridor to corridor. If Aubrey or Joanna saw her they would definitely try to stop her. It was a small blessing that the castle was so deserted with Crispin gone. But that also meant that none of the horses in the stable were saddled and ready. When she made it to the bushes beside the stable she glanced around, desperate for ideas.

&
nbsp; “You! Boy!” a sharp voice called nearby. She glanced around, hoping that whoever was shouting and whoever they were calling for would provide a distraction. “Stop pissing in the bushes and get back to work!”

  Two seconds before the wiry stabled hand grabbed her by the back of her cloak she realized he was shouting at her.

  “What’d’ya think you’re doing?” He dragged her out of the bush and into the stable. “The horses need brushing down.” He shoved her towards a wall where brushes and tack hung.

  “Take it easy on the lad,” another man said as he leaned back on a stool, swigging from a jug. “He’s new. They’re all new.”

  “He should learn his place.”

  Madeline dashed into the stall closest to the door. The chestnut mare there wore a simple rope lead. She untied it and walked the horse towards the stable entrance, eyes wide.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the man who had grabbed her demanded.

  “Oy, I thought I’d walk her a bit first, mate, give her some exercise,” she imitated Jack in the deepest voice she could manage.

  “What for?”

  “Leave ’im be, Roger,” the man with the jug cut him off. “If the lad likes horses, let him get his fill.”

  “Soft bugger,” Roger muttered.

  Madeline didn’t wait to see if the other man heard him. She walked the horse out of the stable as fast as she dared. Her heart beat in her throat as she lead him towards the courtyard. Without glancing back over her shoulder she took the horse towards the stairs, climbed a few, then mounted its bare back. Her brow flew up at how easy it felt to sit astride a horse in chausses. It was a wonder Mother Superior hadn’t fitted them all with boy’s clothes under their habits to do the farm work.

  She didn’t have time to dwell on it. With a quick kick to the mare’s flanks she nudged it forward out of the courtyard. Once in the streets of Derby she picked up speed. No one seemed to find a boy in a cloak riding a horse without a saddle unusual enough to stop her or call after her. Still, as soon as she was outside of the city gates she broke into a run.

  It was almost dark by the time she reached the edge of the Derbywood. She rode as far into the forest as she dared then veered off the path, walking until she was far enough away that anyone passing wouldn’t see the horse. Darkness was creeping in faster than she could plan her next move. She jumped off the horse’s back and tied the lead to a low-hanging branch. She said a quick prayer to remember where she left the mare then tied the mask over the lower half of her face, tucked her hood close, and started walking.

  She had no clue where she was going. What little light was left vanished before she had walked more than a few hundred yards. At least she thought that was how far she walked. The forest seemed all the same to her. The air chilled and she caught herself wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

  She wasn’t sure how far she had wandered when indistinct murmuring froze her in her tracks. Two voices. She pressed herself against the nearest tree and listened.

  “The crown won’t care who delivers the money as long as its delivered.” It was Ethan’s voice. “We’ve gathered a bit from travelers in the last year, we can get more.”

  “More than a bit, my lord,” his man Toby added. They were coming closer. Leaves and sticks crunched under their feet. She held her breath and closed her eyes. “We’ll need a cart to transport it all.”

  “Stop right there!”

  A third voice cracked through the night. Madeline swallowed a gasp. Ethan and Toby’s footsteps stopped. Several other sets shuffled through the undergrowth.

  “What’s this all about?” Ethan balked.

  “You’re not welcome here.”

  “Not welcome here?” Ethan laughed. There was a shuffle and the sound of swords being drawn. “Put that away!”

  “Turn around and walk away,” the nasal voice growled.

  “Connor,” Ethan’s casual sound faltered to a note of worry, “what do you think you’re doing?”

  “You try and come any closer and I’ll poke you,” Connor threatened.

  Madeline sucked in a breath and inched her head around the tree to see what was going on. Ethan and Toby stood toe-to-toe with three burly men, two holding swords, one swinging a mace with thick spikes. In the faint moonlight their faces stood out, harsh and vengeful.

  “Let me pass!” Ethan moved to bypass them.

  The man at the front of the group swiped at him with his sword. Ethan shouted as the blade sliced into his arm. Toby jumped forward and shouted, “How dare you!”

  “You want a piece of this too?” The man with the sword, Connor, turned his blade on Toby.

  Toby skittered back, pulling Ethan off balance. “Show some respect!” His words were far braver than the quiver in his voice and knees.

  Connor and his cronies laughed. “I’ll give him all the respect he deserves.” He snorted and spit at Ethan.

  Ethan jerked back and Toby yelped in offense. Toby reached for something at his waist and lunged forward. Madeline caught the flash of a knife flicking across Connor’s face. Connor screamed in pain and clapped a hand across his cheek.

  “You little shit!” he yelled. “Get them!”

  “Toby, run!” Ethan grabbed his man’s hand and yanked him away.

  Toby’s moonlit face filled with terror as he turned and sprinted off through the trees with Ethan. The two men with Connor raced after them. Connor bent over and shouted in pain, growling a few choice curses that curled Madeline’s toes. Her heart pounded in her throat as he fished for something in his belt. He found what he was looking for and raised a hand to his cheek again before turning and stomping off through the woods.

  She reacted without letting herself think about it, slipping out of her hiding place and dashing from tree to tree, following Connor. If he was hurt he would return to the camp. He would lead her there. He set a steady pace. She kept as far behind him as she could while still being able to see him, concentrating on being as silent as she could. It wasn’t easy. She was sure the pounding of her heart would give her away if nothing else.

  After about fifteen minutes a dull glow appeared through the forest. Madeline stopped, crouching behind a bush to catch her breath. The soft sound of conversations, horses naying, some sort of flute playing were just barely audible. She rocked back to sit on the ground relief pouring through her. Ethan’s camp.

  Now what?

  Once she’d caught her breath she took the dagger from her belt and pushed herself to stand. She had to find out where Jack and Simon were being held. Swallowing any fear she was tempted to have, she crept away from the bush and inched closer to the light that was the camp. Impatient as she was, it was essential that she take her time. The slower she moved the less likely she was to make noise or be noticed. She rounded a small hill and a sea of tents stretched out before her. A few fires danced between them with men and a few women sitting biding their time. The man with the flute played near one of the fires closer to where she stood while a few friends clapped along, slurping from mugs of ale. They weren’t looking for a spy in the dark but Madeline bent low and hid behind the nearest tree anyhow.

  The camp was bigger than she would have thought. There were more tents and more people than any reports had led her to believe. It was a village in the forest. Most of the tents were small but a few were large enough to hold several people if they needed to. She slipped to the next tree and the next, skirting the perimeter of the camp, looking for any place that might hold prisoners.

  “Where are you, Jack?” she whispered to herself, the cloth mask of the Bandit disguise muffling the sound.

  The smaller tents seemed to be clustered together. The larger tents stood apart. Some were closer to the center of the vast camp but others were further out. Would Jack and Simon be towards the center or near the edge?

  “Take that length of tapestry to my tent!” The order given in Lydia’s voice snapped Madeline’s back straight and her eyes wide. “And I want th
ose cushions that I saw in Wilmont’s tent as well.” She strode into sight along one of the paths that cut through two clusters of tents, a team of women following in her wake like ladies in waiting. “What’s wrong with you?”

  The man Connor stumbled into her path, hand still clutched to his face which Madeline could now see was bleeding heavily. The moment Connor saw Lydia he stumbled back in fear.

  “Ethan and his whelp came back, my lady,” his voice was far different than it had been when he had told Ethan off. “They tried to get around us but my men chased after them.”

  “And?” Lydia arched a brow, crossing her arms.

  “I got cut,” he lowered his head.

  “And what happened to Ethan and his man?”

  Connor shuffled his feet. “Don’t know, my lady. Gus and Pete ain’t come back yet.”

  “Well let me know when they do,” she tilted her head up and swished past him.

  “Yes, my lady,” Connor scraped a bow as she passed.

  Madeline ground her teeth as Lydia walked away, hips swaying, shoulders thrown back as if she owned the place. If there had been time she would have found something to do to the witch to wipe the smug grin off her face.

  Her glance tripped across one of the bigger tents several yards in from the edge of the camp. It was easily the size of a house and was guarded by four men that she could see. Her heart-rate doubled. Jack had to be in that tent. She sank deeper into the shadows and pulled the hood of her cloak closer over her head, tightening her grip on her dagger. She scanned the area between her and the tent. Other than the guards, a group of women sat around a fire, drinking from a fat jug and laughing. She could get around them, take the long way, but she would have to distract at least one of the guards to slip inside the tent.

  There was no time to come up with a perfect plan. Taking a deep breath she left the safety of the dark and skittered down the gentle slope. She paused when she reached the half-light, listening for any sign that she’d been heard. The women continued to cackle at their drunken conversation. She moved around the far side of the tent, eyes scanning the space between it and the next one before jumping through a patch of firelight to the next shadow. She crouched and listened. Still nothing.