The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  She continued on that way, dodging from shadow to shadow, dagger out, eyes sharp, watching for any sign of disturbance. Noises came from some of the tents, snoring, soft talking, grunts that she didn’t want to think about. By the time she reached the shadows beside the large, guarded tent she felt as though she had walked through a slice of a busy village. People were everywhere, separated from discovering her by nothing more than a length of canvas. And a length of canvas was all that separated her from Jack.

  The guard stationed at the side of the tent closest to her stood with his arms crossed, his head lowered and eyes closed. If she was lucky he was asleep standing up. She didn’t think she was that lucky.

  Thinking fast, she felt the ground around her, looking for a stone. She bumped one, picked it up, and with a swallowed prayer threw it over the tent. It landed with a clatter on the other side of the path. The guard didn’t even flinch.

  She let out an exasperated breath, biting her lip. Her hand found another stone. This time she lobbed it right at the guard. It bounced off his shin. He snorted and grumbled, standing straighter and dropping his arms. He’d been asleep after all and she’d missed her chance. She searched for another stone, found one, and threw it down the path with the first one. The guard turned his head towards the noise it made as it landed but thought no more about it.

  “Will you cut it out over there?” a grumbling voice came from the other side of the tent.

  “I didn’t do nothin’,” the guard hollered back.

  Madeline signed and slumped into the darkness. She glanced around for another idea, finding the dagger in her hand. Her face flushed as she realized what she could do. She stood straighter, twisting her head around to see if anyone was nearby. This section of the camp was quiet enough. Breathing to steady herself she retreated a few steps, creeping around to the tent where she’d heard the grunting. She crossed herself then stabbed the dagger into the canvas and pulled.

  “Hey!” a man shouted as his companion shrieked.

  Madeline jumped back, dashing into the shadows again. The man continued to shout and moments later he was out in the open, pulling on a pair of drawers.

  “What’s all this then?” the guard took the bait and marched away from his post to see what was wrong. He wasn’t the only one. Two other tent flaps opened and in seconds the commotion had spread.

  Madeline didn’t wait to see what they would do. She shot towards the large tent. The guard had left his post. She dove for the bottom of the canvas. It had been staked to the ground but she was able to wriggle under it. She rolled her legs under the wall as hurried footfalls thumped past.

  “What’s going on?” another voice demanded and was joined by more.

  She ignored them, twisting to squat inside the tent. “Jack!” she whispered, pulling the cloth down from her mouth.

  Her jaw dropped. Jack wasn’t there. What was there were tables stacked with jewelry, chests so full of coin purses that they wouldn’t close, and even a few gilt and gem-encrusted swords and shields. She fell to her backside as if the wind had been knocked out of her. There was enough treasure in the tent to buy Derbyshire ten times over.

  “Hail Madeline, full of grace, blessed art thou among women and blessed is each freckle on your face.”

  “My lord.”

  “Holy Madeline, never a nun, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.”

  “My lord.”

  “Hail Madeline, full of grace, blessed art thou among women-”

  “MY LORD.”

  “-and blessed is each freckle on your face.”

  “My lord you really need to stop.”

  “Holy Madeline, never a nun, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.”

  “Please stop, my lord.”

  “Hail Madeline, full of grace-”

  “Jack! Shut up!”

  Jack’s head jerked forward. He sucked in a breath and lifted it, looking around in the blackness but seeing nothing, even when he blinked. “Huh?”

  “You were muttering,” Simon informed him, his voice tight and hoarse.

  “Was I?” He made a move to turn towards Simon but the ropes stung against his chafed skin. He was too weak to twist more than a few inches anyhow. “God I need a drink!”

  “Be patient. She won’t let us die like this.”

  “Yeah? You think so?” Jack panted, “’cuz I’m not so sure, mate.” He swallowed, coughing at his dry throat.

  “She needs us alive.”

  “She needs a lot of things if you ask me,” he grumbled, thumping his head against the tent post and staring up at the canvas ceiling. The tent was pitch black but for a few spots of light shining through tears like a starry sky. It was getting bloody cold too as they sat in little more than the skin God gave them.

  Jack blinked as the gears in his mind finally turned. “Oy, no offense, mate, but what’s Lydia need you for?”

  Simon heaved a sigh that jolted the ropes. “It’s a long story.”

  “Don’t know if you noticed,” Jack drawled, “but we got time for long stories.”

  “I would rather not talk about it.”

  “Bloody hell, Simon! Give us a break here! We’re tied together to this ruddy tent post, we’re both starvin’ and thirsty, neither of us are goin’ anywhere and you’re keepin’ secrets? What’s so God-awful that you can’t spill it, mate?”

  “I would rather not say, my lord.”

  “Wanker!” He flexed into the ropes and was only slightly satisfied when Simon grunted in pain. It caused him just as much pain to inflict it.

  A deep silence fell. Outside the forest folks were tucking in for the night. Jack could hear voices here and there, the sound of a flute and clapping at the edge of his hearing. He’d heard Lydia’s voice once or twice during the long day giving orders to the guards whose shadows he had been able to see along all four sides of the tent when there was still light. He wasn’t sure if all of those guards were still in place now or if they even needed to be. Tom had come by hours ago and was roughed up and sent away with a black eye by the sound of things. He’d earned one himself for shouting out to his brother. No one had entered the tent or so much as raised their voice around it since.

  “I wanna go home,” Jack indulged in the most pitiful complaint he could think of. His head ached and he was so hungry even thinking about food made him want to cry, so he saw no shame in it.

  “Do you see Kedleridge as your home?”

  “’Course I do,” he sighed, flexing his back and squeezing his hand around the crucifix still dangling there. “Kedleridge is the best place ever, mate. The orchard is heaven right now, the people are all so crackin’. They’ve all been so kind to me, total cock-up that I am at being a lord. I’ve never loved anything so much at first sight. ’Cept Madeline.” He closed his eyes and conjured the image of her as she’d looked the morning he ran with her through the orchard in the rain.

  “You are a total cock-up as a noble.” Simon’s pert reply burst his thoughts.

  “Oy, thanks for the show of support, mate,” he laughed. He was too light-headed not to laugh.

  “But you don’t have to be.”

  “You figure?” He twisted as carefully as he could, only managing to see the outline of Simon’s shoulder in the dark.

  “You are clever, Jack. I’ve seen you make good decisions about the estate without the experience to know what you’re doing. I’ve heard people talk about you as Bailiff of Derby, common people, not nobles. They admire you, look up to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You were one of them who was raised up. You could have abused that position but instead you have used it to bring order and improve the lives of the common man.”

  “That was Crispin too.” A wash of modesty passed through him. “I follow his orders is all.”

  Simon shook his head. “That’s not what I hear. The people of Derby and the surrounding manors know that the earl delegates authority to you and that man
y of the changes in the last several months were your idea.”

  Jack let out a breath, staring forward at nothing. “I’m just doin’ my job, mate.”

  “Exactly. Too many men in positions of authority do not do their jobs. You are an utter failure as a noble that way.”

  Simon’s words settled heavily in his gut. “Yeah, but there’s some nobles who aren’t as bad as all that. Crispin for one. And Aubrey’s brother Geoffrey was alright. An’ there was this bloke, Lord Jarvis, who stood up for me at the council.”

  “I’m not denying that there are good men out there, my lord. It’s just that Derbyshire has seen so few of them in the last ten years.”

  Simon didn’t elaborate. He’d given Jack too much to chew on anyhow. Here he’d spent all this time worried about fitting in with the nobs when all he should have been worried about was doing his job.

  “I been thinkin’, Simon,” he turned his head as best he could. “What you said earlier. Your ma was the housekeeper at Kedleridge. You never mentioned anything about your dad.” Simon’s back went tense. “It was Lord Hugh, wasn’t it.”

  It took a long time for Simon to admit, “It was.”

  “So d’ya think that if Prince John hadn’t given me Kedleridge … it would’ve gone to you?”

  “I am a bastard. My mother was a peasant.”

  “Yeah, but did Lord Hugh have any other kids?” The silence that followed was all the answer Jack needed. “Shit, mate. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing any of us can do about it now,” Simon sighed.

  Jack was ready to argue the point when voices were raised outside. “My lady,” the guards called out. One of their backsides brushed against the tent as he bowed.

  “Have they been keeping quiet?” Lydia asked.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  A moment later the tent flap parted and Lydia ducked into the darkness, a lantern in her hand. “Oof!” She wrinkled her nose and fanned a hand in front of her face. “It stinks in here.”

  “Now it does,” Jack growled.

  “Jack, don’t,” Simon muttered.

  Jack nodded.

  “I’ve come to see if you’ve thought more about my proposal,” Lydia smiled, the lamp in her hand casting sharp shadows across her face.

  Jack didn’t answer. He stared straight forward as Simon was.

  Lydia’s smile faltered. “I came to see if you wanted to come with me.” She sidled closer to Jack, bending to slide a hand along his shoulder. “I have a bath waiting for you, a lovely roast chicken, some potatoes and vegetables. A tall jug of ice cool water just brought up from the stream.” He clenched his jaw to fight off the temptation. “Some lovely, soft cushions. You lost heart for it the other night, but I’m sure I can convince you you’ll have a good time in my bed.”

  Jack clenched the crucifix in his palm, reciting Hail Madeline, full of grace, in his mind to block out her words.

  “I see.” She straightened with a huff. “You’ve been listening to him, haven’t you. Well he’s a liar.” She crossed her arms. “Don’t let him fool you. He was just as willing as I was.”

  It was all Jack could do to keep his face blank. The pieces of Simon’s life were as big a puzzle as he ever wanted to encounter.

  “What? He didn’t tell you we were lovers?” Lydia went on.

  “We were no such thing,” Simon’s will to stay silent faltered.

  She ignored his protest. “We could have been so much more if you’d just-”

  She snapped her mouth closed, grimacing over whatever memory had turned her sour. Jack hoped Simon had done something particularly nasty to her.

  Lydia shook the past off and bent close to Jack again. “Of course, the longer you hold out the harder it will be for you,” she smiled. “And I’m very good at making things hard.” Her throaty laugh sent a chill down his back. She straightened and turned to walk away. “By the way,” she turned back. “I saw your precious Madeline in the forest this morning.” Jack’s heart leapt and he whipped to face her in spite of himself. “With your brother. I’d say he’s quite smitten.” She smiled one last time and left the tent.

  Jack snapped his eyes forward, panting as his heart dropped to his feet.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hey! Boy! Get away from there!”

  Madeline jumped away from the treasure tent, tripping over her cloak as she fled into the dark. She dodged around a few of the smaller tents until she was sure the guard wasn’t chasing her. Her hood had fallen back but she didn’t bother to set it right. Her hands were shaking too hard.

  She still couldn’t believe what she’d seen. So much gold and so many jewels in one place was unimaginable. Without much light to see by she’d had to touch it all, pick pieces up and squint at them to be sure it was what she thought it was. That tent held a small fortune, picked piece by piece by Ethan’s outlaws in the months that they had been active. She never would have guessed it possible, but the proof was right there. The tent held a king’s ransom.

  But it hadn’t held Jack.

  She took a deep breath and settled the hood over her head again as she skipped to the next shadow. There had to be another guarded tent somewhere in the camp. Caught between the paths she had no way to find it but to wander and search. It was next to impossible to get a good look at anything crouched in the dark. The forest people were settling, but plenty of them were still awake, going about whatever business they had. She bit her lip and made a decision.

  Heart pounding, she stood straight, rolled her shoulders, and stepped out of the shadows. She walked forward at an easy pace, cutting through the clusters of tents as though she belonged there. Her heart dropped to her stomach when a man and woman crossed in front of her as she rounded a corner. They were laughing and more interested in each other than her. She nodded. The woman saw her but walked past without a backward glance.

  Madeline let out a breath and hurried on. She had to stand on tip-toe to see over many of the tents although a few were nothing more than canvas stretched over poles. She passed another larger tent, but it was unguarded and the lanterns inside cast as silhouette of a fat woman on the wall. Another man walked right in front of her without blinking. Her confidence grew.

  “If he doesn’t break by tomorrow I want you to find some salt and dump it over him.”

  The sound of Lydia’s voice sent Madeline diving for the nearest shadow. She flattened herself in the dirt at the base of a canvas wall as Lydia turned the corner. Roderick was with her.

  “I could find some pepper and blow it in his eyes as well,” he relished the idea. “Father too.”

  “No, don’t hurt him.” To Madeline’s dread they stopped yards away from her. Lydia turned Roderick to face her. “I think we can win Lord John with pain, but I know your father, Roderick, and believe me, pain doesn’t work with him.”

  “Nothing works on him,” Roderick sounded surprisingly glum. “Cold bastard.”

  “Now, now,” Lydia shifted to put an arm around his shoulder, “he’s not as cold as you think. Hard, yes, but not cold. You leave him to me.” They continued down the path.

  “Why did you have to leave, Aunt Lydia. Everything would have been so much better if you’d stayed.”

  Madeline didn’t get to hear the witch’s answer. They turned a corner. She jumped to her feet and rushed to put as much space as she could between them.

  As she dashed around a corner she ran headlong into someone. “Sorry!” she whispered, the wind knocked out of her.

  The man who she’d run into continued to hold her. “Madeline?” She glanced up into Tom’s worried face. “What are you doing here?”

  “Tom! Where is Jack? Which tent are they keeping him in?”

  He didn’t answer her. Instead he marched her down a side path, hand still clamped firmly on her arm. “You can’t be here. It’s too dangerous,” he muttered.

  They reached a tent that looked no different from any of the others. Tom pushed aside the flap and shoved her ins
ide. He let go when the flap shut and fumbled to light a lamp. As the wick flared Madeline glanced around. The tent held a bedroll, a stuffed pack, and a stool.

  “Is this your tent?”

  “Yes. If I didn’t think it was too dangerous I would take you back to Derby Castle myself right now,” he charged on when she opened her mouth to reply. “As it is you should stay right here tonight. When Ethan gets back in the morning-”

  “Ethan’s not coming back.”

  His eyes popped wide in alarm. “What?”

  She shifted to kneel in front of him. “I saw him and Toby when I was looking for the camp earlier. A man, Connor, and two men with him intercepted Ethan. Connor cut Ethan’s arm and Toby slashed his face. Then the other two men chased them away. I think … I think Lydia is behind it.”

  Tom hissed and dropped his head. “I knew this would happen.”

  “We have to go get Jack and Simon and get out of here,” she tried to get to her feet.

  Tom reached out and stopped her, shaking his head. “You can’t. Not right now. They’re being held on the other side of the camp. Last I checked four men were guarding them, mean ones. Men who never liked Ethan much to begin with. And Lydia’s given orders that I’m to be stopped if I’m seen anywhere near there.”

  “Were they given orders to stop the Derbywood Bandit?” Her eyes flashed with defiance.

  He blinked and studied her outfit, seeing it for the first time. “Does Aubrey know about this?” She shook her head. “Does anybody know you’re here?” She bit her lip and shook her head again. Tom rubbed a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. “Madeline, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “You don’t know what you’re up against.”

  “Then tell me!” She surged forward, grasping Tom’s arms. “Help me rescue him.”

  He sighed. “You don’t understand. That’s all I’ve been thinking about since the moment Roderick caught Jack in the first place. There’s just too many of them and not enough of us.”