by Kim Allred
AJ jumped up at Jeanne's weakening stance. A trip to the countryside was just what she needed. There might be French patrols, but she could stay in the background, head down, minding her own business if they were confronted along the road. "You don't send the women on their own, do you?"
The cook looked appalled. "Of course not. Luis will go with this next group."
"What if I promise to be quiet and not get in the way? I might be able to help with herbs and such." AJ was stretching her abilities, but she'd watched Maire work magic on basic cuts and scrapes. She felt comfortable enough to help with the simple stuff.
"We could use a hand. There are two pregnant women who need to be checked on." Jeanne shook her head. "Sebastian won't be happy."
"I'll deal with any repercussions from Sebastian."
Two hours later, AJ sprawled in the back of the cart, grinning from ear to ear as the unexpected winter sun warmed her face. She breathed in the smell of earth, grass, and the remnants of an evening rain. Two older women and three young women chattered in French, with AJ only able to pick up a word or phrase. Once at the farm, she spent her time with the children, helping with salves and ointments, taking instruction from one of the older women who AJ deduced was the nurse at the monastery.
The families spoke French and English, so she was able to converse easily with the children. She found it difficult to watch how they lived and not be able to help them more than she had. On the way home, she worried about whether they would survive the war.
They were an hour from the monastery when three men on horseback approached, traveling from the direction of town. Luis made the women tuck AJ toward the back of the cart, partially hidden under a blanket. Luis didn't slow until the soldiers drew nearer and forced him to stop by blocking the road.
Huddled beneath the blanket, AJ stayed quiet and monitored the faces of the two youngest women. Their huge eyes made AJ want to drag them under the cover with her so they could all hide. She couldn't understand the conversation between Luis and the soldiers, but she understood the tone. The slurring of speech meant the soldiers had been drinking most of the morning, and only one man stood between the soldiers and the terrified women.
She reached into her pocket and opened the hidden pouch, her hand gripping the dagger. The pounding of her heart sounded like war drums in her head as the men approached the cart. They peered into the near-empty wagon, the baskets gone in exchange for half of a freshly slaughtered lamb. The families had been too proud to take from the monastery without some form of trade.
Luis bristled, his tone harsh when one of the soldiers played with the scarf around one of the youngest woman's neck. AJ caught enough of the soldier's expression to know what was on his mind. Concern for the women outweighed her own safety, but Finn had taught her patience, and she waited to see if the situation would resolve on its own. The soldier worked his way from woman to woman, finally reaching AJ. She kept her head down, and when the soldier lifted her chin to get a better look, she kept her eyes downcast. Based on the lilt in his voice, he'd asked her a question, but she didn't understand. She kept her mouth shut, willing him to go away as she tightened her fingers on the hilt.
One of the older women spoke with frantic harsh words as she pulled the blanket over AJ. The soldier appeared confused and then undecided. He shrugged and turned toward one of the younger women. When he grabbed her wrist, she screamed. AJ drew her dagger, but Luis caught the man's arm. When the second soldier roughly pulled Luis away, Luis swung and hit the man square in the jaw. The man fell. The first soldier swung his sword, hitting Luis in the back with its broad side, sending the young man sprawling into the dirt.
The third man stepped forward as if he'd waited long enough for his turn. He appeared ready to give Luis a beat-down while the other two soldiers advanced on the cart. AJ readied herself, waiting for the men to get closer. She'd have to wait for them to do something before she'd be close enough to make an impact.
Suddenly, a shout yelled above thundering hooves. The soldiers stopped when they saw who approached and ran back to their horses. Words flew in frenzied French, and Luis stood, brushing himself off, his shouting the loudest of them all. The women had pushed AJ back down so she could only listen. When the horses stormed off and the cart began to roll, AJ slid the dagger back into its pouch.
She pushed the blanket away to find two of the young women crying as they were consoled by the others. Her own nerves were rattled, and a new understanding became apparent. Soldiers at war with idle hands made for dangerous men. Would the same be true in England?
By the time they reached the monastery and got the frightened girls to the kitchen for hot tea mixed with calming herbs, AJ was mentally exhausted. Sebastian hadn't returned, though it was almost time for dinner. She stayed in the kitchen, sipping a mug of ale that Jeanne was thoughtful enough to suggest. Her mind raced as she sorted through her options, but only one kept resurfacing.
While everyone was busy repeating the events of their perilous journey, AJ tiptoed from the room and hurried down to the tunnels. She eyed the two men at the door, and taking a deep breath, spoke quickly and decisively, brooking no argument. They shook their heads but allowed her to pass.
She knocked once, then opened the door.
Beckworth sat on the bed, back against the wall, reading a book. She idly wondered what he was reading. His restraints had been removed, and his complexion appeared healthy. He glanced up before taking a second look, clearly surprised to see her.
His smile was more of a sneer. She understood. She had stabbed him and then repeatedly kicked him. Not that he hadn't deserved that and more, and she swallowed her tinge of guilt. Squaring her shoulders, she strode in, shutting the door behind her, leaving the men in the hall.
He quirked a brow, and after carefully marking his place, set down the book. "Now what do I owe for the pleasure of your company, Miss Moore?"
She glanced around the barren room before glaring down at him. "It's time to discuss our next steps."
He looked bored and waited patiently.
"I have a proposition for you."
He said nothing, but her stomach twisted when she noticed the sparkle dancing in his eyes.
Beckworth paced the room, which had to be making him dizzy with his long strides and the minuscule dimensions of the room. AJ dragged the room's only chair to the other side of the chamber, waiting for him to either laugh in her face or angrily toss her out. She was betting on the risk-taker in him overshadowing his irritation with her stabbing him—again.
After several tense moments, he stopped and turned to her.
"Let me get this straight." He leaned against the wall, beads of sweat shining on his brow. His pacing had been the most exercise he'd gotten since the jump, and it was obvious he'd need more time to get his full strength back. He would barely make it to the iron door without stopping several times to catch his breath.
His gaze was steadfast, and he lazily scratched at his wound. "You want me to be your traveling companion through England. Am I posing as your betrothed or your older brother?"
She stared at him, already questioning her sanity, but without Finn or Ethan, she wasn't left with much choice. She wouldn't scavenge off Jamie's crew. "Your role is my bodyguard, nothing more and nothing less. And we're not vacationing through the countryside. I need to get to Hereford. I understand why you won't agree to that, so I'm not asking." She poured tea for two and waved at the bed. "Sit before you fall down. You're not impressing anyone."
Beckworth hesitated. He was either waiting for the strength to stumble the two paces it required to sit or wanted to prove he wasn't ready to melt into a puddle. She patiently waited until he was seated on his bed before handing him the mug.
"I'm asking for escort as far as Waverly. I'm not sure where we'll dock in England, but I doubt it will be too far north. Even if it's close to Bristol, Waverly isn't far from my path to Hereford."
He drank his tea, once again making her wait. Sh
e understood the game, and she sat back with her own tea.
"What are your plans at Waverly?" His bland expression never changed.
"Surveillance." She met his gaze and held it. "Nothing more. If you want to go in and play viscount again, I don't care. I only want to confirm whether Maire is there." She fingered the end of her wrap. "But if she is there, I would expect you to release her. If you choose not to do that, the knowledge that she's there is all I need."
"And then once in Hereford, you'll bring the earl's men to force her rescue." His tone didn't hold judgment. He seemed to be working through the rules.
She shrugged. "If Maire is there against her will, what do you think?"
He studied her, and once again reached for his wound and scratched. She had no doubt he trusted her with as much faith as she placed in him.
Then he laughed. Not a chuckle or an evil guffaw, but a deep belly laugh that made him shake as he doubled over, drops of tea splashing on the bed. He had to set the mug down before spilling it. She was ready to release her own laugh, but it was more of the hysterical type. She flicked a glance to the door, wondering what the men outside must think.
They had both lost their minds.
Once Beckworth cleared the tears from his face, he picked up his tea and slurped it down. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. "How far we've come, you and I." He repositioned himself on the bed to make himself taller. "But it's obvious we have a common goal. If you can find me passage to England, then it only seems fair I do my part by getting us to Waverly." He tugged at his shirt sleeve and AJ winced, the gesture reminding her of who she was making a deal with—the devil himself.
He smiled. It wasn't a leer; it was his pleasant smile. The smile he showed to his invited guests while greeting them in the halls of Waverly. "We have a deal. If Maire is there, and it's within my power, she'll be released. Otherwise, I'll expect you'll travel on to Hereford and return with the earl's army in tow."
And there it was. A deal she couldn't trust but had no other choice than to make.
She stood, happy to let her irritation with him slip out. "You need to ask Sebastian about getting some exercise. You're sweating like a pig, and at this point, won't be able to stumble down the hall to get to the ship. Or worse, you'll break your neck on the stairs, and I'll have to find a new bodyguard. I imagine you have a day, two at the most. Make them useful."
When she opened the door, his chuckle made her turn for a last look.
He leaned against the wall, arms folded against his chest. "Don't worry, love," he said in his best cockney English. "You and me make quite the right pair. They'll never see us coming." He winked as she shut the door on his mocking smile.
She nodded at the two men outside his door and rushed down the hall, eager to put distance between her and Beckworth. She might have her bodyguard, but it was like having a rattlesnake at her side, ready to strike at the slightest provocation. He'd have his own plan, and he'd only work with her as long as their goals aligned. Her spidey sense nagged.
His last statement bothered her. He said he'd release Maire if it was within his power. Why wouldn't it be in his power if he was the viscount? Beckworth knew or suspected something but wasn't sharing. She may have made a deal with the devil, but would she discover again, as she had with the duke, that he was only a bishop and not a king?
7
Three days earlier
Finn rolled across the sodden grass, and Ethan dropped beside him. When they came to a stop, they staggered before standing.
"What were you thinking?" Ethan yelled as the fog dissipated. "That was cutting it close."
"That doesn't get any easier the more times we do it." Finn bent over, waiting for the nausea to subside. "I had to get both duffels. You said I'd have five minutes."
"I said maybe five minutes. Maybe. I don't believe we're working with exact science here."
"There must be some science to it unless you have Irish blood and believe in the wee folk." Finn peered through the rain, assessing their surroundings.
"This rain may work to our benefit if we've ended up in France instead of England. I don't recognize the landscape."
Finn nodded. "Not many will be out in this weather, but it doesn't help with determining which way north is."
They gathered their duffels and ran to an outcropping to get out of the rain.
"Were you able to say anything to Stella before running for me?" Ethan pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and checked the duffel for damage.
"No. I just ran when the fog returned. I figured she'd understand."
"I noticed Adam was still holding Isaiah back."
Finn nodded. "I'm sure he remembers when AJ and I left with the ship, and then a couple minutes later, obviously not five, you disappeared."
"Am I going to have to listen to your complaints during our entire mission?"
Finn shrugged as he searched the duffel for a knife and his pistol. "Depends on how long it takes to find a place to get dry and evaluate our situation."
Ethan turned his head. Finn tensed, ready to run or attack, but Ethan shook his head. Finn ruffled through his bag but kept his attention on Ethan's movements, his knife at the ready.
With speed Finn hadn't expected from Ethan, the man jumped up and raced around the outcropping, his boots silent in the mud and wet grass. A few minutes later, he returned, dragging a squirming boy by his collar.
"Settle down. I'm not going to hurt you." Ethan grabbed the boy's arm and tried to make him stand still.
Finn repeated the command in French, and the boy stopped his struggles. "Do you speak English?" he asked in French.
The boy shrugged.
Finn glanced at Ethan with a look of annoyance. "Damn Beckworth and his old incantation."
"I suppose the next question," Ethan responded, still not ready to let the boy go, "is to find out how far away we are from the monastery."
At that, the boy lifted his head.
Ethan and Finn shared a glance, then spun on their heels when the sheep bleated.
"A shepherd boy." Finn noticed Ethan's grip lighten. The boy's struggles seemed to have been replaced by curiosity.
The boy looked nervously between the men but said nothing.
Finn squatted and ruffled the boy's hair, earning a scowl from the lad as he stood taller. Finn chuckled. "So, it's a young man we've stumbled upon."
The boy seemed to like that, and with a quick glance at Ethan, he nodded.
"Well, then. If you promise to sit and talk with us like men, we'll let you go. Agreed?"
After a few seconds, the boy nodded and relaxed his shoulders.
Finn sat then glared at Ethan, pointing at a spot across from him, until Ethan relented and released the boy's arm. Ethan sat across from Finn as requested, leaving a space on either side for the boy to sit. The boy would be within reach of either man should he decide to bolt. Finn hoped a little mutual trust would go farther than bullying.
When the boy continued standing, Finn thought for a moment then scrounged in his duffel again. The boy stepped back, but Finn held up his hand in a gesture to wait. The boy held his ground.
Finn slipped out an energy bar and broke it into three pieces. He handed one to Ethan, who immediately took a bite, then offered a piece to the boy. "My name is Finn, and this is my friend, Ethan. What's your name?"
The boy hesitantly took the offered food, sniffed it, then took a small bite. His eyes lit up, then seeming to realize his mistake, tried to frown, but it was hard to hide his persistent dimples. After he swallowed, he whispered, "Michel."
Ethan nodded. "A strong name."
With that, Michel sat with the men, his back to the rocks.
Finn handed out small portions of cheese, bread, and nuts. They remained in silence as they ate and sized each other up. A sheep bleated, and they all glanced around. When Michel settled back, so did Finn and Ethan. The boy would have fled had there been danger.
After several minutes passed, Fin
n attempted to gather some information. "We've lost our way and need to get to the monastery. We're friends of the monk there."
Michel studied each of them, still wary, and Finn could only guess at what the boy must be thinking. He and Ethan had materialized through the fog, showing up out of nowhere. But the monastery meant something to Michel, enough for him to have the courage to sit with them and learn more.
Ethan pulled out a bottle of water and drank, handing the strange bottle to the boy. Michel studied the bottle then took a sip. Then he guzzled.
Finn smiled at Ethan. They were getting somewhere.
"Our friend's name is Sebastian," Ethan tried. "He would be very happy to see us."
"How do you know Brother Sebastian?" Michel scratched his foot, but his flinty stare remained suspicious.
Finn thought about it. "This might seem a strange question, but what year is it?"
The boy stared. "It's been almost a year since the war started."
Ethan looked around. "This could be early spring, but with the chill, I'd say a month or two earlier. Probably six months since I left, give or take."
Finn turned to Michel. "We met him a year ago, before the war."
The boy tilted his head, then dropped it as he ran his fingers through the soft, muddy dirt. When he lifted his head, his expression was filled with such defiance, Finn almost scooted back. "That was when the bad man was there."
Finn laughed out loud, making the boy jump. "Yes. We helped Sebastian chase the bad man away."
