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“She swears on the Holy Bible that she is not, and I am forced to agree with her,” William replied. “In hindsight, I do not believe her to be the spying sort. I may be wrong, but I do not think so. And neither does my wife.”

De Longley’s eyes snapped up to him. “And how does your wife fare through this?”

William’s face took on a completely miserable expression that caught the earl off guard. “Not well, my lord. Not well at all.”

De Longley waited for him to elaborate but when he didn’t, he continued on. “And what does this woman say about our ‘secret?’”

“She says she cares not, that she only wishes to serve my wife. She is most insistent about it,” his captain replied.

The earl sat heavily behind his desk, folding his hands thoughtfully. He was silent for several long minutes, during which time William had poured himself two large cups of wine and drank them both. Paris had settled himself on the window seat while Kieran leaned against the wall by the door. All of them were waiting for the earl to make a decision, and William was greatly relieved that it was no longer his to make.

“I am not an advocate of murder, William,” de Longley finally said. “If this were a clear case of malicious spying, then there would be no question of execution. However, the girl’s denials cast a doubt on the charges. If you say she is not a spy, and if you believe she will not divulge the information she has acquired, then I am in favor of allowing her to live.”

William nodded silently, watching de Longley’s tired, old face. “As you wish, my lord.”

“And I furthermore believe she should be allowed to continue to serve your wife,” the earl looked at him. “For various reasons, the first being that you will better be able to keep a watchful eye on the woman. And secondly, because Lady de Wolfe wishes it. This situation may not be as devastating as we believe, at least I hope not. But I will leave the final decision up to you.”

William held his gaze a moment. “If you believe it wise, then I will agree.”

De Longley nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Where is the woman?”

“Still in the cellar,” William answered.

“Release her then, but warn her,” the earl instructed. “And not a word of this to anyone else. This predicament goes no further than these walls.”

“Aye, my lord,” William replied formally. Paris and Kieran stood tall from their slouches, knowing the conversation had concluded and the decision had been made. The earl was starting to speak again when there was a soft rap at the closed door, and Kieran opened it.

Michael stood in the doorway, his gaze seeking out William. “M-my lord, your wife has just ridden from Northwood with Father Sutton.”

“She what?” William boomed.

The earl was on his feet. “I sent Father Sutton up to your wife’s chambers, William, so she could help him with the mass. They were to work on it in the privacy of her bower.”

“She was locked in her bedchamber,” William said, and suddenly let out a hissing sigh. “Damn, he must have let her out.”

“Was Jemma with them?” Kieran asked Michael.

The big man nodded. “Aye, she was.”

William slapped a hand to his head in unbelievable frustration. “Is it possible she is seeking sanctuary?”

“Sanctuary? For what?” the earl demanded.

William’s hand fell back to his side. He was having difficulty grasping events as they unfolded. “She was hysterical about Aloria,” he said, distressed. “She knew my intentions and she fought fiercely to defend the woman. I can only assume that she is angry enough to try and escape me.”

The earl shook his head. Great Gods, life had been so simple before the addition of beautiful Lady Jordan. Now he could barely keep track of current events as they happened.

“Go and get her, lad; waste no time.” He waved his knights on. “And not a word to anyone. Great Gods, I can only pray Henry does not catch wind of the goings on around here. And bring her back before the feast tonight.”

The knights were gone, jogging out of the castle to the knights’ quarters, donning the rest of their battle armor and ordering horses saddled and brought around. William, Paris, Kieran and Michael were joined by Ranulf and Deinwald as they mounted up.

“Who in the hell was in charge of the gate and let her through?” William demanded angrily to everyone, anyone.

“Jason had the wall, my lord,” Ranulf replied. “But the gates were open and she was gone before he could stop her.”

Lewis approached his captain from his position on the inner wall, wondering what was going on. William slapped his helmet on and stabbed a finger at the young knight.

“Lewis, tell Marc that he is in charge until I return,” he commanded. “Round up Corin and Adam and tell them I want security tightened and the gates closed immediately. We’ve the bloody king to protect.” Hell, if his wife was able to slip out, then who would be able to slip in? He was angry at the lack of security; and angry at everything.