Page 17

Elizabeth gaped at him. “But I didn’t⁠—”

“And now you dare to speak back to me.”

Milburn took several steps closer, as if to impress on her by his height and scowl that he was her master.

“I ordered you to see to the needs of our guests.”

They were “guests” now, not just stranded travelers? Elizabeth thought with suspicion.

“If you cannot see to your mistress in a more timely manner, then I will assign a guard to accompany you to the tower. Do I make myself clear?”

Keeping her eyes lowered, Elizabeth nodded. To her shock, Milburn took the tray from her hands and threw it across the room, where it clattered to the floor, spreading its contents. The few servants stared in shock, while the soldiers guffawed. She felt frightened to be the center of so much attention, so very vulnerable. She had thought the plan to exchange places was smart, but now she saw that, as a maid, she was still at the mercy of others.

Milburn folded his arms over his chest, not even bothering to gloat. Impassively, he said, “Now clean that, and then see to Sir John. As a bailiff, he is a valuable man, one I might find a place for.”

“Aye, Master Milburn.” Elizabeth saw the threat for what it was. Milburn would use every means possible to keep her busy and away from the tower. What would she do if he assigned someone else to serve Anne in her place? Elizabeth could not afford to anger him again.

Five

When someone knocked on the door that afternoon, John exchanged a glance with Philip, who quickly got back on his pallet. He’d been observing the inner ward through the window, narrating for John, who felt restless and bored, something he wasn’t used to. By lucky coincidence, the tiltyard was within sight, and they could assess the knights training and count their numbers.

When Philip was ready, John called, “Come in.”

It was the maid Anne. John watched her walk through the room, admiring the graceful way she moved. She kept her eyes downcast, and he thought a faint blush lingered on her cheeks. He wished even a strand of hair had escaped her wimple, so that he could form a better picture of her, but she was all done up tightly.

She carried two tankards of ale that she set on the table between them. When she finally looked at him, he smiled at her.

Her eyes widened, and then she covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

John blinked in surprise. “Not the greeting I expected.”

“If you could see the swelling on your face, Sir John,” she said in a melodious voice that struggled to hide amusement, “you would understand.”

John frowned at Philip, who shrugged and said, “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“You have two black eyes,” John pointed out.

“And your bruises have swollen to interesting shapes as they take on the many hues of a rainbow,” Philip said.

Philip glanced at Anne, who gave him back a curious glance.

“You speak very freely to your master,” she said.

“I have given him permission,” John explained. “We have always traveled much together, and the constant politeness and reserve grew boring.”

“He can be reserved?” Anne asked, wearing a faint smile.

“I am quite a serious fellow,” Philip insisted.

John sensed that he had captured her amusement for a very brief time, and that already her thoughts were turning to the dilemma that faced her mistress. She was glancing at the door in worry.

“You are forced to be here with us?” John asked.

Her gaze darted back to him in surprise—and then anger, with a trace of fear.

“Forgive me, Anne,” he said before she could speak. “I did not mean you to think that I would ever consider reporting anything you did to the steward. It is Alderley’s steward you fear, is it not?”

“He’s not our steward.” Her face paled, as she seemed to realize what she’d said.