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Thrill of the Knight

Page 8

by Gayle Callen

John rolled into his blanket and fell asleep. It was Ogden’s and Parker’s turn at the watch through the night, and John trusted their care. In the morning, the stranger was already gone, though both soldiers swore they’d heard nothing.

As Philip folded his blanket, he said, “Of course they heard nothing, John. The Bladesmen are famous for their ability to appear and disappear in absolute silence.”

“Men like you spread rumors that become legends,” said John good-naturedly.

“What rumor? ’Tis the truth!”

John only shook his head and continued to pack up their possessions. When the other three were finished, they looked at John expectantly.

“I have a plan,” he said calmly. “Without an army, we cannot demand the return of Lady Elizabeth, so Ogden and Parker, you two will be charged with locating the Alderley soldiers. Together we can rescue their mistress. But we need to know her situation, to better understand how. We’ll have to disguise ourselves to enter Castle Alderley.”

Philip cocked an eyebrow. “And how would we do that, and still be allowed to remain within the castle? After all, Bannaster’s men are bound to be suspicious of newcomers, since they have a woman locked in a tower.”

“But they also cannot afford to seem at war. Surely Lord Bannaster wants to show the king that with him in command, Castle Alderley is in good hands.”

“Then we would be entering as travelers,” Philip continued with a grin. “Wouldn’t we be expected to eat a meal, then leave?”

“Aye, so we must make it obvious that we cannot leave.”

All three men frowned at him.

John sighed as if disappointed in them. “We’ll be suffering injuries from an attack by thieves.”

Philip blinked. “An attack?”

“If we’re wounded, they cannot in good conscience send us away.”

“But—”

John looked at Ogden and Parker. “I’ll need the two of you to make camp nearby and locate the Alderley army. If something happens to Philip and me, you will both need to go to the king. You’ll be Lady Elizabeth’s last hope.”

They nodded solemnly.

“And you and I will fake injuries,” Philip said skeptically. “How long could that last?”

“You’re right,” John said, trying not to smile. “We could not fool anyone for long with fake injuries. So they’ll have to be real.” He again looked at Ogden and Parker. “We’ll need to look quite bruised. I think it best to have one leg so swollen that I can claim it broken. But no real broken bones, as we might need to fight.”

All three men gaped at him.

John laughed. “Have you not wanted to take out your anger on me? Now is your chance.”

“They’re not angry at me!” Philip protested.

Ogden harrumphed. “So think you.”

Three

On the second day of her new identity, Elizabeth awoke wrapped in a blanket, feeling cold and achy and disoriented. She sat up stiffly and heard the crackle of a straw pallet beneath her instead of her soft stuffed mattress. It took her a moment to realize where she had spent the night—in the kitchen, warm before the fire, safe from all of those who slept together in the great hall. It had been Adalia the cook’s idea, when Elizabeth had discovered that she wasn’t permitted to sleep at Anne’s bedside. Frantic with worry, Elizabeth had wanted to sleep at the base of the tower, in case Bannaster tried to get to Anne, but Adalia had insisted that Castle Alderley’s soldiers would let no one in the tower without a fight.

Elizabeth drew her knees to her chest and huddled against the wall. For just a moment, fear tried to overcome her, creeping into her mind, poisoning her self-assurance. She felt so very alone. She hadn’t even had time to properly mourn her parents or her betrothed. Everything she thought she’d anticipated for her life was gone.

But she still had her own wits to make it through this trial, and she could count on nothing else, not even the next Russell heir, her betrothed. She rose to her feet, smoothing down her skirts and readjusting the wimple to cover her hair. She had to keep going, to remember that her people needed her. Anne needed her. Elizabeth had only been allowed to see her at meals yesterday, and she seemed to be doing well.

Adalia, the cook, bustled into the kitchens and began to order the maids to work. She was short and thin, frail-looking for a woman who cooked, but she was full of energy and in command of her domain. When the fires were tended and the cauldrons of barley pottage began to heat, Adalia came to Elizabeth and put her arm around her shoulders.

“And you, Mistress Anne,” she said with a wink, “did ye sleep well?”

“I did, Adalia, my thanks. It was warm and safe in here.” Elizabeth lowered her voice. “Do you think word of my new identity has spread far enough today? I need to be in the great hall, seeing the weaknesses of our enemy.”