Luck, for her, had run out.
Owen and his men had been waiting since before dawn for the king’s army to fully depart.
Several companies of men had already moved along the road, mercenaries riding ahead of the main body of the army. But the king had yet to make an appearance and from what Dessa had told him of Teodora’s capture, Owen assumed that the woman would be somewhere close by the king, if not riding with him directly. There was a heavy fog that made it difficult to see, but it lifted as the morning went along. Still, no king, and no Teodora.
There were nearly fifty men in all waiting in the shielding trees of Rockingham Forest. Fifty against a thousand. Even so, Owen had never seen his men so determined to do battle; even older men well past their primes were clad in stolen armor, bearing weapons that were probably too heavy for them to effectively wield. But for their champion, they were willing to risk their lives. Each man knew that Monty would do the same for him, without question or reservation.
No one seemed to realize that what they were about to undertake was suicidal, or if they did, they did not speak of it. Owen fought back the feelings of dread and fear as he watched the open road. It didn’t matter that they were outnumbered and outmatched. All that mattered was that it would only take one man to rescue the champion’s wife and child. Every man there would risk his life.
Including Owen. It was his priority to get to the king’s carriage, assuming Teodora and the baby would be there. Shielded in the wet leaves, his eyes were riveted to the northern horizon of the road when one of his men suddenly nudged him.
“My lord,” the man was older, with thin white hair and a wrinkled face. “We’ve spotted a small army riding in from the south.”
Owen’s attention immediately moved southward. In the very far distance where the forest of Rockingham thinned, he could see a faint black tide. The tide grew deeper and larger the longer he stared at it.
“Scouts,” he ordered without hesitation. “I would know who is coming into Rockingham as the king is departing. More mercenaries to join him, mayhap.”
The man who had brought the news turned and fled. Owen watched the southern road a moment longer before returning his gaze northward. As he watched, a dark cloud of men and animals suddenly appeared. Due to the course of the route, the men approaching from the north were closer than the army approaching from the south. The southern view, because the land dipped, was a good deal more extensive. Therefore, the army departing from Rockingham would reach him first. Perched astride a long-legged warmblood, Owen was on pins and needles as he watched the approaching armies. He wondered if the odds against him had suddenly risen.
Several long, painful minutes passed while a scout was sent to determine the identity of the army from the south. The northern horde was drawing closer and, within their midst, Owen could make out several wagons and a brightly painted cab bearing the colors of Rockingham, but it was flying royal banners – a background of crimson and three golden lions.
“Damn,” he hissed to the men surrounding him. “The king is upon us. Where the hell are my scouts?”
No one could answer him, but Owen was not indecisive about what needed to be done. Whether or not the army from the south was intending to add numbers to the king’s escort, he was still determined to attack. He could sense that Teodora was with the king in his private carriage.
Mercifully, the men sent to scout the incoming army had returned and made their report. The man who had originally reported the approach of the troops again came to Owen.
“My lord,” he said breathlessly. “The standards sighted are white, green, and crimson. They fly the shield of William Marshal.”
Owen looked startled. “The Marshal?” he repeated. “But… how is that possible? His holdings are too far away and there is no way that an army could have dispatched in the time given. Even coming from London, the trip would have been…”
“That’s not all, my lord,” the man interrupted. “The standard of the House of de Lacy has also been sighted. He rides with The Marshal.”
Owen stared at the southern road as if beholding some amazing, extraordinary vision. The wheels of his mind turned as he pieced together his suspicions and thoughts.
“Christ,” he hissed. “I heard Monty ask the big English knight to send word to William Marshal and the man must have done it. But how did The Marshal get here so quickly? I know this land as well as my own face and I’ve never heard of an outpost for William Marshal in this province.”
The man spoke again. He was a seasoned soldier and had served with Lord Geddington’s father a long time ago. But he had long been too old to fight. Still, he was wise and knowledgeable, and he grinned at his awed young lord.
“The House of de Lacy in Lincolnshire is a day’s ride from here. Many years ago, William Marshal, at King Henry’s behest, kept troops stationed at Quellargate Castle when his sons were in the midst of rebellion against him. The de Lacys were once allied with the crown.”
Owen’s jaw hung slack. “Is it possible that The Marshal sent word to Quellargate to intercept John’s mercenary army? The last I heard, The Marshal was allied with the king but de Lacy was not.”
“Loyalties change, my lord. Especially if William Marshal was told that the king’s mercenary army is the enemy and must be confronted.”
That was quite possible. There was no telling what Cullen’s friend had told The Marshal when he’d sent the man word on Cullen’s behalf. “But it’s not a sizable army at all,” Owen said. “No more than a minor inconvenience to a force the size of the king’s.”
“As we are no more than an inconvenience, my lord. But two inconveniences can create chaos if utilized correctly.”
Owen stared at the road a moment longer, his mind working furiously. He was mentally calculating at what point on the road the two armies would meet. The more he pondered the situation, the more determined he became.
He turned to the men around him.
“Gather everyone to me,” he said quietly. “We have a slight change in plans.”
The older man continued to stand by Owen as the others went to do his bidding. “What does my lord plan to do?” he asked quietly.
Owen leaned forward on his saddle and scratched his head thoughtfully. “I plan to let these armies be distracted with each other while we rescue the Lady Teodora. Like the thieves we are, we’ll slip in and steal her and no one will be the wiser. They’ll be so consumed with each other that they’ll hardly notice a band of outlaws confiscating a lone lady and child.”
“Let their confrontation work for us?”
“Indeed.”
The older man smiled. His young lord was a wise one at that.
Holly must have had an exhausting night.
They were on the road now, and Teodora could only imagine the worst as she watched the babe sleep exhaustedly against her breast. The king’s carriage moved over the bumpy road, jostling them about, and Teodora held the infant tightly. It wasn’t so much the harsh movement of the cab as it was her fear that Holly would somehow be taken from her again. The king and a very pale-faced male attendant sat across from her, watching her every move, and Teodora was so uncomfortable and distressed that she could hardly stand it.
Other courtiers rode around them, shielded from the fog and elements by canopies held high over their heads by gaudily-dressed servants. Teodora had seen a few of these men at Westminster, all of them noble-bred with titles. Sloan used to be among them. They were advisers, conversationalists, and more. Each seemed to have a specific role in the life of the king, but it seemed to her that this march to Leicester wasn’t a favored activity.
Still, they were here because of the king and his generosity was great to those who supported him. That reason alone, she knew, was their motivation.
Sean, oddly enough, was nowhere to be found on this dank morning, but Barric rode directly beside the cab, astride the very horse that Teodora had borrowed from Owen. She was sure he was doing it on purpose, reminding her of her
failed escape attempt. She watched him through the window, watching the Lord Justice of Rockingham riding a horse that had once belonged to his nemesis.
In truth, the joke was on Barric.
But even as she laughed silently at the man, she knew that Barric also rode the animal to remind her of her captive status. He wanted to make very sure that she knew he was no longer willing to tolerate her haughty nature, or her attempts to control the situation, and that anything she had, he could take from her easily.
But in truth, she hardly cared.
Across from her, the attendant poured wine for the king and offered some to Teodora. She declined. The king slowly savored his drink, studying her openly.
“My lady is weary this morn,” he commented. “You’ve been up racing about all night, so I hear?”
He was a disgusting, greedy little man. Teodora didn’t look at him as she replied. “I was unable to sleep because my daughter was not brought to me as I had asked, Your Highness.”
The king sensed reproach in her tone. Rather than become incensed, he eyed her solicitously. “I would do anything you asked, of course, given the proper assurances.”
She looked at him, knowing immediately what he was suggesting. She wasn’t sure if she could calmly respond. “I would ask nothing of you, Your Highness, except freedom for myself and for my father and his friends.”
He smiled lasciviously. “I will grant it, certainly. But at a cost.”
She hated herself for asking, for she undoubtedly knew the answer. Still, she knew this moment would have to come sometime.
“And what is that cost, Your Highness?”
He handed the wine chalice back to his attendant. Leaning forward, he reached out a long, skinny finger and gently stroked Holly’s exposed hand. Teodora shuddered involuntarily at the king touching her sweet little baby.
“One night,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “One night with you would pay for their freedom.”
She wasn’t shocked by his answer. In fact, he hadn’t disappointed her because she had known exactly what it would be.
“You are making a request, Your Highness,” she said. “Does this mean that you wish me to come to you of my own free will rather than order me to comply?”
He nodded. “You may understand it that way.”
“Then you are giving me a choice?”
His smug expression faded. “There are no choices in life. Only decisions to be made.”
“And if I decide not to accept your offer, Your Highness?”
“You are an intelligent woman, Lady Barklestone. You should already know the answer.”
She did. Teodora hated herself for not standing up to him, but it was a difficult situation and she was cornered. To protect her child, her father and the others, she had to behave, at least for the moment. But she simply couldn’t bring herself to answer him. She was a woman of honor and her father had raised her to hold true to her word. But in this case, perhaps a lie was the only real choice.
The king was leering at her, waiting for her answer and knowing what that answer would be. Teodora could feel his stare creeping over her and she fought the sickening feeling it gave her.
“Do you trust my word, Your Highness?” she finally asked. Her voice was faint, as if all of her energy had left her.
He settled back against his cushioned seat, holding out his hand for another chalice of wine. “You are a woman of honor.”
“Then you trust me?”
He was cunning and knew that she was asking questions for a reason. “I trust your word, my lady,” he clarified. “Were you to make me a promise, I would trust you. But would I trust you with my life, my fortune, or my most private secrets? I cannot say that I would. You understand, of course.”
“Of course,” Teodora repeated, her eyes glittering. “Then if I were to tell you now that I would agree to your terms, would you believe me?”
He fought off a gloating smile. “I would be honored to.”
Teodora took a very deep, very reluctant breath. “Then I would agree to your terms. But…”
“But… what?”
“But you will release my father first.”
The king’s jaw slackened, realizing he had played into her hands. “But… that is to say, I do not…”
Teodora would not let him twist her words or the terms she had laid forth. “You said that you trusted my words, that I was a woman of honor. Therefore, since I have agreed to your terms, I say that you will release my father first and I shall still adhere to my agreement. If you trust me in this matter, as you say you do, then surely you will be more than glad to grant my request. What good is holding this man if you already have what you want?”
The king didn’t reply for a moment. He stared at Teodora, trying to determine if he had been duped or not. He didn’t like that the situation wasn’t precisely to his terms. But he had what he wanted, her agreement, and that was the most important element.
“Very well, my lady,” he said finally. “I shall release your father.”
“And the others? Anthony and Chadwick?”
He nodded slowly. “Them, as well.”
Teodora felt a tremendous wave of relief. She was beginning to understand this game of politics, the give and take of this arena she found herself in. She wondered if the king had any idea that she had no intention of keeping her bargain. I told him that I agreed to his terms, she told herself firmly, but I did not promise him. There was a fine technicality in that, but a technicality nonetheless.
And she felt absolutely no guilt.
Teodora sat expectantly as the king motioned to the Lord Justice, just outside the cab door, and she took delight in the expression on Barric’s face as the king gave him the order. With one less worry on her shoulders, for she had no doubt now that her father and the others would truly be released, she could focus better on escaping the king and returning to Cullen.
It was the only thing on her mind.
She could only hope that Dessa had returned to tell him what had happened so he didn’t think she had run away. She didn’t expect him to come for her, given how ill he was, so the truth was that she would have to figure a way out of this for her and for her daughter. All she wanted to do was return to Cullen. She didn’t care if they lived in the woods, in a tree, or in a field. As long as they were together, that was all that mattered. It was killing her, even now, to be away from him.
Lost to her thoughts, Teodora didn’t hear the first sound of alarm. Men were shouting and taking up positions. Gradually, she became aware of a low roar, like a crowd of people cheering. More shouts of panic echoed through the column and the sounds of weapons being drawn filled the air.
Teodora was more curious than frightened, for she knew that soldiers often overreacted to the slightest of situations. Sticking her head from the cab’s window, she watched the men around her swarming. Barric was shouting orders hurriedly and Teodora listened closely to what he was saying.
Another army is approaching.
Concern crept over her and she shifted her hold on Holly, pulling her tighter. The king didn’t seem the least bit concerned, even when Barric came to the carriage with his broadsword wielded and his face glistening with sweat.
“The Marshal’s army approaches, Highness,” he said.
John cocked a black eyebrow. “William Marshal in Rockingham? What do I care?”
Barric looked at him grimly. “You will care because he is with the de Lacy army.”
The king’s eyes were piercing on the Lord Justice. “Is this true?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Then how is it that William Marshal and Preston de Lacy have come, so coincidentally, at the very time my army is leaving the safety of Rockingham?”
Barric shook his head. “I do not know, Your Highness. Mayhap it is mere chance that…”
The king interrupted him. “William Marshal does not appear anywhere by chance, and he certainly does not appear with Preston de Lacy.”
“But William Marshal is not your enemy.”
John shook his head. “But de Lacy is,” he pointed out. “Moreover, William Marshal would not be traveling with a full army if he had only come to greet us. I do not trust the man. He has turned against me before.”
Barric was growing increasingly worried, mostly because what the king said was true. A pleasant visit by William Marshal would not have constituted a fully-equipped army bearing standards and knights, and it certainly would not have included de Lacy. They were coming with a purpose and, being naturally paranoid, he was leaning toward the king’s reasoning.
“Shall we set up defensive lines, Your Highness?” he asked. “The men are confused and worried.”
John was confused and worried, too. “Damn him,” he hissed. “The only reason The Marshal and de Lacy would be mustering an army this far north would be to…”
He abruptly trailed off, realizing that Teodora was listening to him. He didn’t want to reveal his thoughts any more than he already had. His cheeks flushed and he reached for more wine. When the attendant didn’t move fast enough, he kicked the man from the cab through the open door. Teodora tried to stay back, away from the scuffling, as the furious king tossed aside his servant and slammed the door in his wake.
“Set defensive lines, Barric,” he ordered. “Set them immediately until we know what William’s business is.”
Barric didn’t have to be told twice.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
It wasn’t a quiet clash.
From their hiding places in the trees, Owen and his men waited until the opposing armies blended together like ingredients to a complicated, unpredictable stew. Swords and warriors intermingled violently, creating a maelstrom of chaos that Owen intended to utilize. He and his men watched apprehensively from the safety of the forest as the white and green of William Marshal’s army, along with the blue and silver of the House of de Lacy, engaged the bulk of King John’s mercenary force. Owen watched for several minutes, awed by the spectacle.
It was a powerful struggle.
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 48