Alice drew a deep breath. “Frevisse, this is dangerous.”
“I’ve gathered that,” Frevisse said dryly. “So is ignorance and right now I’m very ignorant of what is toward here.”
They stared at one another, not in challenge but in assessment—Alice determining how much could be told, Frevisse judging how much truth there would be in it.
“It’s this way,” Alice said. “We learned the boys were gone almost as soon as their mother sent them away, their brother one direction, these two another. We could guess where they were going and sent men to intercept them if they could.”
“How did you know?”
“By a spy in the queen’s household,” Alice said simply. “The same way we knew about the boys at all.”
“How long have you known about them?”
Ruefully Alice admitted, “Barely two months. No one has been concerned about Kathenne. She’s been living so quietly, away from court, making no trouble for anyone, we thought. Only lately has there been any rumor that that wasn’t the truth of it, so only lately did we manage to …”
She paused, looking for the word. Frevisse offered, “To insinuate someone into her household?”
“To corrupt someone already there,” Alice said. “Their secret depended on their people keeping it. They were very careful of who was around them.”
“Not careful enough, it seems.”
“There is a point for everyone—” Alice reconsidered. “—for nearly everyone, where the price is high enough to buy their loyalty.”
“And you found your person and the price.”
“And apparently so did Gloucester.”
The duke of Gloucester, the King’s uncle, known to resent the limits of his power in the government.
“Do you suppose his agent found the same person your agent did?” Frevisse asked.
“I don’t know. I suppose once you begin to be treacherous, you may be indiscriminately so. The point is, Queen Katherine is in deep trouble for marrying one Owen Tudor without the royal Council’s permission, and for having royal children by him. It was foolish of her. Careless.”
“At least three children’s worth of carelessness.”
“How did you know there are three?” Alice asked sharply.
“We have two here and you said their brother went another way, meaning at least one other.”
“Well, there’s going to be a fourth. The queen is pregnant yet again.”
It did not seem to Frevisse that four children instead of three would make the matter much worse, so she simply asked, “What will happen to her for this?”
“She’s been put under guard, discreetly, at Hertford for the time being. Tudor has been arrested—”
“For what?”
“Gloucester will think of something. It was his doing. What could be handled quietly he’s going to turn into a wide-blown scandal, like the fool he is.”
Frevisse almost asked why again but stopped herself. Enough of her curiosity was satisfied, and whatever politics were going on, with Queen Katherine, her husband, and their children as pawns and probably helpless ones, it was not her business. Edmund and Jasper were, and she asked instead, “What do you want with the children?”
“Someone has to have control of them. Better us than Gloucester. Especially since it seems he wants them dead, judging by what you’ve told me.”
Frevisse refrained from asking exactly who “us” might be. Presumably, whoever in the government was presently ranged against Gloucester, and that undoubtedly included the earl of Suffolk. Her letter to Alice had raised trouble she had not counted on. “And if you have control of them?”
“If?” Alice questioned.
“They’ve been given sanctuary here. We have to know what’s intended by you or whomever you’ll give them over to, before we’ll allow them to go with you.”
Alice lifted her eyebrows slightly. “Pardon me? I don’t know if I understand you.”
“I mean that the children are under our protection.” Such as it was, but Frevisse did not add that. “We can’t simply give them over to you because you’ve come for them.”
“You wrote to me about them.”
“In confidence, for advice, and unaware you had so deep an interest in them. I trust you, but I need to know more. What do you intend for them?”
Alice’s momentary haughtiness eased. “You’re right. I’m too used to giving commands to those who have to take them without explanation. You won’t and you shouldn’t. This is the way it is. Gloucester is outraged by this marriage. He sees it as a desecration of royalty and his late brother’s memory. He’d execute Owen Tudor if he could, but I think that will be stopped. The queen will be put into honorable confinement in a nunnery, near London probably. Gloucester won’t be satisfied with less, and her foolishness has earned it.” Alice had never let her own warm heart interfere with her common sense or her ambitions. “As for the children, they’re a complication for so many different reasons it can’t be said what will become of them eventually, but I purpose to put them into Barking Abbey outside London. My husband’s sister is abbess there and they’ll be as safe as anywhere, beyond anyone’s reach until we know what to do with them. King Henry is gentle-hearted. I think he won’t reject them or their mother—his mother—when the matter comes to him.”
“But here and now someone is trying to kill them,” Frevisse pointed out. “Apparently someone working for Gloucester.”
“That would be my guess, too,” Alice said. “I think Gloucester would have them put down like cross-bred pups out of a purebred bitch if he had the chance. He assuredly has the wealth and power enough to buy someone for the deed if he wants.”
Buy someone. Buy someone desperate enough to face what it might cost to win the reward Gloucester would give.
Neither she nor Master Naylor could believe anyone of the nunnery had been so suborned, that anyone they knew was capable of such killing.
But if, given what she knew so far about the murders, she could not believe that anyone of the nunnery had killed Will and Colwin and was trying to kill the boys, then it had to be someone not of the nunnery.
Someone not of the nunnery—but in it.
Sir Gawyn. Maryon. Jenet.
One of them.
And she had brought them all together, into reach of the children.
“Frevisse?” Alice asked, seeing her mind had gone away somewhere.
“I have to go,” Frevisse said abruptly. “Stay here, I pray you, until I come back.”
“What is it?”
“I think I see the answer to what’s been happening and it’s ugly and I have to deal with it now, before— Pray, excuse me.” With haste too great for better manners, she left Alice where she stood.
Chapter 22
Tibby and Jenet were together at the table, Tibby’s elbows on it, chin in her hands, Jenet twisting her apron’s corner, while they talked of their loves—Tibby with plans, Jenet with tearful regrets for her loss.
“Oh yes, we’d hoped to do that. A little house of our own somehow. In Leicester maybe. I’ve folk in Leicester. Hery, he could turn his hand to anything and I’d maybe raise extra in the garden to sell at market. My uncle, he would have helped us start. But now it’s all come to nothing,” Jenet mourned.
“My Peter is good at almost anything he puts his hand to, too. He’s always saying to me …”
It didn’t matter what Peter said; they weren’t really listening to each other, only talking to keep each other company. Edmund and Jasper had half an ear to them, on the chance they might say something interesting but mostly, taking advantage of the women’s distraction, they were busy in the far corner with Edmund’s dagger, carefully pricking apart the rush matting for no good reason except they hadn’t found anything better to do, though even memorizing Latin prayers for Dame Perpetua was beginning to seem possibly more interesting.
So they raised their heads eagerly to the sound of footsteps outside the door and were already
on their feet when Sir Gawyn appeared in the doorway.
“You’re better!” Edmund exclaimed.
“Somewhat, yes,” Sir Gawyn agreed. His left hand was tucked into his belt, to ease his shoulder, but he had apparently come from the infirmary alone.
Tibby and Jenet sprang to their feet and made deep curtsies. “You.” He nodded at Tibby. “Could you bring us something to drink? It’s a warm day.”
“Yes, sir. As quick as may be,” she said readily.
“And have something for yourself along the way,” he added.
Tibby smiled more widely at him. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Sir Gawyn stepped in and aside to let her go out, then leaned against the doorjamb.
“Come and sit,” Edmund urged.
“Not just yet,” Sir Gawyn said. “Jasper, come here.”
Jasper went to him eagerly, ready to help him to the bed or a stool or wherever he wanted to go. Sir Gawyn laid a hand on his shoulder and looking down at him said, “I need you to come with me, out of here.”
“Oh,” said Jenet coming forward. “Beg your pardon, sir, but Dame Frevisse said they’re not to go anywhere, either of them, without she says so, sir. Even with you. She—”
“Jenet, face that way,” Sir Gawyn said, pointing to the wall behind her.
Close in front of him now, Jenet blinked at him, bewildered by the order, then obediently turned her back on him. Deftly, too quickly for any warning even if either of the boys had thought to give it, he jerked his dagger from its sheath and, hilt first, struck her hard on the back of her skull. Even through the layers of cloth the crack was audible; she crumpled down into a heap without a sound.
Sir Gawyn did not watch her fall, was already turning toward Edmund. The room was small; Edmund was staring at Jenet, not fully realizing yet what had happened, and did not see in time to move as Sir Gawyn struck again, the knob of the dagger hilt to the back of his head. He collapsed as Jenet had, silently, a small heap on the floor.
Jasper gasped and as Sir Gawyn turned toward him, cringed back. But Sir Gawyn was putting his dagger away, holding out his hand instead. “It’s all right. They’re only unconscious. They’ll be all right. I swear that to you. But this way no one can say they let me escape.”
“Escape?” Jasper squeaked.
“We’ve been found. The people hunting us have found us. They’re here with armed men in the yard. They won’t hurt Edmund or the women so long as they’re in here but they’ll kill me. I have to escape and I need you with me. They won’t try to hurt me if you’re with me.”
“But then I won’t be safe in here!”
“You’ll be safe with me instead. I swear I won’t let them hurt you. You’ve been safe when you’re with me, haven’t you? Once we’re clear of them, we can go back to your mother or on to Wales, whichever way is possible. No one will hurt you, I promise it. My Lord Jasper.” Sir Gawyn held out his empty hand. “Come with me.”
Jasper hesitated, but Sir Gawyn’s need was very real. It showed in his voice and outstretched hand. And how would he ever be a knight himself if he refused another knight his aid, if he refused an adventure when it was offered to him? He put his hand in Sir Gawyn’s. The knight grasped it, gave him a tight-lipped smile, and said, “There’s my brave man. Come on then. Quickly.”
Jasper looked aside to Edmund. “He’ll be angry when he wakes up.”
“You’re smaller. I can handle you more easily,” Sir Gawyn said tersely, already going, his grip tight around Jasper’s hand, making him come perforce. “Is there a back way out of here to the stables?”
“Past the kitchen and through the side yard, out into the courtyard,” Jasper said breathlessly.
“Too long. Too likely to be cut off. We’ll go the bold way then.”
Jasper wished Sir Gawyn would let loose his hand; he’d said he’d go with him, he didn’t have to be dragged.
They were nearly to the outside door unseen, but Dame Frevisse came out of a doorway ahead of them along the cloister walk, directly in their way. Her face showed how startled she was, and so was Sir Gawyn, but on the instant he had swung Jasper to his hurt side, clamped his left arm around his neck and shoulders, and drawn his dagger with his other hand, to lay its point against the side of Jasper’s throat as he said, “Let me by and the boy lives. Move aside.”
Dame Frevisse moved back into the doorway, hands held empty out in front of her as if to show she meant to do nothing; but she said, “Where’s Edmund? Where’s Maryon?”
“They’re all right. They’re unconscious, that’s all.” Sir Gawyn was pushing Jasper past her as he spoke. His arm was beginning to choke and Jasper dug fingers into his sleeve, trying to loosen it. To his shock, the dagger pricked into his neck and Sir Gawyn said, “Don’t struggle.” To Dame Frevisse he added, “You go ahead of us. I want one of the horses that’s out there and no one to follow us.”
“Those are armed men out there, the earl of Suffolk’s men.”
“I know what’s out there. Maryon went to see what was happening and told me. That’s the countess behind you in the room, isn’t it?”
Dame Frevisse had begun to back away from them, toward the outer door. Now she stopped and said sharply, “It would be too dangerous to you to take her. Don’t even think it!”
“I know that! Jasper will do well enough.”
“That’s right,” Dame Frevisse said harshly. “Children are more your sort of foe. And men who trust you.”
“Move!”
“Let him go. You won’t be able to escape so many.”
“If they want him alive, and I’d guess that’s why the countess came, no one will follow me.”
Somewhere behind them, Dame Claire called anxiously, “Dame Frevisse!”
Her eyes fixed on Sir Gawyn, Dame Frevisse said back, “You can’t help. Keep away.”
They had reached the outer door. “Open it,” Sir Gawyn said. “Tell them what I want.”
She held back momentarily. Sir Gawyn pressed the dagger’s tip deeper into Jasper’s neck than he had before. Jasper gasped at the unexpected pain; his neck prickled under a thin run of blood. His grip on Sir Gawyn’s arm tightened, trying to pull it a little loose. Sir Gawyn did not realize he was hurting him, surely. But the grip around his throat did not loosen at all, was too tight now even for him to speak. Dame Frevisse was looking at him, frightened, he thought, and reaching behind her for the door latch.
“Go on!” Sir Gawyn urged. “I won’t hurt him unless I’m made to.”
“You’re hurting him now,” Dame Frevisse said back. “Let him breathe a little, for God’s pity.”
Sir Gawyn’s arm loosed a little, to Jasper’s gasped relief. He’d known Sir Gawyn hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding him. But more angrily than before, Sir Gawyn ordered, “Go on! Out!” and this time Dame Fervisse turned her back on him to open the door and go out.
There were men in armor and horses and a few women in the yard. All but a few of the men had dismounted, but they all seemed ready to travel again at a moment’s notice, though guesthall servants were going among them with pottery mugs of something to drink. Heads swiveled toward them as they came out, and Jasper saw the nearest few men come suddenly alert, hands going to their sword hilts as they realized what they were seeing.
Dame Frevisse held out her hands to them. “Don’t do anything! He’s sworn he won’t harm the boy if we don’t do anything! Let him have a horse and let him go.”
After a hesitation, all but the closest man faded back; he held out his reins toward Sir Gawyn, with nothing friendly in his face. Jasper, his eyes going rapidly from face to face around them, saw nothing friendly in anyone’s; but it was Sir Gawyn they were staring at, not him.
“Dame, take the reins from him. You, go farther off,” Sir Gawyn ordered.
Dame Frevisse and the man obeyed, Dame Frevisse taking the reins, the man then stepping backward, farther away, his eyes never off Sir Gawyn.
“Hand Jasper the
reins.”
Dame Frevisse obeyed. As she did, her gaze dropped to Jasper’s face. To his surprise he saw she was not afraid, only sad. To Sir Gawyn she said softly, “Don’t do this. Let it end here.”
Sir Gawyn drew in a short, harsh breath, as if she had hurt him, but said, as hard-voiced as before, “If no one follows us, I’ll let him loose somewhere safe and you can have him back. But only if no one follows us. Stand over there, both of you. Out of the way.”
She did, and Jasper knew this was the most dangerous part. Sir Gawyn would have to mount before anyone could reach him to stop him, and it wouldn’t be easy with his hurt shoulder.
But he had already thought out the problem. He let Jasper loose and said, “Climb on the horse. Have the reins ready.” He gave him boost enough so Jasper could grab the saddle and scramble up, scooting well forward to leave room behind him in the saddle for Sir Gawyn. Jasper took the reins, and Sir Gawyn swung the horse around so it was between him and everyone else. He was on its off side now but from there, able to use only his right hand for it, he would be better able to mount. Slipping his dagger into his left hand, he grasped the cantle with his right and brought himself up into the saddle in a single swift swing, settled behind Jasper, his left arm around him again, across his chest this time, and the reins in his left hand, the dagger back in his right before anyone could close on him.
The man who had given over his horse made one spasmed movement as if to go for Sir Gawyn, but Dame Frevisse put out an arm to hold him back. On the tall horse, Jasper felt more exposed to the stares than he had before, but it was Dame Frevisse he was looking at, even as Sir Gawyn urged the horse forward. Suddenly he wished very, very much he was back in the cloister, that none of this was happening. He was suddenly desperately afraid, more afraid than he had been when Sir Gawyn struck Jenet and then Edmund, almost as afraid as when the riders had attacked them. And part of the fear came from what he saw in Dame Frevisse’s face—grief and anger and desperation as she realized there was truly no way to stop Sir Gawyn now.
“Jasper,” she said; and she was talking to no one but him in all the crowded courtyard, pleading with him to understand something. “He made Colwin try to kill you and Edmund, and he killed Will. Jasper!”
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