by Lisa Shea
Hugh’s voice was tight. “How did Dolos feel about snakes?”
Joan could see the pain hidden in his eyes, the tightness in his shoulders, and she could hear the question as clearly as if he had asked it out loud.
Was the man you met really Michael?
The reference to the Archangel Michael and his legendary battles with snakes clearly went right over Ada’s head. She laughed. “Dogs hate snakes,” she informed Hugh. “I imagine Dolos despised them.”
Joan barely moved, knowing how much Hugh must be going through with this revelation. She herself had barely begun to absorb it. “Yes,” she murmured. “Dolos was quite the snake-wrangler. I do believe, even if dragons had come to my home, that Dolos would be the one to slay them.”
Ada chuckled, taking down another swig of ale. “Dragons. Don’t think we’ll get many of those in these parts.”
Joan drew a smile onto her face. “You are so right, Ada. I suppose Dolos will be safe, then.”
Hugh shook his head, and Joan could see the turmoil that swirled behind his carefully neutral face. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “We should get to sleep. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow, in order to reach the tavern before dark.”
Ada took one last, long draw on her ale, then moved to her place immediately beside Joan. “We will be fine,” she assured Hugh. “You sleep on the other side of the fire, please.”
He nodded, his eyes going to Joan. “Lailah tov.”
She smiled at that, the familiar words rolling over her like a gentle surf on a moonlit night. “Good night,” she answered him.
Ada gave a soft chortle as she settled down between them. “Snakes and dragons. Tomorrow it’ll be three-headed horses.”
Joan barely heard her. It was as if Hugh had reached over and wrapped his arms around her, reassuring her that everything would be all right.
Her eyes closed, and she faded into sleep.
*
The horses were walking along side by side, and Joan was again in front of Ada, when Hugh suddenly spoke up.
“Did you have swallows in your home, when Dolos was a rambunctious pup?”
Ada rolled her eyes. “And the menagerie grows.”
Joan’s mind searched through the permutations. Swallows … birds … martins! Martins were closely related to the swallow. “We had an elderly one,” she responded, her heart tripping with nervousness. “He was still fairly sprightly, though.”
The corner of his mouth tweaked up. “I bet he was,” he agreed. “How did the bird behave around Dolos? Were the two close?”
He wanted to know if Master Martin knew about Michael’s faked death.
“Oh, Dolos lived up to his reputation for trickery,” explained Joan. “The puppy would sprawl in the middle of the dirt, pretending to be dead. The poor bird had no idea.”
Ada’s eyes lit up with delight. “I bet the bird would swoop down to take a look,” she urged. “And then I bet that swallow got the surprise of his life when he realized Dolos was alive!”
Joan nodded, her eyes holding Hugh’s. “The surprise of his life,” she agreed.
Hugh’s shoulders eased slightly, and Joan could see the relief shimmer into his gaze. She had felt the same way, knowing that Master Martin had not been a part of all of this.
Hugh looked down for a moment, and when he brought his gaze up again there was a new seriousness in it. “And did Dolos have any playmates? A best friend, perhaps?”
Joan took in a deep breath, a shadow falling over her heart. Hugh wanted to know if Michael had said anything about him. As much as she wanted to shield him from Michael’s lies, she knew it was important to tell him everything she knew. Something she found unimportant might be meaningful to him.
Ada leant forward with a smile. “Dolos had Apate,” she pointed out. “I bet they got into all sorts of trouble together.”
Joan kept her gaze on Hugh and gave him a low nod. “While Dolos and Apate were close, there was another male pup in the mix for a while. Dolos and he were nearly inseparable.”
Ada’s eyes sparkled. “Let me guess - his name was Dionysus.”
Joan shook her head. “No, this one was Stuart.”
Hugh gave a nod in appreciation. “The name means guardian.”
She gave a soft smile. “It does indeed.”
His masked eased for a moment; warmth flickered along the edges for her alone to see. Longing spread through her. He was right there. She could just reach out her hand and touch him. She could …
She pushed the thoughts away with determination. She had to find out what Cecily and Michael were up to, and bring an end to their activities once and for all. Otherwise, who knew how many other innocents would be hurt?
Ada prodded her from behind. “You said for a while. What happened to the two pups to break up this beautiful friendship?”
Blackness seeped into Joan’s vision, and she drew in a long breath. She knew Hugh would be upset with what Michael had said about him, but she had to let him know. Every piece of information she shared would help them prepare for what was to come.
“Dolos discovered that Stuart was guarding more than just his family farm.”
Hugh’s face stilled, and he watched Joan closely. “What did Dolos find?”
Ada nudged her in the ribs. “Yes, do tell. What did Dolos discover about the rascally Stuart?”
Joan’s face flushed with heat, and she was thankful that Ada sat behind her, unable to read her expressions. She focused on keeping her voice even. “Dolos led me to … to see … what Stuart was keeping watch over.”
Hugh’s face was a mask of stillness. “What was he guarding?”
Joan’s throat went dry, and she swallowed. “It was a … a poorly kept, run-down kennel. Within it were countless mangy female dogs. If one of them would try to escape, Stuart would …” She looked down. “He would bite them in the face.”
There was a long silence. When Joan looked up, she saw the deep shock on Hugh’s face. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Dolos showed you that?”
She found she could only nod.
Ada’s voice was harsh. “Well, I hope you put an end to that!”
Joan nodded in resolution, steel easing along her spine. “Absolutely.”
Hugh’s jaw gained an edge, and she saw, shining in his eyes, the same conviction.
Ada gave a shake of the reins. “Shall we run for a while? The sooner we get home, the sooner this is all over with.”
Hugh wrapped his hands around the reins, nodded, and then they were in motion, Accipiter and Aquila flew down the path, the miles disappearing beneath their blurred hooves.
Joan wondered just what would happen after she returned to Cecily and Michael with the wooden bowl in hand. She knew one thing. She wanted to look into Michael’s eyes when she finally brought him to justice.
Chapter 18
Dusk’s violet shadows stretched across the town common as the two horses were reined in to a stop by the tavern. Hugh was beneath her in an instant. Joan was grateful for his sturdy hands supporting her as she eased off the saddle. Her entire body ached from toe to crown with countless reminders of the long journey.
She turned in his arms, and her moan of pain stilled. She could see clearly in his eyes that he had not slept for days, that what he had endured had been far, far worse than her time away. And yet his gaze held only gratitude, a sweeping relief that she had been brought safely home.
A loud cheer went up from the tavern. Suddenly a crowd swarmed the trio, congratulating them, patting them on the back, offering hugs and laughter. Lord Weston was there with several of his soldiers. Sarah had come in from the mill, Aiden close at her side, beaming.
Sybil came up to Joan, supported by Ymbert, and the blonde put forward her arms for a hug. The bandages were no longer on her hands, and Joan could see the healing scars. Sybil’s voice was gruff. “Knew you would get through this just fine,” she commented. “Especially with Hugh hot on your trail. In all the time
I’ve worked with him, I’ve never seen him so fiercely dedicated to a task.”
A way parted through the crowd for Greslet, and he gave Hugh a hearty clap on the shoulder before stepping forward to embrace Joan. “I would have come after you myself,” he vowed, “if Hugh had not sworn that it would do more harm than good. He felt a single person could follow the trail more surely than a larger group. He vowed to us that he would reach you within a day and a night.”
Ada stepped into the center of the crowd, raising her arms high. “And he was,” she proclaimed, smiling at Hugh. “By the morning after our arrival, Cecily informed me that Hugh was in the woods surrounding the keep.” She glanced back at him. “I told her it was impossible. How could anybody find us that quickly? But she was quite right. He has some sort of a sixth sense.”
Norman stood in the doorway, looking evenly between Ada and Joan. “So, just what did happen?”
Ada hooked her arm into Joan’s. “Pour us some drinks, and I’ll give you every last detail!”
There was a roar of delight from the assembled crowd, and Joan was drawn into the main room, pulled down at Ada’s right, and a mug was pressed into her hand.
Hugh moved to sit on Joan’s other side, and Ada immediately shook her head. “No, no,” she insisted. “Come sit on my other side. That way I can confer with you if I need to clarify any details. The crowd must have their story!”
Hugh’s eyes shuttered, and he glanced briefly at Joan before nodding. “Of course, as you wish,” he murmured, taking the indicated seat.
The hours seemed to roll on without end. Ada held court with delight, covering every aspect of the escapade in a modified telling that Joan found fascinating to hear. Somehow they had been taken away by bandits who had watched their every move. The gates had been guarded at all times. So had their rooms. Joan and Ada had been petrified throughout the ordeal, but thankfully Cecily had finally released them.
Joan knew this prevarication was a necessary part of the process. She did her best to nod, smile, and raise toasts at the appropriate moments. Still, at last she was beyond exhausted. Her head jerked awake, inches away from splashing into her fifth mug of ale.
Hugh murmured something into Ada’s ear, and she turned in surprise. “Oh, look at you, poor duck! Let us get you up to bed!” She turned to the assembled crowd. “We can continue with this tomorrow evening,” she promised them. “I’m afraid my friend needs to recuperate from her ordeal!”
A warm wave of cheers and well wishes followed them as they headed out the back door. Hugh’s footsteps mirrored theirs as they walked the flight up to his apartment. Hugh reached over to unlock the door for them, and they headed in.
Joan could barely keep her eyes open. She stumbled for the bed, tumbling into it fully clothed.
Ada turned to Hugh. “I will keep her company for the night,” she promised. “But I think, with all she has been through, that it’s best we stay in here alone. Would you grant us that?”
Hugh’s eyes moved to Joan’s for a moment, and then he nodded. “Of course. Rest well.” His eyes held Joan’s. “If you need anything at all, I will be right outside.”
Ada’s face sharpened with a look of fierce disapproval before the pleasant mask was back in place. “It is a sweet offer, but that will not be necessary,” she intoned sweetly. “I’m sure Ymbert would be happy to share his room.”
Hugh’s eyes had not moved from Joan’s. “I prefer to sleep outside the door. It is no hardship; it would be an honor to protect you after you have clearly been through so much.”
Ada tapped her fingers along the doorframe for a long moment. Then her gaze brightened. “Oh! Joan! Those dogs of yours, that you were so worried about. You had wanted to go back to them this very night, you were so concerned.” She snared Hugh with her stare. “Joan would be so grateful if you would go and stay at her home tonight, to ensure the dogs are all right. You could return tomorrow at noon. I’m sure that would give the dogs enough time with human companionship around.”
Joan’s heart thundered in her chest. He could not leave her. Not now, not when she had just returned to him again. Not with all the chaos and confusion still whirling through her mind.
He had to stay.
He held her gaze for a long moment, his face carefully neutral, and then he nodded.
“I shall do as Joan wishes,” he murmured.
Ada smiled widely. “Tomorrow at noon it is,” she called out, ushering him out of the doorway. “We will bar the door. With all the folks in town, we will be quite safe here. Travel safely!”
Hugh nodded, first to Ada, then to Joan, and then he was gone.
Ada stepped forward to slide the bar, and she turned with a sharp movement. “Thank God that’s all done with,” she snapped. “I don’t think I could take another moment of playing the bubble-headed maid.” She rolled her eyes. “Poor me this, and I’m so thankful that! The men treat us like we’re three years old and incapable of independent thought or action!”
She turned to Joan, and her eyes lit up. “Although, I have to say, your going on and on about your animal menagerie was simply brilliant. Hugh ate it up. You could have told him about your pet fish and darling spiders and he would have nodded to every word.” She grinned in satisfaction. “You note how, on our ride back, he forgot completely to ask us about our capture or our time in the keep? You distracted him completely. You are quite a master at this type of deception.”
Joan was still staring at the door, at the last place Hugh’s face had been. She dragged her gaze away, settling to nestle her head into the pillow. It was impossibly soft, and deep lethargy pulled at her. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, to soothe any of Ada’s suspicions.
“You did your part brilliantly,” she praised. “You played along with the stories, and gave it just the right air of simple fascination. I am sure Hugh was thoroughly taken in.”
Ada took a look around the dark room, then shrugged and came over to lay down next to Joan. “I have been doing that for years,” she pointed out. “Men are stupid. All we women have to do is pitch our voices high, speak on foolish topics, and the men think we are being perfectly natural. They dismiss us as ‘little girls’ and put our conversation on a lower level.” She chuckled. “Heck, we could be talking about fairies and elves, and they would nod and smile. They think that’s all our heads can hold.”
Joan rolled over to hold her gaze. “So, what’s the plan?”
Ada glanced at the shadowed room. “It’s far too dark to rummage around tonight, and we need the rest. Tomorrow morning, when our senses are primed, we can begin a thorough search.”
Joan nodded in understanding. Her mouth went dry, but she pressed on. “And Hugh?”
Ada’s grin widened. “You did an incredible job with your dog stories,” she pointed out. “By the time he returns, we have either found the bowl here, or we know it’s simply not in his room.” Her eyes lit up. “In that case, you begin using other techniques to get the information out of him.”
Joan held her face steady. From the glee in Ada’s face, the woman had used this approach many times in the past.
She forced her tone to stay even. “And once we find this wooden bowl?”
Ada’s eyes glowed in satisfaction. “Then we escape this hell hole once and for all. We get to Flamborough, vanish into the mists, and put everyone here in our past – forever.”
*
Joan stirred awake. The room was pitch black. Her lids still drooped with exhaustion, and she could not say what it was that had dragged her from her dreamless stupor. However, now that she was awake, she would not pass up this opportunity to slip from Ada’s side, at least for a few minutes.
She carefully pushed the blanket off her body.
Ada stirred, scratching idly at one ear. Her voice was a sluggish murmur. “Where ya goin’?”
Joan pitched her voice to be apologetic. “I’m sorry for waking you. I need to go down to the outhouse.”
“Chamb
er pot in the corner.”
Joan glanced there and nodded. She moved a hand to her stomach. “I’m feeling sick, though. I thought you might appreciate it if –”
Ada sighed and made a rolling motion with her hand. “Go, go. Just be quick.” She pulled the blanket up over her head.
Joan held in the smile of relief, then moved quickly to the door. She slid the bar free, slipping around the door and half-running down the stairs. The area around the tavern was absolutely deserted; clouds covered the sky, blocking out the moon and stars. Only a lone lamp hanging on the side of the stable cast a faint light across the ground.
Joan crossed to the small wooden structure and threw the door wide, making a show of striding into it just in case Ada was watching. She then slammed the door shut, submerged in darkness. Her heart pounded against her ribs. It was only a guess, of course. Hugh could very well have taken Ada at her word and ridden off. He could be miles away.
Carefully, Joan creaked open the door, just enough to allow her to slip through, and she curled herself around the side of the building, out of sight of the tavern. Now if only –
A hand clamped down over her mouth, a strong arm pulled her back into the wood, and she was pressed up against the rippled bark of an oak.
Her pulse escalated into near panic, and she looked up –
Hugh.
She dove forward at him, his arms came up around her, and they were embracing as if they had been parted for years. Tears of relief slid down Joan’s face, and she could feel the tenderness of his lips on her forehead. She clung to him as if she were drowning in a flood, and he was all that held her in safety.
His voice was a low murmur in her ear. “It’s all right,” he assured her. “Everything’s all right.” His hand gently stroked her hair, soothing her.
It was a long while before she was able to step back and look into his eyes. Her voice burst from her in a hush. “Michael’s alive.”
He nodded, his gaze steady but lined with weariness. “I nearly thought it a trick of the light when I saw you both on the patio,” he admitted, “but your confirmation on the ride here put that out of my mind. Somehow he and Cecily faked his death.”