“’Tis like stepping through the gates into heaven,” Hew told him.
Odo cast the unimpressed marquess a sidelong glance. “The prettiest women this side of paradise live in Wales.”
“Aye.” Hew winked at his brother over the boy’s head. “And there’s nothing these ladies love more than a hero.”
Henry mentally rubbed his hands together and shifted in his saddle. Anticipation was already hardening him.
“You’d better wipe your noble chin,” Odo teased him.
“Aye, you’re drooling,” Hew added.
“From both ends,” Henry admitted with a rueful grin. The two Lloyd giants dissolved into deep rumbles of laughter.
* * *
“’Tis there.” Richard halted Black Pepper and pointed at the two-story stone priory in the distance. The earl, the duke, and the queen's page paused within the shelter of the woodland cover and gazed at Smythe Priory.
The house appeared an idyllic picture of impoverished gentility, and the slanting rays of the afternoon sun fingered the priory’s facade with light and shadow as if angels plucked the strings of a harp. The serenity of spring, the season of life’s yearly renaissance, ranged beyond the horizon. Yet, the three on horseback sensed the invisible threat of death wafting through the air.
“How innocuous,” Duke Robert remarked.
“No one would ever imagine the Devil himself lived inside,” Roger said.
Instead of charging toward the priory as every fiber of his being screamed at him to do, Richard moved Black Pepper forward at a slow but steady pace. The Duke of Ludlow and the queen’s page rode slightly behind him on either side. They halted their horses beside the priory’s eastern border of hedgerow and dismounted.
Richard drew his rapier and led the way around the priory to the front. “Wait outside,” he ordered the boy.
Roger opened his mouth to protest, but then clamped his lips together. The grim determination in the earl’s expression discouraged argument.
“I’ll shout if I need your assistance,” Richard said. “Draw your dagger, and be ready for a fight.”
Roger nodded and stood tall, the earl’s confidence in him a balm to his boyish pride. With rapier in hand, Richard stepped toward the door. He could have tried to open it first, but cognizant of the watching boy, he chose a more dramatic approach. He lifted his booted foot and kicked the door open.
“Who’s there?” called a voice.
Followed by Duke Robert, Richard marched in the direction of the baron’s voice. Both men paused inside the entrance to the priory’s common room.
Willis sat alone in a chair in front of the darkened hearth. He stood in surprise when they walked into the hall. “Richard, is it really you? How did you escape the Tower?”
With contempt etched across his features, Richard stared at him for a long moment and then shouted, “Keely!”
Silence was his answer.
“I’m alone here,” Willis told him, an expression of confusion on his face.
“She could be locked away,” Duke Robert said. “I’ll check the bedchambers.” At that, the duke raced up the stairs two at a time.
“What’s this all about?” Willis smiled as he advanced on the earl.
Richard lifted his rapier and pointed it at him. “Stay where you are.”
Willis lost his smile. He stopped short and held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.
“She isn’t here,” Duke Robert called, returning downstairs.
Richard fixed his gaze on his former friend. Murderous rage, barely held in check, shone from his eyes.
“Has your wife left you?” Willis asked, feigning innocent surprise. “You cannot believe that she and—”
“The game is finished,” Richard interrupted, his voice mirroring the violence surging through his blood. “Roger!”
With his dagger drawn, the queen’s page ran into the priory. The boy appeared ready to duel with the Devil.
“Recognize him?” Richard asked, his gaze never wavering from the baron’s.
Willis gave Roger a deadly stare.
“You murdered Jane and dropped my dagger beside her body,” Richard said.
“Then you tried to strangle Morgana,” Duke Robert added.
“Both the lady and I still live,” Roger informed the baron. “’Tis time to pay the piper for your crimes.”
“I should have taken that extra moment to silence you permanently,” Willis sneered at him. “Meddling brat.”
“Where is my wife?” Richard demanded.
“The damned taffy escaped,” Willis answered, a bitter edge to his voice. “If I’m under arrest, give me five minutes to pack a bag.”
Richard cocked a copper brow at him. “I haven’t come to arrest you, Willis.”
A surprised smile spread across the baron’s face.
“I intend to kill you,” Richard told him.
Willis lost his smile.
Richard flicked a glance at the boy. “Roger, leave.”
“And miss the most exciting part?”
“I said, get out.”
Roger turned away and left the hall. Allowing the two combatants space to fight, Duke Robert backed away and waited in the hall’s entrance.
“Why did you do it?” Richard asked.
“For money, of course.”
“Sick greedy bastard.”
“’Tis an easy life for a man like you, who never lacked funds,” Willis said.
“You never lacked for anything either,” Richard shot back. “Where’s Ludlow’s marriage certificate?”
“Destroyed.”
“Liar.”
“That sneaking witch you married stuck her own hand in the fire to be certain I couldn’t salvage it,” Willis told him.
“You expect me to believe my wife burned the proof of her own legitimacy?”
“’Tis truth. With that paper destroyed, there’s no need for either of us to get hurt.”
“The minor matters of abduction and murder need settling,” Richard said. “Didn’t I warn you never to look at my wife? Your final hour is here. Better say your prayers.”
“Would you slaughter an unarmed man?” Willis asked.
“Draw your sword.”
Willis inclined his head and reached for his sword. The two friends began circling each other. Willis made the first move. He leaped at Richard suddenly, and their swords kissed with a metallic clang.
Equally matched, Richard and Willis swung and parried with deadly expertise, and neither could gain the advantage. Though the baron was stronger and heavier, Richard possessed a predator’s agility. Within minutes, the hall was a shambles of overturned table and chairs.
Unexpectedly, Willis tripped over a fallen stool, and his sword slipped from his hand. Richard thrust his blade forward. The baron rolled to the right, sprang to his feet, and drew his dagger. Richard drew his own dagger and then tossed his rapier toward his father-in-law for safety’s sake.
“Interesting piece,” Willis remarked as they began circling each other again.
“Scottish dirk, a gift from my brother-in-law.”
“Death by dagger is so intimate,” Willis said. “A fitting end between friends.”
In a flash of movement Willis leaped closer and flicked the point of his blade across Richard’s cheek, drawing first blood. Then he danced out of the arc of the return swing.
Again and again, Richard and Willis clashed and separated. Only their occasional grunts and the whoosh of their blades broke the silence inside the hall.
Attempting to draw blood, Willis jumped inside the arc of his friend’s reach. Richard sliced at him but missed, and Willis stepped back to safety.
Richard went after him. Willis anticipated such a movement. With one leg, he swiped Richard’s legs out from under him.
Caught off balance, Richard went down, and the baron fell upon him in an instant. Gleaming death aimed for Richard’s throat, but he grabbed the baron’s wrist and strained with every ounce
of strength he possessed to keep the dagger at bay.
Savagely, Richard fought back. He kneed the baron’s groin and pushed upward.
Willis grunted and toppled backward. Glinting steel sliced the air as Richard drove his dagger into the baron’s heart. In one swift motion Richard rolled to the left and sprang to his feet, ready to block any further attack.
Willis Smythe was beyond fighting back.
Richard dropped to his knees beside his fallen friend and closed his eyelids. “God rest your soul.”
A strong hand clasped his shoulder. Richard gazed through tear-blurred eyes at his father-in-law. “I once loved him like a brother.”
“A friend’s betrayal is always heartbreaking,” Duke Robert said. “Only time will soothe the pain.”
“You heard what he said about that marriage certificate?” Richard asked, wiping his eyes and his bloodied cheek on his sleeves.
Duke Robert nodded.
Slowly, wearily, Richard stood and scanned the hall as if bewildered by all that he saw. “Keely,” he shouted, his voice mirroring his despair. “Where are you?”
“We’ll find her,” the duke promised, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“My lords, Lady Keely didn’t escape alone,” Roger cried, dashing into the hall. “Someone rescued her. A rope dangles from the chimney to the ground along the west wall of the priory.”
“Her cousins?” Richard glanced at his father-in-law.
The duke nodded. “Probably Henry too.”
“Dudley will see me axed if I return posthaste to London,” Richard said.
“Then we’ll stay here,” Duke Robert said. “Chessy will send us word when Keely returns to Devereux House.”
“What do we do now?” Roger asked, eager for more adventure.
“Can you stitch?” Duke Robert asked him.
“Stitch?” Roger echoed. “Sewing is women’s work.”
“Ah, but there aren’t any women on the fields of battle to stitch a man’s flesh together,” the duke informed him.
“I never thought of that.”
Duke Robert nodded. “First, find me needle and thread so I can stitch Devereux’s cheek. Afterward, we’ll bury Baron Smythe.”
“And then?” Roger asked, turning to the earl.
“We’ll cook ourselves supper, fledgling, and do what all warriors do in between their battles,” Richard answered.
“Which is?”
Richard winked at the boy. “We wait.”
Chapter 20
“Holy horse shit!” Roger exclaimed.
Standing outside the priory, the boy shielded his eyes against the sun’s glare and stared off in the distance. A small contingent of men on horseback advanced on the priory, and Roger recognized the two men in the lead.
“Earl Richard,” he called, running back inside the priory. “Soldiers from London approach. ’Tis Dudley and my father!”
Both Richard and Duke Robert grabbed their swords and hurried outside. Behind Dudley and the Earl of Eden, Roger’s father, rode six men.
Richard flicked a worried glance at his father-in-law. Was Dudley here to arrest them, or did he carry the news of Keely’s safe arrival in London?
A week had passed since that fateful day when he’d confronted Willis. By now, his wife should have reached London and explained who murdered Lady Jane.
“Sheath your sword,” Richard said, recognizing the man who rode directly behind Dudley. “Uncle Hal rides with them. Keely must have reached London.”
“I cannot trust Dudley,” Duke Robert said, sheathing his sword. “Debrett fares no better in my regard. No offense, Roger.”
“None taken,” the boy said. “My father fares no better in my regard either.”
Robert Dudley, Simon Debrett, and Hal Bagenal halted their horses and dismounted, as did the soldiers who rode with them. At Dudley’s nod, the men-at-arms drew their swords.
“I told you so,” Duke Robert whispered.
Richard flicked a questioning look at his stepfather. Appearing unhappy, Hal shrugged his shoulders in an apology. In that instant Richard knew that Dudley had somehow forced his stepfather into revealing where he’d gone.
“Richard Devereux and Robert Talbot, I arrest you by the order of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth,” Dudley announced. “You have willfully thwarted the Crown’s justice and, in so doing, have abducted young Roger Debrett, heir to the Earl of Eden.”
“That’s a lie,” Roger shouted. “I forced them to take me along.”
“Incorrigible brat.” Simon Debrett reached out and slapped his son so hard, the boy toppled backward and landed on his rump.
Both Richard and Duke Robert growled and took a step forward to protect the boy. Five swords pointed at their chests persuaded them to remain where they were.
“Where is Baron Smythe?” Dudley asked. “He is under arrest for harboring fugitives.”
“Smythe lies with his ancestors in the family vault,” Duke Robert told him.
Dudley stepped back three paces. “Was he diseased?”
“We dueled,” Richard answered. “I won.”
“You murdered Smythe too?”
“’Twas execution,” Roger defended the earl. “Not murder.”
“Keep your lips shut,” Simon Debrett snapped, giving his son a rough shake. “You’ll regret this when I get you home.”
“Dudley, I already explained that Smythe abducted Richard’s wife,” Hal spoke up. “’Tis the reason he escaped house arrest.”
“Then where’s the lady in question?” Dudley asked.
Richard turned a worried gaze upon his stepfather. “Keely hasn’t returned to Devereux House?”
Hal shook his head.
Where is she? Where had Odo and Hew taken her? Could brigands along the road have attacked them? Good Christ, his pregnant wife had disappeared. And judging from the hatred shining in Dudley’s eyes, he wasn't going to get a chance to search for her.
“Well, Devereux. What have you done to your lady-wife?” Dudley sounded almost pleased. “Perhaps we would do well to look inside the Smythe vault.”
“Think what you‘re saying,” Richard argued, appalled by his rival’s sickening insinuation. “Would I murder the woman who carries my heir?”
“A demented monster like you is capable of anything,” Dudley said. “Drop your weapons. Slowly.”
Surrendering to the inevitable, Richard and Duke Robert dropped their swords on the ground and then their daggers. Richard flicked an accusing look at his stepfather, who had the good grace to flush.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Hal apologized. “Dudley convinced Elizabeth to hold Louise, Cheshire, and Morgana hostage in the Tower until you surrender and explain your actions. I rode with Dudley to assure your safe arrival in London.”
You put my mother the Tower?” Richard exploded. Rage surged through his body. He expected no mercy from his bitterest of rivals, but abusing his gentle mother infuriated him beyond reason.
Heedless of consequence, Richard shoved one of the soldiers out of his way and lunged at Dudley. He grabbed the other man’s throat and began to squeeze. Two of the guards grabbed Richard and dragged him off their lord, but he continued to struggle, which forced them to keep a tight hold on him.
Taking his cue from his son-in-law, Duke Robert sprang at Dudley. His fist connected with the Earl of Leicester’s jaw. Two other guards leaped to their lord’s defense. They fought to control the enraged Duke of Ludlow.
“Craven bastard,” Roger shouted at Leicester, breaking free of his father’s grasp. The boy landed a vicious kick on Dudley’s left shin. The last of the earl’s guard grabbed the boy.
“Control your brat, Eden,” Dudley snapped.
Debrett stepped toward the boy, but Hal Bagenal placed a restraining hand on his forearm. “Would you beat your own son for exhibiting loyalty to a friend?”
“Basildon, I’ve waited a good, long time for your downfall,” Dudley said, drawing his fist back to strike.<
br />
“Enough, Leicester,” Uncle Hal shouted, drawing his sword and pointing it at the earl. “Strike my stepson, and you’ll answer to me.”
“Debrett, disarm the traitor,” Dudley ordered.
The Earl of Eden looked from Robert Dudley to Hal Bagenal. He had no part in Leicester’s grudge, yet he refused to borrow another’s trouble by aligning himself with an enemy of the Crown. Debrett did nothing for a long pregnant moment and then judged Dudley to be on the winning side of this argument. He reached for the hilt of his sword.
“Don’t none of you fine and mighty lords move a muscle,” a voice nearby ordered.
“Moving means death to you,” a second voice added.
Everyone froze for a fraction of a second, then looked at the two Welsh giants advancing on them. Richard stopped struggling and watched in relief as Odo approached the Earl of Leicester and prodded the man’s back with the tip of his sword.
“Greetings, cousins,” Richard said with a smile. He was so glad to see his wife’s kinsmen, he could have kissed them.
“Tell your men to release them,” Odo ordered Dudley.
“And then discard your weapons,” Hew added, the tip of his sword teasing the Earl of Eden's back.
“The punishment for obstructing the queen’s justice is severe,” Dudley warned. “I guarantee you’ll hang at Tyburn Hill.”
“What do you think, brother?” Odo asked.
“Let’s kill the lot of them,” Hew answered. “Then the bastard can’t squeal to the queen about how we obstructed her justice.”
“If you value your continued good health, Dudley, do as they say,” Richard advised, watching his stepfather use the tip of his blade to caress Leicester’s cheek. “When Uncle Hal gets nervous, his hand shakes. A sword scratch would mar your handsome face.”
“Very funny,” Dudley sneered. Then: “Discard your weapons men. Debrett, too.”
The five men-at-arms released their prisoners and dropped their swords. Dudley and Debrett disarmed themselves.
“Sit down against the wall of the priory, and keep your hands up in the air,” Hew ordered. When the seven men did as they were told, Hew stood guard beside them. “Move one muscle,” he warned, “and I’ll hack you into tiny pieces.”
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