“They’ll do the trick,” said the man, La Grange, as he patted one of the horses on the neck.
“I hesitate to ask where you got them,” Simon said, looking them over for any flaws that might slow them down. As time ticked the day away, he was becoming more and more anxious to leave.
La Grange just smiled. He was a large man, muscularly built, very rough. Most people looked at La Grange and crossed the street to stay away from him. Outward appearances indicated that he was the type of man to start a brawl in a pub just because he felt like it. But in truth, he was the opposite. For the most part, he was a peaceful man who didn’t go looking for trouble, but if trouble happened to find him, then he was always ready for it. Simon trusted La Grange with his life as much as he trusted Will and Tristan.
“The queen has accepted Darnley’s written statement saying he had nothing to do with the murder of Rizzio,” La Grange said as he tightened the cinches on the horses.
Aimee came out of the back of the print shop and stood under the awning to watch them. Her gaze kept going to La Grange, and she began to frown.
“They announced it at Mercat Cross,” La Grange said, ignoring Aimee, although Simon knew the man had seen her step out.
“Amid quite a bit of laughter,” Will added.
“Her subjects don’t believe his innocence,” Simon said.
“Nor should they,” said Will.
“You have quite a bit of work cut out for you,” Simon said to Will, who shrugged and said, “It will be interesting, to say the least.”
“Mary has also said that all sixty people who are outlawed are to be executed if caught.” La Grange inserted a sword into a scabbard attached to Simon’s saddle. “You’d best be going.”
Aimee gasped. “Surely she is not that vindictive.”
La Grange looked at her impassively. “My lady, the queen is vulnerable. She knows her subjects are turning against her, and she must be strong.”
“She is also furious,” said Will. “For being taken captive and for the death of Rizzio. She certainly is being vindictive, but those closest to her don’t blame her.”
Aimee stepped out from beneath the awning to stare at La Grange. “Have we met, sir?”
“Nay, my lady,” La Grange said.
“I feel certain we have. You look familiar.”
Tristan came out with the sack of food and some blankets. The four men secured the provisions to the horses, and soon after, Simon and Aimee were mounting. Simon watched her, but she sat her horse with confidence.
“The best exit is Cannon Gate,” La Grange said. “Just act normal and as if you belong. The guards have their hands full with the army of men that Mary and Bothwell have brought in; they’re not so worried about a husband and wife leaving.”
Simon nodded from atop his mount and looked at Will and Tristan. “Be safe,” he said to them.
“We should say that of you,” Tristan said. “It’s a long ride, and Mary’s conspirators are out there.”
“Running in circles, no doubt,” Simon said. “They’re pampered nobles with no idea how to survive out there alone. I’m not worried.”
“That makes them dangerous,” Tristan said. “Be aware at all times.”
Simon nodded. He didn’t like leaving them behind but knew this was the way of things. Out of the three, he was the only one who could provide Elizabeth with a firsthand account of Rizzio’s attack, and he was the only one whom Mary wanted dead.
“Godspeed,” Will said.
La Grange checked over the horses one last time, and Simon and Aimee were free to go. “Thank you for everything,” Aimee said to Will and Tristan before they left.
They exited Edinburgh through the Cannon Gate with no problems. None of the guards even looked at them twice.
“Will is right,” Simon said after they had ridden for several miles. Edinburgh was gone from their sight, and there was nothing but wide-open land with mountains in the background. Snow swirled lazily around them. There was a hush that had fallen over the land, as if even Scotland itself were holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Simon had no doubt that Mary’s story was far from finished and that much more would happen to the queen. Her country was in a state of unrest, fighting itself, and her people were not fully supportive of her, not to mention that her marriage was almost nonexistent, and an heir whose paternity was under question was to be born soon. He prayed for Will and Tristan’s safety.
“What was Will right about?” Aimee asked. She had pulled up both hoods and he could barely see her face. She had covered her hands in gloves and wrapped extra fabric around them, per La Grange’s instructions.
“The nobles who have fled Edinburgh will be dangerous if we are to come upon them. I am fairly certain they did not know enough to bring adequate provisions. They’ll be hungry, cold, and desperate. We need to keep an eye out for them.”
“I’m sure they won’t be hard to miss.”
“Undoubtedly.”
They fell into a comfortable silence. Simon let the sway of the horse calm him. The farther they got from Edinburgh, the better he felt about things. He started thinking about their arrival in England and his audience with Elizabeth. She would be eager for news from him. Will had heard that Mary had already written to her, describing Rizzio’s attack and the deplorable way Mary had been treated as a captive. Elizabeth would be angry; she might not agree with Mary’s views, but she had a strong sense of loyalty when it came to her fellow queen. She firmly believed that as female monarchs, they needed to support each other in some things.
He was a bit worried about Elizabeth’s reaction to his marriage. He had no idea how she would receive the news. Aimee had been through so much deception and had been used by too many people already. Catherine had sent her to Scotland under duress and false pretenses; Mary had married her off against her will and then turned on Aimee and ordered her death. He himself had concealed his true reasons for being in Scotland. He wanted Elizabeth to be the exception, but he wasn’t certain she would be.
“That man, La Grange, said that Mary had accepted Darnley’s statement that he had nothing to do with the murder of Rizzio,” Aimee said. “Why do you think she did that when everyone else believes that he did have a hand in it?”
“Because she has to show a united front to her people and secure her son or daughter’s claim to the title by standing by the father of her child.”
“She would be wise to choose her advisers with much thought. I fear she does not think things through very well.”
“You have amazing insight, Magpie.”
—
“I swear I’ve met La Grange before,” she said later that afternoon. “He seemed so familiar, even though he said we’ve never met.”
“He’s one of Mary’s soldiers. No doubt you saw him at the palace.”
Aimee stared at Simon in surprise. “And yet he helped us escape?”
“He’s in the employ of Elizabeth.”
Aimee laughed, then covered her mouth. “Is the palace full of English spies?”
“Just the four of us, as far as I know. La Grange has been there far longer than Will, Tristan, and I.”
“And Mary suspects nothing.”
“At least not with La Grange.”
“It makes me wonder how many of England’s spies reside in the French court.”
Simon’s smile was tight-lipped, leaving Aimee to question the people she had known in France.
They were making good time. Simon had predicted that it would take seven days to get to England. He pushed them to go farther than he normally would have, and Aimee did not complain. He loved her resilience, among many other things.
“Someday soon we will settle into a life that doesn’t require running away all the time and sleeping in strange places. I promise you that, Magpie.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind. I know it’s for a good purpose—we’re saving our necks.”
He laughed. “We ar
e at that.”
“Tell me about your estate so that I may know of it before I get there.”
For the next hour, he described Danfield as well as he could, considering it had been a few years since he’d been in residence. One thing or another had pulled him away from it, and he regretted that now.
“I have a sister,” he said after he’d exhausted his knowledge of Danfield. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned that.”
She looked at him in surprise. It had stopped snowing hours ago and the moon was out, casting blue shadows across the snowy land. “I had no idea you had a sister. I don’t believe we’ve ever spoken of your family.”
“My parents have been dead a few years now. It’s just Judith and me.”
“Where is Judith now?”
“In the queen’s court.” He told her about asking the queen for retirement and her demand that he do this one last mission, basically holding Judith hostage to get his agreement.
“That is not very kind of her,” Aimee said crossly.
“But it accomplished her goal, and she knew that I understood Judith would be well cared for.”
“Still, I don’t like that she denied Judith her only family.”
Simon shrugged, past his anger now and just wanting to get home to see Judith, get this business over with the queen, and take his girls safely to Danfield.
He stopped when he saw Aimee swaying in the saddle and yawning repeatedly. She argued that they should keep going.
“The horses need a rest,” he said, helping her down from her mount and holding her steady until the feeling returned to her legs. She hobbled off into the trees to take care of personal business while he cared for the horses and laid out the blankets under some trees where no snow had accumulated.
When she returned, she looked at the blankets longingly. “I’ve never been so tired in my life,” she admitted.
They fell asleep, holding tight to each other for warmth.
Chapter 27
Aimee awoke suddenly when a hand covered her mouth.
“Shhh,” Simon said in her ear.
Instantly she stilled, but her heart was beating so hard that she could feel it in her ears. She lay rigid beneath him, the cold, hard-packed dirt at her back, Simon’s strong, sturdy, warm body on top of her.
He was tense, his head up as he scanned the area around them. In the light of day, the area looked different, brighter, more exposed. Over the pounding in her heart, she heard voices. Her eyes locked with Simon’s and he shook his head to keep her silent.
Slowly he removed his hand from her mouth and she drew in a deep, cold breath. The voices were closer. To their right. She moved her eyes in that direction, hoping to get a glimpse of the people, but they were out of sight.
Simon pulled a blanket up over them and she realized that it was white, like the snow, and would camouflage them. Hopefully.
“Nobles,” he breathed into her ear.
Merde. The nobles who Simon and La Grange had warned would be dangerous. Out of all of Scotland, why did she and Simon have to run into them now?
Their voices were raised in anger. It sounded like they were arguing, but she could not make out words. Eventually they moved away, but she and Simon lay there for a long while, until her back started to hurt and a rock was digging into her shoulder.
Finally Simon rolled off her and stood to look around. “I don’t see them,” he said.
Aimee got up stiffly. The hem of her gown was coated in frost, and she had to stamp the feeling back into her toes, but other than that she was surprisingly warm from Simon’s body heat.
“Unfortunately they are going in the same direction that we are,” Simon said.
“To England? Will the queen accept Mary’s traitors?”
“I don’t know. Elizabeth likes to keep her enemies close, so she may accept them under certain conditions. We have to be doubly vigilant. We probably should take another route, a more circuitous one that will lead us away from them.”
Aimee wanted to groan. More circuitous undoubtedly meant longer.
Simon dug through one of the bags tied to the back of his horse and pulled out a rondel dagger. “I should have given this to you earlier,” he said as he handed it to her.
Carefully she took it and studied the very sharp point and the beautifully carved grip. “I can’t take this. It’s far too dear.”
“Take it and use it if you must. Nothing is more dear to me than your life. A dagger can be replaced.”
On impulse she hugged him, feeling overwhelmed by so many emotions: gratitude, fear, humility. She had no idea what she would have done without Simon in her life the past week. “Thank you,” she said on a choked breath.
He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll get through this. That is my vow to you.”
She pulled away and Simon tucked the dagger into her saddle, within easy reach.
They were riding out in under ten minutes. Simon handed her a piece of cured meat and they broke their fast while in the saddle, as she searched the land for the disgraced nobles, wondering just where their lives were leading them.
The days were an endless loop of riding, sleeping, snow, and sporadic conversation. She was becoming exhausted and frigidly cold to her bones, but she refused to complain. Simon was taking her to safety, and for that she was grateful. She tried to keep her hopes high and not fall into despair that every bone in her body hurt. She hadn’t felt her bum for days, or her toes, for that matter. Each night Simon rubbed the warmth back into them and apologized that they were not able to build a fire.
They were entering their second week of travel. Simon’s beard was now fully grown, his hair nearly touching his collar. Aimee didn’t even want to think what she looked like. They hadn’t bathed or washed their hair in nearly a week, and she was positive they smelled and looked like it.
And yet despite the cold, despite the lack of a bath, a warm fire, and a safe place to lay her head, she wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Forced together, she and Simon had taken the opportunity to learn about each other, and it had brought them closer.
She knew that his father had been a merchant and Simon had started his career as a soldier in Elizabeth’s army, quickly rising in the ranks until he caught the eye of Walsingham, Elizabeth’s spymaster. Simon had learned of Aimee’s five siblings and her parents, whom she admitted she didn’t know all that well, seeing as she’d been one of the youngest and then sent to Catherine’s court.
They carefully skirted the topic of Pierre, although Aimee tried to make it clear that she held no more feelings for him. Secretly she thought of Pierre warmly but distantly, as if her time with him had been more a dream than reality.
They didn’t see the nobles again but kept a constant eye out for them. Even that kind of vigilance became exhausting, and she found herself daydreaming, her mind wandering.
Her hope was that she would finally find a place to fit in in her new country of England. She kept Simon’s description of Danfield close to her heart, making the estate her own in her mind. Ah, to have her very own home. A home that she would run. She would choose the curtains and the silver and maybe even the servants if there weren’t that many there. They could entertain, although she wasn’t certain whom they would entertain. Maybe Will and Tristan if—when—they returned.
The ideas running through her head kept her occupied for hours.
The days became monotonous, a mind-numbing round of riding and resting. They never rested longer than a few hours, enough time to give the horses the break they needed, maybe to eat and attend to personal needs, and to sleep for a bit. Tristan’s supply of dried meat was endless, and while Aimee learned to hate it rather quickly, she tried not to complain, as it was their main source of food. They talked about hunting for a rabbit, but that would require them to build a fire and Simon was very reluctant to do so, fearing the displaced nobles were nearby even though they had not seen them. Simon believed that by now the nobles would be despe
rate and dangerous.
They were two days out from London when trouble hit, and it was not in the form of the nobles.
They had stopped to rest the horses and to catch a few hours of sleep. Aimee had gone behind some boulders in front of a line of trees to take care of personal business. She was thinking that she would be eternally grateful when they reached England and she could sit in front of a warm fire. She could not remember a time when her toes had not been pebbles of ice or her fingers hadn’t been numb and her backside hadn’t ached.
While she was immersed in her selfish thoughts, a hand came from behind her and clamped down over her mouth, stifling her scream. Immediately she lashed out with her elbow, landing it squarely on some part of the perpetrator’s body. He grunted and tightened his hold.
She knew right away that the hand was not Simon’s, the body behind her was not Simon’s. In the week and a half of traveling with him, she’d learned his body well.
A dagger came around and the cold, deadly edge rested against her throat.
“Stay quiet,” the voice behind her said. “Or I will cut your head off.”
She doubted that the dagger he held could cut her head off, but it could inflict some major damage, and she did not wish to bleed to death in the frigid Scottish weather just days from her destination at the hands of a man who reeked so horribly.
“Aimee, hurry it up. We must get going,” Simon called from the other side of the boulder.
The man pushed her from behind. “Go,” he whispered in her ear.
She began walking around the boulder, wishing there were some way to alert Simon of the danger, but the man’s hand was still over her mouth, and he was directing her actions by turning her head this way and that. Her neck hurt from being bent backward, and the dagger was pressing uncomfortably against her throat.
They rounded the boulder to see Simon preparing the horses for departure. He’d already rolled up the blankets and secured them to the back of the horses. He turned around and stilled. “Rowland?” Simon asked in disbelief. “What in the devil—”
He knew this man?
“I want your horses,” the man named Rowland said. “And all of your food.”
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