Defiant Desire

by Anne Carsley

  A few minutes later Julian, Rob, and the obedient shell that was Charles Varland stood in the shadow of a small church that had once been brave with glass and color and statuary but was now a continuing victim of the English anger against the policies of the queen. There was no money and no will for restoration. Julian wondered that she had time to think this way when pursuit was only minutes away.

  “The horses will be ready at the inn hard by the west gate. We can take all day to get there so long as we are out of the city by the time the gates close.” Rob looked at Julian’s elegance. “You need to get rid of those clothes, how I cannot think.”

  The city was wild enough these days so that it might very well be thought the occupants of a litter found abandoned were either killed or taken away. In spite of their plight Julian could not resist a smile at the look on Rob’s face as he watched her unloosen the black dress to let sleeves and bodice fall away.

  “What are you doing? Someone will see you!”

  “What will they see? A woman of the streets speaking with a priest. They at least need no disguise!” She blessed the inspiration that had made her pull on the thin wool gown before the rich court apparel that Madame Asterion would have worn. The skirts followed, and she bundled them away in a pile of drifted refuse near the wall. “It is colder but safer. Now, rouse Charles, and we can go the faster.”

  Charles still stood as he had halted, a mindless thing that made her heart ache for the power and elegance that had been his. The wind seemed colder here, and people were beginning to hurry toward the cresting excitement that could be heard across the intervening streets. They must rush away while life still remained. The strange curtain that sometimes came across Julian’s mind at times of stress blurred things for her now, and she saw the backward whirl of events. The burning ship and the cliffs of Cornwall, Attenwood’s sand-colored eyes, the looming expanse of the Tower walls, the calculating look in Brother Rob’s eyes, and a dark room where the world as she knew it ended.

  “I cannot rouse him yet, Julian. It is one of the effects of such treatment that the person may suffer some derangement of mind. We dare not risk that until we are beyond the walls of the city.”

  The trumpet sounded clear and high in the air, a call to arms. It was answered by another while the crowd screamed beyond. Time was narrowing down. Julian stared at Rob. “Why did you not tell me this? Have we saved his body to risk his mind? We could have pretended; it might have worked.”

  He caught her arm and pulled her in the alley that ran parallel to the street. “It would not. Fear can be smelled out. And did you not say that you would have Charles Varland mad or sane?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “That is the price, masters. It is yours to take or leave as you will.” The innkeeper folded broad arms across his chest and rocked back and forth on his heels. A grin flicked over his pursed mouth and vanished into his beard.

  “But the arrangements were made days ago! You agreed to them!” Rob’s voice rose and was as quickly lowered.

  “My wife, myself, and my old aunt to be well mounted and provisioned and an extra horse for our baggage. My brother came here. Do you not recall?”

  The grin faded and the innkeeper glared at them. “No one came and no arrangements have been made. Do you say that I lie?”

  A red flush came over Rob’s face, and he started to answer but Julian stepped close to the innkeeper, letting her voice go shrill. “We will take the beasts you have though they are certainly no bargain! My husband probably drank up the money before even looking for that no-good brother of his!” She poured the collection of coins traded earlier for pearls into his eager hands. “Husband, let us go. I am exhausted and so is Aunt Mary.” She gave Rob and the innkeeper a scathing glance.

  The innkeeper waved a negligent hand. “The beasts are in the stable. You have seen them. Take them and go. But think twice before you accuse an honest man.” He began to check the coins, losing interest in the trio.

  Julian was thankful that they had concealed the remainder of the coins in their clothes. He had seen the empty pouch and knew that no more was forthcoming. She and Rob bickered for the benefit of any watchers as they guided Charles toward the stable, mounted the thin horses which the prudent stableboy had ready, and shambled away into the cold afternoon. They could only hope that their act had been convincing.

  They went into the narrow street which was filled with shoppers, merchants, pickpockets, and travelers all rushing about. The city gate which led to the Salisbury road was very close, but Julian drew rein, her eyes scanning the streets and the crowds. She watched Charles for an instant, fighting all her screaming senses. He might have been the very old woman he posed as, for his movements were slow and laborious. His legs clamped around the distended barrel of the horse he sat upon and clung there. He bent forward, and his cloak concealed both face and hands. The very look of his figure was one of age and exhaustion. “

  Julian, we have to go. The hunt may already have begun in earnest.” Rob’s strained voice pulled at her. “We cannot wait, I tell you.”

  “What if something has happened to him? He must have been taken. He sent word that he was making the deal with the innkeeper just as you said. It was all planned, and we were to join the party of pilgrims.” Her words broke off as she stared imploringly at Rob. She knew that he was right, but tears were burning her eyes. What if Sir Guy were even now looking for them?

  They had spent the time since that morning in two churches and a tavern as they sought to avoid notice. There had been no evidence of the hunt and no sign that they had been followed. Charles moved easily when they guided him, though Julian’s heart ached to see him so. The city abounded with rumors: the queen had or had not been delivered of a healthy boy or a monster; she was dead or dying; she had been abducted; Philip of Spain had arrived with soldiers to take over the realm that would not crown him. Every moment they lingered was another step closer to death. It was already hours past the time they had set to meet.

  “Julian?” Rob spoke sharply. “He would not want us to jeopardize what we have already won, you know that.”

  She did know it, and that made the fear for him all the more agonizing. Her friend who had helped them in spite of what it might mean for him, the faithful servant of the queen who yet had been kind to Julian Redenter from the first and whose eyes had told her he could be more. “They will kill him!” The words were almost a wail, and several people turned to stare. It was enough. She must make the decision and weep for it later. “Very well, Rob. Let us go.”

  Other people were leaving as well, and their party mingled with them, but all were conscious of the soldiers walking about, eyes alert. A drifting rain had begun, and the wind had risen as night approached. Some tumblers were showing their skills near the gates, and children begged close by. Julian hunched her shoulders and tried to appear inconspicuous, but she remembered what Rob had said about fear giving off its own scent. The pacing clop of the horses brought them nearer to the soldiers, nearer to the road outside and freedom.

  Then they were outside and moving down the muddy track with all the others who, like themselves, had journeys to make as well as those who lived close by and would bring their wares to the city tomorrow and all the other days of the year. Julian wanted to look at Charles and Rob but dared not lift her face lest the luck turn. For the first time she felt the cold through the wool gown and old cloak. The hood of thin cloth did little to protect her head, but she was beyond caring. Now they entered into the state of freedom, that most precious thing of all.

  “Release him from this state. We must go more swiftly.” They crouched in the shelter of an old wall that protruded from a copse away from the road down which the soldiers had just ridden. Julian did not want to admit that she was growing more nervous with Rob, good friend that he was. Her instincts of danger were awakened and she knew better than to ignore them. “Rouse him, I say.”

  “We must have warmth and quiet to do it properly
. It is late, we can find an inn, stable these old horses, and begin. Come, Julian, would you risk his mind?” Rob spoke as reasonably as ever. “How do you think those soldiers might have been after us? Riding with those flaming torches they could have been seeking anyone, including another troop. We have not been traced.”

  “Now! I demand it!” Her teeth clenched as she faced him, his face a blur in the darkness.

  “Why?” He leaned toward her, and suddenly he was no longer her friend but an alien in this dark, wet world.

  "Why do you hesitate, Sir Priest?” Charles Varland threw back the hood of the old woman’s cloak and stood before them as himself, the peer of the realm and leader of those who dissented.

  Julian and Rob cried out as one, and the tall figure reached past them to fumble in the bags for the breeches and shirt there. Then Julian crossed to him and put both hands on his arms. His flesh was warm, the dark hair crisp. He was himself.

  “How long . . . ?” Rob stuttered and faltered into silence.

  “Since just before we left London. It was the dark and the torches, those children crying out, and the sight of Julian’s face in the light. Those are the last words you spoke to me, remember? I am familiar with such states from my own journeys, but have never seen that there was a danger from them. Nonetheless, I am grateful for all that you have done.” Charles scrambled into the clothes under the shelter of the robe, then reversed it and threw it around his shoulders. He did not take his eyes from Rob, and Julian felt the leashed anger in him.

  Brother Rob said, “We have undergone much these last weeks. Are we now to walk in fear of each other? Your life has been preserved, Lord Varland, and the wealth of a dead man bought it. I would not question too far if I were you.”

  Julian started to speak, but Charles reached out a hand in the darkness and caught hers, squeezing it tightly. It was a warning. She said, “For what reason do we quibble? Charles is restored and safe. Let us go on while we can find some sort of shelter.”

  “But first there is this.” Charles pulled her to him and held her against the length of his body before touching his mouth to her forehead in a gesture of such gentleness that her eyes misted. There was no passion, but who could expect it after all that had happened? The camaraderie was sufficient for now. She leaned against him and knew peace for the first time in many weeks.

  They rode without stopping again for the remainder of the night and all the next day. The "main road was long since left behind, and they went into the little trails and pathways that dotted this part of the landscape. Rain buffeted them, but it had a hint of spring in its touch, and the bare branches of the trees danced against the low clouds. Exhausted and tired as they were, the promise of the warmth to come lifted them up. All knew that they must find a place to go to ground, and in these suspicious times, that would be a task nearly as difficult as the feat they had accomplished in freeing Charles. From time to time they saw small bands of soldiers even in the hamlets and dared not pause; their pursuers would be seeking a small group such as themselves, and it was entirely feasible that all could be checked. Julian thought to herself that Ortega would have demanded entrance and discovered the ploy within minutes of their departure. He could command the resources of England and Spain; they had only their wits and the wealth of George Attenwood.

  Late in the afternoon of that same day Rob’s horse stumbled and went lame on one of the woody trails through which they were pressing. Investigation showed that it was not a serious condition, but the animal could not be ridden further that day. The horses were tethered to a tree branch, and then they huddled together under an impromptu shelter made of matted branches, a small rock overhang, and the largest cloak.

  Julian and Charles lay in each other’s arms with Rob at Julian’s back. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle but thought it merely tiredness. She shifted position a little, and Charles whispered, “Sleep, Julian, sleep.” It was softer than a lullaby, this tenderness that she bad seldom known from him, and she tumbled into restful slumber with his name on her lips, his mouth on her hair.

  The muttered cursing seemed at first the part of a dream that changed from warmth to chill, from human closeness to the emptiness beyond all communication. She reached out for Charles and to pull the covers up around her shoulders, then came wide awake as reality struck. He stood a few yards away, out in the gray light of early morning, and she could see the cords of his neck standing out as he kicked at an offending branch.

  “What is it?” She jumped up, thrust her hair back, and looked about, half expecting to see them besieged by soldiers of the queen.

  Charles strode nearer and waved a piece of paper under her nose. “It was marked for you, but I am not sorry I read it. At least the edge of my rage has cooled. How could he do this after all that we have endured?” He thrust the scrap at her.

  Julian read in the fine Latin of the monasteries: Forgive me, Julian. You began to know what would happen. I cannot be other than I am or as I was made long ago. Lord Varland will protect you. Forgive.

  She looked up at Charles and then around blankly. The suspicions over which she had felt guilty came back, and she put a hand to her mouth. “No! But he carried the major part of the jewels and the gold. I had only a few pieces and some pearls. Oh, Rob! Culpable after all.” They had been through many trials, and she did not doubt that, armed with most of the wealth, he could buy a comfortable life at any worldly monastery in‘France or even any of the remaining ones in England. “I counted him friend.” The words came out softly, and she knew that never would she think of Brother Rob as anything but that. Some part of her drew back from commitment. Could the dark man she loved be trusted even now?

  “He took the best horse, too.” Charles made the sour remark as he looked at the other two, one of which was still lame. “These holy ones are devious.” He swung back to Julian and took in her pale face, which harbored traces of her hurt. “Julian, come now. We are free, and I owe you my life. We surely have enough to find some sort of shelter for a month or so while I find out what is going on in the land and how to contact those left of my men.”

  “I hope he will be happy. I wish him well. His arcane knowledge and ability gave us what we now have.” She took the hand Charles extended, and they looked at each other ruefully. It was true; both of them knew it And knowing it, they could say farewell to a friend.

  They alternately walked and rode that day, which saw the coming of the pale sun and a true lessening of the chill. Julian told Charles all that she could remember of affairs of state, while he spoke of the months of recovery and captivity, the omnipresent certainty of death, and the final protection of Philip of Spain. “He has stood my good friend, but I shall have to forswear it in the bitter times to come.” She saw that Charles himself had changed, he was less arrogant of spirit, more quietly determined and settled within himself. When he thought she did not see, he reached out to touch a swaying branch, his fingers closing on the wet thickness of it as if he could feel summer’s leaves. The fleeting expression on his face made her heart shake.

  It was to this new Charles that she could speak of George Attenwood, the manner of his life and death, the plans he had had for her, and the way these had been foiled by those who had helped. She added, “We saw no more of Sir Guy after he went to the palace that morning to find out what he could and present himself to those of the council standing for the queen at her lying-in. Matters moved more swiftly than we intended with the coming of Ortega.”

  Charles dismissed Ortega with a flip of his fingers. “That lackey will get what he deserves.” He took Julian’s chin in one hand and put the other on her shoulder as his mouth grazed hers, then took it more fully.

  She put both arms around him, and they stood together in the winding road, fused together in the passion that had ever bound them, now deepened by the adversity that had brought them into a new closeness. Once Charles would have spoken savagely of Attenwood and her own motives; now he accepted her words
and went to what was important. Life itself. His breath was warm as it mingled with hers, his tongue lured and drew hers in the well-remembered fire. Her loins grew heated, and she leaned into him. His fingers tightened as he muttered in his throat.

  The horses whickered behind them, and one stamped the wet ground. Instantly, Charles broke free of Julian, thrust her behind him, and reached for his nonexistent sword. The road was bare as were most of the trees beside it, but an evergreen stand a few feet away quivered although the wind was still.

  “Who is there? Come out. We will not harm you. We are all travelers here who seek peace.” Charles maintained his watchful stance, but his voice was curiously blurred, dropping down into muted accents unlike the sharper ones of the court.

  Julian moved up to his side, her hand ready on her own dagger. The days when she awaited a man’s protection were gone. Now she, too, could fight for those things precious to her.

  The bush twitched once more, suddenly parted, and the would-be assailant stepped boldly out, hands on hips, black curls rioting from under a green cap the color of the leaves above. “This is my private pathway. What are you doing here?”

  “Your pardon.” Charles swept a bow, remembered himself, and rose clumsily from it. “Have we your leave to pass?”

  The little girl, no more than five, considered him and lifted her eyes to Julian. “Do you want to pass, too?” Her skin was lightly touched with sun, the face tiny and impish. The black eyes seemed to hold a depth of knowledge far at variance with the young face.

  Julian smiled at her and started to respond when two people crashed through the other evergreens which led up to the crest of a small hill. They ranged themselves beside the child, and it was as if a mirror reflected back woman and child. The man was in his early thirties, she a bit younger, both had the dark hair and eyes and slightly dark skin that made them appear exotic. Their clothes were not those of peasants, made as they were of bright cloth, flimsy and too cool for this time of the year. But it was not their appearances that drew Julian, nor yet the defensiveness with which they drew together. It was the wary caution that looked out at her, a look she had seen on her own face. These people were fugitives even as she and Charles.