by Julia Latham
She looked between them beseechingly, then at last at Anne. “But I never—”
“I know you would never hurt any of us,” Anne said soothingly. “Maybe we can make this clearer for them. When did you first meet Stephen?”
She bit her lip. “’Twas at the tournament in Durham.” Her eyes went wide. “I never saw that that might matter! I would never put Lady Rosamond in danger!”
“We must leave,” Philip said.
Walter nodded. “Did Stephen see Lady Rosamond in Durham? And has he seen our Lady Rosamond?”
Margaret started to cry. “I know not about Durham, but here, aye, he was in the hall when we arrived.”
Anne felt a chill of foreboding. “He might know I’m not—”
“I never told him that!” Margaret cried, then put a hand to her mouth to hush her sobs.
Anne enfolded the maid in a hug. “This might all be for nothing, but we cannot take the chance on Stephen telling Lord Bramfield that I am not Lady Rosamond.”
Margaret pushed her away. “He would not do such a thing. He loves me. I cannot leave.”
“Margaret…” Walter began.
But the maid shook her head. “If I leave with you, he’ll know somethin’ is wrong.”
“When we all leave, he’ll know the same thing,” Walter said.
“Lady Rosamond can convince him.” Philip narrowed his eyes in thought.
Anne stared at him in surprise, grateful that he believed in her.
“You’re offended that Bramfield cares more about his dogs than greeting you,” Philip slowly said.
“Ah. I can do that.” She felt relieved at having a plan. She turned to Margaret. “Are you sure—”
“I have to stay,” the maid repeated firmly, wiping her eyes. “I love him. I have to take the chance that he loves me, too. I promise I will say nothin’.” Margaret suddenly flung her arms around her. “Take care, milady. Tell me mistress everythin’. Tell her I hope to be happy.”
“If not, you know she will always have you back,” Anne said. “I understand why you have to take this chance.”
Margaret stepped away. “Thank you, milady. Farewell.”
As the maid left, Anne glanced at Philip. Margaret was taking a chance on love, but Anne just couldn’t. Weren’t her dreams more important than the risk that Philip might change his mind about his future?
“Pack quickly,” Walter said. “I will inform Joseph and David. I will also hint to the steward that you are not happy. Philip—”
“I’ll stay here. I never unpacked.”
Walter nodded and left.
“I’ll hurry,” Anne said, folding the gown she had worn earlier in the day. “I shan’t bother to change. The cloak will cover my finery.”
Philip nodded almost absently, standing near the door, his head bent as if he were listening.
“You expect soldiers to come for us?” she asked, trying for levity.
“Nay, they would come in secret to hide their deeds. That would be far worse.”
Her amusement faded and she redoubled her efforts. In only a few minutes she was ready. Philip escorted her to his own chamber where he picked up the knights’ saddle bags.
At the top of the stairs leading down into the great hall, he looked at her. “Are you ready?” he murmured.
She nodded, although her heart pounded so loudly he must be able to hear it. Within the enemy’s stronghold, they were few in number compared to what could be mustered against them. Was Margaret’s suitor down below, watching them? Could Lord Bramfield be one of the traitors?
Anne took a deep breath and thought about her role. She was wealthy and confident, knew she was desired, knew she would be the center of attention. She felt the transformation come over her, and she relaxed into it. She was Lady Rosamond.
In the hall below, servants were preparing the trestle tables for supper. There was no sign of the nobleman, and Anne was glad.
“Who is the steward of this place?” she demanded in a loud voice.
The chattering voices of the servants died away, and they all looked at each other in confusion. Walter, David, and Joseph came to her and stood at her back, while Philip remained at her side.
A man doffed his cap nervously. “He is in his office, milady. Shall I fetch him for you?”
“At once!”
In only a few minutes, another man came rushing out of a nearby corridor. He fingered his beard nervously, as if it were terribly important for Lord Bramfield’s household to make a good impression on the wealthy Lady Rosamond.
“My lady,” he said, sweeping into a bow, “how may I help you?”
“I am leaving. Have our horses brought into the courtyard.”
“But, my lady,” he began, eyes wide with confusion, “you only just arrived.”
“I sent word of my imminent arrival, and yet dogs were more important to your lord than greeting me.”
“That is not true, my lady! He thought you would want to prepare yourself first.”
“As if I was not good enough for him when I arrived?”
The steward looked aghast. “Nay, ’tis not what I meant!”
“Send for our horses immediately.”
He deflated like a peacock about to be stuffed for a feast. “Of course, my lady.”
Would it be so easy? Anne wondered. With her nose held high, she swept from the hall, ignoring the angry glances sent her way. She tried to tell herself that of course Bramfield’s servants would be upset that she’d slurred their master. They could not know that he might be a traitor.
But who here did? She had not seen Margaret anywhere. Hopefully she was keeping Stephen away until they’d gone.
Deep inside, Anne found herself praying that all of this was a mistake, and the only thing that would suffer would be Lord Bramfield’s pride.
Once they were on the way, they did not stay on the main highway, but rode parallel to it a league away. They were all quiet, and Anne found herself looking about her constantly. But all she saw was cattle amidst the hedged fields, and the occasional farmer.
Walter did not want to sleep outdoors, nor did he want to stay in Ware, so close to Bramfield Hall. They settled on Waltham Abbey, the nearest town to the south, where there would be more witnesses should anything be tried against them. They reached it by nightfall, and although the first inn had no rooms available, the second did.
“We should have tried to hide somewhere less conspicuous,” Philip said, as he examined Anne’s bedchamber.
The other knights were settling into the chambers on either side of hers. She told herself she was safe; they were skipping the final nobleman on the list to be in London tomorrow.
But a thread of worry and uncertainty never left her, and she sensed it was the same with the Bladesmen. They had not bothered to disguise their relief when they’d entered Waltham.
“Would you have rather we find a barn to hide in?” Anne asked lightly.
“Aye.”
She rolled her eyes. When someone knocked on the door, she went toward it, but Philip stepped in front of her, giving her a frown.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Walter. I have brought supper.”
Philip pointed to a corner, and Anne sighed as she obeyed him. He opened the door, and Walter, David, and Joseph all came in, making the room far too crowded. David and Joseph placed trays on the table and began to divvy up the food. Anne sat down on the bed, and Philip sat beside her. None of the other men looked askance, for with only two stools, Joseph, the youngest, had to stand.
To her mortification, she felt Philip’s presence at her side far too physically. The straw mattress tilted with his weight, and she had to hold herself upright not to lean into him. She could feel the warmth of his body, knew he was deliberately not looking at her. Did he feel it too? All the worry of discovery, the excitement of the chase, only made her even more aware of the intimacy they had shared. Her body wanted more, and her rational mind did not seem to care how it woul
d look, how it might affect her future. Controlling herself required an effort she hadn’t imagined. Would it always be this way? When they had parted, would she forever think of him?
The men shared a pitcher of ale, and although they poured her a tankard, she refused it, concentrating on the lamprey pie.
When they had all finished, Walter stood up. “I will take the first shift outside your door, my lady.”
“I won’t risk leaving her alone,” Philip said. “After all, if I could come through the window, so could someone else.”
Anne wanted to protest, to say that it didn’t have to be Philip, but Walter spoke quickly.
“Agreed. Good night, my lady.”
Clenching her jaw, she watched them all file out after once again deliberately leaving her alone with Philip.
And he paced, wearing a frown.
She made herself calm down. She had done well today getting them out of Bramfield Hall. Walter would remember that.
She finally realized that she was still wearing the fine gown she’d meant to impress Lord Bramfield with. On one of Philip’s passes, she presented her back, determined to ignore the feel of his hands on her body.
“Would you help unlace me?” But her voice shook, and she silently cursed her weakness for him.
When she didn’t feel his hands on her gown, she looked over her shoulder. He was wearing the strangest look on his face, and he had a hand pressed to his stomach.
“Philip?”
“I find myself suddenly not feeling well,” he said.
To her shock, he swayed and braced his hand on the table. She touched his arm and realized that he was trembling.
“Philip, you should lie down.”
He closed his eyes. “I think I should find the chamber pot.”
He barely lifted the lid in time before he became violently ill. She stood behind him, feeling helpless.
“Something is wrong,” she said. “You need help.”
“Nay!” He lifted a hand to her. “Don’t leave this chamber!”
But that seemed to take the last of his strength, for he collapsed onto his side, groaning. And then he was silent, which was far worse.
She dropped to her knees and put her hand on his forehead. He was damp and hot, but his chest still rose and fell. What if he were dying? she thought wildly. She could not just sit here and do nothing! She would go to Walter, who would surely send for a physician.
She listened at the door carefully, and then opened it, only to find a stranger standing there, smiling at her.
She tried to slam it shut, but he held it open with his hand and stepped inside. He was tall and wiry, with plain brown hair and nondescript clothing, but with eyes that showed secret amusement.
As she took several steps backward, she saw no one behind him in the corridor. Where was Walter?
And then he shut the door. The finality of the sound made her feel sick with fear, but she forced herself to remain calm. She would have only herself to rely on.
“Lady Rosamond?” he said politely, doffing his cap, as if a man were not lying unconscious on the floor. “Or do you wish to tell me your real name?”
She made a sudden run for the door, but he caught her around the waist.
“There is no one to help you, my lady,” he said, exaggerating the title.
Though she tried to elbow and kick him, he avoided her blows.
“It seems your guard needed to rush desperately for a chamber pot.”
“What have you done to my men?” she demanded in her most authoritarian voice.
“I promise you that they will not die.”
She was too frightened to hope it could be true. “And I should believe you?”
“Well, of course you should. We had to alter the ale. Since I assumed that you would imbibe as well, and I can’t have you dead, the poison is not fatal.”
Hoping to keep him talking, to delay him, Anne asked, “Were your men the ones who attacked us days ago?”
He gave an exaggerated sigh that ruffled her hair from behind. “Such a terrible mistake. It almost gave the whole situation away. Some people have no patience.” He leaned down to speak in her ear. “Enough questions. Be good, and I’ll release you if you promise not to run.”
She nodded resentfully, and when she was free of him, she backed away.
“Now, if you come along quietly to my master, I promise not to have my men permanently take care of yours in their incapacitated state. After all, you would not be very forthcoming if I had them killed. And leaving several dead bodies would be far too messy—and noticeable.”
Though she fought her emotions, her breath caught on a sob. What could she do? He was trying too hard to convince her that he wouldn’t have her men killed. Two more men came through the door, and she knew the terrible weakness of futility.
Would Philip and the others be killed, one way or another?
Chapter 20
T he pounding in his brain was so unbearable that Philip awoke. He did not want to open his eyes, for fear that light would make it worse. But something deep inside kept urging him on, until he finally rolled over onto his stomach and pressed up onto his hands and knees. His head hung freely, dizzily, and his stomach heaved, but there was nothing left.
And then memory returned, overshadowing his pain as he straightened onto his knees. “Anne?”
There was no answer.
He heard something whoosh through the air behind him, and he threw himself to the side on instinct alone. A man stumbled past him, his sword coming down heavily and sticking point-first into the wooden floor. Philip brought his knee into the man’s back, sending him face first onto the bed. Somehow Philip lunged to his feet and grabbed the sword. As his opponent turned around, Philip held the sword before him.
“Where is Lady Rosamond?”
Wide-eyed, the man pulled a dagger from his belt and rushed at him frantically. Defending himself, Philip parried the dagger away, and accidentally gouged the man’s neck. He went very still, hand clasped over the wound, while blood seeped between his fingers. Then he fell back on the floor and died.
Cursing, Philip caught the table to steady himself.
“Oh, God, Anne.”
It was a prayer and a question all at once. He staggered into the corridor and opened the next door, only to find the three Bladesmen in varying states of moaning and stirring. The smell made him realize how Anne’s chamber must have reeked.
Walter was on the floor closest to the door, as if he’d walked through and fallen. He had been on duty outside Anne’s door.
“Walter!”
Walter groaned and came up on his elbows.
“The countess is not here,” Philip said.
Walter frowned up at him, as if he couldn’t quite remember who Philip was. Then his face settled into its customary impassivity, and he climbed to his feet.
“We were poisoned,” Walter said flatly.
Philip glared at him. “You are stating the obvious. And they’d decided to finish what they’d begun, because when I came to, I had to defend myself. I ended up killing the man, though I wanted to question him. But Lady Rosamond is gone.”
“Have you searched for her? She could have gone for help.”
That seemed to jar a distant memory. “I think I was warning her against it when I passed out. I’ll see if the innkeeper has seen her.”
They quickly cleaned themselves up, and then spread out through the inn. Only a groom had seen Anne, and she had been in the company of several knights, just as when she’d first arrived.
Philip sat down on the bed as the Bladesmen finished recounting what they’d learned. He felt dizzy and weak, but the effects of the poison seemed to be passing. “It does not seem as if Anne was as ill as we were,” he said.
“She ate the same food,” Joseph said in a puzzled voice.
“But did not drink the ale,” Philip pointed out. “That’s what must have been poisoned. And she was still unharmed when they took her.” He w
as grateful for at least that, although he could not let himself think of what was being done to her. He got to his feet because he could no longer sit still. “Do we agree that it was Bramfield?”
“We cannot be certain,” Walter said heavily. “But that would be my first conclusion. Why else would Anne be taken unless they had recognized that she wasn’t the real Lady Rosamond?”
“Margaret’s suitor.” Philip practically spat the words. “He’s been following us, but he never saw Anne up close until Bramfield Hall.”
“Then we must assume that the real Lady Rosamond is in danger, and perhaps even the king, if Bramfield and his cohorts are desperate. They might step up their plan against the king.”
Philip narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Aye, but Anne is the one in the most danger now.”
“That is not true,” Walter said. “They want the truth from her; they won’t harm her. So we have only one choice.”
Philip walked to the door. “We rescue her.”
“Nay, we go to London.”
Philip could not possibly have heard correctly. He whirled around and found David and Joseph watching him with sympathy, but Walter wore a determined expression.
“What did you say?” Philip asked in a soft voice.
“Our duty is clear. Anne is in the least danger.”
“But they have her! Why can’t you send one man to London as a messenger?”
“But they want Lady Rosamond. We need to ensure that her information gets to King Henry, and that means as many knights as can be mustered. If not, the entire country could erupt in war between the noblemen backing the king, and all who would follow these traitors. We cannot allow that to happen only a year after the last battle. For all we know, Bramfield could have sent someone ahead to intercept Lady Rosamond in London.”
“Walter, I will not—”
“Philip, you will listen to me,” Walter said sternly. “If you want to be a member of the League, you have to learn discipline, and to take orders for the greater good. You’ll get yourself killed going alone. We cannot risk keeping Bramfield from London, where the real Lady Rosamond has to be the witness against him. And there are two unknown traitors to consider.”