by Julia Latham
“I think there is no explanation they will accept. We might have to leave as quietly as possible.”
Lady Rosamond’s mouth quirked up in one corner. “Have you seen the guards?”
“Aye, I have, but there is one thing that you and I know how to do.”
Philip stopped pacing when the door to the bedchamber opened. When only Anne peered out, Lady Rosamond’s maidservant went back to her needlework.
“Philip, where is David?” Anne asked.
“He needed to speak with someone down below.”
She motioned to him. “Lady Rosamond would like to speak to you. And to you, Eleanor.”
Philip waited for the maid to precede him. When he was through the door, Lady Rosamond shut it firmly behind him, then leaned back against it and watched him speculatively. There were not many noblewomen who would invite a man into her bedchamber, but he had always known that Lady Rosamond was different—and desperate.
Philip glanced in confusion to Anne, who said, “Lady Rosamond has already been threatened by Lord Bramfield.”
After he heard the whole story, he said, “Anne, I do not think that a masquerade is the answer.”
“And do you plan to fight ten men in a reckless escape?” she shot back.
“I regret that I must use Anne again, Sir Philip,” Lady Rosamond said, “but this mission is even more imperative now. Can you get me to the king?”
“Aye, I can, my lady, I vow that with my life.”
“It shan’t come to that,” the countess insisted. “But we must hurry before your friend returns.”
It did not take long for an exchange of garments. Philip waited in Lady Rosamond’s antechamber, sword drawn, listening at the door to the staircase.
“We are ready.”
He turned around to see Anne dressed the same as when she’d arrived. But this time, Lady Rosamond had exchanged gowns with her maid. She wore her hair hidden beneath a wimple, whose long folds encircled her neck. Eleanor, the maidservant, was now dressed as Lady Rosamond.
They heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The women all looked stricken, and Eleanor bowed her head and began to murmur prayers.
He motioned them all back behind the door. Anne had to pull Eleanor with her.
When the door opened, they heard, “Lady Rosamond?” in David’s puzzled voice.
Philip shut the door, and as David turned around, Philip grabbed him by the throat and held him to the wall, sword evident. David was just tall enough that Philip felt off balance having to reach up.
David looked stunned, then bewildered, and at last, full of dawning despair. “You have betrayed us!” he said hoarsely. “And I led you here.”
“Nay, I have not.” Philip did not lower his sword. “But Lady Rosamond received a missive yesterday morning, threatening to kill Anne if she went to the king.”
“That is impossible!”
Philip pressed him a little harder to the wall. “Keep your voice down. ’Tis the truth. Why do you think she hesitated to complete the mission? We have no way of knowing who among the League has been corrupted.”
“You knew this before you came, did you not?” David demanded.
Philip nodded. “When Anne was held prisoner, they did not torture her because they had already discovered where Lady Rosamond was. Who else would know this but a Bladesman?”
“You know it is not I, or our fellow knights,” David said, struggling.
Philip didn’t release him. “I know. Or you would have had her killed much sooner. But David, how can we trust the men you answer to? How can you trust them?”
Philip could almost see the thoughts darting frantically through David’s mind.
“Then what do you plan?” David finally asked.
“If I release you, will you stand still and listen?”
David nodded, and when Philip stepped back, the Bladesman rubbed his throat.
“We are taking Lady Rosamond out of here in secret,” Philip said. He wanted to sheathe his sword, but he didn’t yet dare, not with David looking so furious and frustrated.
“That is impossible. Where would she be safer?”
“Anywhere is better than here,” Lady Rosamond said, eyeing David coldly. “I can no longer trust any of you. But my mission is yet clear. The nobles have gathered. I must be there with the king.”
“He is at Westminster Palace,” David said. “If you don’t have us to take you there—”
“I shall guide her,” Philip said. “We will go immediately.”
“Why do you tell me this?” David demanded, finally showing bewilderment.
“Because I trust you, and I hope I am not in error.”
David’s jaw tightened. “You aren’t, but I cannot offer much help against all these men.”
“We don’t plan to fight,” Anne said. “You’ll see—it will work.”
“And I don’t want you to go against your fellow Bladesmen,” Philip said, sheathing his sword. “I am not one of you; I can risk it.”
David rubbed a hand down his face. “What do you want me to do?”
“Walk down the stairs with me as if nothing is wrong. Anne and Lady Rosamond will walk behind.”
Anne glanced at Eleanor. “You can remain in the bedchamber, lying down as if you’re unwell.”
Eleanor gave Lady Rosamond a frightened look. “I will, my lady. Godspeed.” She went back through the far door and closed it behind her.
As Philip walked to the opposite door, he glanced at David. “You are ready?”
“I know not, but I want this to be over.”
They went out onto the landing and started down the single flight of stairs.
David casually said, “My thanks for your help with Lady Rosamond.”
Philip glanced at him, bemused. “She just needed to be convinced.”
Behind them, he heard the two women discussing the ingredients to the mulled wine they were going to use to settle Lady Rosamond’s stomach. In the front hall, two soldiers stood on guard, looking out the windows. They were more concerned about people trying to get in, rather than getting out, which would work to Philip’s advantage.
David pointed to the rear. “The kitchens are beyond. I’ll take you there, Anne.”
“I know where the kitchens are, milord,” Lady Rosamond said, her voice coarsened and huskier.
“You there,” called one of the soldiers. “Anne, is it?”
It took every bit of Philip’s concentration to watch impassively. He wanted to rest his hand on his sword hilt, but even that might prove too threatening. The second Bladesman glanced over his shoulder, and then went back to watching out the window.
Anne came forward. “Aye, sir, what might I do for you?”
“The wine you were discussing sounds tempting. Care to bring me a taste?”
“Aye, that I will, sir,” Anne said, grinning as she looked over at shy Lady Rosamond. “We’ll have several sent out to you. Be patient, because we’ll have to heat a large amount to satisfy you all.”
He nodded, looking once more at David and Philip before turning back to the window.
“I need to use the privy,” Philip said. “I’ll return in a moment.”
David nodded, folded his arms across his chest, and ducked his head for a glance out the same window the other Bladesmen stared through.
Philip wasted no time following the women into the back of the house. As Lady Rosamond had already explained, the kitchens were a separate building in a rear courtyard. London had had far too many fires for kitchens to remain within the houses, which worked in Philip’s favor. The women went into the kitchen, and he to the privy. He was able to watch as the soldier taking a turn about the rear courtyard strolled to the front, out of sight. Philip darted out, met up with Anne and Lady Rosamond, who had also been keeping watch, and circled around to the back of the kitchen, keeping it between them and the house. A willow tree grew in the corner, leaning over them. It would hide them well.
“The walls look so
high,” Anne said.
“I’m certain the gate is locked,” Philip said. “I’ll boost you both over. Hurry!”
Anne had no problem stepping onto his bent knee, and then perching on his shoulder. Philip put his hand beneath her ass to push her up.
“I’m at the top!” she whispered.
He steadied her, watching as she leaned over the wall on her stomach, then boosted herself to a sitting position, straddling the wall.
She reached down. “Lady Rosamond?”
The countess was not quite as nimble, and she flinched when Philip had to palm her, but with Anne’s help, she pulled herself up.
“’Tis a long way down.” Lady Rosamond leaned over the far side.
“I’ll help lower you,” Philip said. “Slide back toward the tree to give me room.”
It took a running jump, but Philip had a grip on the edge of the wall by the second try. Gritting his teeth, he slowly pulled himself up until at last he too was straddling the wall. A deserted alley ran between the high walls of several courtyards. It seemed that Bramfield’s men were not so vigilant—or did they trust that they had threatened Lady Rosamond well enough?
“Give me your hands,” he said to the countess, who was closest to him.
He lowered her down until she could easily jump, then did the same to Anne, who grinned at him. He jumped down beside them and adjusted his sword.
Anne said, “We did it!”
“We are not done yet,” he warned her. “We’ll have to find horses to rent, because we cannot risk retrieving our own in the front courtyard.”
“What about the Thames?” Lady Rosamond asked as they began to move cautiously up the alley. “We could hire a wherry to take us upriver.”
As Philip led the way, he cautiously checked the closed doors of each courtyard they passed. Only two houses down, a man jumped over a half wall, his sword already swinging down. Philip stumbled backward and knew he knocked the two women over. Was the man only protecting his own property? Then beneath the man’s cloak, he glimpsed the blue and black livery of Lord Bramfield’s servants. Philip unsheathed his own sword and thrust it forward. The other man parried it aside, yet he was too concerned with getting to the women. When he took his concentration off Philip to look toward them, Philip was able to swing at the man, and when their swords clashed and held, Philip swiftly drew his dagger and buried it in his side. The man went down, gasping.
Philip turned and found the women together only a few yards away. They heard a sudden shout from behind the walls of the League’s house.
Anne pulled Lady Rosamond forward. “Is he dead?”
Philip knelt down with his back to the women and quickly slit the enemy’s throat. “Aye, he is. He will not tell Bramfield that we escaped the League.”
He took both of their arms and began to move them down the alley.
“Bramfield’s man?” Lady Rosamond asked in a low voice.
Philip nodded. “The Thames is our best escape. We head west out of this alley, then south to the river. Move!”
Chapter 23
I t was several miles of rowing for the boatman to bring them to Westminster, and though Anne told herself to rest, she could not sleep. She found herself watching Philip, unable to imagine going back to a life without him. But what to do about it? After he helped her and Lady Rosamond out of the wherry, they had to tiptoe through mud and debris before climbing up a ladder to reach the street level. Philip went first, then Lady Rosamond, and Anne brought up the rear. She was glad the ladder was set back from the Thames, because otherwise the waterman would have had a good view up her skirt.
The towering yellow stone walls of Westminster Palace glistened in the sun. They had made the decision to leave the river north of the palace and its yard, near a cluster of smaller buildings crowding the road. They didn’t want to show themselves to soldiers just yet. How were they ever going to enter such a place secretly?
It was past midday, and there were many people hurrying to and fro. Surely the noblemen had already begun to arrive for the evening’s festivities. Anne wished that they would have been able to discuss their plans on the boat ride, but the presence of the boatman made talking impossible. Now she glanced at Lady Rosamond, who, though pale, still seemed determined.
Lady Rosamond quietly said, “The king will be meeting with his noblemen tonight in Westminster Hall itself, for it is the only chamber large enough.”
“We have to get inside,” Philip said, doubt in his voice. “If we try to enter through the palace yard, the soldiers will question our identities.”
“And there could be guests arriving who will know us,” said Anne.
“There is a private entrance,” Lady Rosamond insisted. “My dear husband, a distant relation of the king, confided the words necessary to gain entrance. We were in London once and—oh, never mind, ’tis a long story. Sometimes a king needs a way to leave his palace without an entourage of soldiers marking his every move.”
“It sounds dangerous,” Anne said.
“But necessary.” Lady Rosamond smiled. “Sometimes one wishes not to be noticed.”
“I’m hoping for that just now,” Philip said dryly.
Lady Rosamond glanced at the sun. “We should do this after supper, when most people will have gone home for the night.”
“Can we afford to wait that long?” he asked. “Is not the king expecting you?”
“Yesterday,” she said ruefully. “But he will understand. Might there be a tavern nearby where we can eat?”
“I’ll feel safer when we are not so exposed to whomever wants to see us,” Philip added. “This way.”
He led them to a tavern tucked away from King Street. They ate in the darkest corner they could find, talking little, just waiting, until Anne’s nerves felt like thread about to snap. She had come so far—why did this last part of the mission suddenly seem so insurmountable?
And there was Philip, calm and steady and courageous. He got up to play dice against the wall with a group of men, aiding their disguise. He’d gotten them away from the League, killed Bramfield’s man, and now was about to lead them into the king’s palace. Did nothing bother him? His confidence was part of what she loved about him, probably because she herself had once lacked it in a fundamental way. It had taken her this journey to learn to believe in herself, to believe in her worth as a person, beyond her service as a maidservant, beyond the masquerade as Lady Rosamond, or what the League believed of her. She was worthy of her own dreams of happiness.
Could she share them with Philip? The League rejecting her had forced her to reevaluate herself and what she wanted. How had she thought being a Bladeswoman could be more important than finding someone to share a life with? She had fixated on the League because she had no other hopes.
But what about Philip? He cared for her, she knew, but could he love her? Only love would make him abandon the plans he’d anticipated to bring his family recognition. He wanted a marriage, and she didn’t even have much of a dowry to offer. She would have to come up with a way to convince him that love mattered more than status.
After twilight had darkened the world, they left the tavern following Lady Rosamond. But instead of turning up the road to Westminster Palace, she went back toward the river where storage buildings sat in a squat cluster. When they were certain the last people on the road had turned away, they ducked within an alley. Anne heard Lady Rosamond counting to herself as they passed several buildings. Clouds hid the rising moon, and she began to wonder how much longer this would take. With no torch, they would soon be stumbling in darkness. And this “private entrance” was far away from the palace itself.
Lady Rosamond came to a stop. “This is it,” she said softly, staring at a door.
There were no windows to peer through.
“What will we be facing?” Philip asked.
“Soldiers. There should be several stationed inside. Allow me to speak.”
She knocked on the door, and there was an ech
oing sound of desertion inside. She knocked again, this time only once.
The door opened immediately, and two men stood there. Though they displayed no weapons, by their stance they were used to swords in their hands. When the soldiers saw only one man and two women, their stiffness faded.
“Who are you?” asked the shorter, squatter soldier, his eyes dark with suspicion.
“Lady Rosamond Wolsingham.”
His face scrunched up even more, while the taller man said, “The earl’s widow?”
“I am traveling secretly, and I need to enter Westminster Palace. The king is expecting me. I suggest you allow me in, or we can discuss it here in the open.”
Anne could hear the refined tone of command in every word Lady Rosamond spoke. The soldiers could, too, because they stepped back and allowed the three to enter. The building was only one large room, lit with lanterns. At the far end, four more soldiers stood in front of a table with stools surrounding it.
“My lady,” the squat soldier said, emphasizing her title with sarcasm, “I am Sir Humphrey. If you know about this entrance, then you know what it takes to use it.”
Anne glanced wide-eyed at Philip, who stood tense, as if still expecting to do battle.
Lady Rosamond smiled. “I will grant you the words of entrance.”
Were they going to be privately escorted? Anne wondered. Or ride in a covered cart or litter?
Sir Humphrey folded his arms across his chest, his smile challenging, as if he didn’t believe she knew the words. “Come to me, my lady, and speak them softly.”
She stepped toward him, and he bent his head. Whatever she whispered caused his expression to change from skeptical to surprised.
“We must hurry,” Lady Rosamond said with urgency.
He nodded. “Aye, my lady, follow me.”
Anne felt Philip’s hand above her elbow, and as they walked behind Lady Rosamond, she told herself that he cared about her. She had a stray worry that perhaps that was all he would ever feel. How could she convince him that she had not merely settled for marriage with him?
Sir Humphrey guided them to a stack of broken crates, and then moved several aside to reveal a trap door in the wooden floor.