Truly

by Mary Balogh

  "No!" a few bold voices said quite firmly. They were followed by a chorus of agreement. If he had demanded it at that moment, Geraint knew, they would have rushed the gate for him, leaving a few dead behind them when they left again.

  Rebecca did not lower her arms. "We will make a wide circle about this gate," she said. "No one is to be seen or heard. You will wait, out of sight and silent, my children, and let your mother do the talking. You will not show yourselves or put yourselves in any danger until I give the clear signal. This is understood?"

  "Yes, Mother," Charlotte said while there was a swell of agreement from the men gathered around.

  "Go now, then," Rebecca said. "My daughters will lead you. I will wait for ten minutes." She lowered her arms slowly and watched her daughters and her children move off into the darkness, all perfectly disciplined. This sort of situation had been discussed and planned with the daughters. Now was the time to see if it worked.

  Charlotte was the one daughter who stayed close to Rebecca. And with them stayed the men—and one woman— from Glynderi. Marged was close by. Perhaps it was the most dangerous place for her to be, but Geraint felt the need to have her within his sight. He looked at her consideringly for a moment, but he knew it would be pointless to order her to go back.

  She looked up at him and their eyes met for the first time. He saw the flash of her teeth in the darkness.

  Damn the woman—she was enjoying this.

  She should be afraid, she knew. And perhaps she was in a way. Certainly there was an almost tangible tension in the men gathered about Rebecca and Aled, the only two on horseback. A few hundred others had melted away into the darkness and were forming a wide and silent circle about the tollgate and tollhouse below—and about the two men with guns who were lying in wait for them there.

  For the first time there was real danger. Some of them could be captured with those guns. Some of them would be killed. And yet instead of retreating, they were going to go forward.

  But she was not afraid. Not really. Rebecca was sitting on his horse's back, quite still, quite calm and confident. And she trusted him. Perhaps it was foolish, this almost blind trust she had felt from the first moment, before there had been any question of more personal feelings. But she did trust him. And instead of fear in its most mind-numbing form, she felt exhilaration and the anticipation of adventure.

  She met his eyes for the first time and knew, despite the mask, that he was considering speaking to her, advising her or commanding her to go back home, where it was safe. But she knew too that he would not say the words. He would know that she would refuse and that the necessity to exact obedience from all his followers would put him in an awkward position. And so he would not speak. They had met—incredibly—only twice before, but there were certain things they understood very well about each other. She smiled at him.

  He had noticed her, he had considered her safety, and he had respected her right to decide for herself what she was going to do about it. It was enough. He had made clear that he wanted no continued involvement with her. But he had also proved to her that he cared. And that fact had been confirmed in just that one considering glance.

  No, she was not really afraid. But she could hear her heart beating in her ears as she waited silently with everyone else. Even Rebecca and Aled did not speak to each other. Ten minutes seemed longer than an hour.

  But they passed eventually. Rebecca raised one arm, bent at the elbow.

  "We will move forward." he said. "But you will stop when I give the word, my children. Only your mother must be seen from the road below."

  He was going to show himself. And there were men with guns below. And perhaps more lying in ambush. Did they know that there were not? But if there were, those men would have seen them by now and raised the alarm. Marged hoped he would keep back out of gunfire range. Her heart was beating harder and more painfully.

  They walked silently for a short while until they approached a rise that Marged guessed would bring them in sight of the road. Rebecca raised a staying hand. And then rode on alone, slowly, to stop again at the top of the rise.

  At the same moment clouds scudded by and the moon beamed down.

  "Ho, there below!" Rebecca called, and held his horse quite still. He estimated that he was beyond the range of any shot from the house. He wondered if the people inside could feel the silence pulsing outside.

  After his second call, the gatekeeper came out slowly and looked uneasily about him. And then he looked up and saw Rebecca on the hill. He took a step back toward the door.

  "Stay where you are," Rebecca commanded him. "And call the others outside too."

  "There is just me," the keeper called in a thin, nervous voice. "I have no family. And I have no quarrel with you, Rebecca."

  "Call them out," Rebecca said. "With their guns. You are surrounded by three hundred men. It will be safer to surrender." In other parts of the country there were always guns among the rabble. It would be assumed that they too had guns. It was safe to expect that their bluff would not be called.

  "There is no one else here," the gatekeeper said after one nervous glance over his shoulder.

  "They have until the count of ten before I ask my children to close in," Rebecca said. "One."

  The gatekeeper looked up and down the road and uneasily about at the hills.

  "Two."

  "There is no one with you," the man called. "And there is no one with me."

  "Three."

  They came out when the count reached six—two constables, each with a gun in his hand.

  "Walk to the middle of the road and set the guns down," Rebecca said, "and then go back with your hands raised. One of you can then return to the house and bring out the other guns." He was guessing.

  'There are no other guns," one of the constables called, his voice angry. He too looked around at the silent hills. "You are bluffing, whoever you are."

  "Seven."

  Four guns lay side by side on the road and three men stood with their arms raised above their heads when Rebecca's voice was in the pause between nine and ten.

  Rebecca raised both arms and the gatekeeper's hands shook visibly. "My children," she said, raising her voice to be heard among the hills, "I see before me a gate that is obstructing the free passage of your mother and your brothers and sisters. And three men who have thought to defend it. They are doing what they are employed to do. They will not be harmed. They will leave the scene now, and you will come down, my children, when I lower my arms and destroy this gate and this house."

  The three men below looked about them uncertainly and then lowered their arms and turned to disappear into the hills on the far side of the road.

  "Let them pass through the line unmolested," Rebecca called. After allowing them a few minutes to make their escape, he brought down his arms.

  Everything went smoothly after that. The guns were gathered up by two men who had been directed to the task, and piled beside the road to be removed later. And the gate and the house were destroyed as quickly and efficiently as usual.

  Geraint sat and watched. But a sound different from the usual hubbub of voices and tools had him turning his head sharply when the job was almost completed. It was the high-pitched, piping voice of a child calling him. Calling Rebecca. And then the child was beside him, reaching to clutch his boot and gazing urgently into his face.

  Idris Parry.

  Geraint leaned down. "What is it, child? What are you doing here?" He felt anger well in him.

  "You have to leave," Idris called. He was gasping for air and his eyes were wild with excitement and panic. "They know where you are. They are coming for you. They will have you trapped."

  Geraint did not doubt the boy for a moment. He knew from experience that children like Idris Parry saw and heard a great deal more than anyone else would ever guess.

  "They are coming," the child cried, pointing back in the direction of Tegfan. "I ran on ahead."

  Geraint did not waste ti
me asking questions. He did not know quite who they were or how many there were. But they would undoubtedly have guns. His men would be in danger. He looked at Aled.

  "Fetch this child's father," he said. "Quickly."

  But Waldo Parry must have been close by and had heard his son's voice. He was grabbing him by both arms even as Geraint spoke, fury in his face and his whole bearing.

  "He has come to save us all," Rebecca said firmly. "Treat him gently. But get him out of here. Fast."

  He raised his arms wide and called for attention. It seemed that it would be impossible to achieve when the work of destruction was hardly completed, but such was the power of his presence, it seemed, that silence fell by some miracle almost immediately.

  "There are armed men on the way, my children," Rebecca said loudly and distinctly. "Go now quickly and be careful."

  Men scrambled away in all directions. Rebecca stayed where she was.

  "Go!" he commanded Aled when his friend hesitated and then stayed beside him.

  But there was someone else too at the side of the road, not running with everyone else.

  "Go quickly," she yelled at him. "It is you they will want more than anyone."

  He would have waited until the last of his people were safely out of sight. But he had to get her to safety. He spurred his horse, scooped Marged up when he was already in motion, deposited her on the horse's back in front of him, and galloped up into the hills, Aled close beside him. With any luck none of the fleeing men would run into whoever it was that was coming to catch them red-handed as they destroyed a tollgate. And even if any of them were caught, unless it was himself or Aled or one of the other disguised daughters, it would not be easy to prove that they had participated in the destruction.

  The danger was not past, but he drew a deep breath of relief anyway and spared a glance for Marged, who was clinging to him with both arms. But a sudden thought had him reining in hard and turning in his saddle to look back down at the road, bathed in moonlight again. Damnation, but he had forgotten the guns. Perhaps it was just as well, though. He wanted nothing at all to do with firearms.

  Aled pulled up beside him.

  And in that moment, before they could turn and continue on their way, a lone figure darted out onto the road a short distance from the place where the gate and house had been. A female figure. She stood and looked about her, clearly bewildered, clearly not knowing where to go or what to do.

  "Duw." Aled whispered. "Oh, Duw, it's Ceris."

  And he was galloping back down the slope before Geraint had quite had the chance to comprehend what he had said.

  "Ceris?" Marged sat up to peer downward. "Ceris?"

  "She must have found out too," he said, "and came to warn us." He could not go back down there with Aled. He had Marged's safety to consider.

  But it was all over in a matter of seconds. Aled was back down on the road, Ceris was swept up while his horse was still in full gallop, and they were back on the slope. At the same moment two figures appeared at the far side of the road, one of them bent to pick up one of the guns, and there was a shot. The horse came galloping on, Aled and Ceris still on its back, apparently unhurt.

  Marged had a death grip on his robe and on the clothes beneath it, Geraint realized.

  "They are safe," she said.

  Aled came speeding up the slope. Ceris's face was buried against his chest. "Get out of here," he yelled. "What are you waiting for?"

  After a few yards of galloping side by side, they took separate directions.

  Chapter 21

  Matthew Harley had taken longer than he expected to get back to the constable, Lavcr. He had been unable to find the Earl of Wyvern and had wasted precious time searching for him. No one seemed to know where he had gone. But luck was with Harley in the form of one of the other constables, who had stayed at Tegfan in case he was needed for some emergency. And of course Laver would make sure that Ceris did not leave her father's house without having her movements shadowed.

  Ceris! Harley had to quell a pang of guilt. But if she stayed at home as she ought, then no harm would have been done and she would have won his trust.

  But would he have been worthy of hers?

  He took the other constable with him, and they found Laver in the village. Ceris was there, going from one house to another, it seemed. She had gone to the house behind the smithy first.

  Harley felt that his heart must be somewhere in the area of his boots. And then he saw her for himself, hurrying from the harness maker's house. She went straight down the street, not stopping again. Her pace quickened. She was running by the time she left Glynderi behind.

  It was not difficult to follow her. She alternately ran and walked fast. She did not once look back. A few times, when clouds obscured moon and stars, it was difficult to see her, but she made no attempt at evasion. She led them on a straight, if hilly, path to the road and a gate a few miles away.

  They were too late. That was obvious as soon as they came over a rise and could see the road below them. The gate and the house were down and men were fleeing in every direction. Some even passed close enough that they might have been apprehended if Harley and the constables had not already decided to pit their meager forces only against Rebecca herself or one of the daughters in their distinctive women's garb.

  Either the job had been completed and the men had dispersed in the natural course of things, or they had somehow been warned that someone was coming—someone who might pose a threat. Perhaps there had been spies in the hills. Certainly it could not have been Ceris. She was not far enough ahead. Even as Harley looked he could see her rush onto the road and look wildly about her. She must have seen everyone fleeing, just as he had. It seemed almost as if she was searching for one man in particular.

  The blacksmith?

  And then he tensed, and he could feel the constables on either side of him tighten their grip on their guns. There was a horseman on his way down, a horseman with flowing dark locks, wearing dark women's robes. There was a moment when perhaps—there was a slim chance—one of the constables might have got off a shot at the rider. But it was gone almost before it was there. He scooped up Ceris and turned back uphill and came within definite range of the guns. But Ceris might be hit.

  Harley spread his hands to the sides, fingers wide and rigid. "No!" he said curtly at the same moment as there was a shot. But not from beside him. There were two men on the far side of the road, one with a gun pointing after the fleeing horseman—and Ceris. Harley felt as if the bottom had fallen out of his stomach. But neither she nor Rebecca's daughter appeared to have been hit.

  And then he saw what he might have seen before if he had not been so intent on what was happening down on the road. There was another horseman on the slope some distance away, motionless, also looking down. There were actually two riders on the same horse. One of them was clad in white flowing robes and had long blond ringlets.

  Rebecca herself. Harley felt the breath hiss into his lungs and was instantly aware of the constable beside him raising his gun to his shoulder and taking aim. But the other rider and Ceris were almost up to her and were going to come abreast of her on the near side.

  "No!" he said again with quiet urgency.

  A hero's prize was his for the taking moments later when both horsemen came galloping his way before veering off to continue uphill. But again the dark-clad horseman rode between Rebecca and any shot one of the constables might have had at her—him. And Ceris was pressed so close to the daughter's body that there was no getting a shot at him. Yet had they stepped into the open and demanded that the riders stop and surrender, they would as like as not have been ridden down.

  And so heroism passed him by and he knew bitter defeat.

  It became more bitter when the dark rider turned upward and Harley found that Ceris's head was turned to one side and that her eyes were open. For a fraction of a second that stretched into eternity they looked full into each other's eyes.

  Betrayer a
nd betrayed. Though which way around it was, he did not quite know.

  Marged clung wordlessly to Rebecca. She had never been on a galloping horse. Seated sideways without the benefit of a saddle beneath her, and with uneven hill country beneath the horse's hooves and darkness all around, she could only sit very still and put her trust in the horsemanship of the man to whom she clung.

  Were they being pursued? Or were they riding into an ambush? What on earth had Ceris been doing down on the road? What would have happened if she or Aled had been hit by that one bullet that had been fired? What if Rebecca had been caught? What if he were still caught? Her arms tightened involuntarily.

  "Was that Idris Parry?" she asked, speaking for the first time since they had watched Aled rescue Ceris. "What did he say?"

  "Is that his name?" Rebecca asked. "The child? He warned that there were people coming—presumably special constables. He pointed in the direction of Tegfan. The woman must have been bringing the same message. Aled Rhoslyn knows her?"

  "Ceris Williams," she said. "They were to marry, but Ceris is opposed to violence and destruction. She broke off their engagement."

  "But she came out tonight," he said, "to warn him. I believe we are safe, Marged. We must have left any pursuit behind and I have taken a circuitous route."

  She looked around her for the first time. She had not realized that he was not taking the direct route home.

  "You see how dangerous this all is, Marged?" he said. "Some of us could have been captured or killed tonight. Aled and his woman came very close. And things are not going to get easier. This is just the beginning."

  She turned her face in to his shoulder again. "I know," she said fiercely. "I know. But don't continue in the way I know you are planning to continue. Don't. And do stop and take off your disguise. You are far more likely to be seen and caught while you look this way."