Juliana Garnett (34 page)

“If you don’t cease your whining, I shall behead you myself.” Annice spurred her horse into a faster pace. She must hurry. If Rolf returned from his journey to Bury St. Edmunds and found her gone, he would be on her trail at once. If she was still on the road when he overtook her, she would never accomplish her mission.

Behind her and astride a destrier that had seen more youthful days, Gowain gave an audible groan. Not wanting to attract attention, she had set out clad in a rough wool cloak that few serfs would deign to wear, bringing only one man. No baggage had been brought, and beneath his equally shabby cloak, Gowain carried only a sword. She prayed no outlaws would give them even a glance. Even her horse was scruffy, with a swayed back and long teeth. The poor creatures had been put out to pasture and resisted Gowain’s halfhearted efforts to capture and saddle them. Only Annice’s dire threats had spurred him on.

She was still surprised at how easily she had stolen away from Dragonwyck. Her plans had been carefully laid months before and waited only upon the opportunity. At first she had thought it would be soon, as Rolf would be joining John in France. But then, when the king’s defeat had brought him slinking back to England, she had been forced to change her plans.

If not for this meeting in Bury St. Edmunds, she might have waited much longer. But now that she was on her way, she began to have doubts about her chances of success. That it was daring was obvious. That it would work—she prayed that God was with her. And that He would forgive her for what she had been forced to do.

It had been necessary to drug her guard, Tostig, before slipping from the castle. A liberal amount of mandragora such as she had given Sir Guy had been easy to slip into Tostig’s wine. He’d gone to sleep quite heavily and, when she had last seen him, was snoring loudly on his straw pallet outside her bedchamber door. Regrettably, she’d feared taking Belle into her confidence, and she, too, was sleeping quite peacefully.

Poor Gowain was simple enough for her to bully into doing her will, though she experienced a twinge of guilt at his dismay. The rest had been even easier. Annice had simply commanded the guards to open the postern gate. They had been surprised but were now used to her as the lord’s wife. Gowain, all bundled in his hooded cloak, was assumed to be Tostig, and they were waved through with good cheer and a few idle jests.

What she had not expected was how difficult a journey it would be. Two days, and she was only halfway there. The supply of coins she had brought with her were few, as she did not want to risk being robbed and killed. Doling out a small amount at a time to Gowain, she remained silent with her hood over her face when he bartered the coins for food. At night they sheltered under hayricks on remote farms or took refuge in a monastery. They meant to appear as a simple peasant couple traveling to a distant village.

“Milady,” Gowain had said frankly when she’d suggested they take lodging in an inn, “any innkeeper would recognize at once that you are no peasant. Your speech and manner cannot be disguised, even by a rough wool cloak and scruffy nag. This is madness. Let us return to Dragonwyck, and mayhap my lord will ne’er know we were gone.”

Of course, she had no intention of taking that bit of advice, though she did relinquish with regret the notion of warm, dry lodging. Occasionally she had flashes of panic at the possible dangers, but she thrust them firmly from her mind. Her father had been one of King Richard’s finest warriors, and her mother’s family had distant connections to Harold Godwinson—the last Saxon king before the Normans had conquered England. Courage was hereditary, and she would not retreat without a fight.

But, still, when night shadows enveloped them and the wind made mournful sounds whistling through bare tree branches, she shivered and prayed for guidance. It did not help when she heard Gowain doing the same.

On the third day Gowain huddled miserably in his cloak and pointed to a road that was obviously well traveled. “I think this is the right road, milady.”

She shot him a withering glance. “You said that earlier today, and we spent half our time mired in a cow pasture.”

Gowain shrugged. “I thought ’twas a road. How was I to know it was only a cow track?”

“You swore to me you knew the way, that you’d been there.” She paused to inhale deeply, curbing her impatience. Gowain was staring at her with a pitiful, shamefaced expression that she had come to recognize.

“I have been there,” he admitted, “but ’twas long ago, and I was too young to pay much attention to how we traveled.”

“If I had the energy,” Annice muttered, kicking her tired horse into a trot, “I would take my whip to you. You deserve it.”

“Yea, milady.”

Being right was not much of a comfort when they still had a distance to journey. Annice concentrated on what she would say when she arrived and tried not to think about what Rolf would say when next he saw her.

Staring in disbelief at Gareth of Kesteven, Rolf repeated slowly, “Lady Annice is gone?” He put a hand out to still Bordet as the dog leaped and cavorted about him.

Gareth swallowed heavily and nodded. “Yea, lord. I did not discover it until the next morning. She drugged Tostig and her maid. Gowain, the huntsman, is with her, but I cannot ascertain if there are others.”

“God’s teeth—” Rolf started forward, but Guy put a restraining hand upon his arm.

“Wait, milord,” Guy said. “Do not assault Gareth until we have learned if he has sent out patrols to find her.”

Guy’s dry tone infuriated him but brought Rolf to his senses. Assaulting Gareth would gain him nothing.

“Of course I sent out patrols,” Gareth said. “As soon as I discovered the lady missing. But no one has seen them. Lady Annice’s cloak was discovered in a hedgerow just beyond the village, as were the two horses they were mounted on when they left.” He paused, frowning. “No other horses are missing, though one of the ostlers swears he cannot find
two of the old horses no longer fit for riding. They may have wandered into the woods to die, though, as horses often do.”

Rolf stared at Gareth thoughtfully. “How do you know Tostig was drugged by Lady Annice? Did he take the drug willingly?”

“Nay, lord. It must have been given to him in his wine.” Gareth coughed slightly, and Rolf understood. Annice would know that Tostig slept outside her door, and she would know his habits. A bit of wine to ease a chill night was a favored method of guarding a doorway.

He didn’t wait to hear more. Later he would ask details. Now he intended to follow Annice. Snapping out pertinent questions as he strode toward the stables and demanded a fresh horse, Rolf learned that the patrols had found no sign of her other than the cloak and horses. They had ranged as far as Crowland to the south, Grantham to the north, and Leicester to the west before coming back to report.

“I think,” Rolf said as he stepped into his saddle, “that she has gone in another direction.”

Guy frowned up at him. His breath frosted the air in front of him. “Do you know where she might have gone?”

“Yea.” Rolf inhaled deeply, recalling their conversation a few weeks before. “She once suggested that she go to Thurston and negotiate for the release of my son and return of her lands. ’Tis there she is headed, I believe.”

“But that would be mad! She has no guarantee he won’t hold her for ransom … nay, lord, surely she has not been so foolish.”

“Reason and women are never steady companions,” Rolf said shortly, and wheeled his horse around without waiting to see if Sir Guy followed. Bordet raced alongside, his nose to the ground, occasionally uttering a short, sharp bay of excitement.

When Rolf reined his lathered mount to a halt a bit later, the dog barked excitedly. At first Rolf thought there would be some sign of her presence, but Bordet backed away when he approached him. Barking again, the dog turned and ran down the road in the opposite direction, then paused to look back at his master.

Impatiently, Rolf said, “Come here. Stupid dog, Seabrook’s lair is this way.”

Sir Guy was staring at the dog. A strange expression crossed his face. “Milord, if Lady Annice did not go to Seabrook, where would she have gone?”

Rolf turned to glare at Guy. “Where else would she go? She went to Seabrook, I vow, and when I see her again, I’ll—”

He broke off. It hit him with all the force of an anvil that ’twas entirely possible he would not see her again. People had been known to disappear and never be seen again. The king’s nephew was an excellent example, as well as Lady Maud de Braose, who had been foolish enough to chide the king for Arthur’s disappearance.

Rolf broke out into a cold sweat despite the wet, chill weather. Where else would she go? Aye, where else but to the man who held all their lives hostage?

He turned abruptly, startling Sir Guy and Gareth. “I have been a fool. You were right, Guy. She would not go to Thurston.”

“Then where—?” Guy began.

Rolf reined his horse around to follow the dog. “London. She has gone to see the king.”

H
alf-timbered buildings hunched over narrowly winding streets choked with people, horses, and burdened carts. London was a city of burghers and tradesmen. Shop signs depicting the goods inside swung over streets so cramped, sunlight had little chance to pierce the gloomy shadows but shone instead upon rooftops and church spires.

Annice and Gowain were barely noticed as they made their way through the crowded streets. When they reached the king’s residence, Annice felt the pangs of misgiving grow stronger. No guard would do more than make sly suggestions or shove her roughly aside, much less give credence to her request to have an audience with the king. She should have anticipated this.

It wasn’t until she chanced to see an old friend of her father’s that she was able to circumvent the guards and gain entrance. Sir Robert was astonished to see Hugh of Beauchamp’s daughter garbed in rags and attended by only one ragged servant, but he manfully swallowed his surprise and escorted her into the castle grounds.

“In these dark times, milady,” Sir Robert said sorrowfully, “a lone woman should not roam England without her husband.”

“Yea, Sir Robert, and I would not if my husband were able to attend me. However, he is on business for the king, and I had urgent news to impart to King John.”

“ ’Tis fortunate that I chanced upon you, then,” Sir Robert said gallantly. “Come, I will give you into the care of my daughter, who is a lady-in-waiting for the queen. She will see to your needs and get you decently garbed for an audience with the king.”

In much shorter time than she’d thought possible, Annice was being granted an audience with the king. He studied her with dark interest, his eyes flicking over her figure with an expression that made Annice uncomfortable. Still, she did not look away, but met John’s gaze with a lifted chin and steady gaze.

“I am grateful to you for granting me permission to enter, sire,” she said in reply to John’s greeting.

“Beautiful women should always have entrance to my court,” John said easily. His steady gaze made her think of a hawk. “Sir Robert was wise to bring you to me.”

Annice did not correct his impression that she had journeyed to London with Sir Robert. Instead she inclined her head, lowering her eyes with a modest smile. “Yea, sire, Sir Robert is the kindest of men. My father was always fond of him.”

“Ah, Hugh of Beauchamp was a good man. I miss his wise counsel.” John leaned forward slightly. “And what brings you to seek me out, Lady Annice? Where is your husband?”

She anticipated this question and answered immediately “My lord and husband was taken away on business, and I have come in his stead to beg a boon of Your Majesty.”

“A boon.” John sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers atop the curved armrest with a steady beat. “And what would that be, my fair Lady Annice? Lord Rolf must be busy indeed to send his wife to me to plead for some cause.”

Meeting the king’s dark gaze, Annice said before she lost her nerve, “I would ask that you bestow upon my husband
the custody of his son, who has long been held by Thurston of Seabrook. I fear that my cousin’s husband holds the boy for reasons not favorable to my husband or to you, sire. In return for your approval, I would agree to sign over my dower lands for the benefit of the crown.”

“Really.” After a tense silence John smiled, his lips curving wickedly. “Come, fair lady, and sit up here beside me. I would hear more of this claim that my loyal subject has shameful intentions.”

As Annice mounted the dais and took a chair near the king, she had the thought that Rolf would be furious with her if she did not succeed. Nay, even if she did succeed, he would most like be angry that she had not consulted him before acting. But if she could get the king to grant him custody of Justin, surely that would ease the sting of her disobedience to his wishes.…

Cursing, London citizens moved aside sullenly for the armed troop of men that jostled them aside. The gold and black of Rolf’s livery was a bright counterpoint to the thick gloom beneath the overhangs. Filth was thick in the gutters, and with a sense of relief they emerged from the close streets into a wider avenue.