Spectre of the Sword (35 page)

Edward planned to make a
slight detour before reaching his destination.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Miracles do happen.

That was what
Christopher told his men the night his son was born.  When the earl and the
physic had retreated to the bedchamber with the intention of cutting into Lady
Dustin to extract the child, they had walked into the tail end of the child’s
birth. The midwife was just pulling the baby free of his mother’s body by the
time Christopher entered the room, causing the man list heavily to one side
until the physic guided him into a chair.  Curtis Richard Henry de Lohr had
been a very fat, lusty baby who screamed quite loudly his displeasure at being
born.  Christopher had held his wife and wept.

With that, the earl
seemed inordinately attached to his family for the next few days as if
appreciating what he had almost lost. If he wasn’t with his wife, who was still
recovering from the difficult birth, then he was holding his newborn son while
his two young daughters followed him around. The girls were enamored by the
baby and, like moth to the flame, followed wherever he went.  Lady Christin de
Lohr was four years of age and her sister, Lady Brielle, was almost three. 
They were sweet, chatty and adorable.

Rhys should have been
irritated with the earl’s distraction but found he could not muster the
energy.   He had been there when Christin and Brielle had been born and, as Dustin
had told him, the girls looked to him as another uncle.  Until three months
ago, he had been very proud of his relationship with them.  But the past
several weeks had seen that dissolve somewhat until just after the baby was
born and the girls were upset, looking for comfort.  After some relenting on
Rhys’ part, and a little coaxing, they found it in his arms.   They wouldn’t
even leave him to go to their Uncle David.  The night Curtis had been born,
Rhys had sat for hours with the sleeping toddlers in his arms, more at peace
than he had been in a very long time.

But the bliss of a new
son and healthy family faded as more important things came to the forefront.
Though aware of Rhys’ plan to leave for Ludlow before the bulk of the army,
Christopher had asked him to wait one more day to see if de Braose’s troops
would arrive.  He wanted Rhys to be completely informed of the strength of the
coming army before leaving alone for Ludlow and they needed de Braose’s five
hundred men.  But a day’s delay saw no incoming army and by the next day, Rhys
prepared to leave at dawn.

His best option, as he
and Christopher had decided, was to pose as a bachelor knight seeking shelter. 
In his old armor from St. Braivels and his shaggy appearance, he did not look
anything like the Rhys du Bois that John’s supporters were familiar with. 
Taking his great-grandfather’s name of Armand de Foix, he was prepared to call
upon Ludlow and search every inch of the place for Elizabeau.  They knew she
was there; all he had to do was find her before the siege began.  His
excitement, his anxiety, grew.

Shortly after dawn,
Rhys, Rod and David were making their way to the stable to retrieve Rhys’
charger.  Christopher had said everything he needed to say to the man and was
back inside the keep with his men; the rest was up to Rhys.  There was small
talk between the three knights, mostly because there was nothing more of
significance to say.  By the time they hit the stables, David begged off to
return to the keep while Rhys and Rod continued into the barn.  Collecting a
solid gray stallion that belonged to Christopher but Rhys that had become
rather fond of, Rhys mounted up.

Rod stood at his feet,
adjusting a stirrup strap that was threatening to shake loose.  Rhys pulled
tight his gloves and secured his helm.  They fussed for a moment, each not
looking at the other, feeling the impending mission like a heady weight.  Then
Rod lifted his face.

“I suppose anything
emotional I say at this moment might sound trite or foolish,” he said. “But I
do want to wish you Godspeed, brother. And the very best of luck in finding
Elizabeau.”

Rhys nodded, his bright
blue eyes fixed on his brother. “I will find her,” he said confidently.

Rod just nodded his
head, not saying what he was thinking. He didn’t know about the conversation
between Conrad and Rhys and Christopher; his brother had not confided in him. 
For all he knew, it was still the same offer on the table; you will find her
only to turn her over to the prince.  He seriously wondered what would become of
his brother when all was said and done and Elizabeau was a princess of Saxony.
He didn’t even want to think about it.

“Well,” he slapped the
charger on the buttocks to get it moving. “Take care of yourself.  I will see
you at Ludlow.”

Rhys winked at him
before slamming his visor down and proceeding out into the gently blowing snow
of the bailey.

The brothers moved out
into the ward of Lioncross, an oddly shaped yard that had two distinct halves
to it.  As they made their way towards the main gate, the sentries on guard
suddenly rushed to it and began pulling one of the massive panels open.  Snow
had blown up against it and the men had to shovel the snow out of the way with
their boots.   Rhys reined his charger to a halt, watching the soldiers try to
clear the gate, assuming they were clearing it for him.  But two of the men
yanked the gate open as the snow began to clear and a knight on horseback
abruptly charged through. 

Rhys didn’t recognize
the knight, nor did Rod.  Rhys was the only one armed and he unsheathed his
broadsword and charged forward, intercepting the warrior.   He blocked the
man’s path from coming any further.

“Announce yourself,
knight,” he commanded.

The knight’s visor was
down, but he lifted it to show his slightly apprehensive face. He then lifted
his hand in greeting.

“My name is Sir Edward
Radcliffe,” he said. “I am looking for Rhys du Bois.”

Rhys didn’t say anything
for a moment.  Then, he lifted his visor to look the man in the eye. “I do not
know you.”

Radcliffe wrestled with
his excited, exhausted charger. “I have just come from Ludlow Castle. I must
see du Bois on an extremely urgent matter. Is he here?”

With mention of the
castle, Rhys’ eyes flew open wide and he was suddenly bailing from the
charger.  But Rod was quicker; he raced to Radcliffe’s horse and took the
knight down, and the horse with him, in a brutal tackle.  Rhys hurled over the
side of the downed charger and landed on Edward, and the three knights wrestled
on the ground as Radcliffe’s charger scrambled to its feet and ran off.  Rhys
reached up and ripped the helm from Edward’s head, almost taking his scalp off
with it.

“Who in the hell are
you?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

Edward was more angry
than frightened.  “I told you who I am,” he snapped. “And if you kill me,
you’ll never know the news I bear about the Lady Elizabeau. Where is du Bois?”

Rhys didn’t think he
could be any more frantic and furious than he already was, but he was wrong. “I
am du Bois,” he snarled, grabbing Edward around the throat.  “What about
Elizabeau? Tell me now or I swear I will rip your head from your shoulders.”

By this time, David and
Christopher had heard the shouting and were bailing out of the keep with swords
drawn.  They could see Rhys and Rod on the ground with an unknown knight and
they hastened to make their way towards them.  But if Rhys knew they were
coming, he did not acknowledge them; he was completely focused on Radcliffe as
if he was a wolf who had just trapped his quarry.  The look in the brilliant
blue eyes was frightening.

But Edward gazed
steadily back at him, inspecting him. “So you’re…?”

Rhys shook him hard
enough to snap his head. “I said I was. What about Elizabeau?”

At this point, Rod put
his hand on his brother’s wrists as he gripped Edward around the neck. “Rhys,”
he hissed. “Ease down, man. Let him speak.”

Rhys was beside himself
and fading fast. He struggled to keep his wits about him but the mention of
Elizabeau’s name had him reeling. Still, he heard his brother’s soft plea and
he stiffly released his grasp around Edward’s neck.  It helped that Rod had
peeled his fingers away else he would probably not have moved.  Edward rubbed a
hand along his neck.

“She is being held at
Ludlow Castle to the north,” he said. “Two days ago, we received a missive from
King John.  It was the lady’s death warrant.  Tomorrow at dawn, she will be put
to the block.  I have come to tell you this so that you may do all you can to
prevent this from happening.  Time is almost at an end for her. You must help
her.”

Rhys just stared at him.
Rod was so stunned that he couldn’t even draw a breath, his horrified gaze
turning to his brother. But Rhys was frozen in place, turned to stone by those
fateful words.  He hovered there, unmoving, unblinking. Then suddenly, his
hands went to his head and he fell off of Edward, hissing to himself.

“God, no,” he muttered.
“Dear God, please no. This cannot be. This cannot be.”

Edward sat up as Rhys slid
off.  Rod was still beside Radcliffe, half-restraining him, but at the moment
the only thing the two knights could focus on was Rhys. Rod watched his brother
through horrified eyes; the man had been brittle for months and he seriously
wondered if this news would throw him completely over the edge.  He was sitting
on the ground with his hands on his head, muttering to himself.  By this time,
Christopher and David and the others had joined them, hovering in a semi-circle
around those on the ground, swords half-raised and wondering what was going
on.  They hadn’t heard Edward’s softly-uttered news but they clearly saw Rhys’s
stunned reaction.

“What is it?”
Christopher demanded.  “What’s wrong?”

Rod spoke. “This knight
has come from Ludlow.   King John has signed Lady Elizabeau’s death warrant and
she is slated to face the block tomorrow at dawn.”

Christopher’s expression
didn’t change as he slowly sheathed his sword.  His gaze moved from Rod to
Edward and back to Rhy; he could only imagine how this news had toppled the
man. The anguish was obvious. As he watched Rhys slowly lower his arms and
struggle to stand, he looked back to Edward.

“Who are you, knight?’
he asked in a low tone.

“Edward Radcliffe, my
lord,” Edward replied. “I have been the lady’s companion and jailor since the
start of her captivity.  She told me of Sir Rhys and further explained that I
might find him here. So I have come to tell him that he must do all in his
power to save her, for I cannot.”

Christopher cocked a
blond eyebrow. “Why would you do this for her?”

Radcliffe looked
uncertain a moment, his gaze moving from Christopher to Rhys and back again.
“Because..,” he began quietly. “Because the lady has been kind to me and I have
grown fond of her.  But my liege is Clifford and I am sworn to him.  I can do
nothing for her. But Sir Rhys… he must help her. If he loves her as she says he
does, then he will.”

“You say you are sworn
to Clifford, yet you have betrayed him by coming here,” Christopher pointed
out. “Why did you not bring the lady with you when you left Ludlow?”

“Because she is very
closely watched,” Edward said. “A contingent of soldiers is assigned to her. I
could not remove her by myself.  So under the pretext of riding to Clifford
Castle to announce the lady’s execution date, I came here instead to tell Sir
Rhys that he must go and save her.”

By this time, Rhys was
on his feet and no longer mumbling to himself.  His momentary brush with
complete insanity quickly left him, leaving him emotionally weak and brittle
and struggling to focus.  As the soft snow fell, he removed his helm and
brushed his long black hair from his eyes, focusing on the enemy knight still
sitting on the ground.   His face was pale, his voice strained, as he spoke.

“By coming here you have
indeed saved her and I will forever be in your debt,” he rumbled. “I will ride
to Ludlow now and prevent this heinous act.”

Christopher looked at
him. “You cannot simply ride in and steal her away, Rhys. If she is slated for
execution on the morrow, then it is as this knight has said; she will be very
closely guarded.”

Rhys pondered his
statement a moment before looking back to Edward. He stared at the man.  “I can
indeed simply ride in,” he said slowly, “if Radcliffe assists me.”

Edward looked dubious
and eager at the same time. “What would you have me do?”

Rhys raked his fingers
through his long hair as he thought on a plan. “I will return to Ludlow with
you and you will tell everyone that I am an old friend.  Vouch for my loyalties
to the king.  In fact, you may tell them that I am an envoy from John to ensure
the execution is carried out.  Tell them… tell them that I am, in fact, the
king’s executioner.”

“They will want proof,
Rhys,” Christopher said softly. “They will want documentation proving you are
who you say you are. She is a political prisoner and they will never let an
unknown knight gain access to her.”

Rhys looked at him. “You
have missives from John, do you not?”