Honor & Roses (28 page)

“He will?” Cecily asked in honest surprise.

“He will permit no one else the honor, for he reminds you that as a little girl, you once made him promise to do so on pain of death, and he intends to send you on your way.” Octavian turned to Pierce, bowing again, very politely. Now speaking in French, he thanked Pierce for his hospitality, offering some flattering and empty words.

Cecily heard none of it, hearing only Octavian’s last words to her. She’d never made Alric promise such a thing, so why would…

He intends to send you on your way.

He knew she was a prisoner, and he had a plan to get her out.

But even if he did, what could be done? It was too late. From the looks of things, the next time Alric would be close enough to talk with her, she’d be in her bridal gown, only steps away from being handed off to a traitor.

* * * *

  Her meekness during the days of her confinement didn’t cause Pierce to relent. She wasn’t allowed to speak with any of her people alone, and Pierce himself always escorted her back to her chambers.

Agnes was her only company. Cecily hesitated to tell her what had happened, because she didn’t want Agnes to be punished for anything. But her nurse finally pressed her to explain, and late that night, while they huddled in the corner furthest from the door, Cecily whispered the truth.

“By the saints,” Agnes said, horrified, “you can’t marry this man.”

“I have no choice. Alric and the others know I’m now kept here against my will, but I can’t talk to any of them. So how can they do anything?”

“Tell the priest who is to marry you,” Agnes said. “A godly man would never let a lady be married unless it was of her own free will.”

Cecily shook her heard sadly. “Either the priest is sympathetic to Pierce already, in which case he’ll do whatever his lord tells him to do, or he’ll be too weak to prevent Pierce’s will. Either way, I’ll be married on Lammas Night, with no hope of freedom after.”

“But you have
three
knights in your retinue,” Agnes said. “They’ll defend you if you call out.”

“Three knights against a whole castle’s garrison?” Cecily asked. “They could be the most magnificent fighters in the world, and still not stand against so many. How could I ask my knights or the men-at-arms to face certain death?”

“You need not ask. It is their duty to defend their lady.”

“It is my duty to protect those who owe me fealty,” Cecily countered. “So where does that leave us? In a quandary.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “I wish…”

She wished she’d never come here. She wished she’d stood up to her uncle. She wished she’d found Alric one hour earlier than she had.

But she’d done none of those things. Instead, she obeyed her guardian and conceded to her enemy, and lost the one man she wanted to keep near.

* * * *

Despite all her prayers and wishes, the day of the wedding arrived. Maids and servants scurried in and out, but Cecily was kept under close watch the whole time. She couldn’t even slip a scrap of parchment out the door.

She was gowned and adorned like a princess. She wore a silk dress Theobald had sworn came all the way from Byzantium—the rich purple dye was the proof. She didn’t believe it. She no longer believed anything Theobald had told her. The gown was still gorgeous, though, by far the most magnificent she’d ever worn.

It was only one part of her glittering appearance. Her gold hair was bound up in elegant braids upon braids, looped on her head and then veiled under the sheerest of white silk, anchored with a gold circlet. She wore gold rings on her fingers, set with amethyst and precious lapis lazuli. Around her neck, she wore a necklace that had been her mother’s. A cross dangled from it, with a piece of chalcedony set in the middle.

She wore a cape as well, despite the lingering summer warmth. It was another gift from Theobald—she never even saw it until the day of the wedding, when Agnes revealed it. The cape was made of velvet, and it was dyed a brilliant gold. Only saffron could have given such a tint, and even in her distraction Cecily marveled at what such a garment must have cost her uncle. A chain linked the two edges of the cape at each shoulder, and a high collar rose up behind, to frame her face and her veiled head. The cape was cut generously, so that it fell in deep, soft folds and pooled at her feet when she stood, then trailed behind her when she walked in her soft leather slippers, also stitched in gold thread.

In short, she was the most stunning bride in England, save for the fact that she looked like she’d rather go to her own funeral.

She felt the weight of the slim dagger she’d hidden under her gown. Perhaps it would be her funeral in the end. She would die before she would marry Pierce of Malvern.

However, she was not given the chance to do anything yet. A quartet of guards appeared at her door, ready to escort her down to the chapel. They walked so she was penned in—two in front and two behind. She tried to step to the side one time, just to see what would happen. A guard to her left immediately seized her by the elbow.

“This way, my lady,” he said shortly.

“You crowd me,” she said, waving her hand faintly. “Must you all be so close? I’ll swoon, and Pierce will hear of it…”

They backed off instinctively, though only a foot or so. The need to respect a lady’s wishes was hard to overcome for those who learned the lesson young, as these men did. Still, they would not leave her alone. She was a splendidly dressed prisoner, being escorted to her execution.

The wedding was to take place in the chapel, which stood to the east side of the castle’s courtyard. The many residents of the castle and town were there, eager to see the bride before the wedding…and celebrate the holiday afterwards.

Everyone bowed or curtseyed as she passed, and a murmur rippled through the ranks of spectators when they saw her costume. In the golden afternoon light, she probably glowed.

Cecily saw Alric standing at the door of the chapel, waiting so he could give her away. Despite everything, seeing his reaction to her appearance almost made her smile. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Though he looked as handsome as ever, he was dressed for a wedding, not a battle. Nor was he visibly armed. Her heart sank again. No rescue could happen. She knew that, but still…she had prayed for a miracle.

Two more of Pierce’s guards flanked Alric, standing on either side of the door. They looked ceremonial, but they were armed, and they would surely kill Alric if he attempted anything.

He attempted nothing, other than to offer her his arm.

“My lady,” he said, his voice formal but his eyes searing her. “It is time.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, but she took hold of Alric’s arm and clung to him as they began to walk down the center aisle of the chapel. The pews were full, with more people crowding wherever there was room to stand. Pierce stood at the far end by the priest, surveying Cecily with intense satisfaction.

“I can’t go through with this,” she breathed, hardly daring to move her lips.

“I have no intention of allowing you to,” Alric returned, just as softly.

Cecily tightened her grip on his arm, hope flaring inside her.

“When we are halfway,” he murmured, “we turn and run.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Three steps. Two steps. One…”

“Now.” As soon as Alric
slipped his arm around Cecily, he glanced at William, who stood in position. The young man-at-arms shouted from his post near the front of the church.

All eyes were drawn to the unexpected sound, as the guests and the guards tried to understand why someone was screaming during a holy sacrament.

The diversion allowed Alric to move. He swept Cecily up in his arms and ran down the clear aisle to the doorway of the chapel.

Two guards still stood there, but they were distracted by William’s screams. Alric pushed past them before any had even drawn a weapon.

Then, just as planned, Oswin and Jack emerged from their carefully chosen stations near the door. They had their swords out and ready.

“Go, sir!” Oswin yelled, as he held off the guards just now realizing what was happening. Behind them, the voice of Pierce could be heard, full of rage.

“I warned you!” he shouted. “Don’t let them pass through the gate!”

Time was precious. The Lammas Day celebrations meant the castle gates were wide open—so many villagers passed in and out all day that Pierce’s usual rules couldn’t be followed.

But the gate would close as soon as the guards there heard what was happening.

“Tav!” Alric shouted, already seeing Octavian running from the stables.

“Done and ready!” he howled back, meaning that he’d disarmed anyone watching the stables.

Three of the Cleobury men-at-arms burst out of the stables, one after another. They were mounted, and each man herded a few more saddled horses between them. Alric rushed to his roan and Rafe’s beautiful black horse. He helped Cecily swing up to the saddle, which was hers—not Rafe’s. His men carried out their tasks perfectly. Cecily grabbed the reins.

He rushed to his own horse and mounted up. Around him, four more of the Cleobury men did the same. Even Edmund followed suit, as if he’d practiced this for years.

Once mounted, Alric could see around the courtyard. The shifting crowd worked to their advantage. People surged forth to get a better view of what was happening, and they blocked the path of Pierce’s guards.

Only a few moments remained. The creaking sound of the heavy gate could be heard throughout the courtyard.

“Move!” Alric ordered his men. They started to push through the crowded courtyard toward the gate.

Behind him, Octavian jumped astride his own horse, and wheeled about. His sword flashed in the reflected light of the reddening sky and the torches already lit. The ordinary people nearby backed away in alarm, just as Octavian intended. He wouldn’t hurt unarmed people, but he used their fear and confusion to bring chaos to the crowd.

“Go!” he called out. “I’ll follow!”

Alric looked to see that Cecily was ready, saw her nod, then charged forward.

The horses raced through the dark arch of the gatehouse and then out to the foregate. There were people here too, but they heard the thundering of hooves from a dozen horses, and were already running toward the sides of the road.

Glancing behind, Alric took a count of those riding with him. Everyone was there. William and Oswin were bringing up the rear, and just ahead of them was Octavian. He thought he heard Rafe shouting far behind, but he couldn’t see anyone in the courtyard any longer.

The land outside the castle sloped gently but steadily downward to the village of Malvern. Beyond that, there was a slight ridge between the village and the forest.

Alric wanted to make that ridge before the inevitable pursuit got too close. They’d just passed the last home in the village when Octavian called out a warning. Mounted men were following them.

“Faster,” was Alric’s only reply.

They’d rounded the ridge when Alric called abruptly for a halt. The men obeyed as best they could, bringing the horses to a skidding stop.

“Where’s Rafe?” Cecily asked. “Why am I riding his horse?”

“I’ll explain later,” Alric said. “Edmund! Come here.”

“Sir?” Edmund rode up to join Alric.

“Cecily, take off your cloak.”

Bewildered, Cecily did so.

Alric took it from her and passed the brilliant gold mass to Edmund.

“Put this on,” he ordered. “Keep the hood up as much as you can. You are Lady Cecily for the duration of this pursuit. Understand?”

“Decoy,” said Edmund with a grin. “Yes, sir!”

Before Alric could suggest it, Cecily yanked the gauzy veil from her head. “Take this too. Tangle it in a branch somewhere along the way so they see it.”

“Yes, my lady.” Edmund took the fabric and stuffed it away.

Alric said, “Let’s ride on. When there’s a chance, I’ll turn aside with Cecily. Tav, lead the rest south. Let them see the cloak, but make sure they don’t know the group has lost two members. And
don’t
let them get close enough to spy the trick. We’ll meet you at Hawksmere. You’ll be safe there if you say it’s by my orders.”

Octavian nodded. “We’ll keep them running. But what of you?”

“I’ll take Cecily back by another road. Of all of us, she is the one we can’t let Pierce find again. Our way may be longer, but it will be safer, especially if you can pull the first pursuit in another direction.”

They continued on, gaining speed so that by the time they broke cover, no one should notice it took slightly longer for them to negotiate the ridge.

Alric kept up the pace, urging the horses on as fast as he dared. The fringes of forest drew near, and Alric glanced behind, timing his next move for the moment when the pursuers would have their view blocked once again.

“We’re splitting off!” he called out, just loud enough that the others could hear. “Keep riding south. God speed you!”

“And you!” Octavian yelled over his shoulder. Alric turned his horse aside, and Cecily did the same with hers. The main group passed them on the track. Edmund wore Cecily’s bright gold cloak, and it was by far the most visible object through the trees. Edmund’s horse was even the same color as the one Cecily rode, helping the deception.