Rivals for the Crown (49 page)

She did not sob, but she could not stop the tears from streaming down her face. The men pretended not to notice, but Edgar handed her a handkerchief and she smiled ruefully at him.

"You are married, sir, and know to keep a handkerchief with you."

Edgar grinned. "True, indeed."

"How did you find me?" she asked, looking from him to Kieran. "How did you know where to find me?"

"De Boyer," Kieran said.

"He told you?"

"No. We dinna ken where ye were. We went to the inn Edgar uses, but they had no word of ye. We'd heard Rory was held in the castle, so we watched the troops come in and out of the gate. When we saw de Boyer, we followed him, and he came here. When we asked if there was a woman staying here, the woman laughed and told us where ye were. And here we are. Now yer turn. Tell us what has happened."

She told them almost everything, all about Rory's capture, and her journey back to Newcastle to be near him. And that Langton was on his way. Kieran told her of receiving the message from Rachel, and his visit to Berwick, although she could tell from his expression that there were things he left unsaid.

"I told Rory I should come with him," Kieran said. "And now he's chained to the wall in a prison cell and Langton is on his way here to find ye."

"There has to be a way to get him out," William said.

"I do not think you can break Rory out of the castle with only the men you have with you," she said. "I've thought of all the things I might do to smuggle him out, but the castle is well

protected, and to get inside the walls, free him, and get out would be nigh impossible."

"Tell us what ye know about the castle," William said.

She did, glad she'd paid such attention on her earlier visits. "What can we do? We cannot leave him there with Langton on the way! I'd thought to follow Rory south when they took him to London and find a way to free him, but now.. .We have very little time. Langton will recognize Rory. He'll remember that Rory was with me at the Tower, and I'm afraid he'll take the revenge he wishes for me out on Rory. Can you think of any way to get him out?"

The men all looked at each other.

"Perhaps we're looking at it wrong," William said. He paced the room, rubbing his chin, while the others watched. "It could be difficult—nigh impossible, ye said—to get Rory out with so few of us. But if they brought him out, we might have a chance, aye?"

"They will do that when they take him to London," Isabel said, "but not before Christmas, and perhaps not before Epiphany, and Langton will be here long before that."

William rubbed his chin again. "There is one thing we might do."

She was sure that she would be sick at any moment. She'd been unable to eat anything this day, knowing what was to come. She'd had to talk long and hard to convince the men to include her, but at last they had agreed. They'd had no choice. Without her, she was convinced, William's strategy would fail.

It was a bold plan. A desperate plan. And one which, if it failed, would surely end in all their deaths. And if she fell into Langton's hands again.. .but no, she'd run into a sword before she gave herself to him. If she died and Rory was freed, she would be satisfied. Not, she thought wryly, that she would know. But if their plan was betrayed and Rory died because of it, she herself would kill those who had betrayed them. There had been a time when she'd not been capable of such a thing, but now she knew she was very capable of it.

They waited in a small cottage near the river. There was little to say, not even when the men had returned with uniforms of the king's own guard, enough for all eight of them. She never asked how they'd obtained them, nor if men had died in the acquisition. But they lay piled next to the hearth, waiting. It was madness, this plan of theirs. But none wavered.

At last they heard the news that Langton was nearing. He rode with a large troop of men, over two hundred, which would swell the numbers of soldiers at Newcastle yet again. She sat on a horse, hidden in the trees, Kieran on one side, Edgar on the other, as Langton passed. He looked as he always had, his gaze intent, his back rigid, his self-satisfaction obvious.

Kieran waited until the sound of their
hoof beats
died, then leaned to her. "Was that him? Langton? The one with no neck?"

She nodded, pushing aside the rise of fear just seeing Langton had brought. The man had not changed. One could see his arrogance in his posture, in his every movement. How could they have thought for a moment to attempt this?

"Ready?" William asked. "We need to get within the gates before dark."

Kieran leaned to pat Isabel's hand. "Ye need not be part of it, ye ken."

She shook her head. "It will not work without me. I am ready."

"Are ye afraid?"

She nodded, and Kieran grinned at her. "So am I, lass. But there's always my da and Gannon and Liam to try and get us out if we're all taken."

She nodded again. They might be brave, these Scots, but they did not realize the might of King Edward and his armies. A handful of men, valiant as they might be, could not change the course of Edward's ambitions. All she wanted was this small group of men to be safe in Scotland and not in an ever-tightening noose of English soldiers—and not to widen the risk of loss.

"Nothing was ever accomplished by cowards," William said. "If we do not live through this day, so be it. But at least we will have tried."

"Yes," she said, raising her chin, somewhat comforted.

Kieran leaned close to her. Without words, he lifted her hair and cut a large lock from it. He held it up for her to see. "To convince Langton."

She nodded.

They rode in silence to the gates of the city. Their men were dressed in uniforms of the king's army, and entry was gained with no difficulty. She had pulled the hood of her cloak far over her face, and slumped, as though she were aged. Her ruse was not necessary. No one seemed to even notice the one woman riding in a troop of men.

Inside the city they stayed close to the market area, lively with a solstice fair, the merchants using the arrival of the soldiers to fatten their purses. It was a simple matter to mingle with the others who wandered through the crowds. Music filled the air and laughter with it. And somewhere there was dancing on the stones of the street, even in the December chill.

Darkness came early, on this, the shortest day of the year. In Scotland, they told her, those who practiced the old ways would be praying to the nature gods and the spirits of the land, would be chanting ancient words and dancing in the darkness. There would be special masses said this day in every chapel and church, to pray for the return of the sun, for the soul of the Oak King, sentenced to darkness until the summer solstice. The reign of the Holly King began this night.

She tried to pray, but the words rang hollow, and it was wrong to pray for divine assistance for such a task. And so she waited, numb, but unable to rest, while vivid images of Rory ran through her mind. Of the first time she'd seen him, in Westminster Abbey, the smile that lit his face, the halo of his hair and the amazing blue of his eyes. And that mouth, conjuring carnal thoughts. Rory, kissing her in a London alley, startling both her body and her mind, leaving her breathless. Stretched naked next to her in a cottage far too close to Newcastle. And now here, waiting in a cell to be taken to his death. She could do this. She would do this.

And then it was time.

She followed her instructions, staying silently in the house where Kieran had taken her before, four Scots below at the doors, protecting her, while Kieran, William, Edgar, and the five others went to the castle. She imagined their movements, a word with the guards, who might question their uniforms, but then through the gate, into the outer bailey. Up the stairs to the Great Hall. And finding him. Would he take the bait?

The waiting seemed interminable. Her hands shook, and she clasped them together to hide it, although there was no one to see the shaking. How had she thought to let them do this, to walk into the spider's web? It seemed an eternity, sitting in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the solstice fair, of the nearer merriment in the inn down the street. She thought of Florine, who never ventured out after dark, and wished her a lifetime of loneliness.

And then the knock on the door. Kieran, she prayed, knocking in the rhythm they'd determined earlier. The signal echoed through the still house. Success.

She stood, crossing to the candle and striking the flint, fumbling for a moment in the dark, but at last the candle took the flame. She lit another, and a third, filling the room with light. There were sudden sounds, of struggle, of grunts and heavy things hitting the walls. And then silence. She stared at the door, her hands folding themselves as though in prayer, but her mind was numb. Men had just died below, she knew. But which? She took her dagger from her garter.

Footsteps hit the wooden stairs. Several men climbed, their boots ringing hollow in the narrow stairwell. Outside the room they paused, and she could hear voices, low, intense. And then the door was thrown open. She stood, hands hidden behind her skirts, staring into the darkness, knowing she was watched from the doorway.

Walter Langton stepped forward into the light. His hair was askew, but his manner was as arrogant as she'd remembered.

"Isabel. I wondered if they would truly produce you. Your hair is darker. I almost did not believe them."

She did not speak. For a moment it seemed as though he was alone and all was lost, but then Kieran came forward, other men behind him.

"I told ye that we had her, Langton. Here she is. Ye have two choices, sir. Die. Or write the orders."

"How do I know you will keep your part of the bargain?"

"Ye dinna."

"Then why would I agree?"

"Well..." Kieran showed Langton the long shining blade he held. "This might help to persuade ye. I might let her finish the job she started in Berwick."

Langton blanched, but nodded. "You might. But the entire castle knows where I have gone."

"No, they dinna. The guard ye gave the orders to was one of our own, not yers. No one kent where ye went this night but the men who accompanied ye, and none of them will be doing any talking. Ye have no other choices but the ones I've given ye, sir."

"I don't believe you. I told two guards where I was going."

"Aye. One was ours. And what did ye tell the other, sir? That ye were going to have a meeting with some Scots. Look around ye.

See any Scotsmen? Or do ye see men dressed in the uniforms of the king's own? How would they ken which ones we are?"

Langton did not answer. He stepped closer to Isabel until he stood before her. His gaze raked over her body, and she began to shake. His eyes told her all she needed to know of what he would like to do to her.

"If I write the order.. .how do I know you won't keep her as well?"

Kieran held the knife up again. "I think ye misunderstood. If ye dinna write the order, sir, I will cut off a bit of yer body to persuade ye. The more ye resist, the more ye lose. And I assure ye, I will keep ye alive to enjoy every moment."

"You told me you would give her to me!" Langton circled her. "She goes to the castle before he is released."

"No," Kieran said. "She stays here, and ye with her, until I hear Rory's out."

"You cannot hope to succeed. Newcastle is full of English soldiers."

"Enough talk. Decide." Kieran stepped aside, letting the four Scots who had guarded her into the room. "I'll have yer answer now, sir, or they'll hold ye while I give her the knife."

Langton glared at her. "Very well."

"Good decision," Kieran said, nodding to one of his men. "Give him the parchment and the pen."

They watched while Langton scrawled out an order, then dusted the parchment with sand to dry it. He held it up and looked into the distance.

"No," Kieran said. "Put yer seal on it. Yer ring, sir."

Langton dipped his ring into ink and pressed it to the parchment. Kieran held it up, then showed it to Isabel.

"It needs the symbol," she said.

Langton glared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You forget, my lord, that I have seen your orders before. This needs the symbol of your station or no one will believe it is from you."

"You risk your soul, madam," Langton said. "Do you forget that I am a bishop? You and these..." He gestured to the Scots. "You will not succeed. And I will enjoy every moment of my revenge."

"As I did mine in Berwick," she said. "Place the symbol on it, my lord, or risk another piece of your body."

"She is in league with you!" Langton said to Kieran. "You spoke falsely!"

"Aye," Kieran said lightly. "Learned it from the English. Place the symbol on it. Ye have one try, sir. My patience is gone."

Langton drew the symbol and handed the parchment to Kieran, who glanced at Isabel. She nodded, and the four men came forward. Langton was bound in a moment, trussed and laid on the floor, a filthy piece of cloth stuffed into his mouth.

"We're off now, sir," Kieran said, leaning over him. "I thank ye for the interesting time we had in Newcastle. Lass, see ye anon."