The Faithful Heart (21 page)

“Has anyone heard anything from Ethan?”

Aubrey shrugged. “No. Joanna didn’t say where
he was going.”

“Neither did Ethan,” Madeline sighed. She sat
on the chest of old clothes Aubrey had had brought to her room on
her first day at the castle to eat her stew. She supposed it was
good, but eating was just one more useless activity keeping her
from getting to Jack.

Aubrey paced in front of the bed, rubbing her
stomach. “Part of me wants to send someone to bring Crispin home,”
she spoke her thoughts aloud. “Or at least send a messenger to let
him know that Jack has been captured. But if I do that then we’ll
be that much more behind on collecting the king’s ransom. We can’t
drop one problem to fix another. No, it’s best to wait to tell
Crispin about all this until he gets home.” She let out a
frustrated growl as she reached one end of the room and turned to
pace back. “Nobody tells you how irritating it is to handle all of
the problems of a shire at the same time!”

“Anyone who wants to be in a position of
power is a fool,” Madeline muttered her agreement, her mouth
full.

Aubrey huffed an ironic laugh. “Crispin
didn’t want to be sheriff or earl, you know. All we wanted to do
was live a nice, peaceful life in Windale as a minor noble, not a
baron.”

And all Madeline wanted to do was live a
peaceful life in Kedleridge with Jack. She wouldn’t let that dream
go. She’d risked too much for it. “Why don’t you go find something
to eat, Aubrey. It looks like it’s nearly supper time.”

“I’m always hungry these days,” Aubrey
grumbled. “Ever since the morning sickness stopped.”

“You go get something to eat then.” Madeline
stood and crossed to give her friend a hug. “I’ll come down in a
bit and sit with you. Are those minstrels still at the castle?”

“No, they left a few days ago. A few of the
pages are pretty handy with a lute though.”

“Could you get them to play for us?”

Aubrey smiled. “Sure. No problem.”

“Thanks.”

She hugged her friend again and walked her to
the door. As soon as she heard Aubrey’s footsteps disappear down
the hall she swung around and raced to the chest of old clothes,
untying her kirtle as she did. She pulled it over her head and
tossed it aside before squatting to throw open the lid of the
trunk. The shapeless excuse for a dress she had traded her hassock
for had to be in there somewhere. She’d insisted Joanna keep it
instead of burning it, telling her it could be useful for chores if
nothing else. It would help her stay hidden in the forest. The
chest was packed with Aubrey’s old dresses and kirtles, all too
brightly colored to let her sneak through the forest, even at
night. She lifted them out armful at a time, setting them on the
floor and digging deeper.

Her heart stopped for a moment when she
neared the bottom of the chest. A dull green-gray cloak sat there,
folded into a tight package. It was the exact right shade to blend
into the trees. She pulled it out. A pair of small, sturdy boots
lay underneath it. As she moved to set the cloak aside it fell open
and a shirt and small set of chausses tumbled out. Madeline knew
right away what it was.

“The Derbywood Bandit,” she whispered,
reaching back into the chest for the boots. Aubrey had been
disguised as the Bandit when she and Jack waylaid her and Sister
Bernadette’s carriage on their trip to Derby last Spring. She
wondered if the Bandit had been seen or heard of since or if Aubrey
had packed her disguise away for good when she married Crispin.
She’d have to find out. Later.

She scooped the Bandit disguise into her arms
and carried it back to the bed, tugging her under-dress over her
head and tossing it aside. The Bandit shirt fit her well enough,
though the sleeves were a little long. She tugged on the drawers
and chausses and tied them to fit her. Aubrey was taller than she
was but with a few fancy knots she was able to get the disguise to
fit well enough. The vest hung loose even with the laces pulled as
tight as they could go, but when she fastened the belt over top of
the vest and tucked the dagger in it was comfortable. And it was
just her luck that Aubrey had the same size feet as hers. The boots
fit perfectly. She donned the cloak, tucking the mask into her belt
to put on once she was out of the castle.

Stealing a horse from the stable was trickier
than she thought it would be. It wasn’t quite dark yet and more
than a few people were out and about in the halls and the
courtyard. She had to take the back stairs, press herself into
corners as servants passed, and dash from corridor to corridor. If
Aubrey or Joanna saw her they would definitely try to stop her. It
was a small blessing that the castle was so deserted with Crispin
gone. But that also meant that none of the horses in the stable
were saddled and ready. When she made it to the bushes beside the
stable she glanced around, desperate for ideas.

“You! Boy!” a sharp voice called nearby. She
glanced around, hoping that whoever was shouting and whoever they
were calling for would provide a distraction. “Stop pissing in the
bushes and get back to work!”

Two seconds before the wiry stabled hand
grabbed her by the back of her cloak she realized he was shouting
at her.

“What’d’ya think you’re doing?” He dragged
her out of the bush and into the stable. “The horses need brushing
down.” He shoved her towards a wall where brushes and tack
hung.

“Take it easy on the lad,” another man said
as he leaned back on a stool, swigging from a jug. “He’s new.
They’re all new.”

“He should learn his place.”

Madeline dashed into the stall closest to the
door. The chestnut mare there wore a simple rope lead. She untied
it and walked the horse towards the stable entrance, eyes wide.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the man
who had grabbed her demanded.

“Oy, I thought I’d walk her a bit first,
mate, give her some exercise,” she imitated Jack in the deepest
voice she could manage.

“What for?”

“Leave ’im be, Roger,” the man with the jug
cut him off. “If the lad likes horses, let him get his fill.”

“Soft bugger,” Roger muttered.

Madeline didn’t wait to see if the other man
heard him. She walked the horse out of the stable as fast as she
dared. Her heart beat in her throat as she lead him towards the
courtyard. Without glancing back over her shoulder she took the
horse towards the stairs, climbed a few, then mounted its bare
back. Her brow flew up at how easy it felt to sit astride a horse
in chausses. It was a wonder Mother Superior hadn’t fitted them all
with boy’s clothes under their habits to do the farm work.

She didn’t have time to dwell on it. With a
quick kick to the mare’s flanks she nudged it forward out of the
courtyard. Once in the streets of Derby she picked up speed. No one
seemed to find a boy in a cloak riding a horse without a saddle
unusual enough to stop her or call after her. Still, as soon as she
was outside of the city gates she broke into a run.

It was almost dark by the time she reached
the edge of the Derbywood. She rode as far into the forest as she
dared then veered off the path, walking until she was far enough
away that anyone passing wouldn’t see the horse. Darkness was
creeping in faster than she could plan her next move. She jumped
off the horse’s back and tied the lead to a low-hanging branch. She
said a quick prayer to remember where she left the mare then tied
the mask over the lower half of her face, tucked her hood close,
and started walking.

She had no clue where she was going. What
little light was left vanished before she had walked more than a
few hundred yards. At least she thought that was how far she
walked. The forest seemed all the same to her. The air chilled and
she caught herself wondering if this was such a good idea after
all.

She wasn’t sure how far she had wandered when
indistinct murmuring froze her in her tracks. Two voices. She
pressed herself against the nearest tree and listened.

“The crown won’t care who delivers the money
as long as its delivered.” It was Ethan’s voice. “We’ve gathered a
bit from travelers in the last year, we can get more.”

“More than a bit, my lord,” his man Toby
added. They were coming closer. Leaves and sticks crunched under
their feet. She held her breath and closed her eyes. “We’ll need a
cart to transport it all.”

“Stop right there!”

A third voice cracked through the night.
Madeline swallowed a gasp. Ethan and Toby’s footsteps stopped.
Several other sets shuffled through the undergrowth.

“What’s this all about?” Ethan balked.

“You’re not welcome here.”

“Not welcome here?” Ethan laughed. There was
a shuffle and the sound of swords being drawn. “Put that away!”

“Turn around and walk away,” the nasal voice
growled.

“Connor,” Ethan’s casual sound faltered to a
note of worry, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“You try and come any closer and I’ll poke
you,” Connor threatened.

Madeline sucked in a breath and inched her
head around the tree to see what was going on. Ethan and Toby stood
toe-to-toe with three burly men, two holding swords, one swinging a
mace with thick spikes. In the faint moonlight their faces stood
out, harsh and vengeful.

“Let me pass!” Ethan moved to bypass
them.

The man at the front of the group swiped at
him with his sword. Ethan shouted as the blade sliced into his arm.
Toby jumped forward and shouted, “How dare you!”

“You want a piece of this too?” The man with
the sword, Connor, turned his blade on Toby.

Toby skittered back, pulling Ethan off
balance. “Show some respect!” His words were far braver than the
quiver in his voice and knees.

Connor and his cronies laughed. “I’ll give
him all the respect he deserves.” He snorted and spit at Ethan.

Ethan jerked back and Toby yelped in offense.
Toby reached for something at his waist and lunged forward.
Madeline caught the flash of a knife flicking across Connor’s face.
Connor screamed in pain and clapped a hand across his cheek.

“You little shit!” he yelled. “Get them!”

“Toby, run!” Ethan grabbed his man’s hand and
yanked him away.

Toby’s moonlit face filled with terror as he
turned and sprinted off through the trees with Ethan. The two men
with Connor raced after them. Connor bent over and shouted in pain,
growling a few choice curses that curled Madeline’s toes. Her heart
pounded in her throat as he fished for something in his belt. He
found what he was looking for and raised a hand to his cheek again
before turning and stomping off through the woods.

She reacted without letting herself think
about it, slipping out of her hiding place and dashing from tree to
tree, following Connor. If he was hurt he would return to the camp.
He would lead her there. He set a steady pace. She kept as far
behind him as she could while still being able to see him,
concentrating on being as silent as she could. It wasn’t easy. She
was sure the pounding of her heart would give her away if nothing
else.

After about fifteen minutes a dull glow
appeared through the forest. Madeline stopped, crouching behind a
bush to catch her breath. The soft sound of conversations, horses
naying, some sort of flute playing were just barely audible. She
rocked back to sit on the ground relief pouring through her.
Ethan’s camp.

Now what?

Once she’d caught her breath she took the
dagger from her belt and pushed herself to stand. She had to find
out where Jack and Simon were being held. Swallowing any fear she
was tempted to have, she crept away from the bush and inched closer
to the light that was the camp. Impatient as she was, it was
essential that she take her time. The slower she moved the less
likely she was to make noise or be noticed. She rounded a small
hill and a sea of tents stretched out before her. A few fires
danced between them with men and a few women sitting biding their
time. The man with the flute played near one of the fires closer to
where she stood while a few friends clapped along, slurping from
mugs of ale. They weren’t looking for a spy in the dark but
Madeline bent low and hid behind the nearest tree anyhow.

The camp was bigger than she would have
thought. There were more tents and more people than any reports had
led her to believe. It was a village in the forest. Most of the
tents were small but a few were large enough to hold several people
if they needed to. She slipped to the next tree and the next,
skirting the perimeter of the camp, looking for any place that
might hold prisoners.

“Where are you, Jack?” she whispered to
herself, the cloth mask of the Bandit disguise muffling the
sound.

The smaller tents seemed to be clustered
together. The larger tents stood apart. Some were closer to the
center of the vast camp but others were further out. Would Jack and
Simon be towards the center or near the edge?

“Take that length of tapestry to my tent!”
The order given in Lydia’s voice snapped Madeline’s back straight
and her eyes wide. “And I want those cushions that I saw in
Wilmont’s tent as well.” She strode into sight along one of the
paths that cut through two clusters of tents, a team of women
following in her wake like ladies in waiting. “What’s wrong with
you?”

The man Connor stumbled into her path, hand
still clutched to his face which Madeline could now see was
bleeding heavily. The moment Connor saw Lydia he stumbled back in
fear.

“Ethan and his whelp came back, my lady,” his
voice was far different than it had been when he had told Ethan
off. “They tried to get around us but my men chased after
them.”

“And?” Lydia arched a brow, crossing her
arms.

“I got cut,” he lowered his head.

“And what happened to Ethan and his man?”