In Honor Bound (19 page)

He knew it could be only a few more steps until he reached the kitchen. He could hear the women still and then something more – the sound of metal on metal.

"Tom! Tom, can you hear me?"

"They're down here, too," Tom shouted up to him. "Hurry!"

Philip made a clean thrust through the man above him and, swift as thought, through the next one. Then he turned and ran, knowing there was a door made of stout oak at the bottom of the stairs.

"Tom, the door!"

He stumbled into the kitchen and Tom shoved the door shut behind him and swiftly turned the key, then they both swung back towards the two soldiers Tom had kept at bay.

"They've sent for more men," Tom panted.

"We have your king already, my lord," Philip's opponent said. "
Afton
is lost. Give yourselves up."

He lunged forward, and the women shrieked as Philip shoved him back and thrust him through.

"They will be here any moment now," the other one blurted as Tom forced him into a corner, his sword at the man's throat. "You cannot hope to escape them."

Philip shifted his weapon into his left hand, smashed his fist into the soldier's jaw and watched him fall into a heap on the stone floor.

Tom lifted his head and turned towards the passageway that led into the great hall.

"They are here. I can hear them."

"Get the women away," Philip said. "I will bolt that door."

"Come, my lady," Tom said, taking his sister-in-law's arm. "Quiet and quick."

Rosalynde slipped out of his grasp and ran to her husband. "Hurry! Oh, hurry, please!"

"Take her out, Tom!" Philip ordered as he lifted the door's heavy bar, and she tugged at his shirt.

"Please, my lord!"

Philip swore softly, dropped the bar into place, then grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out into the darkness. The others were quick to follow.

When they reached the stables, he shoved her onto her horse's back then swung into his own saddle and spurred away, pulling her horse behind him.

They rode out through Cook's Gate and through the forest as swiftly as the darkness would allow, even though the scouts Philip sent behind them and ahead of them saw nothing of the enemy. By dawn, the refugees were well away from the fallen city and could afford to let their horses slow to a lulling walk.

The women sagged sleepily in their saddles and one of the soldiers finally put one of them, obviously his sweetheart, up in front of him so she could sleep resting against him. Philip saw Rosalynde take one longing look at them, but she dropped her eyes when they met his. Irritably, he touched his horse's flanks with his spurs and came up along side of his brother.

"We are not pursued, but I cannot see how that could be. Or why they posted no guards outside the palace to keep us in."

"I do not know," Tom said. "No doubt they meant to take us in our beds and leave us no room to escape. I think it is a thorough miracle that we got past them, or had warning of them at all. Palmer is never so late coming in as he was last night and I thank God for those sharp eyes of his."

Philip's expression blackened. "Would to God I knew the name of the villain who opened that gate to Stephen's men. He could have never taken us by force, even with as few soldiers as we had there."

"We will run the traitor to ground eventually," Tom said with a shake of his head, "but what we must consider now is how best to free our father."

Philip frowned, but he nodded in agreement. "Once the women are safe in
Bridgewater
, we will go to Eastbrook's forces for help. Dunois is doubtless with him." He looked back at the weary party behind them. "We should stop awhile and let them eat and take a moment's rest."

***

Rosalynde was relieved when he dropped back alongside her and led them all to a cold, rushing brook. He spread out his cloak on the grass and settled her on it. Then he gave her some of the food he had brought along, but took none for himself.

"I will watch the road," he said to his brother. "Be swift."

Tom nodded and went to sit beside Rosalynde, apart from the others.

"Are you comfortable, my lady?"

"I am afraid. What will we do?"

"Do not let that fret you, my lady. We will soon have you in a safe place."

"Then you will go take back the city?"

"As soon as we can get men enough to do it, yes."

She nodded and picked for a moment at the bread she had been given, then she flung it into the grass.

"What am I to do, my lord? I can say nothing, do nothing, but it is wrong!" She looked pleadingly at him. "I could cut my tongue from my mouth for speaking to him as I did. I never have said such things to anyone before."

"I know it's not been easy for you, my lady. He can put an angel out of patience if he cares to, but you mustn't take it too much to heart. Most of his barbs are not meant for you."

"So your father said. Please, my lord, what has happened between them?"

"It's not been right with them since Father took the crown. We were two years in King Edward's court, and the king treated us more like sons than prisoners. All that while, Philip told him that our father was loyal. He swore to it, and you know what an oath means to Philip. He said if our father proved traitor, Edward could take his life, that he would deliver the blade to him himself. He was so sure of Father's trustworthiness he made Edward believe it as well. Then Father came to court, and Edward received him, not in chains as he might have done, but in triumph and in honor. He praised Father as hero of the Riverlands and, in answer, Father stole his crown."

"I know from what Philip said in Westered that that could not have pleased him."

Tom frowned. "We were none of us prepared for it, except for Richard, but Philip took it the worst. He had engaged his own honor in certainty of our father's, and Father had made him false to his word. He went to King Edward in the prison, he told me, to pay his pledge, but Edward would not take his life. He merely let the dagger Philip brought him fall to the floor, then he told Philip he did not hold him to fault for what our father had done, that he prayed Philip and all of us would not have to pay for our father's wrongs."

"Poor man," Rosalynde murmured.

"Philip went back to the court afterwards, to plead for Edward's release. I remember that day. Father came in and all the nobles knelt, all except for Philip. 'Have you no knee for your king, boy?' Father demanded and Philip looked at him, you know the way he does, proud and immovable, and said, 'Yes, my lord. Bring me before him and he shall have it.' Father slapped him for it, there before the court. He'd never struck any of us before. Then he said, 'Is this the love and allegiance I have due me as your father and as your king?' Philip was too stunned for a moment to answer him, then he said, 'As you are my father, I tender you my love. As you are my king, I tender you my allegiance. Which would you have?'"

Rosalynde could imagine him as he must have looked, that determination on his face and the hurt pleading, too.

"What did he answer him?"

"Before Father could reply,
Darlington
came in with the news that Edward was dead. Faith, I hope I am never the object of such a look as Philip gave our father then. He dropped to his knee and said, 'Long live King Robert,' with such condemnation in his voice that it was judge, jury and executioner all at once."

"Then your father– He did order King Edward's death, as they say."

"No. It was not so, though it may have been easier if he had.
Darlington
said he did not know how, but Edward had somehow got hold of a dagger and turned it on himself."

"Oh, not Philip's!"

Tom nodded. "Edward cut his own throat with it. Philip's not forgiven himself that yet, for leaving it behind in his cell."

"Then it was King Edward's death that came between him and your father."

"Partly," Tom said. "That was only the first betrayal he lays to our father's charge. John was the last."

"Your brother John? He was killed in battle. How could that be a betrayal?"

"It was given out that John was sent to the army in Tanglewood when our mother died. In truth, Father banished him there. He died there because Father would not send him enough men to defend the place. Philip pled with Father to send and quarreled with him, too, over it."

"But what had the boy done?" Rosalynde asked. How much more was left to be told and how had Philip, and Tom, too, borne it all.

"Nothing Father would say. Nothing reason could fault John for. After John died, they quarreled again, over John doubtless, and over other things, I know not what. Father slapped him that time, too." Tom put his hand up to his cheek. "There, where the arrow hit him, with no mind of Philip's wounds or his grief. Philip's not been the same since."

"And I struck him there, too," Rosalynde murmured, putting her hand over her mouth. "Oh, my Philip."

"It was as if he'd given up after that," Tom said, "on love and trust and anything else but his honor and his memories."

"His memories of Katherine."

"Do not fault him for loving her," Tom said slowly, pity in his dark eyes. "She was not nobly born, but she had a true heart, and she loved him well. He told me once she was the only one who loved him for nothing but himself alone, past his titles and noble blood and all the rest. And you remember him how he was. He would never have loved her at all and loved her lightly."

"I would he had," she said, struggling to keep the tears out of her eyes.

"No," Tom corrected, his voice gentle, "you would not. He would not be the Philip you love if he had used her so."

"He is not the Philip I love!" She briefly pressed her lips together. "No, I mean to say I love him still, but he is not what he was."

"That's sure," Tom agreed, "but he could be again in time, if you will have patience with him. He is wounded yet. Inside." Sadness shadowed his face. "It would have broken your heart to see him after her trial. I feared he would die when she did, he loved her so."

"But she was a witch," Rosalynde protested. "She killed my sister's child."

"I never believed those charges true, my lady. She was as Christian as any I know."

"But she was his mistress!"

"My lady, I know he would never speak to you of this, but–"

"We must needs be gone from here," Philip called from the road, and Tom stood up quickly.

"It is not precisely as you have been told," Tom said softly as he helped her to her feet. Then Philip came up beside them, and Tom said no more.

Rosalynde watched her husband as he shook the grass from his cloak, then rolled it up and packed it in the pouch on his saddle, the usual taut expression on his face.

He is wounded yet. Inside.

She could tell that was so and that, somewhere past the scars and the memories, he truly was the Philip she loved. She determined to find a way to his heart, if love and patience could find it.

***

"Are you ready, my lady?" Philip asked as he put his hands around her waist, meaning to lift her back onto her horse, but something stopped him there. "I suppose the last time I put you up here I was not very gentle. You must forgive me if I sometimes am forced to be rough with you."