My Lady Faye (13 page)

Simon blinked, his expression intent.

“No one can know we are here.” Gregory gripped him by the shoulders.

Simon nodded.

Her son should not have to be brave. Already, he had weathered a large storm. If it were up to her, she would snatch him up, right this instant, and run with him until her legs could no longer carry her.

“You must go with her now.” Gregory motioned the shrew with his head. “But we will come for you.”

Simon’s gaze seared into her. “Take me now.”

Faye burned to do just that, but they must be careful. Leaving her son here went against all her instincts, but she had to let her head rule.

Simon glared at her, willing her to give him what he wanted. Her betrayal twisted sharp enough to catch her breath. There were things a mother had to do that made her heart ache. This was by far the worst and so much more important than denying him extra sweets because his belly might ache, or sending him to bed because he needed his rest. All their lives depended on her holding firm against the entreaty in Simon’s face.

“We cannot.” Gregory turned Simon to face him. “If we leave now, they will know you are gone too soon. We need time so we can put some distance behind us when we go.”

She had not come this far to lose him in a mad, ill-judged escape.

“When will you come?” Simon’s voice shook.

“Tonight.” Faye cupped her son’s cheek. Not one moment longer than that. “We will come tonight.”

Gregory frowned and nodded. “Tonight.”

Gaze glittering in the dark, Simon drew his shoulders back. “I can sneak out and meet you here. They never check on me once they think I am asleep.”

Gregory pursed his lips. “After
Compline
, wait until all is quiet before you go. You must dissemble. Can you do that?”

“Aye.” Simon’s chest swelled. “Like Sir Gruff in the story about the fire dragon.”

“Indeed.” Gregory ruffled his hair. “Just like Sir Gruff. If the dragon knows what you are about, all could be lost.”

Exasperation laced the nurse’s tone. “Master Simon?”

“You must go before we are discovered.” Gregory’s hands tightened on Simon’s shoulders. “But mark me well. Do not put yourself in danger. If you cannot escape tonight, we will find another way.”

Simon shifted in his grasp. “But—”

“Mark me.” Gregory gave him a small shake. “We will find another way. You must trust in your mother and me. Can you do that?”

“Aye.” Simon gulped as he peeped at Faye. “You swear it?”

Her heart and soul if he asked. “I swear.” Faye kissed his forehead and inhaled his little boy scent, drew it deep, a tonic for her ache.

“Master Simon! This is no time for your mischief. Where are you?” Footsteps approached their hiding place.

“Go.” Gregory gave Simon a small shove. “Go now and remember, tonight if you can, but do not put yourself in danger.”

Simon backed away and his footsteps faltered as he stared at Gregory. “You swear.”

“My solemn oath.” Gregory put his hand over his heart. “You must be brave but not foolish. Now, you swear.”

“I swear.” Simon solemnly repeated Gregory’s gesture.

A lump lodged in Faye’s throat. Part of her walked away as Simon dragged his steps into the light of the torches, dwarfed by the large, dim bailey.

“There you are.” The nasty shrew grabbed his arm. “I have been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been, you naughty boy?”

Faye curled her hands into fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. Nobody grabbed her son like that. She wanted to dash out of her hiding place and cuff the woman.

“I was getting some air,” Simon said.

“‘Getting some air.’” The nurse snorted. “What will you say next? Come along now. It is time for your prayers and then bed.”

“Aye, Nurse.”

Faye hummed with the need to follow him, to snatch up her child and take him away.

Gregory’s hand covered hers. One by one, he unclenched her fingers and laced them with his. Serious as the grave, he nodded. “Tonight.”

Faye latched onto his strength and his certainty. “Tonight.”

Faye paced the patch of grass beside the wagon.

Gregory crouched beside the cart and dragged a whetstone against the side of his blade. The steady scrape had her near to screaming. “How much longer?”

“Not too much longer.” Gregory kept his head bowed his large hands working his blade. “We will hear the bells for
Compline
shortly.”

She had no clue where he found his patience. It must stand him in good stead at the Abbey. He didn’t look like a monk now. Dressed as a normal man, performing a task she had seen him do countless times. Blade across his knees, whetstone in one large, scarred hand as he worked it over the edge. Gregory never liked to be still for long. Always, he had to keep his hands busy. He tested the edge of his sword against his thumb.

Faye braced for renewed scraping.

He slipped the sword into the scabbard and stood.

Thank you, Lord.
“Now?”

“After
Compline
.” Painfully slowly, he fastened the sword about his waist.

She would go mad. Her ears strained to catch the toll of the bells. The jagged scream of a vixen broke the still night, and Faye leapt.

“Soon now.” Gregory perched on the edge of the cart and crossed his ankles.

Faye pressed her hand to her racing heart. “What if he has encountered difficulty?”

“We will find out soon.”

A bullock lowed. They were yoked to the cart, their harness fastened to the trunk of a small tree. Everything stood in readiness for them to fetch Simon home.

Gregory adjusted his sword belt.

“How can you stand it?” It burst out of her. Any more of this waiting and she would snatch up his sword and charge into Brynn.

He shrugged. “I am accustomed to it.”

The silence stretched between them. A nightjar sang, crickets chirped, the bullocks munched their cud, and still, no bell tolled.

“It is not much different from waiting for battle to join,” he said.

Any conversation would be better than this strained, pressing silence. “Do you miss battle?”

“Nay.” He shook his head. “I never craved battle as some men do. It was something I did because it was my duty. The violence is sickening.” He tensed and cocked his head. “Listen.”

“Wha—”

He held up his hand.

A gentle carol of bells rose from the valley.

“
Compline.
” Gregory stood.

Vigor surged through Faye. Perspiration broke over her and she wiped damp palms against her rough wool bliaut.

Gregory led the way deeper into the thicket, skirting the outer wall of Brynn. The postern gate lay hidden behind an outcropping of rock.

Jaw tensed, Gregory stopped. A guard’s footfalls clipped on the stones. He turned and went back in the other direction.

On a nod, Gregory ran for the concealing rocks.

Panting, heart thundering, Faye followed.

The postern gate was still open, as they had left it when they departed earlier. It was shocking how easy it was to slip within Brynn. Her father would never have allowed a gate to go unguarded, never mind it remaining open hour after hour. The keep stood like a great, dark, silent sentinel.

Gregory returned to their former hiding place and crouched.

Faye stayed behind him and copied his movements.

In the deserted bailey, smoldering fires cast a faint orange glow outside the kitchens. One stray spark and the keep would be lost. Untended flames would devour the kitchen and find an easy meal of the wooden parts of the main structure. It was mete she get her son out of this place.

Gregory blended with the shadows.

Her breathing rasped louder than a file. She pressed her hand over her mouth to silence it. The air carried the stench of horse manure. Faye shuddered to think of the state of the stables in this place. Her knees grew stiff, and she stared so hard at the dark, still keep door, it blurred. Faye eased her knees to the damp ground.

Anything could be happening within that slovenly keep. Mayhap Simon had been stopped and confined. Or he waited, like her, for the chance to escape but couldn’t. Had he fallen asleep from waiting for so long? He was only seven years and it was an awful lot to ask of a young boy. She should never have allowed him to return with that careless nurse. She should have grabbed him and run with him when she had the chance. “I—”

Gregory held up his hand.

She measured time by the tramp of the single guard’s footsteps. At least this one was not dozing beside the fire, but walking the keep as he should. Simon was not coming. She was sure of it. Something had gone wrong. She would have to go and get him. She rose.

Gregory tugged her back down.

“He is not coming.” Her whisper was like a shout.

Gregory pressed his finger to his lips.

Silence be damned. Her son could be in all manner of trouble. She had not come this far to skulk in the shadows until dawn and then make another of Gregory’s infernal plans. She hated plans. She must be more like her father than she supposed. Sir Arthur was a man of action. Even so, her father did nothing to aid her. He, too, waited at Anglesea and made one plan after another. He would secure Simon’s release through other means. Blast that to hell. The blasphemy soothed her ire a mite.

Gregory finally moved and her heart leapt. He motioned her deeper into the shadows.

She shook her head. From there, she would not be able to see if Simon had escaped. Her growing conviction he was not coming warred with her need to keep believing that he would.

Gregory gripped her arm and tugged, nearly unbalancing her as they crept away. “We will wait another hour and then I will go in and get him.”

At last, some action “How will we know when the hour is up?”

He held up his hand. Faint moonlight outlined a long string with knots tied in it. An old soldier’s trick for telling time in the dark. All three of her brothers had been taught how to do it. Gregory had his stupid knots to keep him distracted and calm.

They crawled back to their former lookout.

Now that he’d shown her the string, Faye watched how he did it. She tried to make some sense of the movements of his long fingers along the small piece of twine. Her gaze kept straying back to the keep door and she gave up. Dear Lord, let him come. Please, Heavenly Father, let her son come. Now. Was that movement in the shadow over the door? Faye held her breath. She strained to see in the dark. It was movement. Her heart leapt into her throat.

“Oh, God.” It was a woman and not a small boy. She grabbed Gregory’s hand and squeezed.

He returned the pressure, gentler but there.

Beside the woman, walked a smaller form.

Simon.

Her heart jammed in her throat as the two figures slid along the keep wall. They stayed within the shadows then stopped suddenly and waited.

The guard’s footsteps passed near and then faded.

Faye’s pulse drummed, drowning out other sound. Staying here, concealed, had to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

The two figures ran across the open stretch of bailey.

Faye had her arms out and snatched up Simon the moment he stepped within reach.

“My lady?” The woman stood beside Gregory.

“Ruth?” Faye held Simon tight to her.

“Aye, my lady.” Ruth’s voice wobbled. “I thank our Lord you are come.”

Gregory patted her shoulder as Ruth buried her face in her apron and her shoulders shook in silent sobs.

“She caught me slipping out.” Simon wrestled free of Faye’s hold. “She wouldn’t let me go until I told her I was coming to you. I know you said I was not to tell anyone—”

“You did well.” Gregory ruffled his hair.

A smile split Simon’s face. “I had to make a difficult decision.”

“You did.” Faye couldn’t resist another hug. “And you did splendidly.”

“You must go, my lady.” Ruth lowered her apron from her face. “Sir Robert is due to return in the morn and his lordship with him. I hear talk they have men all over the land between here and Anglesea.”

Faye had hoped they would have a few more days to get Simon safe and guarded within Anglesea’s walls. Then, Sir Arthur could make her ears bleed with his diplomacy nonsense for all she cared.

“I will do what I can to gain you some time,” Ruth said. “I can say he is not well, but I will not be able to gain you much.

“Thank you, Ruth.” Faye pulled the girl into a quick hug. God only knew what would happen to Ruth when Calder discovered what she’d done. Except, God and Faye knew exactly what might happen. “Do not risk yourself.”

“It was wrong what his father did.” Ruth rubbed her nose on her apron. “I will be all right.”

“Be careful.” She was thoughtless caring for naught else but getting her son to safety. Aye, but she would do what she must. “Come to Anglesea when you can. There will be a place for you there.”

“My thanks, Lady Faye.” Tears gathered as Ruth turned to Simon. “You be a good boy now, and mind your mother.”

“God be with you, Ruth.” Simon gave her a quick, hard hug. “You are the best nurse a boy could have.”

“Indeed.” Ruth gave a watery chuckle. “I will remind you of that when I get to Anglesea and find you not eating your greens.” She spun away. “Take him, my lady, and may God speed your heels.”

Faye floated back to the bullock cart, her heart full of love and her mind free of the gnawing worry. Of course, they had yet to get back to Anglesea, but all seemed suddenly within her grasp.

With Gregory carrying Simon on his shoulders, they covered the distance in no time.

Gregory moved with calm, deliberate expedience. He put Simon in the back of the cart and untied the beasts. He patted Simon on the shoulder. “If we come across anyone, hide. No need to draw anyone a map.”

Faye’s ebullient mood wavered. Calder would arrive at Brynn to discover Simon missing. Anglesea would be his first guess as to where Simon had gone. “Should we not exchange the cart for horses?” She fiddled with Simon’s cloak. It would be awful if the evening air gave him a chill.

Simon batted her hands away.