Suzanne Robinson (33 page)

He picked up a boot and yanked the sheets from her body. “Come,
chère
, it’s well past noon, and we must be on our way. I’ve sent René among the townspeople to see if anyone has been searching for us. The cardinal may have sent men to find us.”

“I’ll hurry,” she said. “But think of it. I’ll be able to watch you take your clothes off every day.”

He stopped in the middle of pulling on a boot and looked at her. She grinned at him, and his gaze washed over her body, lingering on her breasts. Then he shook his head.

“Stop that, you wanton baggage. I’ll find Derry and see to the horses while you dress.”

He left, and Oriel set about washing and dressing. She was attempting to restrain her wild hair with pins and a ribbon when she heard someone outside the door. She tied the ribbon and hastily stuffed her old gown in the pack she’d brought to hold her belongings. As she bent over the pack, the door opened. She was tying the leather laces of the pack.

“Don’t scold. I’m almost ready”

“I should have killed you in London.”

She cried out and whirled around. “Le Brun.”

“Oui, demoiselle.”

With his sword drawn, Le Brun advanced on her, towering over her like an ensorceled corpse. She stepped to the side, drawing in her breath to scream.

He lifted his sword. “If you warn him, I’ll stick you now and wait for him to come searching for you.”

At once she knew he intended to do what he’d described no matter what she did. She was about to launch herself at him in a desperate attempt to escape when a great din began in the tavern below—a man’s shout, the clatter of pans being thrown, the thud of furniture upended. Then she heard Blade yelling for her. Le Brun smiled.

His sword thrust at her without warning. She screamed and dodged. As he recovered, she bounded away from him to the bed, grabbed her pack, and threw it at his sword. The ties wrapped around the blade.

Oriel took advantage of the few moments it took for Le Brun to free his weapon by jumping up on the bed and picking up a candlestick from a nearby table. As Le
Brun tossed the pack aside, she hurled the candle and pewter holder at him. It struck him on the temple, and he yelped as blood gushed from the wound.

Staggering slightly, he wiped the blood with his sleeve, and swore at her. Having run out of weapons, she scooped up a pillow. When he stepped toward her, she bashed him in the face with it and screamed Blade’s name. She swung the pillow again, but Le Brun skewered it with his sword and tossed it aside. She glanced frantically around, but found nothing else to use as a weapon.

“Stand still,
demoiselle
, and your suffering will be slight. Make me chase you, and I’ll slit your gut and leave you to die slowly and in torment.”

Oriel said nothing. She fixed her entire attention on the tip of his sword. Standing on the bed with legs apart, she waited. The sword tip darted at her, and she jumped aside with a bounce. He drew back, cursing, and thrust again. She dodged again, but lost her footing on the mattress and fell to her knees. Le Brun recovered, lifted his sword again, and grinned at her.

“Well fought,
demoiselle
. And now I would suggest making your confession quickly, for I’ve your lover to kill before I can return to the cardinal with your dead bodies for his entertainment.”

Crouched on hands and knees, she readied herself for his attack, knowing she would never be able to avoid the sword in this position. She watched him raise his sword over his head. The weapon paused at the highest point of his reach, then soared down upon her. She sprang forward, sending her body lunging toward him into the air. As she sailed off the bed, the sword arced down at her, and she realized her gamble had failed.

Blade had been on his way to the stables with Derry when Le Brun and his men had attacked. They had charged out of the kitchen just as he’d put his hand on the back door of the tavern. He turned, drawing his sword and dagger, and gutted one man as he charged Derry. Past a mob of six men he saw Le Brun head for the stairs. He and Derry had fought their way through the pack of guards, hurling stools and tables as they went. One guard fell as a stool hit his head, another beneath Derry’s sword. He shouted a warning, hoping Oriel would hear him. As he mounted the stairs, he turned and parried the thrust of one of the guards. Kicking out, he knocked the man backward and thrust, driving his sword into the man’s shoulder. Leaving Derry to fight off the two remaining men and bar the stairs at the same time, he took the steps three at a time.

When he heard Oriel’s voice screaming his name, he hurled himself up to the landing and ran to his room, vowing to slice the throat of the tavern keeper for selling the news of their residence to Le Brun. He kicked the door open. Oriel was on the bed. Just as she dived at Le Brun, Blade launched himself and rammed into him, knocking him off balance and sending his sword arcing down to impale the floorboards.

Blade thrust himself away from Le Brun and leaped on the bed. Le Brun pulled his sword from the floor and whirled to meet Blade’s challenge. Oriel scrambled from the bed to the farthest wall.

Now that he was between Le Brun and Oriel, Blade smiled.

“Bienvenue
, Le Brun. I see you’ve come to be killed. Come hither and I shall oblige you.”

Blade twitched his hand; his sword flashed. Le Brun cried out and clapped a hand to his chin. Blood trickled from a fresh cut.

Blade tossed his dagger up and caught it by the blade. “I have no regrets at killing you, may God forgive me, for you’ve touched my lady, and for that you die. ” He cocked his arm, and the hilt of the dagger bent back over his shoulder.

Le Brun held up a warding hand. “Wait, Fitzstephen.”

“Don’t trust him,” Oriel said behind him.

“God’s blood,
chère
, what makes you think I would?” He eyed Le Brun. “Speak quickly, I beseech you, for I’ve more important things to do today than kill vermin.”

As Le Brun reached inside his doublet, Blade’s fingers tightened on his dagger. Le Brun slowly withdrew a sealed letter from a hidden pocket. He held it out to Blade, who lifted his brows.

“I’m not a fool,” he said. “Put it on the floor and kick it toward Oriel”

Le Brun complied. Oriel snatched up the letter and retreated to stand behind him.

She opened the letter. “Madness.”

“What?”

“It’s a safe conduct. From the cardinal.”

“Oui,”
said Le Brun. “My instructions were to kill you, and failing that, to offer you safe conduct if you will leave at once.”

“You make no sense,” Blade said.

Le Brun reached inside his doublet again. “Mayhap this second letter will explain.”

He pulled his hand free. Blade shouted at Oriel as he saw the edge of a knife. They both ducked, and the knife stabbed into the wall behind them. Blade landed sideways on the bed. Le Brun thrust at him as he fell, but Blade brought his sword up, and the two weapons clanged together. Le Brun hurled himself on top of Blade, trapping his dagger hand. The dagger, which Blade still held by the blade, dropped from his hand.

Their swords were still locked. Le Brun rammed his knee into Blade’s gut, and Blade gasped, his arms going limp from the blow. Le Brun lifted his sword, but as he raised it, something hit him in the back. He fell onto Blade, who grunted under the weight of Le Brun and Oriel.

Le Brun reared up, furious. As he did so, Blade’s hand found the dagger that had fallen on the bed in their struggles. Le Brun screamed as Oriel clawed his face and he struck her with the hilt of his sword. She collapsed and slid to the floor.

Blade rammed the dagger into Le Brun’s heart. As the man fell forward, Blade scrambled over him to Oriel’s side. Blood was streaming down her cheek from a cut on her forehead. He picked her up, kicked Le Brun off the bed, and lay her upon it. As he tore her petticoat into rags and dabbed at the cut, Derry rushed in.

“How does she?” he asked.

Blade wiped blood from her forehead. “He hit her, but she will be well. The others?”

“I killed one,” Derry said. “The other fled. We must do the same.”

Blade pointed to the letter on the floor behind the bed. Derry picked it up.

“A safe conduct from my loving host,” Blade said. “What make you of that?”

“I know not, except that our dear cardinal is as twisted and devious as our friend Christian, which makes me give thanks that Christian serves Her Majesty.”

“Keep the safe conduct,” Blade said. “And give thought to why the cardinal would offer it. I think Le Brun disobeyed orders. I think he was told to give us that safe conduct, and he decided to rid his master of a nuisance instead.”

Oriel’s moan caught his attention. Derry stuffed the letter in his jerkin and brought a basin of water. Blade dipped a rag in it and pressed it to the cut on her head. Her eyes opened slowly, and she gazed up at him. He let out the breath he’d been holding when she smiled at him.

“You can see me?”

“Yes, and a pretty sight it is.”

Derry snorted. “I’ll ready the horses.”

When he was gone, Blade kissed her gently.
“Chère
, Le Brun is dead, and we must go, if you’re able.”

“I can ride.” She tried to rise, but sank back. “Oh, my head feels as if it’s been beaten like an egg.”

“I’ll give you something for the pain.”

“Not one of your powders”

“A few herbs, my love.”

She nodded, then groaned. He wound a bandage around her head and tied it, then went downstairs to frighten the tavern keeper in revenge for his ill-dealing and to obtain his herbs. She might not want to drink his concoction-, but for once she had no choice. She would
drink it and sleep while they rode, and with her safe in his arms, he wouldn’t have to worry that she would gallop into danger and get herself killed before he could marry her.

The journey to Calais and across the channel was much easier than he’d expected. They spent Easter crossing to England. No one chased them, and the crossing was smooth, except for Oriel’s fury at his taking charge of her. He never allowed her out of his sight, and she resented his attentions, telling him she had no more need of a nursemaid than he. Finally he admitted the truth, that he could hardly bear to let her out of his sight for fear of losing her again. To his consternation, this admission of weakness gained him more compliance and sweet kisses than all his peremptory orders ever did. Women were fey, unpredictable creatures.

During the voyage he’d decided that the cardinal had sent the safe conduct for a good reason. It wouldn’t do for two English lords to run about the countryside stirring up attention with their claims of persecution at his hands. They might attract the attention of the cardinal’s rivals or even the Queen Mother. The idea that Charles de Guise was concerned with keeping him out of the way was an interesting one worth much contemplation.

The channel crossing was uneventful, and their ship docked in London at midday. René went ahead to arrange for horses for Blade and Oriel while Derry took his leave of them. He was due to join Christian de Rivers in Scotland. Before leaving he would take news of Blade’s success to the queen’s chief minister, William Cecil. Blade joined him on deck to say farewell as they watched the crew securing the ship.

“I’ll attend to the button ciphers,” Blade said, “and send word when we find those to whom they are addressed.”

Derry nodded. “And what of Robert Richmond?”

“I’m not sure, but Oriel says he’s not the kind of man to back his faith with action, especially not action that would cause him to lose his head.”

“And you believe her?”

“I’ve learned to trust Oriel’s judgment, and her wits. She led me to Thomas Richmond’s journal and to the deathbed confession.”

“And now she’s leading you to marriage.” Derry slapped Blade on the shoulder with his gloves. “Take care, Fitzstephen, or you’ll end up the slave.”

“Love isn’t slavery.”

“Mayhap not with Oriel, but there is but one Oriel, my friend.”