THE WARLORD (10 page)

A plan began to take shape as she dressed. Whatever happened, she would not willingly return to the MacLeiths. She had to reach the king.

Getting out of Montague was the first and biggest problem. Even if she managed to get through the gates of the castle, she had no food or horse. Her gaze was drawn to the chalices on the mantel. Just one would see to her needs for at least a year. She stared at the gems a long time before shaking her head.

There was a small bow and quiver of arrows in one of her bundles. She was good at hunting small game and she would rather rob the king's forests than rob her husband. The king would never miss an occasional rabbit, but Kenric would surely miss one of his beautiful chalices. Nay, she would not have him think any less of her, if such were possible.

Tess finished dressing, then strapped on the cloth bundles and donned her cloak. At the door she paused for one last look at the beautiful chamber, memorizing each detail so she could always savor the thought that she once belonged in such a fine room.

The great hall was strangely silent. Only a handful of soldiers were gathered near one massive fireplace. No one noticed when the new baroness made her way down the stairs at their back, the sound of the outer door being opened dismissed as a servant returning from some duty.

Tess drew her hood low against the brisk wind, trying to remember the direction of the main gates. The place looked so much different from when they'd ridden in amidst Kenric's men. The courtyard was deserted now and she hurried across the empty yard, staying close to the shadows. Montague's main gates appeared on the other side of the stables but Tess nearly cried at the sight that greeted her.

The drawbridge was up.

How could she have overlooked this problem? There wasn't a gatekeeper in all of
England foolish enough to lower a bridge at this time of night, not for any reason. Even if she managed to talk the guards into lowering this bridge, Montague had a second drawbridge at the outer bailey's gatehouse. She would never succeed.

Tess leaned against the stable wall in defeat. She couldn't wait for dawn when the bridges would be lowered for the villagers. Her escape must be made in darkness when she would have a chance of getting far enough away to hide in the woods, just in case Kenric sent out a search party.

There had to be another way out. Tess closed her eyes and thought back to the days spent at
Remmington
Castle
. Though laid out differently, her childhood home was about the same size as Montague. How would she get out of Remmington if the gates were closed? The answer came in a flash.

The postern! Almost every large fortress had a postern gate cut high into the castle wall. The small gates were built to prevent enemy soldiers or spies from entering the castle in wagonloads of supplies. Goods were unloaded at the bottom of the wall and hauled up a wooden ramp. A ramp that led directly through the outside walls! Surely
Montague
Castle
possessed such a gate, but could she find it by dawn?

Tess inched her way along the wall, careful to avoid being spotted by guards on the battlements above her. Luck was on her side and her search was rewarded less than an hour later. She hid in the shadows and took stock of the gate before venturing forward.

Montague's postern was a simple affair of a large door barricaded with two crossbars; one high overhead near the top, the other at chest height toward the bottom. The gatekeeper stood watch over the ramp from his post on the battlements. A flickering rush torch outlined his axe, kept at the ready to sever the main supports and collapse the ramp should the castle come under attack.

Gathering her courage, Tess called up to the gatekeep, startling him from his watch. Leaning over the wall, he squinted against the dim torchlight as if trying to decide her identity.

"What ye be wantin, Mary?"

"To leave," Tess replied, wondering who Mary was.

"To leave," he repeated with a snort. "Not at this time o' night."

"My… my husband has rejected me." It was a poor excuse, yet the only one she could think up.

"Find a bed with the kitchen wenches, then go in the morn," he ordered. "Cook will be sober by then and like as not take you back. You should know better than to listen to anything that man says when he's in his cups."

"My husband insists I leave the fortress tonight," Tess argued, beginning to understand her mistaken identity. The gatekeep's confusion might be used to her advantage. "I must abide by his wishes."

"Thinks he's master of Montague," he muttered. "Ye
be
going to yer family in the village then?"

"Aye."
Tess held her breath.

The gatekeeper cursed all troublesome females then poked a foot against a boy sleeping at his feet. "Climb down and see to the lower bar."

"Someone is bringing supplies?" the boy asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
" 'Tis
dark. Why would—"

"Cook's wife needs to go to her family in the village." The gatekeep ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "See to the lower bar then go on home to yer warm bed, son. I'll not be needin' yer help the rest o' this night."

Tess released her breath as the bars were pushed aside. She couldn't believe she was actually being allowed to leave until the gates swung open. What a good liar she was becoming! She did allow that being mistaken for the cook's wife certainly helped.

The gates shut behind her and she started uncertainly down the dark ramp, the treacherous walk lit only by faint moonlight. It appeared steeper than the one at Remmington, though she'd never actually set foot on the thing. The gatekeeper called to her over the wall, as if he read her mind.

"Watch yer step. One tumble and ye'll break yer neck."

"Thank you for the warning," she mumbled.

Tess picked her way down the steep ramp, tempted to kiss the ground when she finally reached the bottom. She hurried down the castle lane, pausing a moment where the lane met the king's road. She quickly took the direction opposite the one they'd ridden in from Kelso Abbey, and at the edge of the forest she turned around for a last look at the forbidding castle. She still couldn't believe she'd escaped so easily. She didn't feel very satisfied over the accomplishment. If the truth were known, she would almost face being returned to the MacLeiths someday if she could stay in Kenric's beautiful room until she felt better. Every bone in her body ached.

Tess turned and walked away from the castle before self-pity could interfere with her plan. Walk until dawn, she told herself,
then
find a hiding place to rest during the day. That plan seemed reasonable. Staying warm while she slept would be a challenge, but she could face that problem later. Her immediate concern was getting as far away from Kenric as possible, before he discovered she was missing. She'd escaped once from Langston Keep, so why couldn't she escape again? Of course she lacked a horse and a knight's protection, but as long as the impossible odds were ignored, that bit of logic made some sense.

The sun was well over the horizon when John shuffled toward the kitchens to take his morning meal. He noticed the baron's men running in all directions on his way from the postern and learned the reason for the commotion from a passing soldier.

"The new baroness has disappeared," the soldier told him, shaking his head in disbelief. "You didn't see anything on your watch?"

"Nay," John replied, perplexed by the news. "Cook's wife was the only female at the postern gate last eve." John scratched his beard. "At least… Nay, I'm sure 'twas Cook's wife. The master's lady is a pretty thing, I'm told. Small and dainty, ain't that the way of it?"

"Aye.
The baron is half crazed thinking someone snatched her.
As if any would dare risk that one's wrath."

" 'Tis
unlikely," John agreed. The soldier hurried away to search the buttery, leaving John deep in thought.

"Nay, it could not be," John told himself, grinning at his foolishness. Still, it wouldn't hurt to double-check. Cook would probably think him strange indeed, but he'd rest easier once he knew for sure.

The kitchen was in as much chaos as the rest of the castle, the servants busy searching every barrel and store for the new mistress. John thought it laughable, the tiny crevices being searched for a grown woman. 'Twas unlikely any lady could fit in the small turnip barrels, yet their lids lay scattered about the room. He finally located Cook near the flour bins, but the gatekeeper's face turned as pasty as the flour when he spied the big woman standing nearby.

"Where did you go last eve?" John grabbed the woman's arm and spun her around.

"Nowhere," Cook's wife gasped, stunned by the sudden attack.

"What goes here?" Cook bellowed. He jerked John's hand from his wife's arm. "What…" He steadied the pale gatekeeper by the shoulders. "Are you aright? Ye're the color of wax, man."

"Your wife did not leave the castle last eve?" John whispered hopefully. Cook shook his head. "Is there another of her size in the castle?"

"Me wife's one of a kind. A man in my position can afford a well-fed woman. She's—"

"Oh, God," John wailed. "I am a dead man."

"What are you talking about? Why—"

"The b-baron," John stuttered. "Where is the baron?"

"The stables, last I heard."

The gatekeeper disappeared through the kitchen door faster than he had ever moved before.

John searched frantically for his overlord, and finally spotted him near the gate to the outer bailey. He rushed forward, but the soldiers surrounding their baron acted instinctively to protect the warlord from this unknown threat. John soon found himself facedown in the dirt with three swords at his neck.

"The mistress," John croaked. "I must tell the baron—"

He was suddenly hauled up by the collar, his feet dangling in the air.

"Where is she?" Kenric roared.

"I swore it was Cook's wife," John blurted out, inspired to new terror by the look on Baron Montague's face. "Huge as a horse, she was—"

"Answer!"

John tried twice before he could get the words past the baron's new hold on his throat. "Family," he gasped. "Said she was going back—"

Kenric tossed the man aside like an old rag, already turning toward the stables. Fury hastened his steps, for his worst fears were confirmed. Tess was outside the walls. The chit could be frozen already, or the meal of any number of dangerous creatures who lurked in the woods. A woman alone would not last a day in the frigid wilderness, especially a woman weakened by a fever. If he found her alive, she would wish for death before he was done with her.

Less than a quarter hour later, Kenric's warhorse thundered through the gates with fifty others, their riders hastily armed yet ready to face any danger. The group stayed on the main road until they entered the forest, then Kenric began dispatching men every quarter mile to search the woods. A half hour later they drew to a halt.

"She is on foot," Kenric told Fitz Alan, though he spoke more to himself than to his friend. "She could not have journeyed this far."

" 'Tis
unlikely," Fitz Alan agreed.

"Tess knew that Ian Duncan could not give her sanctuary. And she had no wish to return to the MacLeiths." Kenric frowned, realizing his thinking was clear for the first time since discovering Tess had left the castle. He cursed himself again for sleeping in the hall last night, for thinking he could face his wife's injuries with a calmer head in the morning.

"Where else would she go?" Fitz Alan asked.
"A convent?"

"The king."
Kenric wheeled his horse around, his expression grim. "There is nowhere else for her to turn. She's taken the road to
London."

The men backtracked to the castle,
then
began searching to the south. The lane was frozen solid, rutted and packed down by carts and horses, which made tracking nearly impossible. They kept their eyes to the sides of the road instead, searching for any unusual tracks in the light cover of snow.

"There!" Kenric pointed to a break in the frozen brush to one side of the road. Following the small set of footprints into the forest, they eventually came to a small clearing bordered on three sides by steep hills and littered with enormous boulders. Kenric scanned the open field,
then
nudged his horse forward to follow the tracks to a rocky outcropping flanked by two boulders.

"Stay where you are," a small voice called out. Tess slipped from her hiding place behind one of the huge rocks to face her husband. The arrow aimed at Kenric's chest added enough weight to her command that his men heeded the order and pulled their mounts to a halt. Kenric ignored the threat and continued to advance.

Tess looked close to frozen. Her face was the color of wax, her lips nearly as blue as her glassy eyes. The dark smudges of exhaustion surrounding her eyes gave his bride a hollow, haunted look. As near as Kenric could tell, she could collapse at any moment.

"Stop, I say!"

There was a frantic note in her voice, but Kenric just shook his head and allowed his horse to move steadily forward.

"I'll put an arrow in you. I swear I will."

Tess sounded nearly hysterical, but Kenric's voice was determined.

"I will still take you back."

"I won't go back to MacLeith," Tess shouted. That announcement finally made Kenric pull in his mount.

"I would rather die by your hand or your man's," she vowed, nodding toward Fitz Alan. Kenric stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. She drew the bowstring tighter. "I mean what I say."

"What are you talking about, you little fool? I am taking you home with me."

"Why?"

"
Why
?" Kenric's horse skitted nervously and he took a moment to calm the animal. He resisted the urge to gallop forward and claim his errant wife. Her bow was pulled tauter than he'd believed her capable. If she had any skill at all with the thing, her arrow would slice through his chest if she decided to skewer him. How was he to know that retrieving a wife would require full armor?