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After all, could she really be sure that Finn and Garreth were helping them? He could be taking her to Wimarc, or some other place where he could hold her for ransom, since he knew who she was and to whom she was related. She was surely right to get away from him as soon as she could.
Brushing her tousled hair back from her face, she realized she must look more like a peasant than a noblewoman with her disheveled, matted hair and dirty face. Hopefully her accent and demeanor would mark her for the noblewoman she was. Nevertheless, she smoothed down her mud-stained skirts and pulled her cloak more tightly about her over her soiled gown.
Two soldiers rounded the corner—proper soldiers, not mercenaries in motley armor probably stolen. Their helmets gleamed in the morning light, no spots of rust marred their mail, and they wore matching woolen surcoats of scarlet and green. There was something vaguely familiar about those surcoats and the arms upon them, and the banners flapping from the pikes they carried.
Before she could remember to whom those soldiers belonged, a knight in gleaming chain mail seated on a marvelous destrier, with a woman dressed in a cloak of green-and-gold damask trimmed with fox fur, rode around the bend. The man had pushed back his coif and wore no helmet, so his fair hair, smoothed and cut in the bowl shape the Normans favored, shone in the sunlight.
She knew that hair, and she knew that face, and now she remembered whose standard it was: Lord Gilbert of Fairbourne, who had once visited Averette in the hopes of winning Adelaide’s hand in marriage. Or Gillian’s, if Adelaide said no. Or even hers, if he were desperate, although that’s not the way he’d put it when he’d cornered her in the stairwell.
She’d heard Gilbert had got himself a bride from Lincoln, the daughter of an earl who had no sons, so her dowry was considerable. Helewyse was the girl’s name; Lizette remembered because Gillian had commented she must not be a very wise woman to accept Gilbert.
One of the soldiers at the front of the cortege nodded at Lizette and Keldra and said something to his companion, who grinned and made a disgusting gesture.
Perhaps this was a mistake, after all, and they should run for the trees—except that Gilbert’s men had spotted them and if they gave chase, they might also find Garreth and Finn. No doubt Finn could come up with some kind of explanation, speaking with that noble accent he managed with such ease, but these soldiers might simply assume they were poachers or outlaws and kill them before Finn could say a word.
And despite her personal dislike of Gilbert, he was noble. He should help a noblewoman in distress, even if she’d slapped his face.
“Here, you, out of the way!” one of the lead soldiers shouted at them before he addressed Lord Gilbert over his shoulder. “There’s a couple of beggar women in the road, my lord!”
“Beggars?” the lady said, loud enough for Lizette and Keldra to hear her as she spoke to Gilbert. “You assured me Wimarc’s lands would be free of such troublesome creatures.”
Wimarc’s lands? Gilbert and his lady were headed for Lord Wimarc’s estate?
She’d thought Gilbert arrogant and greedy, but not evil. Perhaps she’d been wrong—and if he was in league with Wimarc, she would much rather take her chances with Finn.
Throwing the hood of her cloak over her head, she moved to the side of the road. “We can’t go with these people after all,” she whispered to Keldra. “Say nothing, not even if one of them speaks to you.”
Keldra must have also heard them speak of Wimarc, for she immediately did as she was told and sat abruptly on the ground, pulling her hood over her head, too.
The first soldiers were only about twenty feet away when Lizette rounded her shoulders, clutched her cloak about her throat with her left hand and held out her right hand in a begging gesture.
“Alms, noble lord!” she called out in a hoarse voice, imitating the sickly mother of the alewife at Averette. “Alms for a poor woman and her dumb daughter!”
“Out of the way, hag!” one of the first soldiers growled, raising his foot as if he meant to kick her.
Lizette scurried out of range and stayed there as the cortege passed.
“We should be at Castle de Werre before nightfall tomorrow,” Gilbert said, giving his wife a slightly peeved glance. “You didn’t have to come. I told you this was no courtesy visit.”
“And you said you’d never met the man.”
“I haven’t, which was why I was surprised by the invitation.”
“Which was to both of us,” his wife reminded him with a pout. “So of course I ought to come.”
Her husband didn’t respond, but rode on in sulky silence.
In addition to the soldiers, the knight and his lady, there was a wagon full of baggage, no doubt bearing all the items the lord and his lady considered necessary for their comfort, regardless of who their host might be.
Keeping her head down, Lizette waited until the last of the soldiers were out of sight before she straightened, her back aching. Then a frowning Finn emerged from the trees, his scabbard slapping his thigh as he marched toward them.
She couldn’t blame him for being angry; she’d as good as admitted she didn’t trust him, and then not done what she’d said she’d do.
Garreth, however, rushed past him, grinning with delight. “Damn, my lady, you’re good!” he cried. “Not as good as Finn, mind, but you could have fooled me! You sounded just like an old crone.” He gave Keldra a condescending smile. “And you make a good simpleton.”
“You look like one,” her maid snapped back.
Finn ignored them both. “So, my lady, may I ask what prompted your change o’ mind? Didn’t like the looks of him, after all?”
“As a matter of fact, I know him. That was Lord Gilbert de Fairbourne, who once came courting my sister. I’m quite sure he would have helped us if I’d chosen to ask.”
Finn cocked a brow and waited expectantly.
“He’s on his way to Lord Wimarc’s castle.”
That removed the contempt from Finn’s features. “What for?”
She lifted her chin with haughty disdain as she swept past him. “I didn’t inquire.”
As he hurried after her, Finn cursed himself for a fool. He’d been as peeved as a child who loses a friend when she’d told him what she was planning, silently condemning her for an ungrateful wench when he’d given up time and trouble to help her. God save him, he’d even been tempted to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and carry her into the woods.
Because unlike the lady, and even though she had the bearing, speech and manner of a noblewoman, he couldn’t believe anybody would simply take her word that she was Lady Elizabeth of Averette. They’d more likely think her a peasant who was trying to trick them, or perhaps a courtesan who’d fallen on hard times. Either way, they would treat her with disdain and disrespect.
Or worse. Once, when he was ten years old, he’d seen what soldiers might do to a peasant woman alone and unprotected on the road. A pack of wolves would be more merciful.
So in spite of knowing what a brave, spirited woman she was and that she could probably hold her own with any nobleman and get the respect and aid she deserved, he’d hidden and watched, ready to rush out to her defense again if necessary. He simply couldn’t abandon her to her fate, any more than he could leave Ryder to die in a dungeon.
And even if that made him a fool. “My lady, you’re going the wrong way!”
She halted and turned abruptly. Without a word, she marched past him, going back the way she’d come.
He hurried after her, leaving Garreth and the girl to follow. “So this Gilbert was going to Castle de Werre?” he asked, hoping to achieve some kind of truce.
“That’s what he said.”
“What sort of fellow is he?”
“Greedy. Arrogant. Like most men.”
“Then he might be allied with Wimarc if the man’s up to no good.”
“Perhaps. He’s ambitious, too.” She cut her eyes to Finn. “Gilbert came to Averette to court Adelaide—or Gillian, if Adelaide refused him, or me, if they didn’t want him, which they didn’t. He had the audacity to kiss me, too.”
She hadn’t enjoyed it, obviously. He was fairly certain he could kiss her in a way that would make her remember it with something other than contempt.
“He’s a pompous, arrogant fool,” she continued, yanking Finn back to the here and now. “I can believe he would turn traitor if he felt slighted or exploited. Perhaps Adelaide and Gillian were right to worry that John’s the sort of king who forces men to rebel because of his greed and lust.”
Finn had seen and heard enough at court to know how deep the hatred of John ran among the nobles. “Lots o’ the barons hate him. He’s not just taxed them for his wars, they’ve lost sons in his quest to get back his lands in France and he’s seduced their wives and daughters, too.”
“He may be a terrible man, but he is the king,” she replied, “and rebellion will only lead to more death and destruction.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there, my lady,” he said. “It’s always the poor who suffer most when the nobles go to war.”
Lady Elizabeth suddenly came to a dead halt and turned to him with the fire of resolve in her lovely eyes. “I’m not going to that convent. I’m going to help you get into Lord Wimarc’s castle.”
She couldn’t be serious—or else she didn’t appreciate the danger there.
“No, you’re not,” he replied with equal conviction, while her maid turned as white as washed fleece and Garreth’s mouth fell open. “I’m not going to let—”
“I’m not asking your permission,” the lady interrupted. “To protect my family and prevent war, I’ve got to find out what Wimarc’s up to. I’ll need some proof of his plans, too. He must have powerful allies if he thinks he can overthrow the king, so my word may not be enough to convict him or even have him arrested.”
She fixed Finn with her steadfast gaze. “You need to get into Wimarc’s castle to rescue your brother. Together, we can do both.”
He felt a surge of hope, until reality intruded. “Just like that, eh, my lady? We’ll just walk up to the gates and ask to be allowed to pass? You’ll demand to know what Wimarc’s planning, and I’ll go to the dungeon and order my brother freed. Then we’ll all saunter out the gates as easy as you please.”
Lizette drew herself up, not the least dissuaded by his mockery. “We won’t walk up to the gates. We’ll ride—if you can steal some horses. I hardly think Lord Gilbert and his wife would arrive on foot.”
As Finn stared at her, she continued, clearly growing more enamored of her harebrained notion. “Gilbert’s wife said they haven’t actually met Wimarc, so he doesn’t know what they look like. I know enough about Gilbert and Helewyse that we should be able to fool him.”
“It’s still daft and far too dangerous,” Finn declared. “Even if we could fool Wimarc, what about Gilbert’s escort? They’ll likely notice the difference.”
“Aye,” Garreth reluctantly agreed. “If it was just you and Finn—”
“Oh, my lady, you mustn’t! You’ll be killed!” Keldra wailed.
“You’ve no better plan, have you?” the lady countered, ignoring both Garreth and her maid. “As for their escort.”
She fell silent and as she puzzled over that problem and her plan, Finn was sure she would reconsider—until her eyes lit up like a torch bursting to life in the dark.
“You and Garreth can pretend to be a new escort sent from Wimarc. Tell Gilbert Wimarc doesn’t like any soldiers but his own on his estate. He should send his men home.”
“As if Gilbert would believe that!”
“If he’s on Wimarc’s land, why would he need his own soldiers? And we could say that Wimarc’s a suspicious fellow who doesn’t like unknown soldiers in his fortress. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
Finn blinked, amazed at the rapidity with which her mind worked, and the way she dealt with his rational objections … a way that just might be viable.
A nobleman and his wife. Without an escort … They could claim they’d been set upon by thieves and their escort … fled. The louts. He’d deal with them when he got home!
“If you aren’t willing to take the chance,” she said, interrupting his ruminations, her expression fiercely determined, “I shall find a way inside that castle by myself. No doubt Wimarc would welcome a pretty serving wench.”
“Aye, he would,” Finn retorted, horrified by that suggestion. “And when he’s done with you, he’ll pass you around to his men.”
Her gaze faltered for a moment, but then that stubborn, determined gleam returned to her beautiful eyes. “With or without your help, I must do whatever I can to find evidence of Wimarc’s treachery. My family’s safety, and the welfare of the entire kingdom, could depend upon it. And would you let your brother die in that man’s dungeon although I offer you a way to prevent it?”
“Oh, my lady, you mustn’t try such a thing!” Keldra pleaded, her hands clasped like a supplicant before a shrine. “It’s too dangerous! You could be killed! And what would your sisters say if you were?”
“I would hope they would be proud of me,” she answered without hesitation, and with the merest hint of wistfulness that suggested she didn’t believe her family had much cause to be proud of her now.
He understood how painful wounded pride could be; he’d had his own pride injured many times by the taunts of village children when he was a boy. He knew how much a person would want to heal those wounds by proving himself. He’d done that every time he tricked someone into believing he was a nobleman, and never more than when he was at the king’s court.
Why else had Ryder picked those fights, except to assuage his wounded pride?
So she must prove her worth by exposing Wimarc for an evil, plotting traitor. Yet her need would be putting her in danger … although her rank would surely offer her some protection, whereas if he were caught …
“Finn, we could do it,” she persisted. “I know you can act the noble. I’ve seen you do it, and I can tell you things about Gilbert to avert any suspicion. As for playing the man’s wife, it won’t be very difficult. I am a lady, and this marriage is recent, so any ignorance or awkwardness between us can be easily explained—and most important of all, Wimarc has never met them.”
“That isn’t the only problem,” Finn said, still hesitant to put her life at risk. “It may take time to find out where Ryder is as well as get the evidence of Wimarc’s treachery. We’d have to keep Lord Gilbert and his wife imprisoned all that time, which would be risky—or kill them,” Finn concluded, loath to murder. He was a thief, not a cold-blooded killer.
“I know where we could keep ‘em,” Garreth eagerly offered. “That deserted charcoal burner’s hut we stayed in a few days ago. It’s in a lonely spot and nobody’s likely to come near it.”
“Yes, we can keep them imprisoned until we’ve succeeded,” the lady agreed with obvious relief, if no appreciation for the additional risks that would entail.
“And if they escape?”
“They must be watched.”
Finn’s gaze instinctively went to Garreth, who frowned and shook his tousled head. “Not me! You need me, Finn. How can you rescue Ryder and get out of there without me?”
“We were never going to be able to fight our way out,” he replied, which was true. That had been one of the reasons he’d not been able to come up with a plan of rescue. “Who else can I trust with such a responsibility? All will be lost if Gilbert or his lady escapes and reveals us to Wimarc. It’s you or no one, Garreth.”
The young man reluctantly nodded.
“Keldra can help guard them, too,” Lizette suggested.
Finn didn’t disagree. If they did attempt this, it would be best to keep the girl away from Wimarc, and not just because of Wimarc’s reputation. Finn was unfortunately sure Keldra would betray the ruse by a slip of the tongue or other mistake.
“I don’t need some sniveling girl’s help,” Garreth protested, a mountain of scorn in the word girl.
Keldra ignored him and looked beseechingly at Lizette. “You’ll need me, my lady. A lady always has a maid. Who will dress your hair? Who will help you with your clothes?”
“I daresay Wimarc will have women servants who can do such things,” Lizette replied. “Besides, Garreth can’t watch Lord Gilbert and his wife all by himself. He’ll have to sleep sometimes. And then there’s Lady Helewyse. She’ll suffer with no maidservant to help her.”
Lizette put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and regarded her with confidence and respect, as if they were equals. “Keldra, I need you to do this for me, and for Adelaide and Gillian, too.”
The girl’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded her agreement nonetheless. “Yes, my lady, for your sake and your sisters’, I’ll do what you ask, even to putting up with that stupid boy.”
“Boy? I’m not a boy, you … you girl! Finn, tell her I’m in charge!”
It seemed the plan had been agreed upon, with or without his consent. Yet what plan had he come up with since Ryder had been captured that had any less risk, or more chance of success?
It was this, or … what?
He walked over to the maidservant and gave her a companionable smile. It was troubling to think of their fate in the hands of these bickering young people, but if they were to have any chance at all, they had no choice.
“Keldra,” he said, “it’ll be an ease to my mind if you stay with Garreth. As Lady Elizabeth says, he can’t keep watch all the time. He must sleep.
“However,” he grimly continued, “in any battle, there must be a general, and in this case, it has to be Garreth. He’s been through tricky situations before, so if trouble comes, I ask that you defer to him.”
