Lion Heart
Page 3
“Stay back,” he murmured to me. “The castle is well guarded. I don’t know how much they know of what was meant to happen.”
“Let me help,” I told him. “You can’t fight them alone.”
His mouth settled into a grim line. “You aren’t strong enough for that, my lady. And there are too many of them.”
“They may not know that it were meant to be you and Thomas,” I told him.
He looked at me. “We can’t risk it if they do.”
I sighed. “Where are we?” I asked him.
“Bramber Castle,” he told me. “Sussex. We’re only a few hours’ ride to London.”
I opened the door, looking out. There were two horses, and affixed behind one of them were a cart filled with hay and a white cloth, the perfect size to hold a person. I shivered.
“What did you think that were for?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “That wasn’t out there before. Thomas must have ordered it hooked up to the horses.” He looked at me.
“But why would he want my body?” I asked.
“Maybe Prince John wanted . . . proof,” he said slow.
I nodded, shutting the door. “Of course he would. Which also limits the time we have until Prince John discovers what’s been done.”
“Not necessarily,” David said. “He wouldn’t have wanted to risk being seen in public with your body. Thomas must have had another location to meet him. I can forge Thomas’s hand well enough and send Prince John a letter.”
“But the guards here still need to believe it,” I told him. I looked down the hallway to where the cell were at the end. “But I may have an idea for that.”
David looked at me and crossed himself.
“What?” I asked.
“My lady, I find this quite chilling.”
I touched my face. I’d rubbed mud from the cell on my skin, letting it dry gray and white, before smearing Thomas’s blood on me, spattering it on my face. To anyone who saw, I would look truly dead.
I looked at my hands, paler than usual and chalky looking, with blood on them. A dead man’s blood. “Yes,” I told him. “Well, that is the idea.”
He nodded, and with a sigh, he put his arm around my back and crouched to sweep under my knees. He picked me up and carried me to the end of the hall. “Remember,” he told me. “Try to move—and breathe—as little as possible.”
I nodded, shutting my eyes and letting my head fall limp in his arms, craning back at an awkward angle.
The door creaked open, and I felt the chill of the night air around me. It were late spring now, months since the winter when I’d first been imprisoned, but the nights still held a chill, like the sun couldn’t quite keep its hold on the world.
My hand slipped from my stomach, stretching out at an awkward angle, but I didn’t dare move. I didn’t know who were in the courtyard with us.
“Move the sheet,” David ordered someone. I heard rustling, and David lowered my body onto the hay. It were sharp and hostile, poking into skin that weren’t supposed to be able to feel it. I felt a harder weight beneath me—David had put Thomas’s sword and knife in the cart before me. I couldn’t move enough to grab them, but knowing they were there were a comfort.
“Christ,” another voice murmured. “She’s a child. Who was she?”
“You’re not paid for your interest, sir,” David said sharply. “This letter must be taken to the prince immediately. Have your messenger see it directly into his hands, do you understand?”
The cloth came down over my face, pitching me deeper into darkness, and I opened my eyes a hair, cautious. I couldn’t see anything, which should mean they couldn’t see me.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell them to open the gate,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Moments later, the cart started to move slow, only to stop again after a short distance. I felt a low shaking and wondered if they were raising the portcullis.
“Where’s the other fellow?” someone asked.
“We had some difficulty with the prisoner,” David said. “See that your priest gives him a proper burial.”
There were some low noises I couldn’t make out.
The shaking stopped with a metal grunt, and the cart began to move again.
After a few moments, I heard the portcullis shudder closed behind us. As we rode out, I knew we were near the ocean. I could feel it in my bones, and I could smell the salt in the air, laced with peat smoke, like I had fallen into the ocean blue of Rob’s eyes. It were as if Robin were there, behind me, beside me, just out of my sight, but when I turned to look at him, there were only darkness.
I nodded off at one point, and woke as we were slowing down. I tugged the sheet down careful so I could see out a tiny sliver.
We were in the woods, on a path wide enough to hold the cart. I couldn’t see anyone else. “David?” I called.
“Stopping for the night, my lady. Are you comfortable there or would you prefer the ground?” he asked.
I tugged the sheet down so I could breathe easy. It weren’t a matter of being comfortable; in three months I’d barely moved, and I were weaker than I could ever remember being. I didn’t much want to move.
Shivering a little with cold, I wrapped my hand around the sword. Having the means to defend myself at last, more than anything, helped me sleep.
When I woke again, the cart were moving, swaying in a way that were sleepy and gentle and made opening my eyes again difficult.
“Let me help,” I told him. “You can’t fight them alone.”
His mouth settled into a grim line. “You aren’t strong enough for that, my lady. And there are too many of them.”
“They may not know that it were meant to be you and Thomas,” I told him.
He looked at me. “We can’t risk it if they do.”
I sighed. “Where are we?” I asked him.
“Bramber Castle,” he told me. “Sussex. We’re only a few hours’ ride to London.”
I opened the door, looking out. There were two horses, and affixed behind one of them were a cart filled with hay and a white cloth, the perfect size to hold a person. I shivered.
“What did you think that were for?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “That wasn’t out there before. Thomas must have ordered it hooked up to the horses.” He looked at me.
“But why would he want my body?” I asked.
“Maybe Prince John wanted . . . proof,” he said slow.
I nodded, shutting the door. “Of course he would. Which also limits the time we have until Prince John discovers what’s been done.”
“Not necessarily,” David said. “He wouldn’t have wanted to risk being seen in public with your body. Thomas must have had another location to meet him. I can forge Thomas’s hand well enough and send Prince John a letter.”
“But the guards here still need to believe it,” I told him. I looked down the hallway to where the cell were at the end. “But I may have an idea for that.”
David looked at me and crossed himself.
“What?” I asked.
“My lady, I find this quite chilling.”
I touched my face. I’d rubbed mud from the cell on my skin, letting it dry gray and white, before smearing Thomas’s blood on me, spattering it on my face. To anyone who saw, I would look truly dead.
I looked at my hands, paler than usual and chalky looking, with blood on them. A dead man’s blood. “Yes,” I told him. “Well, that is the idea.”
He nodded, and with a sigh, he put his arm around my back and crouched to sweep under my knees. He picked me up and carried me to the end of the hall. “Remember,” he told me. “Try to move—and breathe—as little as possible.”
I nodded, shutting my eyes and letting my head fall limp in his arms, craning back at an awkward angle.
The door creaked open, and I felt the chill of the night air around me. It were late spring now, months since the winter when I’d first been imprisoned, but the nights still held a chill, like the sun couldn’t quite keep its hold on the world.
My hand slipped from my stomach, stretching out at an awkward angle, but I didn’t dare move. I didn’t know who were in the courtyard with us.
“Move the sheet,” David ordered someone. I heard rustling, and David lowered my body onto the hay. It were sharp and hostile, poking into skin that weren’t supposed to be able to feel it. I felt a harder weight beneath me—David had put Thomas’s sword and knife in the cart before me. I couldn’t move enough to grab them, but knowing they were there were a comfort.
“Christ,” another voice murmured. “She’s a child. Who was she?”
“You’re not paid for your interest, sir,” David said sharply. “This letter must be taken to the prince immediately. Have your messenger see it directly into his hands, do you understand?”
The cloth came down over my face, pitching me deeper into darkness, and I opened my eyes a hair, cautious. I couldn’t see anything, which should mean they couldn’t see me.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell them to open the gate,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Moments later, the cart started to move slow, only to stop again after a short distance. I felt a low shaking and wondered if they were raising the portcullis.
“Where’s the other fellow?” someone asked.
“We had some difficulty with the prisoner,” David said. “See that your priest gives him a proper burial.”
There were some low noises I couldn’t make out.
The shaking stopped with a metal grunt, and the cart began to move again.
After a few moments, I heard the portcullis shudder closed behind us. As we rode out, I knew we were near the ocean. I could feel it in my bones, and I could smell the salt in the air, laced with peat smoke, like I had fallen into the ocean blue of Rob’s eyes. It were as if Robin were there, behind me, beside me, just out of my sight, but when I turned to look at him, there were only darkness.
I nodded off at one point, and woke as we were slowing down. I tugged the sheet down careful so I could see out a tiny sliver.
We were in the woods, on a path wide enough to hold the cart. I couldn’t see anyone else. “David?” I called.
“Stopping for the night, my lady. Are you comfortable there or would you prefer the ground?” he asked.
I tugged the sheet down so I could breathe easy. It weren’t a matter of being comfortable; in three months I’d barely moved, and I were weaker than I could ever remember being. I didn’t much want to move.
Shivering a little with cold, I wrapped my hand around the sword. Having the means to defend myself at last, more than anything, helped me sleep.
When I woke again, the cart were moving, swaying in a way that were sleepy and gentle and made opening my eyes again difficult.
