Lady Gallant (22 page)

"It's time," Christian said. "Follow me."

Three of the brothers followed him, while the fourth, Edward Hext, stood guard.

The Earl was already standing behind the altar. As Christian and the others joined him, he threw back the Turkish carpet to expose gray flagstones. With his dagger he pried one of the stones loose, revealing an iron ring. He pulled the ring and a door lifted, giving access to a set of stairs. Christian herded the three brothers down the staircase, and the Earl and Hext followed. The chaplain reappeared with a taper, which he handed to the Earl before closing the trapdoor again.

"Damp and cold down here," one of the brothers said.

"And dark," another said. "I'm tired of the dark. We should go back."

"God's toes," Christian said. "How you can be so brave on paper and such puking cowards about a short walk to the docks is a mystery."

Sebastian's lips twitched in amusement. "I do hope the rain dampens your temper, Chris. Take this habit, and here are the beads and the cross."

Christian fought his way into the dark grey-brown wool. His head popped through the neck of the gown, and his father dragged the skirt down until it covered Christian's riding boots.

"Cecil would hie off to France at this moment," Christian muttered. "My knaves say the house isn't being watched, but Cecil would know who at court set Bonner upon me. It could have been de Ateca, or Hampton, or that angelic idiot Pole."

"It matters not," Sebastian said as he donned his own habit. "The Queen thinks you the savior of London's runagates. Now, do I look like a friar?"

"As much as I look like a bishop."

"That doesn't bode well for our disguise, my headstrong."

Christian bent and rummaged through the basket from which they'd taken the robes. "That's why I brought padding." He thrust a pillow and twine at his father. "Tie this around me, and I'll look as fat and useless as any brother in Christendom."

Their disguising complete, Christian led his party through the tunnel to its exit just outside the wall that surrounded the earl's residence. Simon Spry awaited them there, rain-drenched, with a donkey and cart. It was just after ten, and though they had only a short walk to the river and then downstream to the docks, they would follow the Thames upstream. Once far enough out of the city, which would take them a good two hours, they would take a boat to the docks as though they had just arrived from the country.

With his father's help, Christian bundled the three heretics into the cart. Sebastian sat with them, his head towering above the other three. Christian wiped raindrops from his chin and motioned for Spry and Hext to follow him down the muddy lane that paralleled the river.

His close brush with death the day before must have affected him more than he'd thought, for he imagined that every snort of the donkey, every snap of a twig heralded an attack. His boots slithered on the packed earth made slick by the rainfall. The moon wasn't out, and a cloying mist surrounded them, making his chest tighten. In the darkness, the creaking of the cart and the grunts of the donkey seemed loud enough to hurt his ears.

In spite of his agitation, the trip was made safely and quickly. They transferred from donkey cart to small launch, then alighted from the launch at the docks when it was still dark. Christian helped the gouty Archibald Dymoke onto land. The earl and the other two men followed. Spry and Hext remained with the boat, for only a short distance remained to be traveled.

This was the segment of the trip Christian hated the most. He was almost rid of them, these fanatic bumblers, and he itched to thrust them in the direction of their Dutch ship and be away with his father. Instead, he set his jaw and preceded the other four down an alley that would lead to their destination.

Hand on his concealed sword, Christian slipped ahead to inspect the intersection of another alley. He clung to the rotten wood of a shed at the corner. All was clear, but the cross-alley dead-ended to the left, and that made him wary. Looking back over his shoulder, he found himself alone.

His father and the heretics were several yards back. The Earl was yanking on the habit of one of the old men, but the heretic was well planted. Christian sped back toward them, stopping halfway when he heard Dymoke whine.

"I can't bear it anymore, to be enshrouded in the trappings of heresy. I must rid myself of the raiment of evil."

Christian almost picked up a rock and threw it at Dymoke's head. "You slug-witted fools," he whispered fiercely at the men, "cease this braying and follow me now, for by God's wrath I won't stay to be made gallows meat."

Without waiting to see if the heretics followed, Christian flew back down the alley to the shed. Sliding his body along the wet planks that made up one side of the shed, he put one hand around the corner to feel his way. It skimmed over mold growing on the wood, and he could smell rot and dead fish. The heretics had shut their mouths, and he strained to catch any sound. He heard nothing but the fall of rain.

Glancing back, he saw his father shooing the heretics into motion. Christian's gaze darted about the intersection, touching rain-slick cobbles, shadows, and roof line. He stepped out into the open, shot looks in all directions, then whipped across the empty space to cling to the building on the opposite corner. Behind him he saw his father help one of the heretics, who had slipped in a puddle of water.

Christian pushed away from his hiding place, intending to go back and help. As he moved, he heard the sound of a blade sliding out of a sheath. He turned in the direction of the sound, ripping open his habit and drawing his own weapon. Hampered by the pillow at his stomach, he barely got the sword drawn before they were upon him.

He had no time to do more than shout a warning to his father. Three armed men who wore no livery or badge came at Christian at once, and he knew he had to kill one quickly or they would surround him.

It seemed as if a spell had been cast to slow the world down, for he was able to block a sword, jam his foot into the paunch of the second attacker, and duck the slicing blow of the third. Jumping backward, he heard sounds of battle behind him and knew that his father was under attack as well.

Christian swung his sword like a battle-ax, cutting an arc around his body, and his assailants scattered long enough for him to glimpse his father parrying the blows of two swordsmen. Dymoke and his fellows offered no help. In his hands and knees, Dymoke was crawling away from the Earl. Another heretic sat in a puddle and howled while the third cowered with his back to a wall.

"Dymoke, you worm, fight!" Christian shouted.

He ducked a sword that came at his neck, then rolled on his back and onto his feet again. As he rolled, the pillow at his waist pulled free. He threw it at one of his attackers and headed for his father, but another was there to block his way.

Bending and twisting, stabbing and slashing, he felt his strength begin to ebb as precious moments slipped by. To his horror, he caught sight of another man heading for his father. The distraction was enough. The tip of a blade jabbed his thigh, and Christian sank to one knee. He drew his dagger from his belt, but before he could throw it, he was forced to parry a storm of blows from all three men.

Blood trickled from the cut on his leg and down into his boot. He slipped as he was forced away from Sebastian under the onslaught of the three men, and as he slipped, a knife darted out to slice at his chest. It came away with his blood on it, but the knife-wielder paid for his daring with his life. Christian feinted to the left, threw his body to the right, and hurled his dagger at the man as the enemy prepared to knife him again.

The price of that victory was high, for an attacker slipped under Christian's dagger arm. Christian felt the sting of sliced flesh at his side and hurled himself backward. No longer able to move quickly, he stumbled, his sword wobbling. The two remaining attackers closed in, their own swords raised. Christian fastened both hands on the hilt of his weapon, not daring to look for his father again.

The slowness spell took him once more, though, and he couldn't seem to lift his blade quickly enough. He watched two sword points fly at his chest, slicing the air as they would slice his gut. Instinctively, he dropped to his knees. In the same moment, a whistle cut through the sounds of battle, a whistle that had haunted Christian's dreams since he was eight.

The sword points still came at him. Christian lifted his blade. It struck one weapon. The other was free, and it continued on its path. Christian watched it aim for his heart, only to be chopped aside by another, larger blade.

"Kit, love, you must save your fights for me," Jack Midnight said with a laugh.

Christian shot to his feet, sword held in front of his body with two hands, and waited for Midnight to attack. He couldn't believe his senses when Midnight whistled again, and two ruffians pounced on Christian's assailants. Gathering his wits, Christian shoved Midnight aside. He spotted his father still fending off his two attackers and launched into a wobbly run.

As he ran, his wounded leg threatened to buckle under him, slowing him at the moment he most needed his speed. He fought to keep his bad leg beneath his body. His chest heaved with the effort to stay exhaustion and shock. And all the while he watched the Earl turn to counter a blow, leaving his back exposed to a man he'd battered to the ground. Christian screamed.

"Father, behind you!"

Sebastian twisted as he parried, but his foot caught on the heretic who still groveled in the mud puddle. The assailant on the ground lurched up and jabbed, sinking a knife into Sebastian's back.

"No!" Christian hurled himself the last few feet that separated him from his father.

He landed on all fours between his fallen father and the two murderers. Raising his sword, he lashed at the men while covering Sebastian's body with his own. The assailants ran at him, sensing Christian's weakness, but before they could reach their prey, there was a whizzing sound and two muffled thuds. The murderers' bodies jerked and halted. Christian watched them fall on their faces, arrows protruding from their backs.

He had no time to reason out Jack Midnight's actions. He lifted himself off his father. The Earl lay on his stomach, a knife sticking out of his left shoulder. When Christian saw the position of the knife, he stopped breathing. Midnight joined him, but Christian paid no heed to him and drew the blade from Sebastian's body.

"I need cloth," he said.

Jack Midnight ripped a habit from one of the cowering heretics and handed it to Christian. With shaking hands, Christian bound the wound. As he did so, Hext barreled into the alley, sword drawn. He lowered it as he approached Christian.

"Outnumbered," he said.

Not glancing up from his father, Christian shook his head. "Nay, Midnight has played the rescuer this time. I have to get him home at once, but he can't be jostled."

Midnight helped Christian turn the Earl over on his back.

"God's ass," Midnight said. "This is your father. I help no murdering blue bloods."

Midnight stood. "Come with me, Kit."

Christian pulled Sebastian's cloak around his body. "You'll have to kill me."

"And me," Hext said.

"The watch will be here soon," Midnight said to Christian. "And you're too weak to fight me."

"There's no time for this idiocy. I must get him home."

The highwayman glanced at the Earl. "He's going to die, Kit."

Midnight hit the ground under the full force of Christian's body. Christian straddled his tormentor, fists tangled in Midnight's cloak.

"He's not going to die, and if you don't help me I'll kill Blade."

"Now, Kit, I followed you all this way because I thought you were moving Blade out of my reach."

"I swear it. I'll break his pretty neck with my own hands and I'll…" Christian's head felt heavy of a sudden, and he blinked at Midnight.

Midnight shoved his hands aside and caught him before he sank to the ground.

"I'll kill Blade," Christian said, his words as blurry as his vision.

"I believe you, Kit." Midnight helped him to his feet and signaled to his men.

"Don't touch me," Christian said.

"If I don't hold you up, how will you get to the river, love?"

"Promise," Christian said. He clutched at the neck of Midnight's shirt. "Promise you'll get him home safely. You can do what you want with me."

"Ah, love, I've waited years to hear you say that, and now you're too diced for me to do anything but patch you up."

Christian wasn't listening, for Hext and Midnight's men were lifting his father gently and heading for the riverbank. He took a step to follow, but his wounded leg buckled under him. He heard Midnight chuckle, and he was lifted. Midnight dragged one of his arms around his shoulder, and Christian was forced to allow his enemy to half-carry him in the wake of his father's bearers.

"I'll remember your promise," Midnight said. "And if your father lives, you'll owe me a double debt. It's a fine night, my treasure. A fine night for killing… and for promises."

Nora waited all day for the uproar over her disappearance to subside, but the royal guards and servants didn't stop searching the palace until well after dark. She and Arthur hid in the fig tree. While the royal household was at the evening meal, they slipped out of the palace in stolen servants' cloaks.

Never having been in the streets of London unescorted, Nora was fearful and agitated as they crept their way to Arthur's Robin Hood inn. They took a room and tried to rest, but with the first appearance of light, Nora was up. After much worry, she sent a note to one of the palace cooks who helped her with her orphaned animals, giving them over into his care. She and Arthur downed a quick meal, then hurried to the river, where they took a boat to the Earl of Vasterne's landing. She marched past the guards at the gate, so intent on gaining sanctuary that she had no time to allow them to question her. The steward who answered her knock nearly soiled his beautiful Montfort livery, so great was his shock at seeing her. Addled herself, Nora scurried in while the man gaped at her.