Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (32 page)

“Do I just leave this here?” she asked the closest man to her as he sat on a bench cleaning his sword.

The man
blinked at her. “Not here
. Take it upstairs to the king.”

Cold fear squeezed around Joanna’s chest. “This is for the
soldiers
, not the king.”

“Tell that to the king,” the guard drawled. “His boy has been down here three times asking where the king’s wash water is.
”

“But,” she stammered, “I can’t go up to the king’s bedchamber.”

The guard huffed a laugh and muttered, “That’s not what I’ve been told.”

“Who told you
what
?” she demanded, stepping closer and lowering her voice.

The
soldier
lost his smarmy grin.
“You’d best
get up there before the king himself comes looking for you.”
His eyes flickered across the room as if waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows and murder him.

Joanna started for the stairs, fear creeping up from her fingers and toes to her chest.

“Not that way, love,”
a
man
eating his breakfast
called after her. He pointed to the room that was being used as a throne room while the king was in residence. “Take the back stairs.”

With a tight nod, Joanna changed direction. She passed through the mak
eshift throne room and started
up the winding staircase.
Knowing what she was sure they knew, not one of the guards stopped her. It was wrong in every way.

Her courage failed her more and more with each
stair
.
She slowed to a near crawl, eyeing the doorway at the top of the stairs with trepidation.

The
king’s
bedchamber was quiet when Joanna
entered
. It contained a huge bed draped with curtains. A grand wardrobe stood near to the bed. One of its doors was open and a young man
with fair skin and rosy cheeks
was sorting through the rich brocades and bright colors inside. He
glanced up from his work when he heard Joanna. She waited for the
accusations that should have hailed down on her
.

“What took you so long?” The young man frowned at her. He abandoned the wardrobe and approached her. “The king called for his bath half an hour ago.” He directed her around the foot of the bed to a table that stood against the wall under a small window.

It wasn’t the ornate wash basin and pitcher or exotic toiletries that caught Joanna’s attention. On the other side of the bed was a low tabled piled with papers. King Richard slouched in a chair at the far end, reading a sheaf of letters. He wore nothing but a sable robe. His hair was tousled as though he’d just rolled out of bed. He glanced up and saw her staring at him.

The king’s brow rose in surprise.
He straightened, his expression pinching
to a frown before lightening into a cautious smile. He spoke something in the language Joanna did not understand. A moment too late Joanna dropped into a low curtsy. In the process she spilled warm water all over her skirt and the floor.

The king laughed.
The page clucked in disapproval. Joanna kept her head lowered, waiting, wanting nothing more than to run for the stairwell, out into London, and all the way back to Derbyshire. The king spoke again.
His tone had switched t
o something
light
, almost
teasing
.

“He says you may rise,” the page told her, irritated.

Joanna nodded and stood, but she couldn’t meet the king’s eyes. She poured the water that was left in the bucket into the fine basin and pitcher. The king continued to speak. She prayed that he was addressing his page and not her.

Her prayer was in vain.
The king
rose from his
chair and strode to the table where Joanna stood. She still wasn’t able to meet his eyes as he spoke to her. One glance to the alarmed expression his page wore told her she didn’t want to know what he
’d
said. All she wanted to do was leave.
It was as much a mistake to return to the Tower as it had been to go to Ethan’s bed.

An awkward silence followed the king’s words. The page cleared his throat and said, “The king hopes that if you attempt to kill him again it will be … um …
le petite
mort
that does him in and not poison.”

Joanna had no idea what the man was talking about, but when she snuck a peek at him he was blushing. Her gaze fluttered to the king.
His chuckle made her feel small
. A flash of anger poked at her fear. The king must have seen it, but his laughter only doubled. He spoke something in a tone that made her want to sink into the ground
or
slap him across the face, royal sovereign or not.

The page swallowed, blushing harder. “The king says that he can see why Sir Ethan
took notice of
you and perhaps he could, um, entertain the both of you together someday.” He finished the translation and looked away, squirming.

Richard shook his head and laughed at both of them, returning to his chair at the table. He said one final thing that was translated by the page as, “He says you can go now.”

Joanna didn’t hesitate. She turned and ran, the empty bucket slamming against
her thigh.

Ethan
adjusted his tunic and
raced
down the stairs
from his loft room
to the courtyard. His eyes sought
Joanna
out the moment he was clear of the stable even though he knew she wasn’t there. He knew as if she were a part of him.
She was
.
She was a part of him he
should never have let go. S
he was wrong if she thought she had to go on alone.

He charged for the gate leading to the street, intent on doing whatever it took to convince Joanna to come back to him. He would beg if he had to.

“Ethan!” Wulfric’s joyful squeal stopped him in his tracks. The boy charged at him from the kitchen door.

Ethan
stop
ped with a wide grin for the boy
. He crouched and held out his arms
as
Wulfric launched himself into them, hugging Ethan like a long-lost friend. “Good morning, little man.” He hugged the boy back.

“Ethan! Simon is here!” Wulfric told him. “He came all the way from Kedleridge! He took the fastest carriages and rode night and day without stopping!”

“I know,” Ethan laughed. “He told us last night.”

Wulfric wasn’t deterred. “He says that he’s going to go to the Tower to see
papa and mama and Uncle Jack! I think he’s going to bring them home to me!”

A crack of remorse struck through Ethan’s good mood
. “I don’t know if Simon will be able to bring your mama home today,” he skirted the boy’s innocence.

“Yes he can. Simon can do anything! He fixed my horse last year when the leg fell off.”

A grin twitched the corners of Ethan’s mouth. “Is that so.”

“Yes it is. Mama says that Simon is the best steward in all of England, better than Lewis even.” He took half a breath and went on with, “I don’t like
Lewis
. He’s mean. He frowns at me all the time.”

“He used to frown at me all the time too,” Ethan confided.

“When I grow up
to be
Lord of Windale I
want Simon to be my steward.
”

Lord Wulfric of Windale. The image flashed to Ethan’s mind
with bittersweet clarity
.
The child in his arm
s was meant to take his place.

“Is
that so,” he said to the boy.

Everything Ethan wanted
would squash the boy’s dreams
, destroy his future, and yet Wulfric smiled at him with the sparkling eyes of a child
.
The sting of guilt that
pricked
Ethan was stronger than he could have imagined. He
turned
aside
, unable to meet the eyes of a child.

“You can be my knight. You can live in the house behind our house,” Wulfric went on. “I think someone lives there now, but when I’m the lord I’ll build them a new house. Papa likes to build things and when I grow up I will build things too.”

“I’m sure you will,” Ethan mumbled. When Wulfric grew up.
Ethan’s
certain future trembled.

“Papa says it’s important to take care of the people who live on your manor and to build houses and things for them.”

Ethan shifted
to try to chase away the itch that crept down his back. “Your papa is right.”

He
moved to set the boy down, but Wulfric clung to him, refusing to be put aside. Ethan dragged his
gaze
to look at him. He could see the resemblance to Aubrey and the coloring that marked him as Crispin’s son. He could see the carefree brightness of childhood as Wulfric picked at the frayed edge of his tunic’s collar. Wulfric glanced up and met Ethan’s eyes, laughing as if they shared a secret joke. He could see the boundless optimism of youth, the same kind that had brightened Toby’s face as they went through hardship after hardship together.

Without warning, Wulfric reached up and rubbed Ethan’s chin. “You’re scratchy,” he
scolded
. “Knights aren’t supposed to be scratchy.”

There was something in the boy’s eyes, in the way he pursed his lips as he continued to rub Ethan’s chin. Something that reminded him of the censure Toby would have given him.

“I never learned to shave myself,” he murmured. He stared hard into Wulfric’s eyes.
There was a spark there that was as familiar to him as his own shadow.
His heart raced. The boy had been born only minutes after Toby had given up his life.

“You have to learn,” Wulfric told him. “You have to learn to do a lot of things by yourself.”

He was there, just on the other side of those wide, innocent eyes. “I know,”
Ethan
answered. His skin prickled. The air around him was charged with energy. He couldn’t be imagining it.
The feeling was too strong.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, certain that somehow Toby could hear him.

“That’s okay,” Wulfric replied. He smiled and the light that touched his cherubic face took Ethan’s breath away. “You’ll learn.”

Tears choked him. “I never meant to hurt you. You were the best friend I ever had. I’m so sorry I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“But you are my friend.” He threw his arms around Ethan’s neck and squeezed. “You’ll always be my friend. Today and tomorrow and when we go back to Windale and for the rest of our lives and in heaven too.”

Ethan closed his eyes and hugged the boy with his whole heart. The shuddering sigh that escaped him took years’ worth of grief with it. “You’re right,” he whispered. “We’ll always be together. Death can’t stop that.”

Wulfric peeled himself away from Ethan’s neck, looking into his eyes with an expression that had turned mournful. “Are papa and mama going to die?”

Ethan had to swallow several time to fight the tears that wanted to be shed. He shook his head. “No. No I won’t let that happen.”

Instead of improving, Wulfric’s gloomed deepened. “I want my papa and my mama. I want to go home.”

“I know, little man,” Ethan choked. He hugged the boy again, not so much to comfort him but to comfort himself.
As clear as the future had seemed, the path immediately in front of him was as dark as the forest at midnight. So much needed to be done to find justice and see them all home.
Joanna knew it. She had known it the whole time. She was trying to sacrifice herself to save the people she loved. Just like her brother had.

“What’s going on here?” The sharp voice of Simon McFarland cut through the emotion of the moment.

Ethan sucked in a
breath and spun to face the man, Wulfric still clinging to his neck. The sharp censure in Simon’s expression made Ethan feel as small as Wulfric.

“I was on my way to the Tower when Wulfric came out to say good morning to me,” Ethan explained.

“Ethan is my knight,” Wulfric added with a grin.

Simon
limped towards them. His limp must have been the result of the injuries he’d sustained at Kedleridge, injuries that had been Ethan’s fault. He’d damaged Simon McFarland’s life when he hardly knew the man.

Simon
stared between
Ethan and Wulfric
, his ice-blue eyes narrowed. “What business do you have
at the Tower?” he asked Ethan.

“My business is my own,” Ethan
mumbled
.
He hardly knew anymore.
The desire to fulfill Pennington’s plan was gone.