The Loyal Heart (21 page)

She glanced to the door, biting her lip and hoping that he would storm back into the room to throw her on her bed and finish what he had hinted at.

With a gasp she stood rod straight as if someone else had just thrown a lewd suggestion at her. Bitter guilt washed over her. She loved Ethan. If she was going to work herself into sizzling knots over anyone it was going to be Ethan. Crispin was her pawn, nothing else. She pushed away from the bedpost and staggered to the rain-lashed window. Throwing it open into the waning storm she thrust her head out into the rain. She wouldn’t have been surprised if steam curled off of her skin.

Dressed as the Bandit, Aubrey dashed from the castle into the steamy summer night. Ethan and the others lingered just outside of the closed portcullis. It was lucky there were no guards posted tonight, which was odd, but she wasn’t about to second-guess a bit of good fortune. She swallowed and ran down the long stone steps and across the courtyard to open the small door in the wall. She knew that the hell she had to pay would begin the moment that Ethan saw her.

“I told you to let us in and then go back to your room,” he snapped when he saw her disguise.

“I’m not going back to my room.” She was in no mood to argue.

“Then I’m not participating in this fool’s errand.” Ethan shook his head and turned to go.

“What?” Aubrey yelped, grabbing his arm to stop him from going anywhere. “You can’t leave when your friends need you!”

“And you can’t go throwing yourself into dangerous situations for the hell of it.” He pried her hand off of his arm. “I have a plan to rescue you at the wedding. If you would just trust me to-”

“There isn’t time! Sister Bernadette needs medical attention now!”

“She’s lasted this long without it.”

Aubrey balked. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“I took a huge risk coming here tonight, Aubrey.” Ethan crossed his arms.

“Fine.” She grit her teeth to keep from crying. “Leave. The rest of us will do it without you.”

“With all due respect, Lady Aubrey,” Toby wrung his hands, “my place is with my master.”

She sighed, expecting nothing less.

“Oy, Tom. You gonna chicken out too?” Jack prodded his brother. “Or are you gonna be a man and help save a friend?”

Tom chewed his lip and glanced to Ethan. Ethan dropped his arms with a sigh. “Do what you feel is best.”

Tom nodded to his brother. “Alright, I’ll help.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Aubrey growled at Ethan, “let’s go.”

She started off into the shadows of the castle, but not before Ethan called after them with, “Don’t get yourself killed before I can rescue you at the wedding.”

Aubrey, Jack, and Tom kept in a tight group as they mounted the stairs that lead to the High Tower. Aubrey was sure that the sound of her teeth grinding in fury was enough to wake every guard and servant in the place. She took the lead up the stairs, cursing Ethan with every step.

As they reached the landing one floor below the top of the tower she motioned for them to stop. She took a moment to swallow her anger. It would only get in the way. She breathed, clutching a hand to her heart. Jack was watching her.

“Oy, stay close to me, right?” he whispered in her ear. She frowned at him, drawing her sword. They climbed the last flight of stairs and rounded the corner.

The hallway was deserted. Aubrey lowered her sword as prickles of dread spread down her back. The benches where the guards had sat the night she and Jack had broken into the tower were still there.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered.

“Maybe this makes the job easier, mate.” Jack shrugged, inching towards the door to the South Room.

“I don’t think so.”

She stepped over to the door to the North Room and turned the handle. It was unlocked. Jack opened the South Room an instant before she pushed the door open.

On the other side Crispin waited with two fierce guards. They all had their weapons drawn and stood ready to fight. The moment Crispin saw the Bandit his eyes narrowed.

“You!” he seethed. “That one’s mine!” he called to the guards before lunging at Aubrey.

It was a trap. Aubrey raised her sword to deflect the blow that came crashing down on her. She didn’t have time to be afraid of the murder in Crispin’s eyes. She swung his attack away and brought her sword around to slice at his left side. He parried the blow as if it were nothing and rounded on her again.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tom rush into the room to tackle the two other guards at once. She’d never seen him so much as lift a weapon before.

Concern for him dropped aside as Crispin sliced his blade at her. She dodged and pivoted to slash her sword at him again. Sparks flew as they grappled. She couldn’t let herself think. All she could do was react. She parried his blow and swung at his chest. Her attack was deflected and she tried again, then again, being defended with hardly any effort each time. His face was a mask of merciless concentration. He thrust at her, pushing her nearer to the wall as she tried to defend herself. She knew that her life depended on the struggle.

Jack smashed open the door to the South Room and jumped in, short sword held at the ready.

“Oy! This is a rescue!”

His words were drowned under Madeline’s piercing shriek.

“Bloody hell, MP!” He clapped his free hand to his ear, unable to hide the grin that twinkled in his eyes.

“Jack!” she shouted and rushed forward, ignoring Sister Bernadette’s admonishing frown as she threw herself into his arms.

“Oof! Yeah, it’s me.” He squeezed her tight. The moment could last forever as far as he was concerned. Only his mission had a whole other part to it. “Come on!” He jerked his head for the door. “We got one other lady to rescue.”

He grasped Madeline’s hand and raised his eyebrows at Sister Bernadette. The older woman rewarded him with a grin.

“Can you move?” he asked her, dashing to the bed to help her up.

“Better than you think I can,” she answered.

“I love nuns,” Jack smiled.

They dashed into the hall. Madeline gasped at the clashing battle going on in their old room but Jack didn’t give her time to investigate. They tore down the stairs on their way to the chapel.

Aubrey’s strength was failing her. Crispin had her backed up against the wall. Part of her wanted to say something or pull off her mask to reveal her true identity in the hopes that it would save her. She prayed for a bit of good luck and was surprised that it came her way. Tom kicked one of the guards and he stumbled into Crispin’s path.

Crispin’s face contorted in rage as he pushed the man aside and thrust at her. She caught the hilt of his blade with her sword and twisted, his expression changed to shock as his weapon went flying across the room, hit the wall, and clattered to the floor.

She punched him in the face with the hand that held her sword, crushing her hand in the process. The blow served its purpose and Crispin reeled backwards. Behind him she saw Tom dash to the room’s blazing fireplace. He grabbed a log from the fire and swirled around to shove it at the nearest guard. The guard’s uniform ignited. Tom tossed the flaming log on the bed and lunged for another. The old bedclothes were quick to catch fire.

The distraction was enough to allow Crispin to recover and charge her. She gasped as he grabbed her wrist, fighting to wrench her sword from her grasp. They grappled for a few desperate moments, but Crispin was far stronger than her. He tore her sword from her hand and shifted it into his own. He lunged at her and she wasn’t able to dodge in time. His downward slashing blow tore through her left side.

She fought not to cry out through pain like nothing she’d ever experienced, not to reveal herself as she stumbled backwards, pressing her hand over the gaping wound. She could feel the blood seeping over her skin, see it soaking through the cloth of her shirt and tunic. Numb with horror, she barely registered Crispin advancing on her, ready to finish the job he’d started. He was intercepted by Tom shoving past Crispin towards her and the shouts of “Fire! Fire!” from the guards.

Aubrey tumbled into the hallway, falling over a bench, and hit the floor with a hard thump that knocked the wind out of her. Everything went black.

When she blinked away the blackness Tom was leaning over her, face lined with worry. “Can you move, my lady?” he whispered.

She nodded and scrambled to her feet. Somehow during the time she had blacked out she had been dragged to the opposite end of the hall. The fire still raged in the North Room. Crispin and the guards fought it instead of them. It took all of her effort to get to her feet, Tom helping her.

“It’s a bad cut, my lady. You really shouldn’t move, but under the circumstances….”

She nodded and summoned every last ounce of strength she possessed to struggle towards the stairs, leaning on Tom as he took the steps one at a time. Their descent was a hard one, but with every step she heard the sounds of fire and shouting grow fainter and fainter until the only sounds were their shuffling footsteps and her heavy breathing. They made it as far as the main floor hallway before she was too dizzy to continue. She opened her mouth to let Tom know, but blackness overtook her.

Jack skittered around the final corner and hurried down the aisle in the chapel, still gripping Madeline’s hand. Sister Bernadette held her own as promised and the three of them reached the chancel, red-faced and out of breath in the thick silence.

“We made it!” Madeline panted, clasping a hand to her chest.

“We made it alright.” Jack frowned. He dropped her hand and marched up to the statue, nudging it as if it could have lost weight in the months since he’d last bothered to think about it. He glanced back to the door. “Oy, where’s Tom?”

“Tom?” Madeline repeated.

“Yeah. He’s supposed to be here to help lift this bloody thing.” He sighed and turned to Sister Bernadette. “Look, we tried, mate, but there’s no way I’m gonna be able to carry this out to the cart on my own.”

Sister Bernadette strode up beside him and nodded. “Then the time has come for drastic measures.”

His open mouth dropped into a gape as Sister Bernadette shoved the statue with all of her might. It tumbled off of its pedestal and spilled to the floor with a splintering crash, cracking down the back. The base of the statue popped off in a neat circle and a cascade of gold coins and gemstones, some as fat as acorns, spilled onto the chancel. Sister Bernadette dropped to her knees and began scooping great fistfuls of gold and jewels out of the hollow statue. Madeline rushed to do the same.

“Oy!” Jack laughed and grabbed the sides of his head. “
This
is why I love nuns!”

“Help us Jack!” Madeline implored over her shoulder.

He glanced around, eyes lighting on the stuffed cushions at the front of the altar. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword and he rushed to them, slicing the end off of the closest one. He scooped it up and shook the wool out of the casing, then tossed it to Madeline before slicing at another cushion. Madeline and Sister Bernadette worked to fill the makeshift sack as Jack spilled wool on the floor. He joined them as they raced to pack up the treasure. By the time they had all three sacks full distant sounds of movement and alarm were drifting towards them from the heart of the castle.

“That’s gotta be good enough.” Jack scraped one last handful of gold into his sack and stood, pulling Madeline up with him. “Time’s up.”

He was surprised that they agreed. The sacks clinked with their bounty as they lugged them back up the aisle and out through the cloister into the night.

Crispin was certain he’d wounded the Bandit, but when he’d been forced to turn his attention to the fire the man had disappeared. The Bandit’s sword still lay on the ground near the door where he’d tossed it before grabbing a rug to beat the flames out, but he hadn’t seen where the thief had gone.

“Go after them!” he ordered the ash-covered guards, who jumped to do his bidding as fast as their exhausted bodies would move.

Crispin stood panting, catching his breath as he surveyed the scene. The North Room’s bed was destroyed but the room itself wasn’t damaged. It was little consolation. The Bandit had gotten away. Jack had implied Windale would be staging the rescue, not the Bandit. If he had known he would have had five times as many guards with him. Jack had some explaining to do. He let out a growl of frustration, and punched the wall.

The sight of the open door to the South Room refocused him. He darted into the room. It was empty. Jack had succeeded. A new sense of dread rose in his gut. The nuns were gone. His heart squeezed the breath out of him. The one reason Aubrey had agreed to marry him was gone.

He left the room, stomach already roiling at the thought of explaining all this to Buxton. He stopped when he saw the Bandit’s sword laying in the doorway of the North Room.

Teeth bared, he lunged to pick up the weapon, holding it in front of him and turning it over in his hand. The sword was familiar. It had few markings, although he could make out something written in Arabic. It was the kind of sword crusaders brought back from the Holy Land as gifts. He only knew two men who had gone to fight with King Richard. Windale was one, but he hadn’t been there. Morley was the other. But Morley’s fighting days were over and there were few people to whom he would give such a gift.