“This one says you asked him to come”—the man pulled the skinny one forward by his upper arm—“but none of us know who he is.”
Westley stepped forward to meet them. The skinny one’s face was mostly covered by an oversize hood. He wore loose leggings and a tunic that was cinched by a leather belt.
Westley took hold of the hood and flung it back, revealing a head of wavy red hair.
Evangeline’s defiant eyes looked back at him.
His heart sank to his toes and his breath rushed out of him. Did his expressed wishes mean nothing to her? She was dearer to him than his own life, and yet here she was, a glaring target for the man who wanted to harm her. She was deliberately putting herself in danger. Did she not understand that he could not bear the thought of Lord Shiveley harming her?
“What are you doing here?” His voice sounded raspy.
“I have come to help free my friend.” She spoke loudly so everyone would hear her.
How would all these men react to having a woman among them? They’d be angry, horrified, or even downhearted. “I asked you to stay in Glynval. What have you done?”
“I can help, but you are too stubborn and proud to admit it.” She lifted her chin, her green eyes sparking.
Heat rose into his face. “You’re being foolish. You know Shiveley wants nothing more than to have you back at Berkhamsted. You will only make trouble by being here.” He clenched his fist around his sword hilt. He should stop talking before he said anything else to hurt her. “What do you plan to do? Give yourself up to Shiveley in exchange for Muriel? Do you want to marry him now?”
Her cheeks turned bright red. “How dare you?”
“How dare I?” No one had ever said that to him before. Now he was seeing for the first time how the spoiled ward of a king behaved.
Her eyes were narrowed, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. She pointed her finger at his nose. “If you think I am some pathetic girl child willing to hide wherever you tell me to and do nothing when my friend is being abused in a dungeon, then you do not know me at all.” Had she not listened to him? Did she not know that he would do anything to keep her safe?
His father stepped toward them. Westley walked away from her, his head and heart both pounding like thunder to keep from saying something else that he shouldn’t. Perhaps Father could speak sense to her. But even if his father could make her understand, it was too late to send her back to Glynval now. The obstinate girl would have to come with them.
Evangeline forced herself to push away Westley’s words and ignore the way he stalked away from her, as if he could no longer stand the sight of her. She could not let herself cry or she would appear weak.
Lord le Wyse came to stand before her, the other men hanging back but staring intently. “You’ll have to come along with us, in any case. We cannot spare a man to escort you back. Try not to get in anyone’s way.” Then he started barking orders to the men to get busy tending to their horses.
Her chest felt hollow. Westley would hate her now. She had defied him. She had made him both angry and sad. But he had called her foolish and asked her if she wanted to marry Shiveley. How could he say such things? Did he not know how much they hurt her?
Everyone was getting ready to sleep for the night.
She turned to retrieve her bedding from her horse, aware that the men kept glancing her way or outright watching her. Did they think she was as foolish as Westley did? Well, she didn’t care what they thought. Or Westley either, for that matter. If he could get so angry and think so little of her abilities, then perhaps he wasn’t the man she thought he was.
Tears pricked her eyes at that thought, but she had no time for tears. Now that the men knew she was a woman, she had to be on her guard. She had thought to sleep near Westley, but she was too angry to want to be anywhere near him. Besides, she could take care of herself. She refused to be afraid.
Westley placed his bedroll on the ground next to a large oak tree. She placed hers about ten feet away from him and the other men. While they sat in a circle talking and eating with each other, Evangeline went into the woods to relieve herself. When she returned, Westley watched her walk back to her blanket.
She pretended to look straight ahead. She sat by herself and ate the bread and cheese Nicola had retrieved from the kitchen for her.
Would Westley get over being angry with her? Would she only get in everyone’s way? If so, the men would utterly scorn her.
She would focus on saving Muriel and warning Richard about Lord Shiveley.
She put away her food, lay down, and closed her eyes. What would happen when they arrived at the castle? Would they be able to rescue Muriel? What would an actual battle look like?
Westley watched where Evangeline placed her blanket. She did not join the men as they ate. Did she have enough food? He supposed it would not be proper to invite her to sit and talk with the men. They might say something bawdy, although with his father on the trip, they were not likely to say anything very uncouth. Besides, she might not want to sit and eat with him. She was already lying down. And she was angry with him.
He had been rather harsh to her. But why couldn’t she have stayed in Glynval as he asked her to? How did she not understand that she was in danger? Perhaps when he wasn’t so angry, he might admire her for having the courage to come and want to fight with them. But courage would not protect her from Shiveley and his trained soldiers.
Westley left the group of men and their inane conversation. He went to his own blanket and lay down facing Evangeline. Her back was to him, and he couldn’t see her very well, as dark as it was, but she seemed to be using her hands to rub her face. A moment later he heard a slight sniff coming from her direction. Surely she was not crying. He heard another sniff, barely audible, as if she was purposely trying to be quiet.
He listened for several more moments. Loud laughter from the men drowned out any sounds from Evangeline.
This was ridiculous. He got up and squatted next to her. “Can I get you anything? Do you need food or water?”
“No. I thank you.” After a pause, she said, “I have food and water.”
Perhaps he had imagined that she was crying. She seemed fine. “I shall see you in the morning, then. Don’t go anywhere without telling me first.”
His only answer was silence.
The next morning Evangeline was up with everyone else, taking care of her horse—even though she didn’t actually know how to care for a horse. She kept looking over at what the men were doing and imitating them. Then she refilled her water flask as the other men were doing. Westley seemed to be keeping an eye on her but did not speak to her.
The other men either eyed her askance or nodded politely when she came near. See, Westley? You overreacted. No one here was so thrown off balance by me as you are.
A few men had already mounted their horses. Evangeline took hold of her horse’s reins and was about to hoist herself into the saddle when someone shouted. One of the men drew a dagger from his belt and cursed.
Evangeline spun around as a group of men rode toward them on horseback, at least a dozen, surrounding them on all sides. Their arrows were nocked and pointed at them when another group appeared with swords drawn. And riding in the forefront was Lord Shiveley.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Westley placed his hand on his sword hilt, his muscles aching to draw his weapon. But with so many arrows and swords aimed at him, his men, and his father, he could do little.
Shiveley had caught them off guard.
Heat flowed through his limbs as a well-dressed man wearing leather body armor—Lord Shiveley, no doubt—moved forward. He seemed to be searching faces until he saw Father.
“Lord le Wyse. I haven’t seen you since my wedding ceremony. My first wife was your relative, was she not?”
“How kind of you to remember.” Father’s wry tone and steely stare belied his indifferent manner.
Where was Evangeline? If Shiveley saw her he would surely reco
gnize her. Westley subtly scanned the faces of their group. Where was she?
There, to Westley’s left, not far from Lord Shiveley. Her hood covered her hair and most of her face. Two Glynval men stood close to her as if to hide her.
“Were you and your men out on a pleasure trip, Lord le Wyse?”
“We were on our way to Berkhamsted Castle, hoping to have an audience with the king over an attempted murder in Glynval.”
“Oh, I see. Then why did you bring so many men? Did you bring the prisoner with you?”
“No, we left him in Glynval. These men are for my protection.”
“For your protection? No, I think you were going to speak to the king about Evangeline, to convince Richard that she should not have to marry me.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Who is Evangeline?”
“She is the king’s ward, and Richard has ordered her to marry me, but she has run away. Are you telling me you do not know where she is?”
“I am not accustomed to having my word questioned, Lord Shiveley.”
“I am sure you are not. But I finally persuaded Muriel, Evangeline’s nursemaid, to tell me what she knew. She revealed that Evangeline was living in Hertfordshire. Glynval, to be precise.”
Father did not reply, and Shiveley continued. “If the wench was lying, I shall have to return immediately to the castle and resume my tactics of persuasion.”
Frederick made a deep sound like a growl, and Evangeline clenched her fist by her side.
“What does King Richard think of you using these tactics of persuasion on the daughter of an archbishop?”
“Oh, he doesn’t know. And because I cannot risk you telling him, unless you have a better plan, I may have to ask my men to shoot you.”
“So it’s to be a massacre?” Father asked. “The king will hear of it.”
“I might be persuaded to change my mind, if you give me Evangeline.”
“And if I don’t know where she is?”
“Then I shall begin by killing that one.” Shiveley pointed to Westley. Two of Shiveley’s guards seized him from behind, dragged him to the middle of the circle of people, and forced him to his knees. They pushed his head forward and down until his forehead nearly touched the ground.
“No! Don’t hurt him!” Evangeline’s voice rang out, high and clear.
Westley’s heart slammed against his chest as Evangeline hurried forward and yanked off her hood. “I am here. Do not hurt this man.”
“Evangeline.” Lord Shiveley’s eyes lit as he smiled down at her.
“This is indeed a surprise,” Lord Shiveley said. “But what peasant did you rob for those clothes?”
Evangeline hastened toward Westley and shoved the shoulder of the first guard holding him down. “Let this man go. I will do what you want, just vow to me that you will not hurt this man.”
“Why would you be so concerned about him, Evangeline? Could it be that you have come to care for someone else in Glynval? Let him up,” he ordered his guards. “I want to see his face.”
They let go of Westley’s hair and shoulders, and he stood and stared defiantly back at Shiveley.
“He is rather young, and I suppose you think he is handsome.”
Evangeline said nothing, her breath shallow at the thought of Shiveley harming Westley.
“Lord le Wyse? Who is this young man? Could he be your son?”
“He is my son, and if you harm him, you will regret it.”
Evangeline’s heart seemed to tremble at the intensity of Lord le Wyse’s expression. But what could he do? They were outnumbered, and Lord Shiveley’s men all had weapons trained on them.
O God, do not allow them to harm Westley or Lord le Wyse. I could never bear to lose Westley or to be the cause of it.
“You are not in a position to threaten me, le Wyse.”
Evangeline’s vision tilted as she waited for what would happen next.
“I have no wish to incite the king’s wrath by killing you and your men. But neither can I have you attacking me on the way.” Lord Shiveley flashed his serpentine smile. “I shall simply have to take you and your son with me as my prisoners. I shall inform Richard that you have been deliberately keeping his cousin from me all this time, in defiance of the king’s will.”
At least he wouldn’t kill them.
“And that man.” Shiveley pointed at Frederick. “I recognize you as one of Berkhamsted’s stable servants. Did you truly ride all the way to Glynval to warn le Wyse? You shall come with us as well.”
Shiveley’s men forced Westley to hand over his sword while other soldiers rounded up the rest of the Glynval men and escorted them down the road toward their home village.
The men helped Evangeline mount her horse. She was surprised they let Lord le Wyse and Westley mount their own horses and did not tie their hands. But they were so outnumbered and without weapons, they had no chance to escape.
Evangeline’s heart sank as they started down the road toward Berkhamsted Castle. Westley kept glancing at her, but Shiveley made sure they were separated by several guards. Somehow she had to speak to King Richard and tell him what Shiveley had been doing.
But what had he been doing? Trying to find her? Capturing the men who had essentially been hiding her? Richard wouldn’t care. But he might care that Shiveley had tortured Muriel.
He would threaten Frederick’s life to keep Muriel quiet. Did Shiveley know of her love for Frederick and his for her? If he did, they might never be able to convince the king of Shiveley’s nefariousness.
After riding all day, Evangeline was not only desperate to get out of the saddle, her shoulders also ached from the tension of being constantly watched.
No matter how she tried, she had not been able to speak a word to Westley, Lord le Wyse, or Frederick, nor could she see that they had been able to speak to each other. How would they escape if they couldn’t devise a plan?
They were close to the castle now. In fact, the lane that led to the castle gate was just ahead. But instead of taking that path, Shiveley and his men led them around to the north side as they skirted the outer moat. Where were they going?
Soon they reached the smaller Derne Gate. No doubt the king’s men were guarding the main gate while Shiveley’s men were guarding this one.
As they drew near to the wooden bridge that led over the first moat, Shiveley suddenly ordered them all to halt. “Tie up these men. They are our prisoners until they’ve earned their freedom.”
They began tying Lord le Wyse’s hands, but Frederick fought back. Westley suddenly leapt from his horse and snatched a sword from one of Shiveley’s men.
Shiveley drew his own sword and spurred his horse toward Westley. “This one is mine!”
Westley struck Shiveley’s blade with his own, but then the earl struck a blow from his much greater height on horseback. Shiveley struck over and over, forcing Westley to take a step back with every blow as Shiveley advanced.
Finally, they were so close to the edge of the moat, Evangeline cried out, “Watch out behind you!”
Just then, Westley’s foot slipped, and he tumbled backward into the murky waters of the outer moat.
“Westley!” Evangeline jumped from her horse, but one of Shiveley’s guards grabbed her. She struggled against him, but he was too strong. She strained her eyes in the half-light of evening but could see nothing in the water, not even a bubble breaking the surface.
This was even worse than when he’d been struck and pushed into the river. At least she could see him and was free to jump in and save him. But now . . . He had disappeared under the water.
She recalled the tricks Reeve Folsham had taught her. She stomped on her captor’s foot, then elbowed him in the ribs. He made an oomph sound but only tightened his hold on her. He pulled her arms behind her back, so hard it made her shoulders burn. She screamed, but he still did not loosen his hold.
“Someone save him! Lord Shiveley, I demand that you send someone in to save him.”
No one moved and Lord Shiveley said nothing.
“If you save him, I will marry you! Willingly!”
“You will marry me anyway.” Shiveley chortled.
She glanced around to see if there was anyone who could save Westley, but Shiveley’s guards were tying cloths around Frederick’s and Lord le Wyse’s mouths.
O God, please! Westley was drowning!
Shiveley shook his head. “It is a pity. He looked to be a strong, healthy young man. But perhaps you will forget him when you are wed to me.”
She refused to even acknowledge Shiveley’s words. Except for the sickening twist in her stomach, she couldn’t feel anything.
Westley hit the water, his body sinking in the cold moat.
He swam under the surface, hopefully in the direction of the bridge. He’d drawn in as much air as he could before he went under. He even managed to keep hold of the sword in his hand as he swam.
His lungs were near bursting by the time he reached the darker water that he believed was shaded by the bridge. He took the risk of raising his head and bumped it against something hard.
Wooden planks. It must be the bridge.
He lay on his back. His mouth and nose were only three or four inches from the underside of the wooden bridge, but it was enough room for him to breathe.
Soon he heard horses’ hooves clomping on the wooden planks above him. Evangeline screamed, then the sound was suddenly muffled.
“Shut her up,” Lord Shiveley said. “Tie something around her mouth.”
“Who goes there?” A voice came from the other end of the bridge.
“The Earl of Shiveley,” another voice answered him.
Several horses crossed the bridge into the castle bailey. Was anyone looking for him? They didn’t seem to be. He waited until no more hooves sounded on the bridge. When he was sure no one was looking for him in the murky waters of the moat, he took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface.
Evangeline used her hands, tied together in front of her, to check to see that she still had the extra knife strapped to her thigh underneath her tunic. It was growing quite dark as they moved across the bailey toward the castle. Strangely, no one was around to see her, Lord le Wyse, and Frederick with their hands bound and gags in their mouths.