Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

I t was a rainy morning after a rainy night, a storm that didn't seem to want to let up, and Torran was soaked to the skin because he'd been outside with his men ensuring that the escort was ready to depart for London. More than that, Lord Penden had loaned him a carriage for Andia and her brother at Lady Penden's insistence. It was barbaric, according to Lady Penden, for Andia to be traveling in the back of an open wagon, so her personal carriage had been brought out to complete the trip to London.

Heavily muscled horses to pull it were also part of the bargain, a matched set of four, all of them dark in color with white stripes down their faces and tails that had been docked to keep them out of the wagon wheels. Torran himself made sure to check the harnesses along with Kent and Stefan. Jareth was in conversation with Lord Penden, who was also up at this predawn hour, while Aidric, Dirk, and Britt made sure the men were assembled and at least moderately protected from the rain with oilcloth cloaks that they had borrowed from Penden. Although the soldiers usually traveled with their own cloaks, several of them simply weren't adequate, so replacements were found.

"'Tis a sturdy conveyance," Kent said as he finished checking the front wheels. "Fit for a king, I might add."

Torran blew water out of his lips. "Indeed," he said. "But I do not want a soldier driving it. One of us should."

"I will," Kent said. "However, in weather like this, someone will need to check the road ahead very carefully or this thing will end up on its side. And it's heavy enough that we might not be able to right it."

Torran nodded, stepping back to look at the horses and their finely tended hooves. This was a team meant strictly for this carriage, and they were clad in rain cloaks of their own, from their ears to their tails. Lord Penden had seen to that. They were expensive animals and he wanted them well protected. Torran checked the legs of the horse nearest him, patting the animal on the neck when he was finished.

"This is a sturdy lot," he said. "Penden must have spent hundreds of pounds on these animals, so we'll want to be very careful with them. Let's make sure we have men assigned to the road at least a quarter of a mile ahead of the carriage. Roads, bridges—I want all of it checked in this weather before we cross it."

Kent nodded and headed off to gather a few men to assign to the task. As he did so, Stefan approached Torran, wiping water out of his eyes as he moved.

"The escort is mostly ready," he told Torran. "Shall I fetch the boy?"

Torran pointed to the keep. "He is in a lower chamber under guard," he said, loudly for Stefan's benefit. "Go to the entry level. You'll find him there."

Stefan glanced up at the keep. "And the girl?"

"I will fetch her."

Stefan headed into the keep in search of Aeron as Torran finished his inspection of the carriage horses, leaving a royal soldier to watch over them as a peal of thunder ripped across the sky. Lightning flashed. He was turning for the keep when he caught sight of people emerging. Servants were holding up a canopy against the rain as Lady Penden, Andia, and Aeron began descending the stairs, and Stefan, seeing them coming, stopped at the bottom of the steps.

Lady Penden had hold of Andia, who was dressed in something glorious. The closer Torran came to her, the more he could see that she was clad in a traveling dress with a matching cloak, all of it made of the most glorious white wool. He knew she'd brought a small satchel with her, and presumably more clothing, but the satchel had been left in the wagon last night, so the garments she was wearing must have been more of Lady Penden's items. Andia had a hood on, but he could see curly tendrils peeking out from the edges, and as he drew close, Lady Penden called to him.

"Sir Torran?" she said, holding Andia by the arm. "We require your assistance, please."

Torran headed over to Andia as Stefan took charge of Aeron. Truthfully, Torran wasn't paying any attention to the lad because the magnificent image of Andia had his focus completely.

He struggled not to be obvious about it.

"What is your wish, Lady Penden?" he asked.

Lady Penden, bundled up against the gloomy morning, pointed to Andia. "Will you please carry her to the carriage?" she asked. "I am afraid her feet and legs will become soaked before she even gets there."

Torran didn't hesitate. He bent over and scooped Andia into his arms quite easily, heading for the carriage without a word. In truth, he was feeling rather odd because he seemed to be unable to speak at the moment. Something about her golden eyes fixing on him as he picked her up had rendered him strangely speechless.

That wasn't usual for him.

Puzzled by his reaction, and the bizarre thumping of his heart, he carried her all the way to the carriage as Stefan, who had already put Aeron into the cab, held the door open. Stefan helped him get Andia into the cab because she was wearing so many heavy layers that he needed help to push the cloak in as she slid into the cab. Both Stefan and Torran were forced to tuck in the long train of her garments before they could even close the door, but it remained open as Lady Penden handed over some other items for the cab. Not only did she have a packed satchel for Andia, which she instructed to keep it as a gift, but she also had a basket of food for them to take along. That was put on the floor of the cab near Aeron, who eyed it longingly as the cab door was shut.

And with that, they were ready to depart.

As the rain whipped and the wind howled, Lord and Lady Penden said their farewells from the inner ward, with Lady Penden blowing kisses at Andia, until Lord Penden finally forced her to go back inside. The escort, now with the expensive carriage adorned with the red and gray of the House of Penden, left the safety of Rochester's enormous bailey and headed out into the stormy dawn.

From Rochester, it was about a day's ride to London, and Torran expected them to arrive sometime in the early evening because the weather would slow them down somewhat. He rode next to the carriage, which Kent was driving quite ably, and he had the Six spread out around it while Stefan remained on point.

As the sun rose and gray light illuminated the land, the road remained soft but passable. There was a small ferry crossing at the River Medway, which they made without incident, and then a larger crossing lay ahead across the Thames. Torran could only hope that the weather would let up a little because the ferry crossing could be dicey even on a good day. It was a big, wide river with a strong current. He was looking forward to getting through it and on into London. As Torran planned out the remainder of the journey, inside the carriage, something quite different was going on.

It had all started, for Andia, before dawn. She'd awoken because she was coughing and climbed out of bed to drink some of the mulled wine that was still on the table. That had satisfied her enough to return to bed, but within the hour, she had a sore throat and her eyeballs felt warm. In her world, that told her she had a fever, something she'd been fearful of since suffering through a terrible illness a few years earlier. She'd contracted a sickness of the lungs and been ill with it for about three weeks before she saw any improvement.

Therefore, when her eyes felt hot and even the heavy coverlet wasn't enough to keep her warm, she knew that she was ill. Fearful of Torran's reaction, however, she didn't tell anyone, least of all Lady Penden. She didn't want to be the reason why the entire escort was delayed. Therefore, when the woman came to dress her about an hour before dawn, Andia did her best to not cough or give any indication that she was ill. Lady Penden didn't notice anything strange, and here she was, in the carriage bound for London.

But she was feeling worse.

The cough returned and she couldn't stave it off. Lady Penden had given her a basket full of food and watered wine, and she sipped on the wine, trying to keep the cough at bay, but her head was aching now and she knew her fever was worse. Huddled on the seat of the cab, she leaned against the cab wall and ended up falling into an exhausted sleep as Aeron ate nearly everything out of the basket.

In truth, Aeron may have been frightened into behaving, at least temporarily, but he wasn't a fool. He was an astute young man, an intelligence hidden behind his spoiled behavior, and he knew his sister well enough to know that something was wrong. Her cheeks were too pink, her nose red, and she was trying desperately not to cough. She wouldn't eat, but she'd had some wine and was now sleeping against the side of the carriage.

She didn't look well to him.

But he kept his mouth shut. He ate the food in the basket and pretended not to notice his sister's condition. The fear of the knight who had paddled his bottom kept him telling anyone. He knew the knight, Sir Torran, was riding next to the cab because he'd seen the man through the gaps in the oilcloth that covered the window. But he watched his sister for a few hours, listening to her cough and breath heavily as she slept, and he knew she was becoming more ill as time passed.

Perhaps she really did need help.

Summoning his courage, he peeled back the oilcloth.

Another knight was there, riding alongside the carriage. It took Aeron a moment to realize it was the knight who had escorted him out of the keep. It was still raining quite heavily, a noisy rain, and he called to the knight twice with no response. The man simply looked ahead. Aeron didn't want to speak too loudly because he didn't want to wake his sister or, worse, have her tell him to mind his own business. Therefore, he began waving his hand at the knight, hoping to catch the man's attention.

Finally, it worked.

The knight flipped his faceplate up.

"What is it?" he asked.

Aeron stuck his head out of the window because he didn't want Andia to hear him. Rain pelted him in the face as he pointed inside the cab.

"My sister," he said.

"What about her?"

"She's ill."

The knight reined his horse closer to the cab. "Ill?" he repeated. "Is the motion of the carriage making her sick?"

Aeron shook his head. "Nay," he said. "She is coughing. She cannot breathe."

That had the knight dismounting his horse even as the escort continued to move. He opened the cab door to see Andia huddled in the corner, flushed and sleeping. Quickly, he shut the door and mounted his horse, charging up to the front, where Torran was now at point. As Aeron tried to see what was going on up front, the knights exchanged a few words, and suddenly, the very knight that Aeron was afraid of was ordering the carriage to a halt. He climbed off his horse, followed by the other knight, and two others. All of them converged on the carriage as Torran opened the door.

Aeron's wide-eyed gaze greeted him.

"What is wrong with Lady Andia?" Torran asked.

Aeron pointed at her. "She's coughing," he said.

That was about all he could manage to the man he was scared of, so Torran pulled his helm off, handed it to the nearest man, and climbed inside the cab. It wasn't made for a man his size and leaned dangerously as he sat next to Andia and pulled off his right glove. As she started to wake up, he put his hand to her face and hissed.

"She's burning with fever," he said, turning to the men outside. "Didn't anyone notice that she was ill?"

Heads shook. Torran knew he should have been asking himself that very question because he was the one who had put Andia in the carriage. He should have noticed something. But he'd been so overwhelmed with his reaction to her that he was fearful to truly look the woman in the face.

That was his fault.

"Well," he grunted, looking at Andia again, who was now rubbing her eyes. "We should find a physic. Surely there must be a town nearby with one?"

The knight holding Torran's helm handed it over to another man. "I'll ride on ahead and see what's up there," he said. "I am not entirely sure where we are, but we should be close to Dartford."

"Good," Torran said. "That is a big town and there will be a physic. Go find one and take Britt with you. He can secure a room at a tavern for the lady to rest while you locate the physic."

Two knights headed out, mounting their horses and charging on ahead. Meanwhile, Andia stopped rubbing her eyes. She was groggy and, truthfully, a little drunk from the wine she'd been drinking. When she realized Torran was sitting next to her, very closely, she pulled back from him in confusion.

"What has happened, my lord?" she said sleepily. "Why… What is…?"

"You are ill, my lady," Torran said with surprising gentleness. "You have a fever."

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying, and when she did, she put a hand to her cheek to feel that it was quite warm.

"My apologies," she said, her eyes unnaturally bright. "I did not want to be any trouble. I am certain that if you just let me sleep, I will be well by the time we reach London."

"You were feeling poorly this morning?"

She looked at him fearfully. "I… I thought it would go away," she said. "I did not want to delay your departure for London."

He sighed, with some regret, and turned to the knight in the cab doorway. "Get the men moving," he said. "We must make it to Dartford."

The knight nodded and began to shout to the men around them. Torran backed out of the cab so it could move more swiftly without his weight in it. Already, it was lurching forward as he shut the door and collected his horse. Everyone seemed to be moving very quickly.

Inside the carriage, Andia was still trying to figure out what was going on. The knights were concerned, de Serreaux was touching her face, and now the carriage was moving quite quickly. She looked at Aeron.

"How did he know I was ill?" she asked before coughing into her hand. "Did you say something?"

Aeron shrugged weakly. "You were coughing," he said, avoiding her question for the most part. "He… he must have heard you."

Andia was feeling quite miserable and wasn't sharp enough to realize that her brother was lying. With a heavy sigh, she leaned against the cab wall again, closing her eyes.

"I do not want to be any trouble," she mumbled. "He should just continue to London. I will get well soon enough."

Aeron watched her fall back into a fitful sleep, hoping he'd done the right thing by telling the knights that she was ill. He didn't want her to be in trouble, but he also didn't want her to die. In spite of their sometimes-contentious relationship, he did love his sister. She was the only one who had ever been truly kind to him. At that moment, Aeron did something he seldom did.

He prayed.

*

"We've passed Dartford some time back."

The escort was still moving quickly, but Stefan and Britt had returned to inform Torran that they'd missed the turnoff for Dartford. The rain had been so bad that it had washed away the sign on the intersection. Everyone had been traveling with their heads down to keep the rain out of their eyes and completely missed it, and that included Stefan, who had been on point.

Now they were in a quandary.

"Damn," Torran muttered. "How long ago?"

"More than an hour," Stefan said, wiping water from his eyes. "Blackheath is ahead of us, and then—"

Torran cut him off quietly. "And then Southwark," he said. "We're practically to London."

"Should we simply continue, then?"

Torran glanced back at the carriage rolling along the muddy road. "Aye," he said reluctantly. "We may as well. But we will not be in London until after sunset, at the very least."

"And then on to Westminster?"

That question lingered for a moment as Torran thought on an answer. Would he take a sick woman, a woman he was charged with, no less, to the king in that condition? That didn't reflect well on him in the least. And if she died, it would be looked upon as his fault. He didn't want something like that blemishing his record.

But there was more to it.

The truth, though he was having difficulty admitting it to himself, was that he felt concern for the lady's condition beyond what it meant for him and his reputation. That woman who spoke of dreams, who had been strong against him and then shown him her vulnerability, had his curiosity. His attention, actually. She was unearthly in her beauty, but there was much more beneath the surface.

"Lockwood is closer," he muttered after a moment. "We'll take her there."

Stefan, who didn't serve with Torran, wasn't quite sure where he meant, but Britt had been listening. Standing next to Stefan, he leaned in on the conversation.

"Are you certain?" he said. "Henry wants the lady and her brother delivered to Westminster."

"And I am to deliver a sick woman to the king?" Torran snorted ironically. "Not bloody likely. That would be a tremendous failing on our part, a slight on our abilities as knights. Nay, we'll take her to my family's townhome near Southwark and let her recover."

Britt cocked an eyebrow. "She would have the finest physics in England at Westminster."

"But it is also an hour and a half from Lockwood, if not more," Torran said, irritated. "You may go ahead to Westminster and inform Henry of the situation. Tell him Anselm St. Albans is dead, but we are bringing his children, including the new Earl of Ashford, as soon as the lady has recovered."

"You'll keep the brother?"

Torran sighed in a way that suggested he didn't want to, but had to. "We had better not separate them," he said. "The lady will worry and the boy will probably do or say something terrible in Henry's presence, so we shall keep them together."

"As you wish."

The matter seemed to be settled, and Torran pointed up the road. "Please ride ahead and have a physic waiting for us when we arrive at Lockwood," he said. "And notify the servants that we will be arriving before sunset."

Britt nodded, glancing at the carriage before spurring his horse up the road. He picked Stefan up and the two of them took off in the rain, splashing mud as they went. That brought the rest of the Six, gathering where Torran was as he explain the situation to them. The decision was made that Torran and Kent would remain at Lockwood while the rest of Henry's Guard of Six went on ahead to join Henry and report on the fall of Kennington.

The situation was decided.

Unfortunately, the roads weren't cooperating. The closer they came to Southwark, the worse the roads seemed to get, and more than once they'd had to use hands and any small tools they had on them to fill in holes or ruts so the carriage could pass over. Torran himself helped fill one particular rut, south of Blackheath, so Kent could drive the carriage onward. The sides of the road were out of the question because the water was pooling and the puddles were deep, so their only choice was to stay the course.

Torran kept checking on Andia, but she never moved from her huddled position against the wall of the cab. Surprisingly, Aeron offered to help the soldiers fill in the holes on the road, but Torran convinced the lad that he was most needed watching out for his sister, so reluctantly, the boy stayed inside the carriage. What should have taken three hours at most ended up taking almost six, and when the entry to Lockwood Tower, the official name of the de Serreaux fortified manse, came into view, those who were supposed to continue on to Westminster decided they'd had enough travel for one day.

Everyone headed in the direction of Lockwood.

A long day was about to become a long night.