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Chapter 7

News traveled fast at Coleway Castle. The bailey was unusually crowded for midmorning, and the crowd itself was unusual. It seemed that everyone in any position of leadership or authority who hadn't ridden off to the hunt had gathered around Avalene. They had lain in wait and accosted her the moment she set foot in the great hall that morning with endless questions about how things should and could be done once she left Coleway for good.

Of course, they thought they had two more days to get their answers. She could not imagine their reaction if she told them her departure was much more imminent, and, in fact, would happen that morning. Already a cry of disagreement had gone up when she declared her intent to join the hunt. The tone of their ceaseless questions had become a contest of shouts as people tried to wrest her attention from whoever held it from one moment to the next.

All the while, Sir Percival stood stoically at her side with one hand at her elbow to help guide her through the crowd, his expression utterly placid. Although he did not object to the delays in their departure nor did anything to help facilitate it, somehow he managed to get them from the hall and across the bailey toward the gates in little more than a quarter of an hour. Part of her distraction had to do with the pressure of his hand, how his thumb rubbed her arm in a seemingly random yet soothing pattern. She realized that he always managed to touch her more often than anyone else ever had, more than she had allowed any other man to touch her, whether it was his hand on her elbow, or at her waist when the crowd pressed in closer, or even holding her hand, as he had last night.

He had stayed in her chamber to plan their escape until just before dawn when they had both begun to worry that the morning guards would soon be patrolling the passageways. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that he was her best and likeliest means of getting away from Coleway before John could create some trap for them both. They had reviewed the plan over and over until there was no doubt about what part they would each play to avoid the hunting party's departure, and then to get their own horses prepared to supposedly join the hunting party as quickly after their departure as possible.

She had been surprised at how quickly they formed a conspiratorial bond, at how seamlessly their ideas meshed, and how quickly she considered him a friend as well as her protector. Somehow she had never considered the possibility that they would be friends, never considered that she would be the least bit appealing to him, but he seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say.

It was a heady feeling to hold the interest of a man so seemingly perfect as Sir Percival, but this morning all she could think about was their escape. All that stood between them and freedom were about a score of people who seemed intent on driving her mad with their questions.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to forestall a headache, no doubt brought on by the stress and turmoil. They had to leave, but the crowd seemed no thinner. "My lady!" the marshal shouted, as he waved one hand and stood on tiptoes to see over the massive shoulders of the blacksmith. "I must know how many baggage carts you intend to take with you to Wales. If they are to be ready in less than two days, I must start to assemble the train now. I also need to know how many soldiers and servants will accompany you. How many will be on horseback? How many will walk? I must—"

"You will all cease shouting at your lady," Sir Percival said at last, addressing the group at large. His voice was calm but firm. The crowd instantly fell silent, likely from the shock that he had finally deigned to speak to them, and awe that they were being addressed by a knight who was unknown to them, one who exuded power and authority. She had to admit that his chain-mail armor and surcoat looked impressive. If anyone thought it strange that he would dress in the same garments for a hunt as he had for his journey from Wales, armed to the teeth, they were too intimidated to remark upon it. "You will not begrudge Lady Avalene a few hours to enjoy herself at the hunt. Your questions can wait until her return. Until that time, prove her trust in your abilities and go about your business."

Not one person argued with him. Oh, a few grumbled, but the men sketched reluctant bows and the women grudgingly curtsied, and then the crowd began to disperse. Without thinking, Avalene started to hold up her hand to catch Maude's attention before the cook could lead her away, but Sir Percival's hand suddenly moved from her elbow to her wrist, stopping the motion. He leaned down so that only she could hear his words.

"Do not even think it."

"But I—"

"You are leaving for a few hours, remember? There is no call for heartfelt good-byes to set out on a hunt for the day."

He was right. She had meant to call Maude over to somehow say her farewells without giving away her secret, but Maude was clever enough that she would have guessed something was wrong. How on earth had Percival known her intent?

She watched the people she had grown to love walk away from her as they made their way back to the great hall or to their duties in other parts of the castle. There was little chance that she would ever see them again, or stand here again in the bailey at Coleway with the sun warming her face, surrounded by the everyday sights and smells of the place she called home; the massive gray stone walls, the earthy smell of dirt that had been packed down by hundreds of feet coming and going from the gates, the faint smell of a coal fire from the smithy and the much more immediate smells of the stables that were built along the curtain wall near the gates. Even as she said her silent good-byes to her home, her gaze was drawn to the two horses that were saddled and ready to take them on their journey.

Sir Percival's big bay horse let out a long, loud whinny and then tossed its head so violently that the stable boy who held the reins was lifted from the ground before the animal once more relinquished control to the boy. Avalene's horse, a black gelding named Bodkin, responded by shaking his head as if he were competing with the bay for attention. Bodkin and the bay were of a similar size, both large and muscular, both built to withstand long journeys. They would have little trouble outpacing the palfreys and delicate Arabian mounts that most of the hunting party favored. She was just surprised that the stable master had not questioned her more closely about the reasons she chose Bodkin for a hunt.

"Come, my lady, I will help you mount." Sir Percival kept a firm grip on her hand as he guided her to the horses. He lifted her easily into the saddle, hardly hesitating when he felt the small rucksack she had hidden beneath her cloak. He did not speak again until he had mounted the bay and they had both turned their horses toward the barbican. He kept his voice low and urgent. "If we are accosted by another horde at the gates, insist that you must join the hunt before it's over and promise that you will speak to them upon your return to the castle. We are fast running out of time to make good our escape."

"The captain of the guards already spoke to me this morning," she said, her voice just as low, "and you were right about his worries. He wanted to be certain I was determined to go on this hunt, and he did not think a woman should be outside the walls with less than three knights or soldiers. I reassured him that you would see me safely to the hunting party and made it clear that I do not take orders from him."

Percival gave her a hooded look, and then nodded toward the gates in an unspoken order to remain silent on the subject until they were outside the walls. The distance to freedom looked within reach, and yet impossibly far.

They started forward and the horses' hooves striking the ground sounded unnaturally loud yet felt impossibly slow, as if they were marking the steps to a disaster. Avalene kept her head down and stared at the reins in her hands, counting their horses' steps, wondering if she would have the courage to charge the gates if they were ordered to halt. Fortunately, the captain happened to be at the gates as they approached. He held up one hand to acknowledge them, and then waved to the gatekeepers to let them pass without question.

She finally released the breath she had been holding when the crisp clatter of their horses' hooves changed to muffled beats as they crossed the wooden bridge over the moat. The stiff set of her shoulders began to relax in slow degrees as they made their way through the village and started to pass the fields that surrounded the castle. Another mile along this road and then they would be out of sight from the guards on the walls. Once that happened, they could make their way through the forests until they reached the road to London.

"You did very well in the bailey," Percival said at last, in a normal tone of voice. There were a few peasants working in the fields and tending the flocks of sheep, but none were close enough to overhear them. However, they were still in plain sight so they rode side by side on the road at a deliberately easy pace, as if they were simply enjoying the warm morning sun and the vistas of the pastoral fields of sheep and ripening crops on their way to the hunt. "Do you think anyone suspects that something is amiss?"

"Nay, but I would have given away some hint had you not stopped me from calling cook's wife over to say good-bye." She looked into his face, and then couldn't look away. "How did you know?"

"I have been watching you all morning," he said, "waiting for you to betray your emotions in some way. You gave a little sigh just as you tried to raise your hand to call the woman back to your side. Otherwise, I am impressed. You have made this part of our escape easier than I had dared hope."

There was an odd feeling in her chest when she thought about Percival paying such close attention to her that he noticed something as insignificant as a sigh.

"We are not safe quite yet," she pointed out, with a glance over her shoulder. The walls of Coleway still towered behind them, and a group of soldiers loitered near the drawbridge. She shivered once, and then turned her attention forward again. "The path that leads to the hunting lodge is just over the crest of the hill. I took the path in the opposite direction only once and never rode very far, but I know it will eventually lead to the old Roman road to London. 'Tis about an hour's ride through the old Hamlet Forest, although I am not entirely certain I can find my way."

"I know the way," he said. "If you will recall, last night I mentioned that one of my men awaits us along the Roman road and two more will join us on the morrow. I hoped we would be leaving the fortress on our own and you know why I did not want to complicate matters by bringing my men within the walls of Coleway. We will not outnumber any search party. Still, I will feel better when we have a few more swords to protect our backs."

She had not forgotten those details. They were simply pushed to another part of her mind while she concentrated on the part of their escape that involved getting past scores of soldiers and avoiding the hunting party. Oddly enough, now that they were in the very midst of the most dangerous part of their plan, she felt only the smallest sense of urgency. Something about Sir Percival put her at ease, as if they truly were on their way to the hunt. It was a most unusual feeling, since she was accustomed to worrying about and managing everything and everyone around her. It occurred to her that she was now the one being managed. Not manipulated, as John had often tried to do, but managed, easily and efficiently. Sir Percival's calm manner assured her that he could handle any problems that arose.

He tilted his head to one side. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

"I am just thinking how remarkable my life has become in so short a time." She surprised herself by smiling in genuine delight, certain now that they were going to make it to freedom, unconcerned about what might await her tomorrow or the next day, as long as she had Sir Percival by her side. Already his presence felt familiar and safe, even though she scarcely knew the man. She had not slept at all after he left her chamber, but she did not feel the least bit tired. Her body felt tense and ready for flight, yet at the same time, forced into a false state of calm. She probably looked a fright from worry and lack of sleep. Sir Percival looked perfect, relaxed and well-rested, as if he were, indeed, off to participate in a hunt. "I still do not understand why you volunteered to come to my rescue."

His mouth tightened in what she was beginning to recognize as impatience. "Your father suspected that the announcement of your betrothal to Faulke Segrave would set acts in motion against you that would ruin his plans for an alliance. I have a talent for finding my way out of difficult situations, and I could not stand idly by while my liege lord's daughter was about to be endangered. Do you doubt my honor, or are you finding new reasons to doubt me?"

"Nay," she said quickly, "I would never cast doubt on a knight's honor. I just feel very strange, as if this is all some dream that I am watching from a safe distance while it happens to someone else. I suppose I should be frightened and anxious, or perhaps I should be teary-eyed and hysterical, as you feared I would be. Instead I feel numb. None of this seems real."

A strange expression crossed his face, and he seemed engaged in some private debate about whether or not to say something more on the subject. At last his mouth quirked downward and he released a brief sigh. "'Tis not uncommon to feel as you do when your life changes very quickly. I experienced similar emotions just after my parents died. Later I realized that I could not recall what had happened during the weeks right after their deaths, that I was missing entire days; I had gone through the motions of my daily life, and nothing all that traumatic happened during those particular days, but I still have no memory of what occurred."

"Oh, I am so sorry to hear about your parents," she murmured. And she truly was sorry for his loss. However, her situation hardly compared. No one had died, and she was actually relieved to be leaving Coleway, even under these circumstances. She felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

"It was long ago," he said, "and fortunately my brother took good care of me. Or, perhaps I let myself drift away because I knew my brother would take care of me. Either way, you can be assured that I will guard you just as diligently as my brother guarded me, my lady."

"I feel very fortunate that my father chose you to protect me," she said with sincerity. She was touched that he had shared a painful part of his past with her. "How old were you when your parents died? That is, if you do not mind my asking."

He tilted his head to look upward as he considered her question, as if he would find the answer in the sky. She found herself fascinated with the play of muscles in his neck, how just that part of him could look so masculine. "I was nearly grown, thirteen or fourteen summers. I cannot recall for certain."

"Were you already fostered with a family to train for knighthood," she asked, "or did relatives take you in?"

He gave her an odd look, and then shook his head. "I was not fostered, nor were there relatives to turn to for help. Indeed, my situation was not entirely different from your own."

"Truly?"

"I did not have an aunt and uncle plotting to force me into a marriage," he said, "but there were a few similarities."

"How so?" she asked, too curious to care if he thought her rude.

He rode on a few paces before he answered, and then he spoke without pause, his words toneless. "An uncle by marriage seized everything that my father owned as soon as my parents died. My brother and sister and I were turned off our own lands within days. We were hard-pressed to survive those first few years until…until your father took us in. Now I can make certain my liege lord's daughter does not fall prey to another nefarious uncle and his henchman. I will do whatever is necessary to make certain you are free of John and Lord Brunor."

"I am grateful for your loyalty," she said quietly. Her words caused something to flare in his eyes, but he looked away before she could be certain of its meaning. Assuming he was uncomfortable with his reminiscence, she deliberately said nothing more about his painful childhood. "I have no doubts that you will defend me with your life. With any luck, we will not encounter any trouble on our journey and your willingness to defend me will not be put to the test. How long do you think the journey will take from here to London?"

She saw him take a deep breath and then release it. "The journey should take a week, no more than two," he answered. "It all depends upon the weather and the roads, as well as any detours we might take to avoid search parties."

Last night he had explained that they would be safest if they took a ship from London to Wales. Although such a route would be much longer, her father's castle stood along the Welsh coastline and there were fewer dangers in making the journey by ship rather than overland through the wilderness from Coleway with their small band. Few if any of the search parties would follow since they would assume Sir Percival would ride directly west toward Weston Castle. The odds of being caught would fall significantly once they put a few miles between themselves and Coleway.

"Have you been to London before?" she asked.

"Aye," he said slowly. "London is familiar to me. I am often there on business for your father."

"Is London really as large as they say?" she asked. Dozens of questions about their journey had come to mind since he had announced their destination last night. "Can you really not see from one end of London to the other, even from the highest tower in the city? Are there really as many people living in the city as there are in all the whole of England? Is it true you could live the whole of your life in London and not know everyone who lived there?"

"'Tis hard to know which question to answer first," he said with a chuckle. Her own spirits felt lighter now that his somber expression had disappeared. "London will be like nothing you have ever seen, on a scale you can scarcely imagine. It would be hard to find a tower or steeple within the heart of the city where you could see the whole of the city, but there is countryside beyond the walls. You definitely cannot see its ends by looking across the city from any of its gates. Perhaps one of the church bell towers would offer such a view, but I have not put the matter to the test. As to there being as many people living in London as there are in the rest of England, the crowded streets certainly give rise to that impression but it is just that; an impression. And I believe it would be entirely possible to live your life without meeting everyone who lives in London. There is no place for everyone to gather at one time as there is in a castle. There are tall houses in vast numbers, dozens of churches, guildhalls, and public squares. Then there are the palaces of the noblemen, which are like small cities within their own walls when their nobles are in residence. The king's palace within the Tower of London is the grandest palace of all. There are people within the Tower walls who never venture into the city."

"Have you been to the king's palace?" she asked. "Have you been to the Tower?"

He had, and proceeded to describe both places in quite satisfactory detail. Then he went on to tell her about the grand churches, the market streets, the docks, and dozens of other places that sounded strange and wonderful; theaters and zoos, pavilions and parks.

"I cannot wait to see the entire city!" she exclaimed. "Will we have time to explore London before we set sail for Wales? That reminds me. Have you ever been on a ship before? This will be my first voyage. I have heard that people sometimes become ill from the sway—"

Sir Percival held up one hand to halt her questions even as he reined in his horse. "We are beyond sight of the guards at Coleway."

She glanced over her shoulder and realized with a start that he was right; they had crested the hill and the walls of Coleway were no longer visible. She had been so fascinated with his stories of London that she had almost forgotten the precariousness of their situation. Almost, but not quite. She nodded toward the path that led to the Roman road. "The trail is not wide enough to ride side by side. Do you want me to lead or follow?"

"Lead," he said decisively. "I will be able to keep an eye on you and will have your back should anyone ride up behind us. In the unlikely chance that we encounter anyone from the hunt or anywhere else, simply tell them we were uncertain where to look for the group. Once they trust that nothing is amiss, I will deal with them. However, my man has been keeping an eye on this route from the Roman road. 'Tis unlikely we will encounter anyone."

She wanted to ask him more questions about London, but there would be plenty of time in the coming days to satisfy her curiosity. Instead she gave him a brisk nod, then turned her horse and set a fast pace. At last, she was on the road that would lead to her new life.

Avalene tilted her head back and closed her eyes as her horse entered a small clearing. The morning sun felt warm on her face, her horse held a comfortable gait, the pleasant smell of pine and moss filled the forest, birds chirped and squirrels chattered. This was not such a bad way to spend a day. Indeed, she was looking forward to the entire journey. London had been an intriguing mystery to her for as long as she could remember. The opportunity to see the great city was something she had never allowed herself to hope for. Now she began to daydream about what London would look like and all the wondrous sites she would see. Perhaps there would be a—

"My lady!"

Avalene's eyes popped open at the sound of Sir Percival's voice and she drew her horse to a halt. She glanced around her but saw nothing out of the ordinary, so she waited until he rode up next to her, marveling again that this perfect male was her escort, her protector. "What is wrong, Sir Percival?"

"We are almost to the road," he said, motioning toward a line of bushes ahead of them that stretched out on both sides of the path. It took her a moment to comprehend that the bushes marked the edges of the Roman road. Even as he spoke, she noticed a horse and rider emerge from the tall thickets near the crossroads. "'Tis my man, Oliver. There must not be any trouble ahead or he would have warned us by now."

She followed his lead as he rode toward Oliver, watching the newcomer as carefully as he watched her. The hood of his brown cloak obscured much of his face. Finally he tilted his head back and shook off the hood, revealing short-cropped dark hair and a hawkish profile. His face was weathered to a leathery brown and the creases around his blue eyes spoke of long exposure to the elements. Brawny and barrel-chested, he had the battle-hardened look of a professional soldier about him. When he finally turned his attention to Sir Percival, he offered little in the way of a greeting; no smile or nod of recognition. He simply bowed his head to the knight.

"My lord," he murmured.

"Do you bring any news?" asked Percival.

"Nay," Oliver said, as he straightened to cast suspicious glances at Avalene. "Everything is as you expected…Sir Percival."

"Excellent," Percival said. "And the others?"

"They are in position near Beversham."

"This is the Lady Avalene," Percival told him. "You will accept her orders as you accept my own, and do whatever is necessary to keep her safe."

"Aye, my lord." Oliver seemed to receive some imperceptible order from Sir Percival, a lightning-fast exchange that made Avalene's brow furrow. She dismissed it a moment later as fancy when Oliver turned his horse toward London and waited for them to take the lead.

"Let us be on our way," Percival said, as he motioned for Avalene to ride next to him. "Oliver will bring up the rear, but the road is wide enough here for you to ride alongside me."

" This is the Roman road?" she asked as she urged her horse forward again. The road was indeed wider, but scarcely more discernible than the path they had just left. "I expected something grander than a trace. I thought Roman roads were paved with cobblestones."

"Some are," Percival said. "Most are as you see this road, marked only by disuse and countless grasses, bushes, and trees that have come and gone over the years. Only a few are still in use day to day, and those have been either built up or repaired."

She gave a small sniff, unimpressed with what she had thought would be one of the more interesting sights of their journey. She had always wondered about the long-dead Romans who had conquered England and she had heard many stories about their skills at building roads and walls. This road looked like little more than a beaten-down goat path, although she had to admit that it ran in an exceedingly straight line. She dismissed the disappointment of the road and turned her attention to another matter that had been troubling her. "Why do you have only three men with you, Sir Percival? That is, I know why you did not bring more with you into Coleway, but could my father not spare more than the four of you to see me safely returned to Wales?"

Percival gave her a sharp look and seemed to consider his answer before he spoke. "Fewer men mean we can move more quickly without worrying about rations and the other problems that arise when traveling with a larger group. We will try to go around most villages unnoticed, and avoid notice in general. That would not be possible with a full company of soldiers."

"Ah, I recall you mentioning that reasoning," she said. "Still, I assumed you would be more concerned about bandits than being noticed by local villagers. Some of the minstrels say there are bands of thirty or forty men who raid in the forests."

"Exaggerations," he said, looking unconcerned. "There haven't been large bands of thieves in this part of England since the days of King Richard. Minstrels are known to exaggerate tales to make them more exciting. Likely they heard of some small group of bandits in the area and embellished the story."

The minstrels that traveled from one great castle to the next were the main source of news from beyond a lord's borders. She had always paid close attention to any news related to Wales. Now that she had opened the subject of lawlessness, she decided to take it a step further. She lowered her gaze and pretended to adjust the fit of her riding gloves as she questioned him. "We heard rumors from several groups of minstrels that the king's taxes fall heavily upon the Welsh and our Marcher lords."

He made a noncommittal sound and lifted his shoulders, as if to say it was none of his concern.

"Some believe the most powerful families in the Marches may revolt," she said. "The king would be hard pressed to put down a rebellion if the Segrave, Bohun, Mortimer, and de Clare families rose against him at once. Some say my father might be favorable to the match between myself and Faulke Segrave because he intends to side with the Segraves against the king. Some say—"

"You must stop listening to ‘Some say,'" he interrupted, his lips curving into a smile. "‘Some say' this, ‘Some say' that. These tales sound like more creations of minstrels' imaginations, containing some small grains of truth with many embellishments."

"Do you know which are embellishments and which are truth?"

He lifted his shoulders again. "'Tis true, the king's tax is not popular in Wales, but what royal tax has ever been popular anywhere? The Welsh natives are restless. Conquered peoples are always restless. And the Marcher lords always have an eye toward increasing their own power. A weak king alienates the Marcher lords at his peril. A shrewd king holds their respect. Edward knows how to handle the Marcher lords. They will not rise against him."

"What of the Segraves?" she asked in a low voice, encouraged that he would speak to her of politics. Most men would not. "Even the traveling merchants speak of Segrave soldiers being dissatisfied with their lot in Wales and how their lord and his son will soon set matters right with the king."

He gave her a considering look. "Most women concern themselves more with sewing and gardens than with serious issues such as loyalty and rebellion. Why do these things interest you?"

She made a concerted effort to keep from rolling her eyes. Why was it that most men thought women should remain ignorant of "serious" matters? "A good wife knows everything that could affect her husband, most especially his politics. If I am to be a Segrave, I would like to know where my loyalties should lie; with Wales or with England?"

"You speak to me of treason?" He gave her such an incredulous look that she wondered if he jested with her. Apparently he was serious. "There is no question where your loyalties should lie."

"Can you honestly tell me the notion has never crossed your mind, that you have never considered the possibility that my father would support a rebellion?" she asked. "Or considered the possibility that you would be forced to betray either your liege lord or your king? In all likelihood, that is the choice I will face as the wife of Faulke Segrave. If you can tell me this will never happen, I will be greatly relieved."

His lips were pressed together in a straight line. "A woman's loyalties must lie with the man charged with her protection," he said carefully, "whether it be her father or husband, or even the knight sent to rescue her. You must trust that the man charged with holding your life safe knows what he is about and will know what is best for you in all matters, including matters of politics. As I am currently your protector, you must trust me when I say the Segraves will not rebel against Edward. Therefore, you must set aside any thoughts of betraying your king."

He sounded very sure of himself. She wished she felt half so confident about the Segraves. "You are certain?"

One brow rose as he regarded her and she knew that she had somehow insulted him.

The knight sent to rescue her . She liked the sound of that. "Do you know the Segraves, then? Have you met Faulke Segrave?"

Whatever he saw in her face made him frown. He was annoyed with her, his patience stretched to the edges of politeness. "Nay, I have not met the man, so do not ask me if I know what he thinks of you or his plans to marry you. I have no idea and would not venture a guess."

"I had no intention of asking any such things," she lied.

He gave a slight nod toward the road ahead of them. The clearing they were riding through was about to end at a line of trees that marked the entrance into another forest. "The road narrows, my lady. It would be best if I took the lead so you will be protected between Oliver and me. I doubt the road will widen again for many miles."

Avalene found herself staring at his back as he rode out ahead of her, well aware that she and her questions had just been dismissed. So she had asked a few harmless questions. Why should that be such a great annoyance?

Actually, what seemed to irritate him most were her questions about Faulke Segrave. She pressed her lips together. Did he dislike the Segraves, or was it possible he felt…jealous?

Dislike, she decided. If even a few grains of the minstrels' tales were true, then it was no secret that the Segraves would rebel, given the chance. Sir Percival was a loyalist through and through. Even the mention of treasonous thoughts had affronted his senses. That was the source of his irritation.

It was only in her fevered imagination that he experienced jealousy. Just as it was only in her imagination that he viewed her as anything more than his liege lord's daughter. She was a duty and a responsibility. Nothing more.

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