Connie Mason (30 page)

Just then Jamie burst into the clearing. “Sir Falcon! The sentry has spotted a large number of riders traveling toward Mildenhall.”

“Fetch my horse,” Falcon said, sheathing his sword.

Dennis laid a hand on his shoulder. “Nay, Falcon, stay here. I will identify the men and report back to you.”

“They might be Mildenhall’s men at arms. Lady Mariah sent them to neighboring estates for help. I will go myself.”

“Nay, Falcon, let Sir Dennis handle this,” Edwina advised. “Give yourself one more day to recuperate. I suspect you are right about the identity of the riders, for Osgood has few allies among his peers.”

Sir Dennis had already left, so Falcon had no choice but to wait for his return. He didn’t like feeling weak and hated being treated like an invalid. He unsheathed his sword and began dueling with an imaginary enemy. With each thrust he felt strength flow into his muscles; if naught else, his fierce will would heal him.

Falcon had been practicing at swordplay for nearly an hour when Sir Dennis returned, accompanied by Sir Maynard, Mildenhall’s captain of the guard.

“Falcon, I could scarcely credit it when Sir Dennis confronted us on the road. I thought you were in London.”

Falcon clasped Sir Maynard’s shoulder. “I was in London, but now I am here to retake Mildenhall. Did you bring reinforcements with you?”

“Aye, Lord Banbury and Lord Thornhill sent men-at-arms to join our ranks and provided us with horses and weapons. If not for Lady Mariah’s cunning and bravery, we would still be prisoners inside Mildenhall.”

“I wasn’t surprised to learn that she had outwitted Osgood,” Falcon acknowledged. “The lady is smart as well as beautiful. Where is your army?”

“Right behind me. Let us find a quiet place to coordinate a plan of attack.”

“Aye,” Falcon agreed as he led Sir Maynard to an isolated spot some distance from the main camp.

Maynard sent Falcon a sharp look. “Sir Dennis said you had been wounded.”

“ ’Tis of little consequence,” Falcon replied. “I am well
enough to lead our combined forces against Osgood. Is there aught I should know about Midenhall’s defenses?”

“The castle has never been put to the test, never been attacked in its long history,” Maynard explained. “Mildenhall has no political value, nor is it located in a place advantageous to the kingdom. The defenses are limited. The walls can be easily breached, and, given the small number of men Osgood has at his disposal, reclaiming the keep should not prove difficult.”

“If Osgood were smart, he would surrender without a fight,” Falcon mused.

“No one ever said Osgood was smart,” Maynard scoffed.

“Lady Mariah is inside the keep, we cannot risk her life.”

“Nor should we,” Maynard agreed. “Do you think Osgood will harm my lady when we launch our siege?”

“I do not know. Edwina believes Mariah will be safe, for she and Robbie are the key to possessing Mildenhall.”

“I pray that Lady Mariah has hidden Robbie where Osgood cannot get his hands on the lad.”

“The boy and his nursemaid are as safe as I could make them. They are in Cambridge, protected by two of my men.”

“Thank God Lady Mariah has a friend in you,” Maynard said. “Together we shall reclaim Robbie’s birthright for him.”

“Here’s what we shall do,” Falcon said, outlining the plan he had come up with during his recuperation. “If you disagree with anything I say, tell me, so we can work out any flaws I may have overlooked.”

Sir Maynard didn’t disagree, and the plans were laid.

Mariah heard men searching the nursery on two separate occasions. She had held her breath while they opened the wardrobe and searched inside.

Each time she had remained very still, fear clutching at her heart until the men departed. Sir Martin had managed to sneak food and water up to her early this morning, but she ate and drank sparingly in case naught more was forthcoming.

During the darkest part of her second night in hiding, Mariah ventured out of her tiny hiding place. As she crept from the wardrobe; moonlight filtered through the windows, allowing her to view the damage done to the walls by Osgood’s men during their search for secret doors or passages.

Mariah tiptoed to Robbie’s bed. Tears came to her eyes when she remembered how sweetly Robbie slept. How desperately she missed him. When would this all end?

Sir Martin had told her he had neither seen nor heard from Sir Maynard or Falcon. Surely they hadn’t given up, had they?

Mariah lingered in the nursery until dawn sent shafts of daylight through the windows, and then returned to the chamber that had become not only her place of refuge, but also the place where her thoughts threatened to destroy her. She refused to contemplate the possibility of Falcon’s death. If there had been even a tiny spark of life in him when Edwina found him, she knew the healer would find a way to save him.

Mariah spent a great deal of time deciding how to tell Falcon he was Robbie’s father. And even longer wondering
how he would react when he learned the truth. Would he take Robbie away from her?

Lowering her head in her hands, she tried to imagine life without Robbie. It would be bad enough to lose Falcon, but without her son, her life would have no meaning. Despite her misgivings and fears, she vowed to tell Falcon the truth.

Mariah tensed when she heard a noise on the other side of the wardrobe. The panel opened, and Sir Martin stepped through. He had brought food and a jug of water with him. One look at his face told Mariah he brought news.

“What is it, Sir Martin? What have you heard? Does Falcon live?”

“Listen carefully, my lady, for I dare not linger. Sir Maynard has returned with your men-at-arms and reinforcements from neighboring estates. They are outside the walls, demanding that Sir Osgood surrender Mildenhall to them.”

Excitement raced through Mariah. “Thank God! Think you Osgood will surrender?”

Martin shook his head. “Nay. A siege is unavoidable. Heed me well, my lady. Do not leave this room until I come for you.”

Mariah wanted to ask him a million questions, but there was no time. Sir Martin had disappeared through the panel.

Sir Maynard’s small army had approached Mildenhall’s outer walls and halted just out of arrow range. Bellowing up to a guard, Sir Maynard demanded yet again the castle’s surrender. A length of time had already elapsed while
Osgood was sent for. Now he appeared on the wall walk.

“Surrender!” Sir Maynard called up to him. “You are outnumbered.”

“Never!” Osgood returned. “Mildenhall is mine. I will not give it up.”

“Heed my warning, Sir Osgood. We have brought reinforcements, all of them prepared for a lengthy siege. Save yourself the agony of defeat and surrender now. Why waste men’s lives for a hopeless cause?”

“You forget, Sir Maynard, that we hold Lady Mariah. Attack us and she will suffer.”

“Hurt Lady Mariah and you will regret it, that I promise,” Maynard replied. “The king will not condone what you have done to my lady.”

Osgood laughed. “He will do naught after Walter and Mariah are wed. The matter will be out of his hands.”

“That will never happen,” Maynard asserted. “No priest will wed Walter to an unwilling bride.”

“Not so! No priest will refuse once he learns Mariah is carrying Walter’s child,” Osgood boasted.

Those words had no sooner left Osgood’s mouth than Falcon rode up from the ranks, joining Sir Martin at the wall. He glared up at Osgood, his expression stark in the early light of dawn.

Osgood gaped down at him, as if unable to believe his eyes. “Falcon!” he blustered. “Damnation! What are you doing here? Never say you left your new bride to come to Mariah’s aid. I’m surprised Lady Rosamond allowed it.”

“I did not wed Lady Rosamond. We did not suit. I advise you to heed Sir Maynard’s words. Surrender. Your
men are outnumbered; fighting will only bring about their deaths.”

“You dare not attack as long as I have Mariah,” Osgood gloated.

“Bring Mariah out where I can see her.”

Walter appeared at Osgood’s side. They whispered together a few minutes before Osgood deigned to answer Falcon’s challenge.

“Mariah is . . . indisposed. You’ll have to trust me when I say she is unharmed,” Osgood said.

Falcon’s hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t like the sound of that. Just how indisposed was she?

“You have given me no reason to trust you. If you have harmed her, I will personally kill you.”

“Mariah has not been harmed.”

“If that is true, why do you refuse to let us see her?”

Osgood conferred again with Walter, and the younger man ducked away. “Would you believe Sir Martin?” Osgood called down to Falcon.

“Let me speak with him so I can judge for myself.”

“Something is wrong,” Sir Maynard said in an aside to Falcon. “Osgood would produce Lady Mariah if she were available.”

“Perhaps Sir Martin will convey the truth to us,” Falcon replied. He didn’t like the present situation any better than Maynard.

At that moment, Sir Martin appeared on the ramparts.

“Sir Martin is here, Falcon,” Osgood shouted. “Listen to him. He will tell you that Mariah is unharmed.”

Sir Martin peered down at Falcon. “Mariah said you were alive, and so you are, Falcon.”

“What’s this?” Osgood demanded. “How did Mariah know Falcon was coming to Mildenhall?”

“Ask your man Hugo,” Martin replied. “He saw Falcon in the forest, talking to my lady.”

Osgood sent Falcon an incredulous look. “Are you saying Falcon was the man Hugo believed he had slain?”

Falcon grinned. “I am that man, but as you can see, I didn’t die. Didn’t even come close.”

Osgood let loose a string of curses. Then he pressed his knife into the back of Martin’s neck and hissed, “Falcon wants to know if Mariah has been harmed. He doesn’t believe me, Martin, so I want you to tell him what he wants to hear.”

Falcon stared up at Martin; he wished he were close enough to see the man’s expression, read the truth in his eyes. Instead, he was forced to rely on his instincts.

Martin flinched when the sharp point of the knife drew blood and Osgood ordered under his breath, “Tell him, Martin. Tell Falcon that Mariah is well.”

“My lady is well, Sir Falcon, very well indeed. She will be ecstatic to learn you have recovered from your wound.”

“Very good, Martin,” Osgood muttered.

Falcon still wasn’t satisfied. “Where is she? Why won’t Osgood produce her?”

Martin chose his words carefully. “I believe the lady prefers to remain hidden until matters are settled here.”

“What does that mean?” Sir Maynard asked Falcon. “Martin’s answer doesn’t make sense. Why would Lady Mariah hide from us? If Osgood wanted, he could force my lady to appear.”

Falcon digested Martin’s words, took them apart one by one and then reviewed the whole. What was Martin trying to tell him?

“Martin, when was the last time you saw Lady Mariah?” Falcon shouted.

The knife dug deeper into Martin’s neck. He flinched but remained true to his purpose. “Why, just this morning, Falcon, when I told her that her protectors were at the portcullis, demanding her release. She said she would remain hidden until Osgood and his men were driven from Mildenhall.”

“That’s enough!” Osgood blustered, shoving Martin into a mercenary’s arms.

Now Falcon understood what Martin had been trying to convey to him. Osgood didn’t know where Mariah was. Somehow, Falcon’s wonderful, resourceful Mariah had found a place to hide, allowing him time to recover from his wounds and her loyal guardsmen to seek help.

Maynard must have come to the same conclusion. “Osgood has no idea where Lady Mariah is. Somehow she managed to hide where he can’t find her. We can attack Osgood without fear for my lady’s life.”

“I agree,” Falcon replied. “I will give Osgood one last chance to surrender. If he refuses, prepare to breach the walls. Our numbers are superior; we will take the day.”

“Osgood,” Falcon called. “Surrender while you still can.”

Suddenly a body came hurtling down from the ramparts, landing with a sickening thud not far from Falcon and Sir Maynard. Falcon dismounted and turned the body over. It was Sir Martin. His throat had been slit.

“That is your answer, Falcon!” Osgood shouted. “Come and get me if you want me.”

Rage simmered inside Falcon. Sir Martin was a good man, loyal to the end. He didn’t deserve to die like this. Falcon glanced up to vent his rage at Osgood, but the villain had ducked out of sight.

“The cowardly bastard,” Maynard hissed.

“Osgood has given us his answer. Now we will give him ours,” Falcon said through clenched teeth.

Almost immediately, arrows showered down upon Falcon’s party from above. Only a few found a home, for the majority of Falcon’s army remained out of range. Falcon raised his sword as a signal to begin the assault.

“Bring the ladders!” he shouted over the din of whizzing arrows and the cries of the wounded. He had wanted to do this without loss of life, but Osgood had refused to listen to reason.

Falcon called encouragement as men rushed forth with ladders they had been building while Falcon lay recuperating from his wound. Dodging arrows, they set the ladders against the wall and scrambled up while their comrades loosed their own arrows at the enemy. Falcon was one of the first on the ladders, the first to crest the wall. What he saw, or rather didn’t see, stunned him.

Osgood’s men had left their posts. All he saw of them were their backs. Apparently, they had the sense to realize that defending Mildenhall was impossible. They were outnumbered. They knew, even if Osgood did not, that they were defeated before the battle had begun, and were unlikely to receive pay for their services. Being mercenaries, they had fled to seek gainful employment elsewhere.

“They’re escaping through the postern gate!” Falcon shouted. “Stop them!”

With Sir Maynard in the lead, Falcon and half the army raced around to the postern gate. Just as Falcon had suspected, the gate gaped open. Some mercenaries had fled on horseback while others had just run for their lives.

“Shall we give chase?” Sir Maynard asked.

“Nay. The mercenaries were doing what they were paid to do. Doubtless Osgood has seen the last of them.”