A comfortable inn came into view. And when her companion’s horse slowed in front of The Owl’s Eye, the door flew open, and Henry rushed out. At his thunderous expression, Evie felt tears fill her eyes.
Dear Lord but she was happy to see that familiar glower.
Henry stalked from one side of the small bedchamber to the other, then back. “I’ll see to the men who are held. I don’t know what we can do for Stephen.”
“But he’s not guilty of the things Lord Fulk claims.”
“Of course he’s not. But we must proceed carefully, with John involved now. He will use any excuse to thwart us.”
“Then why betroth me to one of his favorites?” Evie shot to her feet and began a path on the other side of the chamber. “And, Henry, I cannot like Lord Fulk. You should have seen the way he behaved, heard the way he spoke. He’s not the fine knight he’s rumored to be.”
Henry pulled up short. “What do you mean? Has he harmed you? Sit. Tell me.”
Evie’s tale of the journey carefully avoided certain times alone with Stephen. It had reached the point of meeting Sir Thomas when the heavy door burst open, and Lady Katherine stormed in. She flew into her husband’s arms for a kiss of greeting, then turned to Evie.
“Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Come. Let us speak.”
At the sight of her brother’s wife and her dear friend, the wall Evie had built around her emotions crumbled. “Kate. Oh, Kate. I’m so glad you’ve arrived.” She went into Kate’s outstretched arms. Dimly she heard the other woman say, “Leave us, my love. Your sister needs some privacy. You can continue your interrogation later.”
A brief touch on Evie’s shoulder signaled her brother’s concern. “We are glad you’re home safely.” He closed the door gently.
Evie pulled away to look at Kate through the tears. “I love him, and I’m so unhappy.”
“I doubt you mean your brother right now,” Kate said. “Here.” She drew Evie to a padded bench. “I believe you have a story to tell.”
****
Shortly after dawn, Stephen and the others arrived at the small inn where they usually stayed in London. From the landlord’s welcome, he expected them. “Aye, yer friend be above stairs in yer usual chamber. Hazel’s off to prepare food. I’ll send it up, a’ bit.”
The words surprised Stephen. Who had arrived? Had Geoffrey managed to elude the guards at the manor? Surely nothing had happened to Evie! He took the steps two at a time and flung open the door. Brother Gerald stood in the center of the floor.
Stephen halted. Brother Gerald should be in Lincoln.
“At last,” the monk said. “I worried that you would miss the coronation. Have you brought the proof?” As if sensing Stephen’s unspoken question, he rushed on. “Quite by accident I learned of King John’s plans and thought to offer what help I could.”
Bernard pushed around Stephen and buffeted the monk on the shoulder. “Ah, good. We can use your influence with Our Lord.” He glanced up to emphasize which Lord he meant.
“A bit of trouble along the road, but we made decent time once we found Sir Stephen.”
The monk looked as if he had a question, but Stephen stepped up to offer his hand. “You aren’t surprised? The last time you saw me, I was bound and in Lord d’Ambrosie’s custody.”
A flush crept up Brother Gerald’s cheeks, and he chuckled. “Don’t forget. I’ve known you for a long time. Nothing as paltry as chains can keep you prisoner.”
“Yes. You have been one of us for three Christmastides. I remember when Brother Michael introduced you. Much has happened in that time. If only he were here for the end of our search.”
William threw Stephen a frown but went about unpacking the bag he’d toted in. Good. William knew how to keep silent.
The creases on Brother Gerald’s face deepened as his mouth curved down. “I am so sorry he disappeared. Never would I have expected Michael to betray us.”
“Nor I, my friend,” Stephen murmured. “Now, what news?”
“The king and Lord d’Ambrosie are expected soon. The coronation is set for Ascension Day at Westminster. And our friend at The Owl’s Eye sent word that Lady Evelynn’s brother awaits her there.” The monk leaned forward. “But you. Have you brought the proof?” he repeated.
Stephen crossed his arms high on his chest, braced his feet apart. “Much of our case lies with Geoffrey, and he is held by d’Ambrosie’s men. We must hope what we have gathered proves enough. But now we must sleep if we’re to confront the king.” His arms swung to his sides as he stepped toward one of the two small beds, little more than pallets. William would occupy the other.
“Then you
can
identify the Dragon?”
“No.” Stephen uttered a loud sigh as he stretched out on the straw mattress. “He will identify himself.” Provided Macsen succeeded. Provided Geoffrey appeared. Provided the God he once doubted took mercy on them all.
He closed his eyes, weary to the bone with sad, cynical acceptance. One among them was a traitor. He wished he didn’t suspect whom he did.
Night had fallen when a quiet thump at the door brought Stephen and William to their feet. Stephen grabbed his sword before he lifted the wooden bar. Geoffrey staggered in. Blood caked his forehead and crusted on a deep scratch along one shoulder where his tunic hung in tatters.
Stephen helped his brother to the bed and crouched beside him. “I’ll call a healer.”
“No.” Geoffrey’s weak voice cracked. “I’m well. But I’ll rest now.”
“Not before you tell me why you’re here like this. I expected you to travel with Lady Evie.” Stephen nodded when William pointed at the door. He’d fetch some food and warm water to clean the wounds.
Geoffrey released a sound between a moan and a sigh, and Stephen leaned forward. Briefly Geoffrey described his escape and how he’d eluded the three soldiers who had followed.
He lay silent for a few moments, then murmured, “Macsen will inform d’Ambrosie that you plan to confront him after John arrives.”
“Will he be believed?”
“Think so. D’Ambrosie questioned him a few times. Macsen gave…good answers. Even convinced me he was willing to inform on you, traitor that you are.”
“Good.” Stephen straightened. “That should send the Dragon to check on his treasure. Macsen will follow and find what we need.”
A quiet thud at the door signaled William with the food and water. He handed Stephen the tray. “I’ll be in the taproom,” he whispered.
Stephen turned to find Geoffrey already asleep and set the tray on the floor. A tingling in his nose felt suspiciously like the beginning of sentiment. He pinched it off, his thumb and forefinger tighter than need be, more convinced than ever of his recent resolve. This second display of emotion in just a few hours underscored Stephen’s decision to leave off fighting and assume duties at home.
He was getting too damned soft, and that could get people killed.
William’s cot sat empty. Stephen considered trying to sleep, but anticipation and determination wiped away the weariness. At last, the day of confrontation was here. The end.
He only hoped it turned out to be the
right
ending.
Not long after midday, word came that Evie had joined her brother and his lady at The Owl’s Eye. He should send word. But he couldn’t risk discovery just yet. D’Ambrosie’s orders for his arrest might be circulating, and he didn’t want to chance having to escape a second time in a sennight. Best to wait.
And what good would come of his seeing her now? Would she believe him if he told her he loved her? It had taken much too long, but at last he knew his feelings. Not lust, although he’d derive great pleasure from laying her beautiful body down.
He wanted to argue with her, laugh with her, sleep with her each night, and wake with her each morn. To watch her grow round with their children. To grow gray with her at his side.
None of those dreams had a chance unless he proved his charges against the Dragon.
****
The inn had quieted in the deep, early morning hours that saw honest men asleep in their homes. Stephen lay flat on the narrow bed, his head resting on his arm, and stared into the blackness. His mind couldn’t stop examining every possible slip in the plan, evaluating alternate schemes. The more he tried to sleep, the more intense his focus grew, until he thrust his hands through his hair in frustration.
At the first gentle thunk and rattle at the doorway, he stilled. Someone was trying to enter.
Geoffrey’s soft, ragged breathing stopped, grew quiet and even. He’d heard it, as well.
Stephen moved soundlessly to the bar across the door.
The sound came again. One barely discernable tap, then two, then three, then one.
Macsen!
Inordinate relief made Stephen chuckle. He lifted away the barrier, and his friend slid into the chamber. Geoffrey appeared, alert. Each clasped Macsen on a shoulder.
The trio moved to the outer wall before Macsen whispered, “He has the cross and other pieces we can identify. I thought him too smart to keep damning correspondence, but he has a message with promise of reward for—something, I couldn’t make out the word. Not signed, but it’s under King Philip’s seal.” He sat back in obvious triumph.
Stephen let out a muted whistle. Better than they’d hoped. “Good work,” he said. “How did you slip out?”
Macsen snorted. “I left after d’Ambrosie did. They let me go, thought to follow, see where I’d lead them.”
“Where did you lead them?”
“Maude’s chop house. Big Edythe was mighty glad to see me. We went right up to her room. I better get back there, too, so I can ‘slip’ back before d’Ambrosie returns. Edythe knows what to say if they come looking for her.”
“Be careful. You may have given him what he thinks is valuable information, but he won’t trust you.”
“Very true.” He grabbed a chunk of bread from Geoffrey’s untouched tray and slipped to the door. With one last look, he said, “Soon, my friends. If plans change before the coronation, send word to Big Edythe. She’ll get it to me.”
Stephen bolted the door behind Macsen, then rubbed his hands down the sides of his tunic. Time to settle the matter of the traitor. He lit a candle from coals in the brazier, dropped down on the mattress, and waved at Geoffrey to sit.
In a few words, he described Bernard’s report on Michael’s death. Then he extracted the fragment of parchment and spread it on the cover beside him, bringing the candle flame near.
“Can you distinguish the letters?” he asked.
“This is ‘G’ is it not? And this next an ‘e’?” Geoffrey glanced up. “I can’t make out the rest. Very faded.”
Stephen held the glance and pointed to an insignia at the edge.
“A cross?” His face fell in recognition. “My God. Gerald has been with us for years. He was Michael’s friend, close as a brother.” His mouth opened and closed, then he said, “Why would he do such a thing?”
“I have no idea.” Shaking his head, Stephen refolded the fragment and secured it in the cloth. “You’re the only one who has seen the writing. We must decide how to proceed. He’s here. He didn’t travel to Lincoln, according to plan.”
“Well.” Geoffrey took another breath. “Well.”
The man wasn’t often at a loss for words, and if the situation had been less dire, Stephen might have enjoyed the change. But not tonight. “Here’s what I thought we might do.”
****
A few minutes later, Stephen tapped their code on the door of the chamber Brother Gerald shared with Bernard and James.
All three met him when the door opened. Stephen pushed inside. “Geoffrey arrived, but it’s not good. D’Ambrosie has collected enough information to charge us all with treason. We must change our strategy. Retreat to fight again.”
“But you are so close,” Gerald said, “you must not give up. Something can be done, surely.”
“I fear not,” Stephen said. “Tomorrow, when the crowd gathers for the coronation, we slip away. Bernard, go to the docks and secure a vessel large enough for all of us. We must leave our mounts behind, but more can be purchased, later. I have funds enough.”
Bernard had already grabbed his pack and was stuffing his belongings inside. “Where do we make for?”
“Scotland. James, early tomorrow go drink your sorrows away in any inns that are near. Spread your patronage around.” Stephen shoved a handful of coins at him. “You don’t want to go to that benighted country, but you’re being forced. With luck, if anyone searches for us, they’ll follow the roads. They won’t expect us to travel by water, and by the time they’ve realized the error, we’ll be down the Thames and out to sea.”
He turned. “Brother Gerald, your part is to pray for safe completion of our mission. You’ve never failed us in the past.”
“Yes, of course.” The monk stepped back to avoid colliding with Bernard. “I should go immediately.”
In less time than Stephen thought possible, the three had left the inn. He returned to his own bedchamber for his sword and daggers, then raced outside.
Geoffrey met him at an alley. “Down that street,” he whispered. Together they set out after Gerald.
The monk hurried along several streets, turning at last into a small structure with a cross on the door. Very humble for a church. Stephen decided it required further investigation. At another time.
He and Geoffrey continued to the back of the structure. Crouching in the dark along a wall, they saw Brother Gerald creep from a narrow opening.
His speed picked up as he made his way down another alleyway toward a large stable. He disappeared into the black maw of an open doorway.
The two ducked in and flattened against the wall. Stephen made out a murmur of voices and stepped forward, only to dodge back when the voices approached at what sounded like a run.
“And tell him to hurry,” the monk was saying. “I must return at once.” He waited in the deep shadows as his companion dashed out. Quiet settled.
“Ah, Brother. Have you taken to praying in stables now?” Stephen moved into the moonlight spilling through the doorway.
By the time surprise allowed the monk to bolt, Geoffrey was close enough to grab his sleeve and pull him down. Stephen wrapped a cloth around his mouth, and they all but dragged him back to the inn.