the spymaster was quite that simpleminded. At any rate, they would be gone from
here in a few hours, for to stay longer was to place the villagers in more peril than the
Duke cared to.
The only question was, who would go… and who would remain here?
„I should very much like to encourage Your Majesty to come with us to
England,“ Wessex said, when the dishes had been cleared away and the servants had
departed, leaving them alone. „Naturally I cannot compel you – “
Here Illya Koscuisko coughed, and Wessex’s mouth twitched.
„Say rather I shall not compel you, then, Your Majesty, though it must be known
– in certain circles – that you survive. Surely you understand that?“
„And what of Lady Meriel?“ Louis asked. There was an undertone of anger in his
own voice, but he was too much a man – and a King – to let it show.
„She shall be under my personal protection,“ Wessex promised. „There is
nothing more she need fear from the Earl of Ripon or his plots.“
„So. You dispose of us all very ready, Monsieur le Duc. But I do not wish to be
so disposed of, either to France or to England. And I do not wish to be King.“
„My son – “ the Abbé said, but Louis raised his hand for silence.
„I am sorry, mon oncle – I know how very much you have sacrificed to this
dream, and how many good men have died to keep me safe. But it is not my dream.
Let me renounce it, here and now.“
Stricken, the Abbé stared at his royal charge.
„It is better so, papa,“ Louis said. „Let it be so.“
„Has Your Majesty fully considered what your renunciation of the Crown will
mean?“ Wessex asked. „You are the kfst of the True line – if you are not King, who
will there be to make the Great Marriage with the soul of the land?“
„No one,“ Louis said briefly. „Let me be, Monsieur le Duc.“
„Is that what you will choose for France?“ Wessex persisted. „That the magic will
be gone from la Belle France, and she will become a mortal kingdom at last?“
Louis shrugged, looking Wessex in the eye. „That happened upon the day my
Either was murdered, Your Grace. I was far too young to be taught any of the Old
Rule, and all those who might know the Covenants and Pacts are surely dead. The
Corsican Tyrant has broken the power of the Hollow Kingdoms – he has boasted of
it – and whether there is ever again a King in France or no, he .will not have the
power of the Old Rule to call upon.“
„But Your Majesty – “ Wessex began to protest, and Louis held up a hand,
stopping him.
„Do not call me that; what do I know of being a king? No.“ Louis shook his head.
„If I were mad enough to claim the throne, I would be no more than a puppet
dancing upon gilded strings.“ Louis’s voice held a quiet dignity; his words a finality
that admitted no argument „Let me go, Your Grace. France’s fete and mine do not
lie together, and… and I would start a new life with the woman I love, far away from
crowns and thrones.“
Louis looked toward Meriel She smiled at him, and then looked back at Wessex.
All her arts of dissembling could not disguise the hope in her eyes.
„Very well,“ Wessex said, hesitating only a moment. „It will be as you wish.
Come with me to England, and I will see you and your bride safely boarded on a
ship bound for the American colonies – but I hope I may call upon you, Your
Majesty, should there be need?“
„For anything save to rule France,“ Louis promised, breathless and laughing with
relief. „And now my lords – and Madame la Duchesse – may I invite you to attend
upon my wedding?“
„I must speak to you,“ Sarah said to Wessex.
The Duke turned to face her. The others had already left me church, returning to
the priory for a small celebration, but Wessex lingered in the doorway, and Sarah
had turned back to find him.
„I had thought that you would,“ he said quietly. „I assure you, once we have
returned to England I will place no obstacle in your way, but you might consider
whether it would suit your purposes better simply to live apart. Mine is a dangerous
life, and it is quite possible that you will soon be a widow. It is a less scandalous end
to a marriage than dissolution.“
„What are you talking about?“ Sarah said blankly. „I have come to tell you who I
really am.“
And she did, with brisk efficiency. The strange tale was soon told – of all of it,
the part that Wessex found hardest to believe was that the Americas would revolt
against their King – or that Englishmen would not always have Stuarts to govern
men, „But the ring you wore – the one that was your father’s – what of that?“
Wessex asked. Did the Boscobel League exist in both worlds? And if it did, how
had England’s rightful king in Sarah’s world ended his days a hunted outcast?
„I never knew the ring’s story,“ Sarah said, „and now I never shall. But what am I
to do, Wessex? For I cannot go home.“
„Not unless Grandanne has another string to her bow,“ Wessex agreed, „though I
shouldn’t discount that, my little Colonial. But you were brought to this world
a-purpose – do you think you have discharged your task?“
„I don’t know,“ Sarah said honestly. „What work could the Marchioness of
Roxbury have left undone that was so important that she needed to call me from
another world to finish it? I do know that that creature – that Jack-in-the-Green –
said that I must become one with Has land: and I have not figured out what he
meant, much less how to do it.“
„As to that,“ Wessex said, „I think I may have some notion.“
He drew her gently to him – she did not resist – and carefully sealed her mouth
with his own.
EPILOGUE
The Lioness of England
The heavily-laden haywain rambled down the road to the coast in the fading
afternoon light. It was months too early for the new hay harvest to be ready, and
thus, highly unlikely that such a waggon would be making this journey, but the
cavalry units that patrolled this coast had very few farmers among them, and Wessex
and the Abbé both thought the deception would pass.
Sarah, Louis, and Meriel were hidden in the false bottom of the waggon, while
Wessex and Koscuisko, in suitable rustic disguise, rode upon the box. Koscuisko
had finally been persuaded to abandon his mount; Spangle remained behind in the
Abbe’s stables until the animal could be sent for – the gelding was far too valuable
to abandon if there were any hope of rescuing it later.
The pickets on station in the Channel would know to ,, look for them, thanks to
the Bishop of Amiens. They were within sight of the sea; at the farmhouse the Abbé
had marked out for them they could leave the haywain. Then all they needed to do
was walk a mile or so to the coast, wait until dark, and signal with the dark-lantern
and mirror that the Abbé de Condé had provided.
It seemed, on the face of it, a simple matter, and Wessex had been in and out of
France more times than he could count in the years since the Revolution. But there
was always something that could go wrong, even when the situation at hand verged
on… boredom.
Case in point: what should have been a simple drive in the country.
A dispatch rider had passed them an hour before, heading eastward. They had
seen nothing since, nor had they expected to; it was the wrong time of day for traffic
along this offshoot of the Paris – Calais road.
But there was a sound of hoofbeats in the distance. Koscuisko pointed in the
direction of the rising dust cloud and shrugged inquiringly at his partner.
If it was a French patrol, in all likelihood it was searching for them. The only
question was, would a patrol recognize them when it found them? They could bluff,
or they could fight: Wessex would prefer to bluff, if the choice were offered. He
shook his head at Koscuisko and made a clicking sound at the horses, encouraging
them to pick up their pace.
The mounted troop appeared – six French chausseurs, light cavalry whose
primary use in war was scouting and skirmishing. They were also used to patrol
disputed areas, such as the coast near Calais, and it looked as if one of their sweeps
had borne fruit, for they had a prisoner, riding, hands bound before him, at the
center of the troop. Wessex recognized the mustard-colored uniform of the
Kongelige Livgarde amidst the black French chausseur uniforms.
„A Dane,“ Wessex said quietly. „One of the Queen Christina’s complement. He
might have news of the Princess.“ The Livgarde had not tendered his parole – if he
had, he would still possess his saber and pistols – and so would be likely to fight if
the chance of rescue loomed.
„It is our duty,“ Koscuisko said piously, reaching for his sword and pistol.
„Denmark is an ally of England, or ought to be.“
* * *
The waggon was prudently pulled off to the side of the road, leaving the highway
clear for the soldiers. The unexpected shots rang out when the troop was a few
yards from the haywain.
The Captain and his Lieutenant fell, and Koscuisko ran out to seize the lead
horse’s bridle and drag the wounded rider from the saddle. In an instant Koscuisko
was mounted, turning the skittish animal and galloping back upon the others.
Wessex emptied both pistols – a provident gift from Abbé de Condé – and then
ran forward with his saber. A man on foot was at a great disadvantage when facing a
man on horseback,, but there was no time now to count the cost.
A shot whisded past his ear; Sarah had slithered from her hiding-place and had
added her expert marksmanship to the fight The Livgarde at the center of the melee
had not been slow to seize this opportunity for freedom. When the first shots rang
out, he had flung himself at the nearest chausseur, throwing both of them to the
ground, where he was giving a good account of himself even with his hands bound
before him.
It was over very quickly.
The Livgarde got to his feet. He’d freed his hands with the aid of a bayonet, and
stood surveying the carnage surrounding him, a cocky grin on his face.
„A most provident rescue, m’sieur,“ the Livgarde said in French as Wessex
approached him. Sarah and the others were standing beside the waggon now –
confused, perhaps, but blessedly unhurt.
The Dane’s voice was light and husky, and from the look of him he hardly needed
to shave yet – the bushy mustaches and sideburns favored by the Kongelige
Livgarde were conspicuously absent.
„To a certain extent it was motivated by self-interest,“ Wessex said as Koscuisko
joined him. „You were on the Queen Christina, were you not?“
„I think so,“ Koscuisko commented, and reached out swiftly to knock the
Zzvgarde’s shako from his head.
„Damn,“ the Livgarde said ruefully as his – her – blond hair tumbled down over
her shoulders.
„I’d had you fooled, didn’t I?“ Princess Stephanie of Denmark said.
Princess Stephanie told her story to Wessex and the others as she helped them
collect the members of her former escort. There was no need to execute them all;
bound and gagged and concealed beneath the hay in the waggon, the survivors
would live to fight another day while giving the five – now six – fugitives the
headstart to reach England that they needed.
And the French had kindly donated mounts enough for the party to quickly reach
the shore, as well.
„I must say, Your Highness, that such a masquerade shows a great deal of
personal resourcefulness,“ Koscuisko said respectfully, as the party rode westward.
„Oh, pho!“ the Princess said. „No one ever looks at a soldier – they expected to
see a Princess in a crown and a gown, and looked no farther than that. And my lads
wouldn’t give me away – they are my grandfather’s regiment, but it is I who wear
their uniform and drill with them. But you are Anglais, and will think my wearing
men’s dress very shocking, hein?“ she added, grinning at Koscuisko.
„Polish,“ Koscuisko corrected. „The disapproving gentleman on your left with
the terrible hat is English. May I present to Your Highness the Duke of Wessex, one
of Your Highness’s great admirers?“
Princess Stephanie threw back her head and laughed. „What a company we are –
Dukes and Duchesses, Princes and Princesses! What trouble we could make for the
French, if only we stayed!“
„Alas,“ Wessex said. „I do not need to remind Your Highness that her duty is
elsewhere?“
The Princess heaved a deep sigh and gazed at Wessex saucily. „What a bore that