Medieval Brides. Anne Herries

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      In the sunless alley running along one side of Leofwine Smith’s workshop, Adam Wymark and his captain exchanged glances. They were standing under the eaves, two men who had stood still and silent for some time, cloaks firmly wrapped about them to ward off the chill.

      ‘My apologies, Tihell, I should not have doubted you,’ Adam murmured, a grim set to his jaw. Since Félix Tihell, like him, came from Brittany, he was speaking in his native Breton. ‘Emma Fulford must have come here. You say you saw her leave the city afterwards?’

      ‘Aye, sir. She left by the Hyde Gate—the one that bypasses the abbey.’

      An overwhelming surge of emotion was building inside Adam. It had been building from the moment he had heard Cecily in the workshop. Struggling to contain it, for a cool head was needed here, he lifted a brow. ‘So the Lady Emma does go north?’ He was furious: he wanted to tear the workshop apart plank by plank; he wanted it never to have existed. Cecily Fulford had come here. Cecily Fulford was a devious, lying witch. Damn her—damn her and her betraying blue eyes—damn her to hell.

      ‘So I believe.’

      Adam’s hands were curled into fists. He forced them to relax. ‘I wonder…We thought that before and were wrong. Was Lady Emma on her own or did she have an escort?’

      ‘One Saxon man accompanies her—a groom, I think. I’ve a man tracking them. Told him to send word back to the garrison from her next stopping place.’

      ‘Good lad.’ Adam scowled at the workshop’s rough wooden planking. It was green with damp. ‘You say that the man who lives here is a goldsmith?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Why should both Fulford ladies come here? What is the connection?’

      ‘As yet, I don’t know,’ Tihell said. ‘Could you make out what they were saying?’

      ‘No, damn it. My English is not yet up to it. Yours?’

      ‘Sorry, sir. Mine is no better. I caught a name or two—Emma, Judhael, your Lady Cecily…’

      ‘My Lady Cecily.’ Adam’s tone was bleak.

      ‘What will you do, sir?’

      ‘Do?’

      Tihell peered round the corner of the workshop and looked meaningfully down the street, the way Cecily had gone. ‘About her. I doubt she was exchanging recipes for pancakes.’

      Adam’s mouth twisted. ‘Hell’s teeth, Tihell—’

      ‘Will you report her to the garrison commander?’

      Adam stepped out into the street and stood, hands on hips, staring towards Westgate, but in truth he saw nothing. ‘Hell’s teeth,’ he repeated. ‘One minute I’d swear she was the sweetest girl in Christendom, and the next I wonder if I’ve contracted to marry a viper.’

      Tihell was eyeing the shuttered window and the closed door of the workshop. He leaned a broad shoulder testingly on the wood. ‘You want to see inside, sir?’

      Adam held up a hand. ‘No—no need for that as yet. It would give the game away.’

      ‘Sir?’

      ‘You and I know that the Fulford ladies have been here, but I don’t want our knowledge proclaimed from the rooftops.’

      ‘Sir?’

      Lowering his voice, tamping down the irrational anger that was burning inside him, Adam leaned closer. ‘We play a waiting game, Tihell. Watch, pretend to know less than nothing, and we may draw them out. Don’t mention Lady Cecily’s visit here to the men, will you?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      Clenching his teeth against the pitying look his captain sent him, Adam started off up the street.

      Tihell kept pace alongside. ‘On the other hand, sir,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘it may not be as bad as it looks.’

      ‘Rebels are known to be in the area,’ Adam said curtly.

      ‘Yes, sir, I know. But Lady Cecily is not necessarily—’

      Adam checked. ‘You seek to advise me? Out of your great wisdom?’

      ‘No, of course not. It’s just that I…Will you report her to the commander?’

      ‘Since we didn’t understand above a word of what was said, we’ve no proof of what she’s up to either way. Anyway, what’s it to you if I do report her?’

      His captain shrugged. ‘Nothing. But she does have a way with her.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘No need to look daggers at me, sir, but she does have a way with her, and you can’t deny it. I’ve seen you watch her. And young Herfu told me that last night you and she—’

      ‘Tihell, you’re on thin ice. An old friendship can only be tested so far.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      They continued in silence for a pace or two.

      ‘Sir?’

      Adam sighed. ‘Captain?’

      ‘Herfu likes her. And Maurice. Already.’

      ‘And I. That’s the hell of it,’ Adam said softly.

      ‘She seems kind—genuinely kind,’ Tihell went on, as they reached Westgate and started down the hill behind a man rolling a barrel towards the market. ‘No foolish airs and graces. Will you hand her over to the commander?’

      Adam made a dismissive movement. ‘Damn it, man, can’t you sing another tune?’

      His captain flushed. ‘My apologies, sir.’

      ‘Listen, Tihell—listen carefully. Rather than see Lady Cecily put in some dank cell when we’ve no solid proof of her disloyalty, I intend to take her back to Fulford. I can keep better watch over her there—if she is in contact with the Saxon resistance, she will act as bait.’

      ‘You intend to use her?’

      ‘I do indeed. Lady Cecily will draw them out. If I handed her over to the garrison commander Duke William’s cause would not be advanced one whit. Watch her and we may uncover an entire nest of vipers—’

      ‘But, sir, there is another possibility…’

      ‘Something warns me that you’re about to tell me what that might be.’

      Tihell gave him an earnest nod. ‘There might be a perfectly innocent reason for Lady Cecily’s visit to Golde Street.’

      Adam stared. ‘It seems that Herfu and Maurice СКАЧАТЬ