Chapter Fifteen
For someone who had never traveled out of Cartingdon, Toby was doing a lot of traveling as of late.
Seven days as a guest of Roger Mortimer now saw her moving with his army for Wigmore Castle in the Welsh Marches.
She was seeing more of England than she had ever seen in her life but she wasn’t enjoying it in the least.
Her ribs were much better thanks to a good deal of rest and Timothy’s skilled care.
But she was still too uncomfortable to ride a horse so she sat in one of Mortimer’s provisions wagons, tightly bundled up against the winter weather.
Surrounded by a massive army of hundreds and hundreds of men, the troop movement was an impressive sight and a master scheme of tactical planning.
Kenneth rode beside her on a big Belgian warmblood that Mortimer had graciously loaned him.
It was a young horse, mean and muzzled, but Kenneth handled him with skill.
He had been allowed to regain his armor but not his weapons, including his beloved crossbow.
Mortimer had taken that from him. But Kenneth was nonetheless allowed the dignity of his station as a knight, riding as if he had not been stripped of his broadsword and bow.
Toby would have been more at ease if Hamlin de Roche hadn’t been so close to her.
The dark, ugly knight rode just in front of the wagon.
She had recognized him as the same man who had invaded Forestburn, remembering how he had tried to get his hands on Edward.
He would turn around every so often, glance at her and then cast a challenging glare at Kenneth.
But the big blond knight kept his eyes straight ahead or on Toby and ignored the man who was trying to bait him.
Seated on the wagon bench next to the soldier driving the team of horses, Toby eventually grew bored and motioned Kenneth towards her.
He reined the big stallion next to her, struggling with the animal as it tossed its head and tried to fight him.
Toby watched with a frown, trying not to get bumped.
“They could not have given you a more docile animal?” she wanted to know. “I do not believe this horse has ever been ridden.”
Visor raised, the corner of Kenneth’s mouth twitched. “He is as gentle as a kitten.”
“A raging kitten, you mean.”
Kenneth lost his struggle against the smile. “Did you call me over here to complain about my horse?”
She pursed her lips at him, shifting on the bench to a more comfortable position. “I did not,” she snapped without force. “I called you over here to find out where we are.”
Kenneth looked around, drawing in a thoughtful breath as he did so. “Somewhere to the west of Leeds, I believe,” he said. “Given our rate of travel, that would be my best guess.”
“How much further?”
Kenneth looked at her. “Another week or more. It is difficult to move this many men in this weather.”
Toby looked around, at de Roche several paces up ahead, at Mortimer and his retainers far to the front, before turning back to Kenneth. “Do you think Tate knows where we are?” she asked softly.
Kenneth nodded thoughtfully. “He knows where we are headed. We know that Mortimer has sent him a missive to that effect.”
“Will he be waiting for us at Wigmore Castle?”
“He will do what is necessary and right, my lady.”
It wasn’t much of an answer. She didn’t realize until later that Kenneth had been purposely ambiguous in case anyone was close enough to hear his answer. Toby, however, was left feeling depressed and uncertain.
“What will happen to us once we get to Wigmore?” she asked.
Kenneth shook his head. “I honestly do not know.”
“Are they going to throw me in the vault?”
“I would sincerely doubt it.”
“Are they going to throw you in the vault?”
“That is a possibility.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly?”
He could see that he had frightened her. He didn’t want to tell her what he really thought, but upon reflection, it was better if he did so she was prepared. He did not want her to be startled when, and if, the situation took a distressing turn.
“It is a possibility but I doubt it,” he lowered his voice. “But you must prepare yourself for the possibility that I will no longer be allowed to shadow you. Since your health is returning, I am not sure Mortimer would see any need for me to remain with you.”
He had only succeeded in frightening her more. “Oh, Kenneth,” she gasped. “He would not… they would not kill you, would they?”
He shook his head. “Nothing so drastic, I think. But he could very well send me elsewhere as a hostage.”
Her eyes welled. “You cannot leave me,” she whispered. “I will not allow it.”
He sought to soothe her. “No need to fret. Nothing will happen for quite some time yet.”
She sniffled, wiping her nose that was red with the cold. De Roche turned around at that point, noticed her distressed expression, and reined his horse back towards the wagon.
The man was big and ugly. Everything about him bled of evil. His muddy gaze moved between Toby and Kenneth as flakes of snow adhered themselves to the dirty beard exposed on his face.
“Is something amiss, Lady de Lara?” he asked. “Do you require something?”
Toby didn’t like the man; that much was plain. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not from you.”
De Roche smiled, his stained teeth ugly behind his thick lips. “Spoken like a true de Lara. Pride is never in short supply.”
Toby looked away from him, having no desire to engage in any conversation.
But de Roche wasn’t finished with her yet; he’d not had much contact with the lady for the fact that she had been recuperating from cracked ribs.
This was, in fact, the first time he’d been near her since his return from chasing her husband from Harbottle and he remembered what an exquisite woman she was from the day he had seen her at Forestburn.
Aye, he remembered her well; he hadn’t known she was de Lara’s wife at the time, which was a pity.
He might have paid more attention to her but he had been more concerned with capturing the young king at the time.
Lady de Lara had prevented him from doing so and he never forgot it. He was a man with a grudge.
“Tell me something, St. Héver,” he said casually, his gaze moving over their snowy and cold surroundings. “Do you stay so close to the lady because it is your intention to claim de Lara’s widow? I can hardly blame you; she is a pretty little thing.”
Toby’s head snapped to the knight, her eyes wide. Before she could work up a righteous explosion, Kenneth reached out to touch her arm. She looked at him, eyes welling and accusing, but he shook his head at her calmly. She understood his silent implication and she bit her lip, lowering her head.
“I stay close to the lady to protect her from fools like you,” Kenneth said steadily.
“And as much as you would like to rattle her, you and I both know that Tate is alive and well. Do not let your bitterness show because the man has once again evaded you. He toys with you as a cat toys with a mouse.”
De Roche turned towards Kenneth with a baleful eye. “I would not be so confident that de Lara is still alive. He was crossing a bridge when I saw it collapse. He fell into the frozen river and was swept away as I watched.”
Kenneth waited for Toby to respond but, to her credit, she kept her head lowered. The knight knew that de Roche was trying to upset her and that fueled very uncharacteristic anger within him. His jaw ticked faintly.
“You should hear how we laugh at you, Hamlin,” Kenneth’s voice was seductive, gritty. “You have provided us hours of entertainment.”
“It shall not last.”
“I beg to differ; this mere woman bested you. Either that says a great deal for her skills or not very much for your own. You are a pathetic excuse for a knight.”
“We shall see.”
“I anxiously await the day.”
The air was crackling with hazard. Toby’s head came up and her big eyes focused on Kenneth. The knight, however, was wearing that oddly amused expression again, the same one he had held when he had told her of all of the knights he had thrashed upon his capture. He is enjoying this, she thought.
“Do not provoke him, Kenneth,” she whispered sternly. “You are not carrying any weapons.”
Kenneth glanced at her before returning his attention to de Roche. “I do not need any weapons against him,” he said loud enough for Hamlin to hear.
“My mother could best you, St. Héver.”
“And your mother was a tasty bit of flesh when I bedded her.”
De Roche suddenly reined his horse around.
With a roar, he charged at Kenneth but Toby suddenly stood up to defend him, throwing herself in front of Kenneth.
She was half way across his lap when de Roche rushed at him, sword drawn.
Only fast thinking by Kenneth saved Toby from being gored; he very swiftly reined his horse around so that his back was facing de Roche.
The man’s broadsword glanced off of his armor.
But he was still furious and Kenneth was in a very bad position with Toby lying across his lap.
Quickly, Kenneth dropped Toby to the ground.
She landed on her feet but stumbled backwards, her balance off with the pain in her torso.
Any movement was difficult. As Toby watched in horror, de Roche charged Kenneth again with his sword but Kenneth managed to side step him, grabbing the hilt of the sword as de Roche’s horse slipped in the snow.
Suddenly, Kenneth had a weapon and he used the butt end to smash de Roche on the back of the neck.
De Roche started to go down, but not before he unsheathed a dirk that was strapped against his leg.
As he fell forward, he shoved the dirk into Kenneth’s right thigh.