Chapter Eight #2
Bronwyn balked. She was supposed to go out in the middle of a battlefield? If she were lucky, she would be shot by a stray arrow. If she were unlucky, she might be captured and tortured for information—or worse.
The empress crossed her arms beneath her chest. “We will move soon, but that’s not for just anyone to know. This siege has gone on long enough, and I did not take Winchester just to see my loyal subjects waste away under that woman’s attack.”
“Why me, Your Grace?” Bronwyn asked. “Surely, there are scouts or pages who could go.”
“Because with Tristan dead, I need someone I can trust. Someone who will act, someone who is—”
“Unremarkable. Easily overlooked. You fit the bill,” Sir Miles said brusquely.
“We need a messenger who can pass unseen, and you’re just a kitchen maid.
No one will suspect you. They’ll think you’re running an errand or looking for roots or something.
” He looked down at her. He had a wiry look about him, and a pale face with a pointed nose and short, brown hair cropped short to his head, almost like a priest. “Do this, girl. Do not fail.”
She looked at the man. He showed little concern or care for the fact that his squire had been found dead. Was he so uncaring, or was he too busy for such matters? Or did he show his emotion in private?
“But how am I to get out of the castle unseen? There are guards and the invading army…” Bronwyn started.
Sir Miles gave her a sour look. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. Travel at night and stick to the shadows so no one will see you, if you want my advice. Go on foot. Do not take a horse.”
“We’ll be eating them soon at this rate,” the empress muttered. She sat down in a chair and rested her elbows on the table that bore a great map of the city. “Good luck. And, Bronwyn…”
Bronwyn slipped the note up her sleeve and met the empress’s hard gaze.
“Don’t disappoint me. I don’t think I need to explain just how serious this is, or how imperative it is that you don’t get caught. I would hate to think what might happen if you were.”
Bronwyn swallowed. Death—or worse. She didn’t want to think about it.
“When shall I go, Empress?”
“Immediately. It will be dark soon, so you’ll have a better chance of not being seen. Tell no one we asked this of you. The fewer people who know, the better.”
“If there were anyone else, we wouldn’t ask,” Sir Miles muttered.
Bronwyn breathed out through her nose. She took that to mean if there was anyone else less important who wouldn’t be missed. She was expendable; that was the message. “I understand.”
“Good. I knew I could rely on you.”
Sir Miles waved her away with a hand.
As she exited the room, she overheard him ask, “Was that wise?”
“What choice do we have? Everyone else is too important. Like you said, we need someone who will be overlooked. As a servant, she’ll just be another part of the scenery. I just hope she survives.”
Bronwyn swallowed and went on her way. Being summertime still, the nights were still quite light out, and it didn’t get dark until extremely late, well past the time she went to sleep.
Instead, she made a decision. If she was to be part of the scenery, then she’d need to blend in.
She bound her hair back in a kerchief and took a basket from the kitchen, as well as a few old, musty apples that were soft and squidgy, past ripe.
Avoiding others, she snuck out of the castle, tiptoeing through the brewery and slipping out through the entrance that Sister Joan had shown her.
She breathed in the scent of fresh air and trod down the hill, taking care not to trip and fall as her shoes found purchase in the tall grass.
The footing was treacherous and she had to carefully manage her feet so she didn’t trip and fall.
Bronwyn eventually made her way down and kept to the alleys, staying out of sight as best she could whilst men marched nearby.
She vaguely remembered the way back to St. Swithun’s and was most of the way there when a familiar voice said at her shoulder, “Mind telling me what you’re doing? ”
Bronwyn whirled around, her eyes wide. “Rupert.”
Warmth filled her chest at the sight of him. She could see him in the encroaching darkness and his familiar smile sent a thrill right down to her toes. It had been weeks, and she’d missed him.
“In the flesh. What are you doing out here, Bronwyn? It’s not safe.” His voice held a note of concern.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you find me?”
“I’ve been watching since you left the castle. I thought I recognized that kerchief you wear.”
She tensed. Had he noticed the secret passage? Bronwyn wanted to trust him. They had become close over the past few months and she’d come to rely on him as a trusted friend, a confidante. But he was allied to the queen, and Bronwyn was on a mission for the empress. She could not fail.
She touched a hand to her head and looked at him. “I was sent out to find food. They’re starving in there.”
He looked her up and down. “That doesn’t surprise me. You’re looking thin.” He peeked in her basket. “And so you found some old apples.”
“It’s better than nothing. I thought maybe I could barter or trade…” She avoided his eyes.
“That’s all you’re doing?” he asked.
“What else? Like you say, it’s not safe out here. I wouldn’t go unless I had to.” She looked over her shoulder. Bronwyn couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion that crept down her spine. If Rupert had seen her, who else had?
“But you’re a cook. A baker. Why you?”
“I’m nobody. They figure I’m easily… I’m expendable. I have no family, so it doesn’t matter.” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.
He reached for her and touched her arm. “You’re not nobody. And you have friends. You have me. And Alice. And Theobold.” His mouth twisted at the name. “What I mean is, you’re not alone.”
Their eyes met, and a moment passed, then two. A part of her relished the feel of his warm hand on her, even if it was just a friendly pat on the arm.
“I heard you… rejoined the queen’s army,” she said.
He dropped his hand. He shifted his weight and nodded. “It was the right thing to do.”
“But what about Lady Alice?”
He looked away and rested a hand on his belt. “I always was the queen’s man, Bronwyn. Alice seemed to forget that. For what it’s worth, I never meant to hurt her.”
“What do you want me to tell her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He eyed her. “You’re quite close to St. Swithun’s, where some of the empress’s forces are.”
She dug a hole in the dirt with the toe of her shoe. “I was hoping to see Theobold.”
Rupert’s mouth curved into a half-smile. “Of course you were. Come on, I’ll escort you. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”
They walked together. The city of Winchester was lit with torches in some places, and men marched through the streets, but smoke lingered in the air, and all the regular smells and sounds that Bronwyn associated with a city were missing.
There were no dogs barking or wives talking over hanging laundry.
Men didn’t stop in the street to chat or drink, and children didn’t run and play in the muddy roads, chasing each other.
The laughter was gone. The smells of horse dung, privies, and cesspits were still pungent, but there were far fewer people out.
The night air grew a touch cooler, and Bronwyn got the sense that many people were hiding indoors.
As they approached the entrance to the grounds of St. Swithun’s, Rupert stopped. “I can’t go any farther, but you can. If you’re not back within ten minutes, I’m coming in after you.”
“Do that and you’ll be slain. You’re the queen’s man, remember?” she said with a smile.
He smirked. “Glad someone remembers it. But I mean what I said. Ten minutes, Bronwyn. Go.”
Bronwyn darted into the grounds and hurried.
Most of the guards overlooked her, especially as she either smiled or nodded and made as if she belonged there.
A few guards helped themselves to the apples she carried, until she had none left.
They were hungry too, she could tell. The men were all thin and some watched her warily, their clothes hanging on their skinny forms, some with a hungry look in their eyes.
She entered the main hall and spotted Sir Robert, looking over a map of the area, surrounded by his men.
Theobold started at seeing her. He made to move, then stopped himself. He quickly said something to Sir Robert, who looked up. The men watched as she approached. When a pair of guards stopped her, Sir Robert said, “Let her through.”
The guards raised their spears and she approached. “Sir Robert, I carry a message.”
His eyes were sharper than a hawk’s. “From whom?”
“Sir Miles and the empress.”
“Bring it here.” He motioned her forward.
She set down the basket, slipped the note from her sleeve, and handed it to him.
“Why have we received no pigeons? Why send a slip of a girl like you?” Sir Robert asked.
Bronwyn said, “Someone killed all the pigeons.”
There were a few curses, mutters, and angry looks around the room.
“So it’s true, then. As we feared. There’s a traitor still in her castle.” Sir Robert breathed out noisily, a grim expression on his face. “You didn’t read this?” he asked, turning it over. He examined the unbroken seal.
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t read.” She felt embarrassed at having to admit it.
Sir Robert grunted and broke open the seal. He turned, reading it, then glanced sharply at Bronwyn. “Do Sir Miles and the empress wish for a response?”
Bronwyn stopped. “They didn’t say.”
“Very well. Tell her we will follow this plan. Go. Theobold, show her out.”
Bronwyn waited for Theobold to come to her, then turned, picked up her basket, and began to walk. They walked quietly side by side until they passed around a corner and he pulled her into the shadows. She squeaked.
He tilted her face up to meet his. “You foolhardy, brave woman. I don’t know whether to shake you or kiss you.”