Chapter Ten #2
St. Alban shook his head. “There is no time, Brogan.” When the man opened his mouth to protest, St. Alban shut him down with a raised hand.
“If you go to her now, I can predict that you will not be separated from her before morning. You will not want to leave her and by morning we will have lost much precious time. If you return to London now, you can be there by morning, collect the armor, and ride hard to catch up to us. There is no time to waste.”
Brogan’s indecision was back. “But…”
St. Alban shook his head firmly, his hands on Brogan’s arms. “Nay, lad, you cannot go to her. She will never let you go and you know that. If there is any chance of our plan succeeding, then you must return for your father’s armor.
Considering how slowly the party is traveling, I would suspect you can catch up to us in two days if you ride hard. ”
Brogan gazed at him a long moment. “Very well,” he could hardly spit out the words. He wanted to go to Avalyn so badly that he ached, but he knew that St. Alban was right. “And when I catch up to you, then what?”
“Then I teach you what I know. And you go to Guerdley Cross and swear fealty to Aubrey as Sir Tygor Gervaise.”
“And then what?”
St. Alban’s expression tightened. “You bide your time and wait for the proper moment to spirit the lady and your daughter away. Go back to Saxony where you came from. But until then, the Sirens will be your eyes and ears with Lady Avalyn and I will be your aged father who happens to travel with you.”
“But you are English. We do not speak the same way.”
“I am not your real father. Your mother married me after you were born.”
Brogan drew in a long breath, his gaze moving to his mother and Lake dozing in the corner. “What of Mama?”
“She is my wife and the child is yours. Your wife died in childbirth.”
“You are sure this will work?”
“It will work if you play the part you were born to play. You were born to be a knight, Brogan. Have no doubt.”
It was smart, convenient and plausible. Brogan felt more hope than he had in a long time. Hope filled him with power, and power with determination. He looked at the Sirens, still huddled on the bed.
“Thel,” he addressed her far more kindly than he ever had. “You will tell the lady what has happened. Tell her I have not forgotten her.”
Thel nodded. “I will, Brogan.”
“Tell her… tell her that I will come to her and to have faith.”
“I will.”
There was nothing more to say beyond the obvious.
They all knew the stakes and they all knew the part they played in them.
Brogan went to his mother and, putting a hand on her shoulder, bent down and kissed the baby on the cheek.
She slept soundly. With a lingering glance at the sleeping child, he gathered his saddle bags, his cloak, and fled the cottage.
When he was gone, the room felt eerily vacant as if all of the life had suddenly blown out of it.
Thel rose hesitantly and went to St. Alban, still seated by the roaring flames that were spilling black smoke into the chamber.
She knelt next to the old man, noticing that he suddenly looked very tired.
She wondered if his determination, his bravery, had all been an act for Brogan’s sake.
She wondered if this scheme would really work.
“Are you all right, St. Alban?” she asked softly.
He looked at her, a wan smile on his face. “Of course, beauty,” he patted her head. “You and the other girls go to sleep. I shall wake you well before dawn.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
Thel did as she was told, but it was clear there was some measure of hesitation.
St. Alban didn’t look at all well and that concerned her.
She wondered if this undertaking was too much.
But she obediently climbed into the bed with the other three girls and went to sleep.
In the corner, Mama Starke also fell asleep to visions of a dozen grandchildren with her son’s strength and Avalyn’s beauty.
Only St. Alban did not sleep. He sat by the flames, staring off into the night, wondering if, indeed, his plan was going to work.
*
A soft knock rattled the cottage door. Avalyn sat bolt upright and rubbed her eyes, realizing at that moment that she had fallen asleep somewhere in her wait for Brogan.
She had no idea what time it was, but the fire in the hearth was a pile of glowing embers, so it must be very late indeed.
Shaking off her grogginess, she went to the door.
She was fully expecting to find Brogan. Instead, three small women were standing on her step. She recognized the Sirens immediately.
Thel bobbed a curtsy. “My lady,” she said, reading the woman’s confusion. “It is an hour or so before dawn. We have come to help you prepare for the day.”
“Dawn?” Avalyn looked at the sky; the east was turning faint shade of gray. She stepped back to allow the women inside. When the door closed, she turned to Thel. “Where is Brogan? Why hasn’t he come?”
Thel smiled timidly. “He says to tell you that he has not forgotten about you. He also says to tell you that he will indeed come to you and to have faith.”
Avalyn lifted an eyebrow, realizing she had not received a straight answer. “Where is he?”
“He has gone back to London, my lady.”
Now she was thoroughly puzzled. “Back to London?” she repeated. “Why?”
Thel pulled back the hood of her cloak. “There is little time before your party leaves, my lady,” she said. “I saw the soldiers already preparing the carriage. Perhaps I can tell you while we help you dress.”
“He’s all right, isn’t he?”
“He is fine.”
Still exhausted, and disappointed to boot, Avalyn was compliant as Thel moved to help her off with the heavy surcoat that she had slept in.
Aggie and Noe, meanwhile, were spread out across the room, one of them putting stoking the embers and putting water on to boil and the other one throwing open the great cluster of trunks.
Noe cooed over the lovely garments, drawing a quelling look from Thel.
“What will you wear today, my lady?” Thel asked as she began to unlace the back of Avalyn’s shift.
Avalyn’s mind was still a bit muddled, sleepy, filled with thoughts of Brogan’s absence. “There is a gray woolen surcoat with rabbit lining and a matching shift,” she said distractedly. “You can find the hose and shoes in one of the smaller cases.”
Aggie and Noe were delighted to be able to rummage through the beautiful garments.
Once in a while they would hold one up to themselves as if imagining what they would look like in it, but then the other one would poke her and they would continue on their quest. Still, the pretty things were tempting.
As the water warmed and Avalyn’s shift came off completely, Thel used folded linen squares that she had found neatly packed to sponge her mistress off.
Aggie had found a phial of tuberose oil and poured a generous dose into the warm water. The sweet fragrance filled the room.
“Why did he go back to London?” Avalyn asked Thel as the woman pinned her hair up high atop her head so it would not get wet.
Thel slowed in her task of bathing. Her movements grew thoughtful, lethargic. She picked up a wet cloth and wiped it down Avalyn’s back. “To retrieve his father’s armor.”
Avalyn’s brow furrowed. “His father’s armor? Why would he do that?”
Thel moved to the shoulders and arms of the lady, admiring the woman’s stunning body as she cleaned her.
She had a beautiful shape with a slender torso and full, round breasts.
She could imagine Brogan touching the lady’s body, his mouth on tender places and his hands touching her intimately.
The thought was enough to bring heat to her cheeks.
“Because he and St. Alban have decided that he should pose as a knight and swear fealty to your betrothed,” Thel was having a difficult time focusing with thoughts of Brogan and the lady doing private things.
“Brogan is to assume his father’s identity as a knight.
St. Alban said it was the best way for him to get close to you and then take you and your daughter away to Saxony. ”
Avalyn’s eyes widened and she turned to the woman, grasping her hands to force her to stop in her task. “Are you serious?” she hissed. “Brogan will be walking right into the lion’s den. They will eat him alive if he is discovered.”
Thel fixed her in the eye. “St. Alban says that your betrothed has never seen Brogan. Is this true?”
Avalyn thought very hard. She could not remember a time that Charles and Brogan had come into contact. But she did not know if St. John and Brogan knew one another on sight, and that thought alone worried her tremendously.
“I believe so,” she said contemplatively. “But Charles has a knight who is a seasoned fighting man. I do not know if he knows Brogan on sight.”
“Who is Inglesbatch?”
“He is my knight.”
“And he knows Brogan?”
“He does.”
“Will he tell your betrothed of Brogan’s true identity?”