Chapter Nine
Grantham… Nottingham… Derby…
In four days, they’d passed through three major cities and a host of smaller burghs, stopping only to sleep for the night and then picking up before dawn the next day.
The truth was that it was all passing in a blur to Kress, who maintained his post next to the carriage as they traveled the miles, but it was a lonely existence.
Since the first night in Heckington, Cadelyn refused to speak to him at all.
In fact, she wouldn’t even look at him and would only answer him when spoken to, in the shortest answers possible.
For the first two days, he expected it and tried not to be bothered by it.
But yesterday and today, he was coming to feel great remorse for what he’d said to her.
He wanted to take it back or, at the very least, clarify.
But he refused to do it. It was better this way, he told himself.
He couldn’t chance her forgiving him and then he’d be worse off than he was before.
But his resolve was seriously failing him.
What was it he’d told Bric and Achilles? No trouble.
That was a lie.
Over to his right, Susanna was riding at her post at the rear of the wagon, sporting a lovely black eye from her fight with Achilles back in Heckington.
Achilles still had his black eye, one that was nearly swollen shut for two days and only now was the swelling going down.
Ever since that fight, the pair had stayed away from each other, but whenever they came within close proximity, the nasty expressions came out with a vengeance.
It was the only entertainment on a journey that had, so far, proven to be quite a chore for Kress.
The larger village of Uttoxeter loomed up ahead just after midday on a morning that had been clear and uneventful.
There wasn’t a bypass road around the village as some had, so the escort was forced to go straight through it, and they ended up bogged down by some kind of feast day or festival that was going on.
The entire escort was surrounded by happy villagers who tossed sprigs of green leaves at the soldiers, handing them flowers and the like.
Perplexed, Kress grabbed a man who strayed too close to ask him what the feast day was and he was told that it was Matthias the Apostle.
The cathedral in the town, St. Mary the Virgin, was providing roast pig to everyone and there were a great many visitors in town because of it.
Realizing they’d emerged right into a massive festival, Kress had Susanna hang back by the carriage while he pushed his way up to the front of the column where Alexander and Achilles were discussing that very problem.
“It’s Matthias the Apostle Feast Day,” Kress said as he rode up on the pair. The escort, at this point, was at a standstill. “There is no way we are pushing through this crowd right now, Sherry. The church is providing food for everyone, so they have everyone from the outlying areas in town today.”
Alexander grunted, unhappy, looking around at the happy revelers. “Had I known this, we would have taken the road to the north to go around,” he said. “We can turn around and back out of town.”
Kress and Achilles were trying to look back down the road from where they’d come. “I do not think so,” Kress said. “A mob of villagers has filled in behind us.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Alexander asked.
Kress shrugged. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “But with that carriage, we cannot turn it around given the narrowness of the street and all of the people around it. I think we are simply going to have to push forward, however slowly, until we come out the other side.”
Alexander agreed and he sent Achilles and Kress back to their posts. The knights were shouting to the men, getting them moving through the crowds of revelers. Unfortunately, the miscalculation with the festival in Uttoxeter would have them slowed down sufficiently.
But no one, not even Kress, could realize just how much of a disaster this day was about to bring.
*
“Look at all of the people!” Yerik exclaimed. “It must be a festival of some kind.”
He was peering from one of the small, slatted windows, the ones that were built into the top of the wooden and iron cab to allow for ventilation and light.
Yerik had showed some interest in watching their surroundings, but Cadelyn hadn’t shown any interest at all since the departure from Heckington four days ago.
Since then, all she’d done was sit.
Yerik was working on poem cards, with multiple poems that Cadelyn had written – The Knight and The Lady, a reprint of Alvina’s Lament, and a new one called The Song of Venus that spoke of a woman’s bare breasts.
Yerik had produced gorgeous poem cards and the plan was that once they reached Chester, he would go in search of the cathedral and discover who he could speak to about helping him produce the cards.
Not wanting to be accused of indecency, he knew he had to be careful and, unfortunately, Cadelyn would be tied up with meeting her future husband and unable to participate in actively seeking out poor clerics to work on the cards.
At least, that had been the plan. But the past four days had seen a drastic change in Cadelyn’s attitude and manner.
She wouldn’t speak very much; she simply lay on one of the cushioned benches as the wagon rolled along, staring off into space as Yerik quietly worked.
He had asked her, several times, what the matter was, but she wouldn’t speak of it and he came to assume she was simply nervous about meeting her future husband.
Any bride would be. Therefore, he left her alone to brood.
It wasn’t as if he could help her, anyway.
Now, they were in a town that was filled with happy people and the carriage had come to a halt, prompting Yerik to peer from the window to see what was happening.
He thought that by perhaps describing what he was seeing, it might help Cadelyn’s mood but, so far, she remained unmoved.
Lying on the cushioned bench, clad in a pale green gown with a matching cloak wrapped around her, she looked lovely in spite of her dismal attitude. Yerik tried to cheer her up.
“Everyone is gaily dressed, my lady,” he said. “Don’t you want to see?”
Propped up with a silk pillow under her head, Cadelyn lay there and toyed with her hair, a braid draped over her right shoulder. “Nay,” she said. “I can hear them.”
Yerik was straining to catch a glimpse of something. “There goes Sir Kress,” he said. “He is riding to the front of the escort. I wonder why?”
The mention of Kress’ name was like a stab to Cadelyn’s heart.
So much about this journey was eating away at her and as the hours and days ticked by, she was more and more distraught about it.
A husband she didn’t want, a knight who had lied to her…
aye, Kress had lied to her. He’d flirted with her, told her what she wanted to hear, and then took it all back.
She felt foolish, sick, and embarrassed.
And she didn’t want any part of this horrid situation.
She’d been so closely watched since departing Castle Rising that it hadn’t even occurred to her to try and run away.
All of that talk about how it was her duty to take orders from William Marshal and accept the betrothal was just that – talk.
She’d been willing to go forward with it because Kress had told her to, but now that he’d lied to her…
hurt her… she saw no reason to comply with anything.
She didn’t need men telling her what to do any longer and to the devil with her lineage and obligation.
She didn’t have an obligation to anyone but herself.
She could get along, alone.
Cadelyn knew that Kress had been riding at the rear of her carriage, guarding the door, and she knew Susanna was back there, also. Hearing mention of Kress leaving his post had her sitting up with the most interest she’d shown in days.
“Is he gone?” she asked.
Yerik nodded. “He is up front with the others.”
“Where is Susanna?”
Yerik had to move to the other side of the carriage for that. “I see her,” he said, pressing his face to the opening. “She is by the rear of the carriage.”
Cadelyn thought on that, quickly. If she was to escape the carriage, she wanted Susanna away from the rear door. But she needed a distraction.
“Throw something from the window, Yerik,” she said. “Throw anything to get her away from the door. Have her go and pick it up for you.”
Yerik looked at her curiously. “Why?”
Cadelyn stood up and grabbed her purse, the one that had all of the coinage she’d earned from the sale of her poem cards. She carried it with her everywhere and guarded it fiercely.
“Just do as I say,” she said. “Get her away from the door. Toss out a quill and tell her to retrieve it.”
Puzzled, Yerik did as he was told, picking up one of only two precious quills he had. He returned to the slat window and tossed the quill through it, straining to catch a glimpse of Susanna as he did so.
“My lady?” he called out the window to her. “My lady, my quill has fallen out. Will you get it for me?”
Cadelyn made her way back to the door, lifting the bolt as she waited for Yerik’s confirmation that Susanna had, indeed, moved from her post.
“Well?” she hissed.
Yerik stared from the window a moment longer before nodding his head. “Here she comes.”
“Is she away from the door?”
“She is.”
With that confirmation, Cadelyn threw the bolt and yanked the door open.
There were soldiers behind the carriage, in mounted ranks, but she didn’t look at them.
They wouldn’t stop her, anyway. With her coin purse on her belt, she made a mad dash through the escort and into the crowd that surrounded them.
Freedom!
Cadelyn didn’t care that she’d just fled her cage. Aye, it was a cage, taking her to her doom. Nothing mattered any longer; not her duties or obligations, nor Kress. He didn’t care about her, anyway, so what did anything matter? She was free and she would remain free.