Chapter Thirteen
Joanie gripped the sides of the small boat as they made their way across the Thames.
Her threadbare hood offered little protection from the icy wind.
Diana sat in front of her. Despite her thick cloak and the numerous veils Joanie had wrapped around her face with just her eyes visible to the night, Diana still coughed.
But they were quickly approaching the other side of the river.
Joanie eyed the docks, which were eerily quiet in the cold night.
The last time she had stood on the docks, London’s riverport had been bustling with merchants and passengers.
The palace had soared above the river, awe-inspiring against the bright sky.
She dared to glance back, past the downcast head of the river man, at the palace looming now in shadowy darkness.
She thought of Geoffrey and prayed she would never see her master again.
And then she remembered, she had a new master.
Would he search for her? At the price of one-hundred silver marks, Joanie could not imagine that Randolph Tweed would simply let her go.
Fear began to mount in her mind, but she straightened her back and pushed concerns for herself away.
She needed to find a hospital quickly. What little strength Diana still possessed would soon be exhausted.
After the boatman assisted both Diana and Joanie onto shore, she straightened Diana’s veils and pulled the rich fur cloak tighter around her shoulders.
At the very least, Diana looked as fine as any lady Joanie had glimpsed from afar, and she looked like Diana’s maid.
Their pretense of status, she prayed would protect them as they started down the dark narrow dirt streets.
Motley pedestrians eyed them with interest; still, to Joanie’s great relief, they cleared the docks without incident.
Icy patches slowed their progress as they left the riverbank and headed further into the city.
They passed clay and thatch homes and narrow alleys, dotted with fire pits where people warmed their hands.
After years of being sequestered in Diana’s room, only to leave when Geoffrey’s household changed abode, Joanie was struck by the din and inescapable smells.
“Stand up straight,” Diana said. “You are trying to hide inside yourself again. Put your shoulders down. Your fear will draw trouble like a moth to flame.”
Joanie stood straight and tried to mirror Diana’s stride. Diana moved like a queen, but upon closer inspection her breath rattled and was coming in shorter and quicker gasps. “I’m sorry, Joanie. I ... I do not know how much farther I can go.”
“Look there,” Joanie exclaimed, pointing to a church up ahead. “Surely someone there can help us.”
The double doors leading into the church were locked. “There must be another door,” Joanie said.
“At this hour, it is likely to be locked as w—” Diana said, her words overtaken by a vicious cough.
Joanie wrapped her arm around Diana’s waist. “If I asked you to leave me here on the steps, I’m guessing you would refuse me,” Diana said, a weak chuckle escaping her bluish lips.
“We are almost there,” Joanie said. She spied the door up ahead. It, too, was locked. Joanie banged on the wood with her fist. Again and again, she beat the door, unwilling to accept defeat.
“There is no point,” Diana said, leaning her head against Joanie’s legs as she continued to pound on the door.
“I will not give up,” Joanie cried, her fist sore.
Then suddenly she heard movement coming from inside the church, and a moment later, the door opened a crack.
A priest with a deeply furrowed brow held a lamp high.
He glared at Joanie through the crack, but when he noticed Diana his expression softened.
“My lady,” he said, opening the door fully. Diana smiled her beautiful smile and accepted the priest’s hand.
“Thank you, Father,” she said. She stood and stepped into the stone hallway. Torch fire cast dancing shadows on the walls. Joanie followed Diana inside, her eyes drawn to the high arched ceilings.
“My lady, why have you come to me?”
“I...” Diana’s hand flew to her head the instant before she slumped in the priest’s arms.
He gathered her close to him and felt her brow. “She burns like fire.”
Joanie nodded. “She is gravely ill. She needs a bed.”
The priest raised his brows. “Where is her family? We are a humble parish. I cannot take her in.”
Joanie raised Simon’s heavy purse. “I have coin. Your parish will be greatly rewarded for this kindness.”
The priest hesitated at the sight of the purse. He considered Diana a moment longer before he nodded. “I am Father Ambrose. You are both welcome. I will do all I can for her.”
The priest scooped Diana into his arms, cradling her.
Joanie followed him through the empty chapel, which was shrouded in shadow.
Beyond the sacristy, he asked Joanie to open a large door, which led into a narrow, stone hallway with a high arched ceiling.
She stepped aside, letting Father Ambrose enter first. After passing several doors, he stopped in front of one and glanced at Joanie. “It is unlocked.”
She nodded and stepped in front of him, opening the door. They were greeted by darkness. Undeterred, Father Ambrose walked headlong into the dark with Diana in his arms.
“Bring me one of the candles from the hall,” he said.
When she returned, the single flame illuminated a small room with naught but a straw mattress on the floor, a rough-hewn table and chair and another smaller table in the corner with a basin and pitcher.
He laid Diana on the mattress, then he stood and turned to Joanie. “Rest for now. In the morning, we will discuss what must be done.”
“Thank you, Father,” Joanie said before the door closed.
She turned on her feet, taking in the small room, and then she looked down at Diana. Her face looked peaceful as she slept, but her raspy breaths panged Joanie’s heart. In that moment, she realized there was naught else she could do but lie down on the floor next to Diana and surrender to sleep.
ALEC HEADED TOWARD the southern wing. Handing Geoffrey Mercer the large purse without drawing his blade and running him through had been the greatest test of Alec’s self-control.
The greedy, smug look that lit Geoffrey’s eyes when he clutched the bag to his chest still twisted Alec’s stomach.
The one consolation to which Alec clung was the knowledge of how Geoffrey would suffer once Alec stole the coin back.
But that could wait. First, he was going to bring Joanie to a safe place, far from the palace and out of reach of Geoffrey’s punishing fists.
The southern wing stretched out in front of him.
Straightaway, his eyes narrowed on the guard sprawled out on the floor in front of one of the doors.
He raced forward, stepping over the unconscious man, throwing open the door.
The room was empty, but he knew it had been Diana’s, not just by the finery scattered about the room, the oils and perfumes — he could feel Joanie’s presence.
But where was she now?
Again, he saw her, so clearly, standing on the bridge, her heart and soul pleading for his.
He stormed from the room. So many questions plagued his heart. He had but one certitude — he knew where he would find her. When he did find her, he only prayed that she was not as desolate as in his vision.