ASilverMirror (55 page)

A brother so ancient that she could have offered no
temptation to him even if she had come naked to the door was just raising his
hand to scratch again. “The holy abbot sent me to tell you that he has had a
message from the Earl of Leicester. His lordship is on his way here to hear
mass at lauds and to ask that prayers be said for him.”

“Leicester,” Barbara breathed, “but why—” She did not finish
the sentence.

She knew well enough why the abbot had sent word to her of
Leicester’s coming. Chacier’s tale had made clear to all that her husband was
of the prince’s party. The abbot wished to be rid of her. If she were in
Evesham Abbey, the earl might ask to take her hostage. The abbot would have to
refuse, and he did not wish to risk incurring Leicester’s anger.

“The father abbot,” the old monk continued, “will send a man
to see you safely out of the town, if you wish.”

Barbara nodded curtly and asked the monk to wake her men and
bid them make ready to leave. She prodded her maid awake, thanking God she had
ordered Clotilde to pack everything the very day Chacier had come in the
childish hope that being ready to go would bring her husband sooner. As
Clotilde sat up and groggily rubbed her eyes, she explained the situation.

“But you owe the abbot nothing,” the maid protested, climbing
to her feet and looking about for Barbara’s shift. “Whatever he likes or
dislikes, I do not believe he will give you up to Leicester, and the earl is
too holy to try to force him. If you are taken by a troop of the earl’s
foreriders—”

“Dress yourself,” Barbara urged, taking the shift from her
maid’s hand and pulling it on, then finding her tunic and yanking that over her
head. “There is some danger of being captured, but not much. I do not think
Leicester’s men would wish to burden themselves with two women fleeing the
town. Just to be sure we have something to distract them, take the best of
Alphonse’s clothes in your saddlebags and I will take my own and my jewelry.
Then, if we must, we can cut the baggage animals free. I hate to lose the tent
and the sheets, but soldiers will always stop to examine loot.”

“But why must we go at all?” Clotilde insisted, coming to
tie the laces of her mistress’s gown. “You warned the abbot about Simon’s army.
He owes you a favor and should be willing to protect you.”

“Silly woman,” Barbara whispered, “if Leicester has crossed
the river and escaped the prince, he can go east and raise a new army. Does it
not occur to you that my idiot husband will doubtless feel he must stay and
support Edward through this new danger? If I bring warning, perhaps Edward can
catch Leicester before he escapes this area. And if I can speak to Edward and
seem fearful and shaken, perhaps he will leave my husband behind to protect
me.”

“Sieur Alphonse will kill you,” Clotilde warned.

But Barbara did not want to think about that, and shook her
head so angrily that the maid was silenced. She stuffed the sheets and covers
into the one open basket and took up that one. Barbara took the other and they
crept silently down the corridor and out across the courtyard to the stable.
There they found Bevis and Lewin busy saddling the horses. They looked at their
mistress, but she raised a hand imperiously for silence, and neither of them
spoke. Lady Barbara had never yet gotten them in trouble. Both nodded grimly
when they saw Clotilde stuffing everything of value into bags that could be
fastened to their own mounts. Abandoning the baggage animals would serve as a
bribe to any troop too numerous for them to fight. Just as Bevis was lifting
one lightened basket, the abbot’s secretary came into the stable leading his
own saddled mule and carrying two plain hooded cloaks of unbleached wool just
like the one he wore.

Barbara sighed with relief and called herself a fool for not
having thought of that simple disguise herself. No man under Leicester’s
personal command would dare pursue or lay hands on a man in holy orders, so the
chances were very great that they would be allowed to pass without pursuit if
sighted at a distance. Of course if someone saw that she was riding a mare
rather than a mule, or if they should be unfortunate enough to come face to
face… Barbara put the thought aside as she was lifted to Frivole’s back and put
on the cloak. Before she pulled the hood up, she looked at the lowering clouds
in the barely lightening sky and smiled. Was it a small sign of God’s favor
that no keen-eyed trooper would wonder why a brother should cover his head on a
fair day? However, Barbara saw no sign of any armed men as the abbot’s
secretary led them from the abbey through the town to the road that ran north
to Alcester. At Barbara’s exclamation when they did not turn west along the
river, their guide came to ride beside her.

“It is better for you to go north before you go west,” he
said. “The Earl of Leicester crossed the Severn at a ford near Kempsey last
night. Most of his troops are nigh on Evesham, but there may be a rear guard or
small troops of laggard soldiers. The holy abbot thought it would be dangerous
for you to go that way. I will take you north along the river to Harmyngton and
show you a track that will bring you out on the Alcester to Worcester road
halfway to Worcester.

His face was without expression. Barbara was somewhat
startled by the information he had given her. Because he did not expect her to
be able to pass what she knew to anyone opposed to Leicester? She gestured to
her men and reined Frivole in so that Bevis and Lewin could ride on either side
of the monk. The secretary threw a startled glance back at her, and she smiled
and nodded, slowly and deliberately. He seemed about to speak, but he did not,
only shivered and hunched into himself, and Barbara knew he understood that her
men would kill him if they were attacked.

But they were not attacked. In fact, they saw no one except
two farmers driving loudly creaking carts south on the road. They kept the
abbot’s secretary with them when they turned into the rough track at
Harmyngton, but let him go after they had traveled another two miles. Barbara
thought, and her men agreed, that any trap the abbot had set to give them to
Leicester would surely have been sprung while they were closer to the earl’s
army. The secretary looked disgusted while they discussed it and said it was
God’s care that had kept his innocent blood off their hands, for if they had met
the earl’s men it would have been by accident and not by his doing.

He was so indignant that Barbara believed him, but the
inconsistencies of his behavior made her think as they rode along of the
conflicts caused by honor, loyalty, and the need to protect something more
precious than one’s own property—God’s property. For a while as she speculated
on how the abbot’s loyalties might be divided between Leicester and the prince,
Barbara kept a sharp lookout, but there was little to see. The track wound through
a forest and was overhung with trees in full leaf so that they could not see
more than a few yards in any direction. Soon they all relaxed, feeling they
were too far north to be troubled by stragglers or foreriders from Leicester’s
force. Then they came to a tiny village. The place seemed to be deserted, but
Barbara knew that serfs often hid when any party of riders came. The quiet did
not make her wary. In the next instant, horsemen burst from concealment and
they were surrounded.

Clotilde shrieked just as the nearest man shouted, so that
Barbara did not hear the name he called. She looked in the direction he had
turned his head, gathering herself together to speak suitable lies with haughty
calm. The mass of captors parted to allow a big black destrier to pass, and
Barbara bit her lip, her tiny hope of seeing a familiar face gone. Her captor
had his helmet on, presenting only an inhuman metal facade. The solid bottom
hid all sign of mouth and chin, and the dull light did not even strike a
glitter of eyes through the barred visor. Then the horse sidled.

Barbara stared for an unbelieving moment at the shield
presented before she threw back her hood and joyously cried aloud, “Lord
Mortimer! It is I, Lady Barbara.”

The single word Mortimer said as he pushed back his helmet
visor was not in the least welcoming, and Barbara had to choke down a laugh and
clear her throat. She told him at once from where she had come, when she had
left Evesham Abbey and why, and what she had learned from the abbot’s
secretary.

“Women!” Mortimer snarled. “Always meddling. You fool. Even
if the prince had not enough troops to block every ford, did you think he had
no spies? We knew Leicester had crossed.”

He hesitated, cast a fulminating glance at her, then called
to a squire and bade him ride back and tell the prince that Leicester intended
to hear mass at lauds at Evesham Abbey. His sharp words had brought tears of
shame to Barbara’s eyes, but she felt much better when she heard him repeat her
message. He might call her fool, but he had not known where Leicester was until
she told him. His troop was all mounted, she saw, and guessed that they were
riding southeast as fast as they could in the hope of finding the earl.

Her guess proved accurate when Mortimer went on, “Beg Prince
Edward to make all haste. I will send word to him as soon as I sight
Leicester’s army. And if by God’s will the earl has not yet left Evesham Abbey,
I will try to hold the bridge at Bengeworth.” He waved the squire away and
turned on Barbara. “What am I to do with you?” he asked.

“I will gladly go on to Worcester if you think that best, my
lord,” she said, with a fleeting notion that she might meet Alphonse along the
way.

“Impossible,” he growled. “You would be stopped every mile
by the troops afoot on the Alcester road—which you well deserve—but your
husband, who is a good man and who is besotted upon you, God alone knows why,
would never forgive me if you were misused by some stupid captain who did not
know you.”

“I am very sorry, my lord,” Barbara said meekly, suddenly
feeling that she did not want to meet Alphonse after all.

She remembered Clotilde saying he would kill her for leaving
Evesham and recalled that she had laughed at herself for thinking of going to
Worcester, knowing how angry he would be to be burdened by her presence. How
much more of a burden would she be to him if he knew she was abroad and
unprotected when a battle was about to be fought? Her glance flicked around, as
if she were seeking some magical haven, and was caught by an ale stake protruding
from one of the huts. Immediately she remembered Bevis ducking the ale stake as
he came out of the alehouse at Bidford, saying they could not lodge there and
that the alewife had no better lodging to recommend than Cleeve Priory.

“I can go to Cleeve Priory,” she burst out.

“But every foot you travel with us brings you closer to
Leicester’s army,” Mortimer snarled.

“No closer than I would have been in Evesham Abbey,” Barbara
reminded him.

Mortimer hawked and spat, then said, “I have no more time to
waste on you. At least Cleeve is on the east side of the river and north of
where I hope to cross. You can ride along with us. If we meet Leicester and
must fight, flee north if you can.”

He did not speak to her again, but gestured irritably to the
center of the troop, where she would be best protected. Mortimer’s bark was
worse than his bite, Barbara thought, as they started out. They rode hard,
coming back to Harmyngton sooner than Barbara expected. Men and women scattered
fearfully as the troop rode into the village, but that they had been working
peacefully rather than hiding in the woods or behind barred doors was a good
proof that no other armed force had passed. Better yet, the small bridge at
Offensham was undamaged and unguarded.

Mortimer came up to her as soon as she had crossed. “We part
here,” he said, more courteously now that he had more hope. “If you ride north
along the river, you will come to Cleeve Priory. I hope you will be safe.
Perhaps God has kept Leicester mouthing prayers so long that he has not yet
crossed the river. In any case, I think we will be between you and Leicester’s
force.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Barbara said. She raised her hand in
parting and followed Bevis, who had already led the pack animals onto the track
along the river.

“And be sure you
stay
at Cleeve Priory,” Mortimer
roared after her, “so your husband will know where to find you and not be
worried sick.”

By the time Barbara was settled at Cleeve, Alphonse was
already worried sick. He was among the party riding with Edward when Mortimer’s
squire found the prince. The army had moved faster than Mortimer expected, and
Edward’s own divisions were across the bridge at Alcester when the young man
delivered his message.

“Leicester has stopped to hear mass?” Edward pulled one ear
as if he distrusted his hearing. Then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Did the
abbot send this news?” he asked.

The squire laughed. He had been present when Alphonse
brought the news about young Simon going to Kenilworth. “No, my lord,” he
replied. “This time it was Sieur Alphonse’s lady who carried the good word.”

“Barbe?” Alphonse exclaimed.

The squire repeated what Barbara had said about leaving the
abbey.

“Then it is true
,
” Edward said. He spared a glance at
Alphonse. “She will be safe with Mortimer, safer than in the abbey with
Leicester there.” He seemed to dismiss Alphonse from his mind as he went on to
the men clustering around him, “We cannot go back. We would be blocked by
Gloucester’s men. I will send word for Gloucester to turn south at once, before
crossing the bridge, and we can go down this side of the river and cross at
Cleeve. Let Gloucester meet us…”

He hesitated, and the squire said eagerly, “There is a
village near the west bank of the river north of the little bridge at
Offensham. The fields around that village would serve for mustering the men.”