Rivals for the Crown (50 page)

She nodded. Two men stayed with her, the others left with Kieran. They would stay below, to sound the alarm and stop any attempt to rescue Langton.

And they waited. Langton glared at her constantly and began to bang his feet on the floor. She held her knife before her, showing him the blade.

"Make any more noise," she said, "and I'll use this. You know I will do it."

He stopped moving. They waited.

The church bells tolled nine, then ten. Then eleven. Outside, the music quieted. Most of the
revellers
had gone, and Newcastle settled into the winter night. A stiff wind came up, rattling the doors and driving frigid air through the shuttered window. It blew out one of the candles, then another, and Isabel shivered and shielded the third. And prayed.

TWENTY-TWO

Ror
y lay on his back in the dark, running his fingers over the

wall at his side, counting the stones for the thousandth time. There were still fifteen within his reach, as there had been each time. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep but knowing he would lie here, as he had every night, listening to the rustle of rats in the casks and muted sounds from the Great Hall above.

He'd overheard the guards talking among themselves and knew Langton had arrived. It was only a matter of time until Langton so
ught him out, and God only ken
what that visit would bring. Langton would remember him, he was sure.

If only he knew that Isabel had left Newcastle. His own fate was in God's hands now. He would wait until his journey south to try to escape. And he knew that if he was ever free again, he'd rather face death than a lifetime of imprisonment.

He'd tried to stay strong, moving his body and mimicking sword play, to the amusement of the men who guarded him. He did not care what they thought. He had to stay fit. It would be easy to simply roll himself in the skimpy cover they'd thrown to him and sleep away both day and night, if only his thoughts would let him. But wiser to keep moving and wait for a chance. The door opened again and a shaft of light hit the ceiling. He could hear voices, several, then one clearly. "At the end. But mind yourselves. He's been violent before. Hold the torch high."

Rory rose to his feet as the sound of footsteps grew louder and the wavering light approached. Three men came into view, then two more. All were dressed in uniforms of the king's army, all armed. One held a pitch torch high, casting stark shadows on the walls behind him. Rory steeled himself as the men moved forward, and he looked from one to the other. These were the men who would take him to London. He looked at the last man, the tallest one, and found himself gazing, his heart leaping, into the eyes of William Wallace.

"Arms out," the guard said, coming forward with a length of rope.

Rory extended his arms, but not quite together, as the man wrapped them in rope. William's face betrayed nothing as Rory was led out of the cell. The men held in the next cell started shouting, one asking to be freed, the others jeering at Rory, but no one acknowledged them, and no one spoke as they moved down the aisle of wine casks toward the stairs.

As they cleared the last of the casks, Rory heard movement behind him and turned to see two men slumped on the floor, dead or dying. Kieran stood over one, Edgar over another.

William grabbed a guard—the one holding the rope—by the neck, pushing him against the wall. The last guard backed down the aisle of casks. Kieran disappeared after him, Edgar at his heels.

"You have two choices," William said. "Die now, or show us the sally port."

"You'll never get out of the grounds," the guard said.

"Not a good decision," William said and raised a long knife.

The man swallowed visibly. "I'll show you. But it's locked."

"Where's the key?" William asked.

"My commander has it. In the guardroom of the Black Gate."

"We'll not get through that," Rory said.

"No." William gave Rory a grin, then looked at the guard. "Strip, friend."

It took but a moment for them to take the rope from Rory's arms. He peeled his clothing from himself and took that of the guard.

"Back in the cell with ye," Kieran said and pulled the naked man down the aisle. He returned in a moment and handed Rory the cell key. "To remind yerself of yer stay in Newcastle, cousin."

Rory grinned and pulled the last of the guard's clothing on.

"Cover yer hair, Rory," Kieran said, "or it will give ye away."

Edgar led the way as they walked slowly up the spiral staircase and through the throngs in the Great Hall, sauntering as though they, too, were among the men who ate at the long wooden tables. No one spoke to them as they wove their way past the troops. No one even seemed to notice them. They did not look at each other as they passed through the tall door and down the stairs to the yard.

A group of knights was approaching the keep, pulling off gloves and removing cloaks as their horses were being led to the stables. Rory and the others stepped aside, keeping their heads down, as the knights passed. Rory waited until the knights were at the top of the stairs before he looked up. One lingered at the door, looking down at them, then stepped forward into the light, his face now visible.

"God's blood," Rory whispered.

Henry de Boyer met his gaze, then looked at the others with Rory, lighting on Kieran before returning to Rory. He did not move.

William's gaze followed Rory's. "Let's go. To the postern gate."

Rory stood a moment longer, looking up at de Boyer. He could feel his heart beat in his chest as their gazes held. Henry walked into the building.

"Jesu," Kieran whispered.

"Come," William said. "Walk. Now."

They crossed the yard and rounded the edge of the keep, passing other soldiers who glanced at them curiously but did not stop them. There was a bad moment at the postern gate when they were questioned, but Edgar laughed and handed the guard a coin. "More for you on our way back in if you keep your silence," he said in a Yorkshire accent. "I told them that it's the best brothel I've been to and they want to see if I'm correct."

"You'll pay for all of us if we're not," Kieran said, and they all laughed.

The guard joined their laughter. "The one near the church? That one?"

Edgar nodded. "Worth the coin."

"I was there last night, sir," the guard said.

"See?" Edgar turned to Kieran. "I told you."

"Best enjoy yerselves while you're here, lads," the guard said. "You'll only get Scottish tail when we move north."

"I think I'll go every night," Kieran said.

The guard was still laughing as he closed the gate behind them.

As soon as they were well away from the castle, Rory clapped the others on the shoulder. "There was never a man so happy to see such bastards as ye three! How can I thank ye for coming to get me?"

"Let's get out of Newcastle first," William said. "Then we'll accept your thanks. I thought we were done when that knight saw you. Is that de Boyer?"

"Aye," Rory said. "It is."

"All he had to do was say one word and we would have been taken right there," Kieran said. "I dinna understand the man."

"Nor I," William said. "But does it matter?"

"No," Rory said. But it did. And he knew that in Henry's place he would have done the same thing, for Henry had tried to keep Isabel safe. "Where is she?"

"In a house, not far away. With Walter Langton," Kieran said and told him of their plan as they walked. "We'll either get out tonight, or at dawn and she'll follow."

"No," William said. "She'll come with us. We have soldier's garb for her."

"And Langton?" Edgar asked. "Alive, or dead?"

"Rory's choice."

Rory shook his head. "Isabel's choice." He followed Kieran into the house. The men waiting there lowered their weapons as they saw him.

"MacGannon!" one said. "We thought never to see ye again, lad."

Rory grinned. "I thought the same, sir. Where is she?"

"Up there."

"Langton's still bound tight," another said, "but he's been quiet."

Rory took the stairs three at a time, being as quiet as he could. Outside the door to the room where Isabel waited, he paused. Then he opened the door, and the men inside greeted him. He answered them, but all he saw was Isabel.

She rose from the chair on which she'd been seated, opening her arms. He flew across the room, pulling her into his arms and kissing her.

"Rory," she whispered, then lay her head on his shoulder, crying.

"Whist, lass, dinna weep. We're together again," he whispered as she clung to him. On the other side of the room, Langton lay on the floor, bound securely. "Let's get ye out of here and away from that vermin. D'ye want me to kill him?"

She turned to look at Langton. "No," she said. "Let him live. I want him to remember this night, that once again we defeated him. Take his clothes. Leave him naked and bound and let them find him thus."

That is what they did.

It took only a few moments for Isabel to change into the soldier's clothing they'd secured for her. She refused to think of what lived in the foul-smelling wool, glad that the clothes were too large for her and she was able to stuff her own clothing inside it, next to her skin. The satchel had to be left behind. They dropped it outside a busy inn where it was sure to be found and closeted away. She salvaged a few things, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but escaping. Rory was delighted to have his sword back, and thrust it in the sheath of the uniform he wore. And then they were away.

Snow began to fall as they mounted their horses and started through the streets. The gates were opened wide and soldiers poured outside.

William turned to Rory as they approached the southern gate. "If de Boyer tells them we're dressed like this—"

"He willna have told them," Rory said.

"Do you know the man that well?"

"He willna do anything to risk Isabel. He kens she's here."

"You're sure of him?"

"I am," Rory said. But still his heart pounded as they came up to the gate.

The gatekeepers waved them through. And they were out.

He held her in his arms all night, mindful of the others sleeping nearby, but unable to stop touching her. She clutched him to her and told him of all that had happened while they'd been apart. He traced kisses down her neck and cupped her breast under the cover, whispering words of his love. And at last they slept.

He woke first, opening his eyes to see a cloud of her hair and the curve of her cheek. He would get her to Scotland and marry her the first day and never again would Henry de Boyer have a claim on her. Never again would she face the Langtons of the world. Never again would she be in danger.

She turned sleepily in his arms, and he felt his response as their bodies touched, even fully clothed as they were. He wanted to tear those clothes from her, to see her naked again, to thrust deep inside that luscious body until he could not move. Mixed with the

physical need for her was his determination to get her out of England for all time. Edgar had sent Sarah north, near Inverness, to stay with his cousins, fearing Edward's invasion. Sarah wrote that she was happy in her new home. Edgar did not lie awake envisioning dreadful things happening to her, and Rory wanted the same sense of peace.

"I swear I will care for ye always, Isabel." He kissed her cheek. "I love ye, lassie. Wake now. We must be on our way again."

She smiled and opened her eyes. "I have never been awakened like that."

"It will be the first of thousands of mornings, if I have my way."

"You have already had your way with me, sir."

He smiled, his mood lifting at her playful tone. "Aye. And when we're alone I intend to have my way with ye again."

"Is there only your way?"

"Och, no, lass. There are dozens of ways. And I intend to show ye every one of them. Now, up, lass. We'll be in Scotland before another sunset."

"Nell! Nell, will ye hurry down, love?"

"Liam Crawford, stop yer roaring. I'm hurrying!"

Nell Crawford hurried down the last flight of stairs and threw herself around the corner and into her husband's arms. He kissed her ebulliently.

"Took ye forever to come down, love."

"For heaven's sake, Liam, I came as quickly as I could! I thought something was amiss with all yer noise! It's still early, ye ken. We've not even broken our fast." He kissed her again, drawing a smile from her. "Ye look fit, love. How was yer journey? Any news of Rory? Any news at all?"

"Aye, there is. Interesting journey. Edinburgh is always the same, thinking it's the center of the world when we all ken it's here, wherever ye are. Nothing new there. Edward Longshanks is bringing more men north, but we kent that."

"Aye. What of Rory? D'ye ken where he is? And where is Gannon?"

"Here! Come out," Liam called over his shoulder.

Nell watched in delight as the whole troop of them came around the corner—Gannon, Kieran, and William Wallace. And there, coming now, Rory and a lass.