The Heart of the Phoenix (24 page)

The easy motion of her mount lulled her, and her muscles relaxed. In this way the sun moved overhead before she realized the passage of time. Until Stephen returned to call halt for rest and a meal. Claude claimed scout duty and headed north, while Evie distributed the bread and cheese.

She was sitting alone on a flat rock, munching a chunk of bread, when the sound of hooves and the jangle of harness reached her. And then, the small clearing overflowed with horsemen. Armored knights all, led by Lord Fulk, a figure summoned from her earlier reverie. She was so surprised to see him appear, her thoughts went blank. Swords scraped out in a wail of metal.

“Sir Stephen of Rively,” Lord Fulk pronounced, his tone implacable. “In the king’s name, I arrest you for murder and treason.”

“Get back, my lady.” Stephen materialized at her side, his own sword appearing in his hand so quickly, Evie didn’t see him move. His resistance wasn’t enough. The force greatly outnumbered their own guards.

Evie stared at her betrothed. Her body refused to move until the swords hovered very near herself and her maid. The threat snapped the disbelief that had frozen her, and she sprang in front of Marie protectively.

“What are you doing?” she cried. “This is ridiculous. Put those away.”

“Call them off,” Stephen warned Lord Fulk.

“Do not attempt to resist.” At first, Evie thought her betrothed spoke to her.

But his gaze narrowed on Stephen. “If you value the lives of your men,” he added, signaling his troops to move closer.

Four soldiers grabbed Stephen, twisted his arms high in the center of his back. The sword was wrenched from his fist and tossed aside. Stephen flung out a string of curses, but one of his captors stopped the flow by slamming a hand to his mouth.

“Come here.”

Evie heard the words at a distance and realized that this time they were directed at her.

“Why?” she demanded.

“This man is an outlaw, Lady Evelynn. Come here.” He repeated the command in the same imperious tone in which he’d announced Stephen’s arrest.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“You will come with me, where you will be safe until your brother arrives. I dispatched a messenger to him this morning.”

He dismounted and in two strides reached Stephen. Before she realized what he meant to do, Lord Fulk raised his sword and brought it down across the side of Stephen’s head. Blood flew as Stephen dropped to the ground.

Evie gasped.

“Now we’ll have no argument.” He delivered a kick to Stephen’s side. “I could kill him now, but a quick death is too easy. I want him to face the justice of King John.”

Evie fell to her knees beside Stephen. The sounds of Marie weeping seemed far away as she turned his body. With the hem of her gown, she blotted the blood from his face. Then a fist closed around her upper arm, and she was gently but inexorably pulled to her feet.

“Forgive me, my lady. I regret you had to witness such brutality.” Lord Fulk spoke in a soft voice, one completely different from the one used earlier. He urged her to the rock she’d sat on just moments before. A lifetime ago.

He released her to point at the crumpled figure. “Bring him,” he shouted to one of his troop. Evie started at the hatred ringing from those two words. His voice remained hard when he turned back to her.

“This knight who led your party is a dangerous killer. We have searched for him and his band for years, but until now they’ve eluded us.”

Evie heard the words, but she didn’t understand them. Her head moved from side to side.

“Impossible,” she whispered at last. “I have known him since I was a child. He is my brother’s friend. Henry would never associate with someone who…”

“You and your brother have been taken in. He hides his true identity when he’s in England. He and his troop have murdered and robbed innocents from Cyprus to Normandy. My mission has been to uncover his identity. At last we have done so.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I received proof the day after we arrived. My messenger caught up to me on the road, and as soon as I gathered my men, we set out to intercept you. I am pleased you are unharmed.”

Evie stared at the man beside her, mind still numb. Stephen, an outlaw? Not possible.

“Was he not absent from his home for many years?” Lord Fulk asked gently. “And does he not disappear for long periods even now?”

She didn’t answer, for the words were true. Then her mind rebelled. No. Absolutely not. There must be another reason for his extended absences.

Lord Fulk’s earlier pronouncement came back to her. “A traitor,” she said. “You named him traitor?”

“That tale is too sordid for so gentle a lady. Come, my dear, we must be on our way.”

He helped her rise, then she held up a hand. “I must see to my maid. She’s young and easily frightened.”

He beckoned, and one of his men brought Marie. Her face was red and wet from weeping.

“Are you unharmed?” Evie asked.

The girl nodded. “Yes, milady.” She shot a glance at Lord Fulk and ducked her head.

“Very well.” Evie released a deep breath in a long, slow exhale. She stepped to the side and looked at Stephen’s men, who had been bound.

Not for a moment did she believe the tale of Stephen’s crimes, but she had no proof to offer. Even if she had, it likely wouldn’t be credited.

No, nothing could be accomplished until she reached London. Then she’d consult Henry. He’d know how to have the ridiculous charges dismissed.

For now, she must not anger Lord Fulk further.

Perhaps she could do something about the men, however.

“We may have been sadly mistaken in our neighbor,” she said to Lord Fulk, “but there can be no doubt about the other men. My brother sent them to escort me home. You must release them.”

He shrugged away Evie’s demand. “That remains to be seen. If they prove innocent, Lord Henry can claim them when the time comes. Now, worry no longer. You are under my protection. As you will be for the rest of your life, my dear.”

Her heart pounded with confusion. As Lord Fulk helped her to mount, Evie’s gaze sought out Stephen. Two soldiers dragged him to a horse. She winced when they threw him stomach down over the saddle, then tied him securely. He’d never survive a lengthy ride in such a position.

“Are we traveling to London?” she asked.

“Yes. We must be present when John is crowned. But it’s too far to travel tonight. My men tell me there is a small manor south of here, where we can lodge until morning.”

Was it possible he meant Sir Hugh’s place? Surely not. A groan of disbelief bubbled up, and she bit her lip. This must be a dream, a twisted imagining, far worse than her frightening sleep-visions of fire.

But it wasn’t. This was horribly real.

Should she tell Lord Fulk of the tragedy at Sir Hugh’s home? But he would ask how she knew, demand answers to questions for which she had no answers.

A shout from ahead took the decision from her. Without a word, her betrothed reined his mount from her side and cantered to the head of the line.

She turned to find Marie and Davy immediately behind. For once the girl neither wept nor wailed. From the expression frozen on the maid’s face, she must expect they’d all be killed. Davy’s grip on Marie’s hand anchored her, however. He nodded encouragingly to Evie.

“You’ll be fine, milady,” he said, careful not to raise his voice. “Lord Fulk seems a right one. He’ll protect you ’til Lord Henry comes. But I can’t believe Sir Ste—
he
—be an outlaw. Must be a mistake, somewheres.”

Evie nodded. She should be encouraging her brother’s young squire, not the other way around. But for some reason, her mind remained numb and the surroundings, unreal.

“Yes,” she finally managed to whisper. “There must be a mistake. It will all be set right. Soon.”

A strange knight moved to ride at her side, and she turned. She failed to locate Stephen in the mass of horsemen, and she prayed he remain quiet when he awoke.

If he awoke.

Stephen struggled to breathe. If the damned hammering in his temples ceased, he could think. The pressure in his head, the constriction of his body, the rough, measured sway—he lay draped like a bag of grain across the back of a horse.

Why?
D’Ambrosie…surprised us…

Evie? Where? Bile burned at the back of his throat.
Safe. D’Ambrosie…not harm her
…

The men? He struggled against the bindings.
No. Evie said…Henry’s guard. Safe for now.

His horse stumbled, pitched him forward, to be brought up short by the tight ropes. A deep blackness descended.

Next time awareness came, the pounding in his head had dulled. At least he could think. He still lay over a moving saddle. The low murmur of voices rose over the jangle of harness, the creak of leather. No smell moved past the pressure in his nose from lying head-down.

He eased open an eye; the lid wouldn’t lift completely. The other eyelid refused to budge. Tensing stomach muscles, he eased a breath as unobtrusively as possible. No need to alert everyone he’d awakened.

Thoughts swirled, anger at himself foremost. To allow himself to be surprised. And by a troop of that size. How could he not have heard their approach?

Why hadn’t Claude sounded the alert?

One reason only. The thought of another lost friend sickened him. Three good men, gone in this final campaign. The Dragon would pay.

Sucking in another mouthful of air, Stephen smothered a grunt. Broken ribs, or just bruised? In fact, every inch of his body ached. D’Ambrosie had landed a solid blow to his head. The others likely contributed a few kicks elsewhere.

A wave of dizziness swept him. His thoughts receded, coming in slow motion, as if caught in a sandy bog. He concentrated on short, steady breaths. His position didn’t help with focus. Still, a question nagged behind the drumming in his skull.

Evie’s betrothed had made a mighty fast trip to London. The man must have paused only long enough to deliver his dispatches and add a few more soldiers to his troop. Where did he find them so quickly?

Stephen knew well enough what his arrest meant. He was being blamed for the Dragon’s atrocities. Sent to the king for execution. Ironic that Macsen earlier pointed out the pattern of recent attacks in Normandy, as if the outlaws traced the Phoenix’s trail. Had that been the intent, even then?

Can’t allow it.
Too many depended on him and the men. He had to find the real traitor.

First, however, there was the small matter of his capture to resolve.

The ringing in his ears intensified as spots flashed against the blackness of his eyelids. Damn. He only hoped d’Ambrosie didn’t plan to travel much further.

Hard to plan an escape when he was unconscious.

****

During a brief stop, Evie made her way back to check on the bound guards.

“Milady?” Davy’s voice was thin with tension. “I recognize the way we’re goin’. This be the road back to where we left Sir Macsen.”

“Lord Fulk said he’s making for the nearest manor. That must be Sir Hugh’s. He plans to remain there for the night.”

Casting a quick look around, Davy edged closer and lowered his voice. “D’you think our men are still there? I mean, Sir Stephen’s?”

She didn’t answer.

“I can’t believe he’s a bad’un,” Davy murmured, “no, not ’til he tells me with his own breath. Never mind what they all said.”

She sent Davy a noncommittal sound. He appeared to take comfort from it; he gave a curt nod before she moved on.

Could it be true? Stephen, an outlaw? A murderer? What an outrageous idea. The years of his absence couldn’t have changed him so drastically.

True, he’d acted strangely at St. Anselm. Come to think of it, he’d never explained his presence there at all. Nor had he explained about the group of knights who traveled with him.

Claude and the other, posing as monks, indeed. As if she’d been fooled for a moment.

Very well. Their deception had been convincing. Not until the crossing did she realize they were warriors, like the rest. But she’d never confronted Stephen with the knowledge and after their visit with Sir Hugh, even the two of them seemed to accept that she knew.

Yet they continued the deception. So it had not been for her benefit. Then for whose? And why the need for it?

Then there was the inescapable fact that over the past two years, Stephen had disappeared from home for long periods. Because Evie had been with Marguerite for many months, she didn’t know the length of his absence this time.

Admittedly, the Sir Stephen with whom she traveled these last days bore little resemblance to the mischievous squire she worshipped when she was a girl. He had insisted he’d changed. But foolishly she refused to listen. She’d been so certain the old Stephen lay just below the hard, uncaring surface of the new man.

Had she been mistaken?

No. Lord Fulk was wrong. She had no proof, but in her heart she knew the truth.

Stephen might be arrogant and insensitive and stubborn. But he was not a thief. He was not a murderer. He was not a traitor.

Henry, too, knew the truth. He would help. Until he arrived, however, she must try to discover what evidence Lord Fulk possessed. Deciding on a plan calmed Evie, and she settled into the saddle for the duration of the journey.

****

The cavalcade rode into the still-muddy ward of Sir Hugh’s run-down manor well before sunset. No one met them. Evie stared at closed doors to the great hall. Had Macsen and Geoffrey gone? Surely Macsen’s injuries kept him abed yet. And what of Brother Gerald? He vowed to remain with the two until Stephen sent word where to join him.

The soldier who appeared to serve as Lord Fulk’s captain stood in the stirrups and shouted. “Ho, the manor!” Several men dismounted, some heading for the stables, others to search the outbuilding.

Finally, one of the double doors opened and a robed figure appeared. Brother Gerald. Evie released a breath she hadn’t realized she held. He would speak for Stephen and prove all these suspicions false.

“Greetings,” the monk called. “How can I help you? Have you run into trouble?”