One Knight Only Read online

  Anne gasped and raced forward with Philip. While she boosted herself up to look over the edge, he studied the top of the rope.

  “He’s going down so fast,” she said in amazement. “And someone is coming up equally as fast!”

  “It’s a pulley system,” Philip said with reluctant admiration. “I’ve never seen one so delicately made. David’s weight is bringing up the next man. Why couldn’t he climb?” He glanced down at the rising figure. “Get back, Anne.”

  As she did, they heard a groan as someone reached the top with a quick stop. Philip leaned over to help and was met with the point of a dagger.

  “Joseph, ’tis me,” Philip said, hands held up unthreateningly.

  Joseph grunted. “Then help me over.”

  Philip reached forward and Joseph took both his arms, detaching himself from a bar that had been attached to the rope.

  “You couldn’t climb?” Philip said.

  Joseph dropped to the walkway and collapsed into a sitting position. “I hurt my ankle.” Breathing heavily, he glanced at Philip, then seemed to notice Anne. “Following us?”

  Philip shrugged.

  “Then help me remove the pulleys so the others can climb up.”

  It wasn’t long before David and Walter joined them at the top. Walter’s expression was grave upon seeing them, and only now did Anne begin to look guilty.

  David helped Joseph to his feet, and Philip took one of his arms across his shoulders. “Did you find anything?” Philip asked.

  Walter glanced out over the dark countryside, the wind ruffling his hair, his expression troubled. “We covered the ground in ever widening circles from the castle. On our second pass, we found a campsite hastily dismantled, the embers still warm. Travelers so close to the castle could have come inside for the night. These men chose not to.”

  “We tracked them for a while,” Joseph said, “and got close, but they were mounted, and eventually they reached open country and escaped. That was when I turned my ankle.”

  “They could have been poachers,” David said objectively.

  Walter narrowed his eyes. “My instincts say otherwise. We are still being watched, but someone doesn’t seem to want to make the mistake of attacking us again.”

  “They still believe I’m Lady Rosamond,” Anne said softly. “And they don’t know if Lady Rosamond overheard them.”

  “Exactly,” Walter said. “Our best defense is to keep these watchers from catching a good look at you.”

  After mass the next morning, Anne accompanied Lord Egmanton’s twin sisters on a tour of the women’s apartments of the castle, the sewing and weaving chambers. Lady Egmanton avoided them, and Anne could not be displeased.

  At mid-morning, while Anne waited for Lord Egmanton to finish meeting with his steward, traveling minstrels arrived. Lady Egmanton interrogated them for the latest news. The lute player, who was tuning his instrument for the coming evening, was only too happy to bow to the baroness, where she sat before her hearth. After all, Lady Egmanton was the reason he would eat and be sheltered for however many nights the minstrels could continue to amuse her.

  After teasing the baroness with several pieces of light gossip about royal flirting and noble betrothals, he finally met her gaze and allowed his cheerfulness to fade. “Milady, this last news be not so pleasant. There has been a terrible death, and it is proven no accident.”

  Anne exchanged a glance with Philip, who was nearby playing a game of Tables with Sir Walter.

  “Someone was murdered?” Lady Egmanton asked with excited interest.

  “Lady Staplehill was found dead in her bed not a fortnight ago,” the lute player said, blessing himself.

  Margaret, who had been bringing Anne a goblet of wine, gasped. Several drops of wine spilled into the rushes. But Anne could only stare at Margaret’s face, which had gone pale.

  “She did not die naturally?” Lady Egmanton asked her question with an eagerness that made Anne feel ill, especially when Margaret looked helpless and worried.

  The lute player gravely said, “She was found with the dagger still in her fair bosom.”

  As several people murmured to each other, Anne experienced a moment of confusion—was Lady Rosamond supposed to know this woman? Was that why Margaret looked so ill?

  As if she could read minds, Lady Egmanton suddenly turned to Anne. “Lady Rosamond, did you not know Lady Staplehill? She was not much older than you, and surely was at court when you were.”

  “I only met her in passing, my lady,” Anne answered somberly. “It is such a tragedy.” She turned quickly to the lute player. “Have they captured the terrible villain responsible?”

  He shook his head. “Sadly, milady, they have not. But all wonder—who could have been in the lady’s well-guarded chamber that she shared with her husband?”

  “Do they not suspect her husband?” Lady Egmanton asked.

  Anne saw Philip studying Sir Walter with suspicion. Both Sir David and Sir Joseph seemed unusually impassive where they stood watching the game board. What was going on? And how could she find out?

  “Her husband is a grief-stricken man with two young children to raise,” the lute player continued. “They say he has no reason.”

  “Could there be a lover?”

  “Lady Egmanton.” Anne rose to her feet, trying not to frown her displeasure. “Such sad tidings make me feel the need to refresh myself. Your son is still with his steward?”

  The old woman smiled with satisfaction. “He’ll be very busy for much of the day.”

  “Such a shame,” Anne said, feeling relieved, hoping that the hunting trip idea had been declined. She turned to her knights. “Gentlemen, I feel the need to ride, to see the peace of the land after such sad news. Would you escort me?”

  Though Margaret seemed most reluctant, Anne brought her along, too. While they waited in the courtyard for the men to saddle their mounts, Anne whispered to the maid that they would stay within shouting distance of the castle. The last thing Anne wanted to do was ride, especially with a “watcher” out there somewhere, but she saw no way to escape interested ears if they remained at the castle.

  At last their horses trotted beneath the raised portcullis of the gatehouse, and they were free. Sherwood Forest stretched out beyond them, but Anne did not aim there, fearing that they would be too easily trapped. She tapped her horse’s flanks and broke into a fast cantor, until at last they had put some distance between them and Markham Keep. The road leading into the castle was still dotted with the occasional cart or villagers coming for business. She felt safe enough from attack. Sheep grazed in the distance, and she pulled up and allowed the horse to walk, as if she wanted to watch the pastoral scene. At her side, Margaret sighed.

  When all the knights had come up beside her, Philip spoke first. “What do you know about Lady Staplehill’s murder?” he asked Sir Walter, a low hum of anger in his voice.

  The older knight raised a gray eyebrow. “Know, Sir Philip? A woman is tragically dead.”

  Philip turned to Margaret. “So Lady Rosamond knew her?”

  The maid lowered her gaze and nodded.

  Anne was surprised when Sir Walter frowned.

  “Sir Philip, this does not concern you.”

  “You know something about this murder,” Philip said angrily. “You knew before you left on this mission.”

  “What does that matter?” Sir Walter asked. “It has nothing to do with us.”

  “Perhaps it does,” Philip said, turning back to Margaret. “Please, tell us what you know, if not for our sake, then for your lady’s.”

  Anne expected the Bladesmen to protest, but perhaps they realized that withholding the truth would make things worse.

  The maid hugged herself. “I last saw Lady Staplehill at the Durham tournament.”

  Philip nodded. “The tournament where Lady Rosamond overheard the traitors.”

  Anne looked about in worry, but they were alone on the grassy knoll, the wind sweeping away their
words, and sheep the closest company.

  “There were many people at this tournament,” Sir Walter said calmly. “No one was murdered there. This crime happened when the lady returned home.”

  “Where a young mother would be even less likely to be murdered in her bed,” Philip shot back. “Does that not make it even more suspicious?”

  Anne had never seen Sir Joseph and Sir David look so completely removed from emotion, as if this was none of their concern. Could this death really have something to do with Lady Rosamond?

  “The League investigated,” Sir Walter continued. “Lady Staplehill’s husband has enemies—and debts. The murderer was most likely looking to punish her husband.”

  “Most likely,” Philip repeated. “This might have been more proof that the traitors know they are compromised.”

  “If that were true, my superiors thought that the traitors now believe they have killed the source that worried them.”

  “But now we’ve been attacked.”

  “And I put that in a missive,” Sir Walter said calmly. “The traitors are nobility, with armies at their disposal. If they wanted Lady Rosamond dead, they would have sent someone far more efficient.”

  “Regardless of whether that is true,” Philip said, “you withheld important information.” He turned his smoldering eyes on Anne. “Did they tell you any of this?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t know how she felt about being misled, but surely Sir Walter thought it did not matter to them—or his superiors thought so, and he had no choice but to obey them.

  “Sir Philip,” Sir Walter said patiently, “I know much that is League business, much that most people are unaware of. Are you trying to tell me that I am supposed to confide everything I can think of in you?”

  “Now you’re twisting my words,” Philip said. “Anne, I need to speak with you—alone.”

  Sir Walter frowned. “Philip, think about what you’re doing.”

  His abandonment of Philip’s title made Anne think the captain almost sounded desperate. She didn’t want this to escalate into something ugly.

  “I will speak with you, Philip,” she said, forcing herself to sound calm and in control. “Sir Walter, would you and your knights take Margaret back toward Markham Keep? Of course you may keep us in sight.”

  The three Bladesmen wheeled their horses about and trotted back the way they’d come. Margaret looked small and deflated riding beside them.

  Philip’s gut twisted with worry and anger and confusion. How could the League have been deceitful? It went against everything he thought he knew about them.

  “Even the maid is worried,” Philip said when they were alone.

  “Margaret is always worried about Lady Rosamond,” Anne answered calmly. “It is a dangerous journey the lady has undertaken, and a risk that should be applauded for its bravery.”

  He leaned forward on his pommel, needing to make her understand. “And you, too, are risking your life. You’ve been lied to! Perhaps if we’d have known about Lady Staplehill’s murder—”

  “He did not tell me something that did not seem important to the League. Perhaps he even regretted it then, as well as now.”

  “Anne, you volunteered for this mission, believing it was necessary only as a precaution. We have more than enough proof now that the traitors discovered that someone identified them.”

  “They obviously don’t know the person’s identity.”

  “Do you want to be the next body? You should end this mission.”

  “Philip, do not ask such a thing of me. This is too important for the future of our kingdom. Would you listen to me if I asked you to abandon the king in battle?”

  “’Tis not the same thing, and you know it.”

  “Nay, you are right, but for the wrong reasons. In battle, you are one of many—here, I might be all that confuses the enemy, all that allows Lady Rosamond to reach London. I’ve told you what it means to me to be with the League.”

  “At what price, Anne?” he asked.

  The horse danced restlessly beneath him, and he flung himself from the saddle and lifted his hands up to her. She leaned toward him and allowed him to catch her and set her on the ground. Both horses lowered their heads to the grass.

  He didn’t remove his hands from her waist, only held her tighter.

  Anne felt warmed by his concern. “There will be no price, Philip. I’m not vulnerable. Though you annoy me—”

  She smiled tightly at him, but he didn’t smile back.

  “—I am grateful for your help. Perhaps even the League will be the same.”

  “My mother is the one who needed the League.” He ran a hand through his hair and turned away from her.

  Perplexed, she walked to his side and looked out at the horizon, as he was doing. There was still nothing but endless grass and sheep in this direction, and a shepherd far in the distance watching over them all. Yet to the west a wind picked up through the forest trees, and she shivered.

  When he didn’t seem inclined to continue, she softly said, “Your mother?”

  He sighed.

  At least he didn’t look angry anymore, just resigned.

  “Philip? I thought you said that your grandmother was saved by a Bladesman. Was your mother so grateful that she wanted you to be invited to join?”

  “She had no hope that I’d be invited,” he said softly. “She was but a seamstress for Lady Kelshall. She would never presume that the son of a servant could aspire so high.” He gave a harsh laugh. “’Tis amazing how many memories are coming back to me, now that we’re traveling closer to where I grew up.”

  Anne stared at him in surprise and disbelief. He was the child of a servant. She had thought him the younger son of a noble family, or at least a distant cousin. But he had been born and raised…just like her. In fact, her father, who owned his own farmland, would be considered higher in class. And she had thought she and Philip too far apart to ever be equals.

  But they were very unequal, she reminded herself. He had raised himself up to be a knight, making his family proud. It made so much more sense why he wanted a good marriage. It was a good thing she had realized that her goals would never include him.

  “You must be disappointed in me,” he said.

  “Disappointed? How could you believe such a thing, after everything you’ve accomplished with your life?”

  “After my grandmother was rescued—she was being robbed on an errand for her mistress—my mother developed this worship of the League that lasted her whole life. She collected stories of them and told them to me every night before I slept.”

  “Collected stories?”

  “Aye, she may have been a simple seamstress, but she had once lived in London with Lady Kelshall, and knew much of the world. And she would listen to every traveler who passed by Kelshall Castle and glean even more.”

  That name was starting to sound familiar.

  “She put into my head these dreams of knights and distant adventures that I could never have imagined myself,” he said in a low voice. “She had a way with words that could make visions appear to me, as if I could aspire to such a world. It made me…different from the other boys, who only hoped for a plot of land and a decent wife. I found myself near the tiltyard all the time, watching the training of the soldiers. I wanted to be one.”

  She could not believe he was confiding something so personal to her. She was afraid to talk, afraid to even breathe, for fear of breaking this spell of intimacy his words wove between them.

  At last she murmured, “Your mother wanted more for you, and you succeeded. You became a soldier, did you not?”

  He nodded. “My lord noticed me; I traveled as his squire, and was knighted in France. My mother was long since dead, but still I was following the path she’d laid out for me.”

  His serious gaze turned back to her. “But it was not my path. I did not realize that until I met the Bladesmen at Alderley, and understood that I no longer needed their approval. Yet now perh
aps they think I am searching for it.”

  She saw the anger inside him. What else was he not telling her?

  “Philip, if you still need my permission to go, know that you have it, because you owe me nothing. But I cannot leave. The king, though he knows it not, needs me.”

  A corner of his mouth curled in a smile. “Ah, you have such a destiny, Countess.”

  She shrugged and looked away.

  “I will stay with you then, until the end.”

  “You make it sound so dramatic,” she said dryly, trying to mask her relief. “But I am simply Lady Rosamond, a noblewoman looking for a husband. And when this ends with only a king’s gratitude, perhaps I will have won my own place in this world.”

  He caught her arm before she could turn away. “Anne, these men have lied to you, whether or not you want to believe their motives are noble. They are desperate to keep you right here with them. Do not forget that desperate men are capable of many things. To me, they have misled an innocent woman, something that should be beneath them.”

  She wanted to argue, but it had all been said before. “I will remember your words.”

  He helped her to mount, and together they rejoined the Bladesmen. Sir Walter’s stare was unreadable.

  “We are both staying,” Philip said shortly. “But I will remember what you withheld, Walter.”

  Anne flinched when Philip no longer used the man’s title. They all knew too many things about each other now. Walter, his expression unreadable, only nodded.

  As they rode back to Markham Keep, Anne thought about what she’d learned of Philip’s life. She understood now, after all he’d overcome, why it would be important for him to make a good marriage worthy of his knighthood. His mother wanted more for him, and Anne believed in it, too. He had his own destiny.

  Yet that did not stop him from desiring her, and she him.

  Chapter 12

  T hat afternoon, Lord Egmanton invited Anne to accompany him on the hunt. So he had outmanipulated his mother, she thought. She was leery about traveling into the forest, but with such a large party, surely she would be safe. Over a dozen people traveled with them—her own four knights, Markham Keep’s steward, several bailiffs and knights from neighboring manors, Lord Egmanton’s guards as well as his sisters. They set off from the castle, the hounds kept well in hand by the huntsman. For a while, they galloped across the valley beneath the sun, and Anne enjoyed showing the twin sisters how easy it was to ride astride rather than sidesaddle.