Christin looked at the bag. “I am going to the village, to the inn we discussed yesterday,” she said. “It is best that I stay out of the king’s way, at least until he departs Norwich. I do not want to give him the chance to change his mind and decide he wants to dine with me again.”
“He would do so at his peril, but I think it is wise if you leave, too. Does your father know?”
“I am going to find him right now and tell him.”
Wynter hugged her. “Then Godspeed,” she said. “Be safe, Cissy. I will see you soon.”
Christin headed for the door. “Remember,” she said. “You do not know where I have gone.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Even if they torture you and throw you in a fiery pit.”
Wynter laughed. “I will let them roast me before I tell.”
Christin blew her a kiss as she headed out the door, out into the bright day beyond.
It was after the nooning meal and the sky was the most brilliant shade of blue. At least, Christin thought so. She stood there a moment, looking at the sky, wondering if it had always been that color. Somehow, everything looked brighter to her, lovelier than she’d ever seen it. That’s what Alexander had done for her – he made her see things through different eyes.
Life was beautiful.
She didn’t even realize she had a smile on her face as she stood there, looking at the sky. Then, her gaze moved towards the gatehouse with the bridge that led down into the lower baileys. There were guards there, men wearing the crimson and gold tunic of the king, but there were also guards with the de Winter standard. She was confident that she could walk past them all. Summoning her courage, she headed towards the gatehouse.
But the king’s soldiers, who were lingering by the stairs that led into the keep more than they were actually by the gatehouse, suddenly turned in her direction. When she saw that they were walking towards her, and looking at her, she got panicky and she turned around, heading back to the apartment block.
Unfortunately, there were royal soldiers there that she hadn’t seen before. She knew for a fact there was no one there as she’d just left the building because she’d looked around. She’d been aware of her surroundings.
… hadn’t she?
Or was she looking up at the sky, thinking of its beauty?
Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened. Where were all of these royal guards coming from? They were roaming around Norwich as if they belonged here, but then she was sadly reminded that Norwich Castle was, indeed, a royal holding. The de Winters were the stewards. With the king here, the royal guards had every right to be about the property.
She was beginning to sorely regret leaving the apartment.
She wanted to go back inside, but the royal guards were near the entry now and she was afraid to move past them. When she turned around to try and go back towards the gatehouse, to the stables where Alexander was, the guards that had been near the keep entry were much closer now, heading right for her.
She bolted.
Racing towards the garden, she ran between buildings, trying to lose the guards who were following her. She thought that running off might pull them away from the entry to her apartment, so she dashed around the side of the building, running in a circle. But the moment she turned the corner that would give her a clear shot to the building entry, she ran straight into a big, warm body.
He grabbed her and the fight was on.
Christin may not have been a trained warrior, but she knew how to fight. She immediately lifted her knee, ramming it as hard as she could into the groin area but coming into contact with mail and other protection that prevented her from hitting her mark. The big man tightened his grip as she fought.
“Easy, lady, easy,” he said. “No need to fight. It will not do any good.”
Christin dropped her satchel so she could get to the dagger she always had tucked into a sheath on her leg. She was fearless as she grabbed for it, bringing it up into the man’s gut. It made contact because she heard him grunt, but as he loosened his grip, more hands grabbed her.
Unable to escape, she started screaming at the top of her lungs.
A hand slapped over her mouth and someone yanked the dagger from her grip. Kicking and twisting, she was fighting for her very life as a group of royal soldiers ganged up on her, surrounding her, but they weren’t stealing her away. They were mostly standing there, holding her as they looked at the man she’d stabbed.
The man was down on one knee, his hand to his lower gut as bright red blood poured. The guards, holding on to a wildcat, were confused as to what to do.
“Where do we take her, d’Athee?” one of them demanded.
Gerard was crippled with a fairly serious stab to the lower abdomen. He grunted in pain. “Find de Lara,” he rasped. “Find the man and…”
“Get your hands off of her.”
Sean was suddenly in their midst, grabbing Christin away from the soldiers who were smothering her. He pulled her into his grasp, slapping a trencher-sized hand over her mouth so she couldn’t make any noise.
“What in the hell happened to you?” he asked Gerard.
But Gerard was in too much pain to respond civilly. “That bitch stabbed me,” he said, groaning as he stood up. Suddenly, a big hand lashed out and caught Christin on the side of the head, hard enough to knock her cold. “That’s for goring me!”
As Christin went limp, Sean picked her up. “Touch her again and you will answer to me,” he growled. “The king wants her to reach Robert in one piece, not damaged goods. Where are the horses you intended to take?”
Gerard was nearly doubled over, trying to stanch the flow of blood in his side. “Down below,” he said. “At the farm gate. Get out from the postern gate and the path will take you right to them. I cannot ride like this, Sean. You must take her to Bishop’s Lynn.”
Sean didn’t even question him. He was on the move with the soldiers in tow, all of them heading quickly to the postern gate. One of the soldiers opened the gate for Sean and he ducked through it, taking the slippery footpath down to the fields below where an abundance of neat rows of cultivated crops were being harvested in sections.
The area was surrounded by a big wall, like the one that surrounded the castle, and the farmers paused to watch as an enormous knight and about ten soldiers escorted an unconscious lady down to a larger group of royal soldiers waiting at the gatehouse that protected the farming fields.
Sean handed Christin over to another soldier as he mounted a horse meant for Gerard. The soldier returned Christin to him and Sean took a moment cover her face up with the cloak she was wearing, at least as much as he could. He didn’t want it announced that Christin de Lohr was being whisked out of Norwich because he didn’t want a battle on his hands from anyone who recognized her. Battles resulted in injuries and he didn’t want to see her inadvertently hurt.
But the responsibility of her was something of a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Unlike Gerard and the king, he didn’t think in a two-dimensional fashion. Sean thought beyond the obvious to the improbable, to the obscure, and to the logical. He wasn’t thinking a day ahead or even a week ahead; he was thinking far ahead of that. It meant he wasn’t going to return Christin to her father because he had a plan, but he needed her cooperation to accomplish it.