Sir Gerard immediately started taking care of Elyce’s horse, removing the saddlebags, now heavy with provisions, and preparing the animal for a much-needed rest.
“What do you make of what that man was saying, the one your father wanted you to marry?”
Did he think she should have married Rodrigo? That she was wrong, as most people would probably say, and she should have obeyed her father’s wishes?
“His name is Count Rodrigo. He does whatever his uncle, King Claude, tells him. He may be trying to deceive us. But if he is telling the truth, then I would have to tell a lie to convince him to leave me alone. I am not going to stay away from Montciel.”
“What are you talking about?” Sir Oswalt asked. “And where is Bertold?”
Sir Gerard told him of their encounter with Rodrigo. “As for Bertold, I hope he is making sure Count Rodrigo and his men are not following him. He should be here sooner or later.”
When the men finished grooming the horses, they all sat down to eat some of the food she and Ysa had bought, drinking fresh water from the flasks that the men had refilled at one of the town’s wells.
The stable door opened. The two knights reached for their swords.
Bertold walked in.
“I need my horse. I’m leaving.”
They all stared at the gruff man. He went to his horse, which Sir Oswalt and Sir Gerard had just finished grooming, and started putting the saddle back on.
“Why?”
He turned toward Elyce.
“Why have you changed your mind about going with us to see King Wenceslaus? Do you not wish to tell him what he did to—”
“Rodrigo has seen me. He knows I’m alive. He will go back and tell my brother. And what will Claude do? If he knows Astrid is alive, he may do something to her, just to keep us from being together. She is not safe.” Bertold yanked the girth tight around the horse’s stomach. “I’m going to Montciel to get her and make sure Claude does not hurt her again.”
Elyce took a deep breath. “I understand.” She couldn’t bear it if her actions indirectly endangered Astrid, if King Claude succeeded this time in killing her.
“I will do my best not to be seen coming from this direction.” Bertold’s voice was less gruff than usual. He took off his outer clothing and changed into something that was a different color and style, covering his head with a tight-fitting liripipe, then one of the furs.
The men grunted their farewells and Godspeeds, and Sir Gerard insisted he take some of the food Elyce and Ysa had procured. Bertold refused, saying he would buy his own, then he turned to Elyce.
“You are the Princess of Montciel, your father’s only heir, and as such, you have power. King Claude wanted you to think that you don’t have choices, but that is not true. And now, if he captures you, he will try once again to force his will on you. But accept nothing he says as truth. And accept nothing that is not in your people’s best interests, if indeed they are your priority.”
Elyce turned these things over in her head. She had power? Her father and King Claude treated her as if she had no power, but she had refused to accept that. She had run away and escaped. She did have power.
“You must stand up to your father. He is Claude’s puppet, and Rodrigo is a whipped puppy. But if I have my way . . . King Claude will not bother you again.”
Bertold meant to kill his brother. But what if King Claude killed him? After all, Claude was a king with an army of guards behind him, and Bertold was just a trapper and a prince who would no doubt be either dishonored or disowned—or both—when it was discovered he was alive.
“How will you do that?” Elyce asked.
“I will find a way. In the meantime, remember.” Bertold took a few steps toward Elyce. “Claude and your father—and Rodrigo—will keep trying to force their will on you. Don’t let them.”
Elyce wanted to say, “How do I stop them? I’m not sure if going to King Wenceslaus is going to help me.” Instead, she nodded.
Bertold turned and left with his horse.
Sir Gerard and Sir Oswalt stood at the door of the stable with their swords drawn, watching through a crack between the wooden boards.
Elyce sat back down and they finished eating. All the while her mind was going over and over the things Bertold had said. She prayed silently, God, I’ve been feeling guilty for defying my father. After all, isn’t it wrong to be disobedient to one’s father? But her father was asking her to do things that she knew were not good for the people of Montciel. God, I don’t want to do wrong, but . . . I know You wouldn’t want me to fall prey to the schemes of evil men either. Show me how I have power, how to fight my enemies, and how to save my people.
* * *
The darkness was almost palpable as they made their way through the dense forest, too dense even for them to ride their horses.
Gerard led the way. The four of them and their horses walked singly through the thick undergrowth and about a foot of snow that had partially melted during a warm spell the day before, then refroze into a crusty mess. His foot would find a bit of resistance in stepping on the top, then sink down into the snow underneath. It was slow going, but the best way to get safely away from Rodrigo and his men was to set out at night. The longer they stayed in that town, the more likely they’d be seen and captured.
Princess Elyce had been quiet ever since Bertold had left. But the things he said were right. She was a brave and unusual woman to run away, to refuse to marry the man her father was demanding she wed, and to try to protect her people from the king of the neighboring kingdom in spite of her father.
And what kind of father would ally himself with a man like that, especially a father who was a king? But fear and greed caused men to do strange things. Her father must be very afraid of King Claude, or else very greedy for what Claude was offering him, and yet his daughter had the courage and integrity to stand up to him.
Princess Elyce was worthy of the best knights, the best help he could give her. He could not bear to fail her.
They skirted the edge of the forest, as they had decided not to take the road out of town in case Rodrigo’s men were watching for them, and wound around to the level ground of the road to Prague. At least now it was easier going, as the moon gave them a bit of light that they hadn’t had in the forest and the snow was more trampled down.
As dawn was breaking, exhausted and hungry, they came upon a village with a small inn.
“Can we stop here?” Princess Elyce said. “I know it’s not very safe, but surely Rodrigo will not find us. We’ve been walking all night and—”
“Yes. We’ll get food and rooms and sleep for a few hours.”
“Thank you.” Both women looked relieved.
The inn was relatively clean and the food was good—fresh eggs with gravy and bread and butter, and a promise of “warm stew in a few hours, for the midday meal.”
After filling their stomachs, they went to rest in one big room that contained four beds.
“I’m sorry they didn’t have two separate rooms for us,” he said to Princess Elyce and Ysabeau as he opened the door.
The princess shook her head. “It’s all right. We shall sleep so hard, we’ll hardly know you’re there.”
Ysabeau barely looked at him from beneath half-closed eyelids and mumbled, “It is well.”