A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,44

must gather your men at once. The rebels are to gather at Aberystwyth in less than a week. You haven't a moment to spare," the abbess insisted.

Sitting on a hard stool by the fire, Elena started. Did the abbess not remember she was here? The abbess was speaking to a rough looking man who reminded Elena more of the mercenaries she and Gareth had encountered rather than a captain of the king. Trying to remain as still as possible, she concentrated on the rapid Welsh.

"They were here not two hours ago to drop this ynfyd plentyn off. They told me their plans and expected me to bless their journey."

Ynfyd plentyn, Elena racked her brain for a translation. The abbess had such a strange accent, quite unlike any of Gareth's friends or family. Stupid child? Elena sat up straight. She was just about to tell the abbess exactly what she thought of her hospitality when a realization struck her. The old crow must not realize I understand Welsh, Elena thought. Why else would she speak so boldly in front of me? Elena swallowed. Unless she means to kill me. Her pulse quickened and Elena thought frantically. No, that can't be it. If the abbess is turning in Gareth as a rebel, she must be for Richard and would want no harm done to one of Richard's favorites. And yet, I was traveling with those very rebels! The woman must think I don't know what she's saying. Elena willed her breathing to slow and concentrated on the captain's response.

"If I chased down every Welshman who wanted to kill the king, I'd need several thousand more men and the king's leave to slaughter every babe in it's cradle. Now if you'll excuse me, madame."

Elena dared a peek over her shoulder towards the captain's voice. Her heart froze and her breath rushed from her lungs as she recognized the face of one of the drunken men she and Gareth had stumbled across in the fog not a week before! She turned back to the fire, willing herself into the smallest space possible that the captain might not notice her.

"You idiot. It is not three Welshmen you are chasing down. It is a meeting between Welsh leaders and Henry Tudor's closest advisors! They are meeting at Aberystwyth in three days." When the captain remained unconvinced, the abbess's eyes narrowed to mere slits as she said, "I'm sure King Richard would not be pleased to hear that one of his captains refused to prevent traitors from plotting against him. I send monthly reports to His Majesty's religious advisors and I would not hesitate to tell them of such shoddy soldiery."

The captain stared at the abbess for several seconds before saying "'Twill take me several hours to gather my men. They've been training throughout these mountains."

"Then you'd best not waste any more time here, had you?" the abbess said acidly. Without a further word, the captain stalked out of the small room.

"You must go and change. I can't have you wandering about in such clothes." So absorbed was Elena in thinking of a way to warn Gareth that she did not even realize the abbess was addressing her in English. "You there!" Elena jumped and quickly stood.

"Yes?"

"Take these clothes and change in the next room. Be sure to cover your hair with this veil."

"Is there a privy I may attend first?"

"Out back. Go and return quickly and disturb none of the sisters on your way."

"Of course not, madame," Elena said as meekly as her temper would allow. Once outside, she ducked around the main building of the abbey in the direction she had seen Bryant lead her horse. She said her own prayer of thanks that she came across no one as she crossed through the vegetable garden to the stable. As she made her way through the dimly lit stalls, a loud grunt stopped her in her tracks. She waited in agony for several seconds before continuing on. As she rounded a corner, she discovered the source of the grunt and cautiously edged her way around the sleeping stable hand, who was clutching a large jug in one hand. Finally at the far end of the stable, she found the horse she had ridden since her arrival at Eyri Keep.

The large mare raised her head at Elena's arrival but did not whinny or neigh; Welsh horses were trained for silence. "Greetings, Breila," Elena whispered as she untied the rope from the horse's bridle. "Now," she asked