he had been repeatedly punched. He couldn't separate the hundred different thoughts that were darting through his brain - Osborn, the baby and now the French. If Elena was correct, then at least one, if not two, of the men who even now lay sleeping in the manor was a traitor to the throne of England, helping to smuggle spies into the country and laying the ground for Philip's invading army.
There were many in England who had reason to hate John, and would see a French king on the throne just to spite him, especially if it led to their advancement. God knows, Raffe had no love for John. But to betray England, Gerard's homeland, to an invading army, that was treachery he couldn't stomach.
Besides, no servants in the manor would have the wit or passion to plot against the throne, so one of the men at least must be from Osborn's retinue, for how else would he have got inside the manor and known the bedchamber was empty?
Elena said that they had talked of fighting in the Holy Land. Raffe tried to cast his mind back. Who in Osborn's retinue now had been with him in the Holy Land?
He and Gerard had not travelled there with Osborn, though Gerard's father had sailed with him, together with the bulk of King Richard's army. By the time Raffe and Gerard had caught up with them, the siege of Acre was already well under way. The Christian army had surrounded the walled city, trying to free it from the Saracens. Saladin, the great Saracen leader, was camped beyond the Christians, attacking them as they attacked the city, and trying to lift the siege.
Richard's army were hurling rocks at the ramparts from great siege catapults and slings. The defenders were throwing down lime and fire-filled pots on to the Christian army. You couldn't even recognize a man from his chevron or emblem, for everything was covered with a thick, choking dust. It was chaos; half the time you couldn't see the man fighting next to you for the smoke and sand blowing in the wind. Any one of the men riding now with Osborn could have been with him in that hell that was the Holy Land.
Besides, even if Raffe could identify the man, what could he do without proof? All he had was the word of a villein, and if the traitor, whoever he was, discovered that Elena had overheard him, he would find her and kill her without a moment's hesitation. No, there was only one thing to be done, he had to catch the traitor in the act of meeting these Frenchmen — that way he could bear witness himself and Elena need never be mentioned. There was just one man who might be persuaded to help him in this. He owed his life to Raffe, and Talbot was a man who did not forget a debt, especially one owed in blood.
But there was nothing that could be done tonight. Raffe tried to push the problem from his mind. The ship was not due until Spring. They would have to be patient and watch. In the meantime Elena was safe, that was the only thing that mattered. If the traitor was searching for her, it would be among the servants, not in the village, and if Raffe waited, as wait he must, then as time passed, the man would come to believe that whoever the girl was outside the door, she had heard nothing and was no threat to him.
As the icy air tore painfully at his lungs, Raffe realized that he had been striding away from the village at a furious pace. He stopped to catch his breath. The marsh pool at the edge of the track was frozen over. Frosted brown bulrushes bowed in permanent obeisance, their heads caught fast in the pond. The torch flames glittered in the ice. He caught sight of his reflection as he peered down, the sagging flesh around his jowls, the grotesque body. He had rotted from youth to old age without even fleetingly enjoying the body of a man in his prime, and his flesh would only become frailer and more repulsive as the days hurtled by.
Even at this moment, that fragile, flame-haired girl lay in the arms of a strapping young lad with all his life before him, a man who could give her the gift of a child. Life as a freed woman, money, even love itself, nothing that