torches on the walls flickered across the uneven cobbles of the courtyard, making it hard to see where he was putting his feet. God's bones, but he was tired and stiff! His backside was bruised and his thighs raw from a day in the saddle. He was starving too, but he wasn't sure if he could even manage to stay awake long enough to eat.
He heard a clattering on the stairs, and lifted his head in time to see Osborn striding down them. Raoul groaned to himself. He knew he'd have to see Osborn tonight to deliver the message, but he had hoped to get at least a goblet or two of wine inside him before he was forced to speak. His throat was as dry as old leather from the dust on the roads.
Osborn confronted him at the bottom of the stairs. 'And how fares the king?'
Raoul massaged his parched throat. 'In health His Majesty is as fit as a man half his age and has twice the energy. In temper . . .' Raoul winced at the memory.
The king's violent rages were legendary, and Raoul had felt the full force of the royal displeasure, having been forced to admit to John that he had so far failed to discover the identity of anyone engaged in aiding England's enemies. It was not an experience he ever wanted to repeat. The king's fury had only been slightly tempered when his latest mistress, a sweet, sympathetic girl who had smiled coyly at Raoul, reminded the king that the Santa Katarina had been prevented from landing her cargo thanks entirely to the brave and loyal Raoul.
It had not been thanks to Raoul at all. He'd never heard of the ship or its French cargo until he arrived back at court and he'd no idea who had alerted the king's men, but he certainly wasn't going to contradict the rumour. It was the only thing that was preventing the full measure of the king's anger from descending on his head.
Raoul sighed. He wasn't suited to this business of skulking around trying to uncover traitors and spies. All he'd ever wanted was a comfortable position at court and the only thing he had any desire to uncover was the breasts of a lovely young girl, someone like the king's mistress. Now she had a body just begging to be ravished.
He was jerked out of his daydream by Osborn. 'Speak, man, what did the king say?'
Raoul fumbled in his scrip for a roll of parchment bearing a heavy wax seal. 'His Majesty instructs me to give you this, but I know what it says, there are similar messages going out across England. John's called a council of the lords known to be loyal to him. He intends to draw up plans if Philip should attempt to land. You and your brother, and the other commanders who are experienced in the field of battle are instructed to attend. He expects you in three days' time.'
'God's teeth!' Osborn swore vehemently, his fists clenched.
He must have seen the startled expression on Raoul's face for he added quickly, 'I am, of course, honoured to wait upon the king in this matter. But I have just this day learned of something I had hoped to attend to personally.'
Osborn gnawed at his lip for a moment, then his face brightened. 'John has not commanded you to attend?'
Raoul tried to suppress a shudder. He was in no hurry to return to the king's presence in his present mood. 'I've never seen battle, unlike you. I would be of little use to His Majesty.'
'Then you may do me a service instead.' Osborn glanced around the darkened courtyard. There were only a few candles still burning in the casements for most of the manor's inhabitants were already asleep. Nevertheless, he drew Raoul away from the steps and into a corner of the courtyard as far as possible from any doors or windows.
'I received word from the sheriff in Norwich this afternoon. One of his men has heard a rumour that my runaway villein was taken to Norwich by boat when she escaped from here and is still in the city somewhere. I want you to go to Norwich first thing tomorrow and see if you can track her down.'
Every aching muscle and bone in Raoul's body screamed out in protest at the thought of another day in the saddle. 'My lord, surely the sheriff can order his men to search for her?'