In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,120
unite my suitably demured sister with her intended groom, Reginald de Braose.”
“Braose?”
Sparrow dismissed the Welshman’s exclamation with a flick of his wrist. “Keep your tongue in your mouth, Cyril. The letters were meant to be shown only in an emergency, and only if the king’s men took to putting their noses too close to our business. Radnor lies in the path of our true destination and would lead any suspicious minds into believing we were following the king’s writ. Besides, is your brother not supposed to be meeting us at a rendezvous well to the good of the road that would carry us to Radnor?”
Dafydd nodded. “He was instructed by the earl marshal to be waiting for us at Gloucester.”
“Do you have doubts he will be unable to follow his instructions?” Sparrow demanded.
“He will be there,” Dafydd said grimly.
“With his men?”
“With his men, aye.”
“Well then?”
“Well then,” Ariel interrupted impatiently, not wanting to dwell on the merits of Rhys ap Iorwerth’s reliability or eagerness. “These letters—do you think they would get us through the gates of Corfe?”
Sparrow, who had for the most part managed to avoid, in all their days of travel, asking or answering a direct question of Ariel de Glare, scratched furiously at his mop of short black curls and screwed his face into a frown. He had his own reasons for disapproving of the marshal’s niece being included in their discussions, but since it appeared as if she might have to play a crucial role, he would have to wait for a more prudent time to vent them.
“Aye,” he grumbled, chewing back his reluctance. “They might. This hovel is not exactly of princely standards and the castellan might be convinced of the benefits of inviting one of the king’s wards to bide a night or two under his protection.”
“You do not have to agree to it,” Eduard cut in, his voice as sharp as a knife. “In fact, you would be showing the greater amount of common sense to refuse. The risks are immeasurable and there is no means to vouchsafe we will be let out again, even supposing we are let in.”
Ariel was well aware of the reason for the resentful mood around the table. She was here against their better judgement, proving to be pivotal to their plans, and there did not seem to be a damned thing any of them could do about it.
Her cool, steady gaze touched on each face in turn before settling on FitzRandwulf’s. “Did any of you consult your common sense before setting forth on this venture? To my mind, there is no greater risk one can take in life than the one that proves you to be a coward.”
Henry chuckled wryly. “Spoken like a true De Clare.”
“Did you think I would refuse?”
“On the contrary, Puss. I somehow expected you to be the first one through the gates. I, for one, will be right on your heels. After all”—he cast a wink in Robin’s direction—“we have a damosel in distress to rescue, do we not?”
Robin grinned and Sedrick scowled. “When do ye expect to hear from this rogue, Brevant, again?”
It was a moment before Eduard could drag his eyes away from Ariel, and when he did, he shook his head. “No mention was made of a time or place, but I imagine he will find me the same way he found me tonight.”
“If so, you will have no gullet left by week’s end,” Sparrow snorted, eyeing the bloodied cut.
“A chance I will have to take.”
“Less so if there is another pair of eyes watching your back at all times.”
“Aye, and yer purse,” Sedrick added, not convinced a bribe ensured loyalty.
“I have no objections to having a friendly shadow behind me,” Eduard agreed. “So long as the shadow remains well out of sight.”
“When have you ever seen me when I have not wanted to be seen?” Sparrow demanded. “To judge by the description you gave, I could crouch in the shadow of the knave’s knees and he would not be able to see me from such heights.”
Ariel’s hand thumped the table with such vigor it sent the wood sprite jumping in his skin.
“‘His name was Jean Brevant,’” she quoted, “‘but since he was taller and broader than most trees, the men just called him Littlejohn. As big as thunder, he was, able to take ten men down with a single swing of his arm, yet helpless to do aught but weep like a babe when he found his wife dead from a