“Traitor is a harsh word,” he said after a moment. “I had little choice in the matter.”
Rhys didn’t lower the blades. “There is always a choice. You seem to have made a very bad one.”
Lawrence shook his head, eyeing Lewis for a moment before taking a step closer to Rhys. “If I were you, I would not judge so harshly,” he said in a low voice. “A man who has fallen in love with a woman he can never have is in no position to judge. You have broken every knightly vow you swore an oath to, du Bois. Do not be so critical of others facing the same dilemma.”
Rhys wasn’t moved. “What are you talking about?”
Lawrence stared at him, torn between defiance and sorrow. He chewed his lip thoughtfully as he pondered an answer.
“My son,” he finally said softly, so no one could hear him clearly. “They have my son. I was given no choice.”
Rhys just stared at him. “Your son, Richard?”
Lawrence nodded, averting his gaze. “He is seven years old now, fostering at Kenilworth when the king’s agents seized him. So I did what I did to save my son. You would have done the same.”
Rhys began to feel some of his rage ease. “Then help me now and let us go save your son together,” he hissed. “Help me get Elizabeau out of this place. It does not have to be this way, Lawrence.”
“Aye, it does,” Lewis stepped forward, wiping the blood from his nose where Rhys had punched him. It was apparent that his patience was waning. “Since this outpost is under my command until de Lacy’s return, it is my directive that you and your lady shall suffer the same fate. Lower your weapons and I will give you and the lady the last two hours until dawn together. Refuse and I shall have my men overwhelm you both and kill you where you stand. I am at an end with my mercy, du Bois. Make your choice.”
He had the manpower to do it; Rhys knew that. He could feel Elizabeau’s body against his back, trembling, and he knew that he could not stand by and watch her hacked to death by careless broadswords. His hands suddenly began to shake and his head to swim, knowing that, for the moment, they were defeated. He had to buy some time to figure things out; even two hours might help him figure out a way to get them out of this predicament. And he did not want to lose that chance, not when it was the difference between life and death for Elizabeau and their child.
With a heavy sigh, he abruptly lowered his weapons and extended them, hilt end, to Lawrence. The white-haired knight paused a moment before taking them, suddenly feeling a good deal of defeat himself. He felt as if he had done something truly horrible, which he had. But it had been necessary.
“Rhys?” he asked as he turned away.
“What is it, Lawrence?”
The knight turned slowly, gazing at him with his white-blue eyes. The words spoken were softly uttered. “I lied. Richard is safe and sound at Kenilworth.”
The soldiers swarmed on Rhys and Elizabeau and dragged them off into the night. On the third floor of the keep, however, Radcliffe was not so lucky. A jumpy soldier mistook his surrender for an offensive and drove his blade straight into the man’s chest.
Edward died with Elizabeau’s name on his lips.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ludlow, like most fortresses, had more than one entrance. It was a small gate near the kitchen yards for servants and peasants to pass through, where business was conducted. It was also usually heavily fortified. Called the postern gate, Ludlow possessed not one but two. As David and Geist scouted the walls of Ludlow, they both came to the same conclusion. Whatever chance they had of getting the lady and Rhys out of that place would have to happen on a much smaller scale. They would have to slip away through the smaller gate with less chance of being caught.
But there were problems aplenty. If Lawrence truly was a traitor, then he would know David on sight, which would make it difficult for David to make it into Ludlow unnoticed. Geist had been around Lawrence for several months but did not know the man well, which would make it easier for him to move about without attracting a great deal of attention. His heavy accent was another matter but Geist was certain that he could convince them that he was a mercenary from Saxony. He even had a nice lineage memorized. But David talked him out of the mercenary idea and convinced him that he should pose as a priest. Priests were unthreatening and rarely questioned. For lack of a better argument, Geist agreed.
So they had taken precious time to return to the nearby town of Ludlow and scavenge the area until they came up with some rough garments and a little donkey that some farmer obviously used for a beast of burden. The little animal was laden with kindling and other materials, but David stripped it off the animal’s back and quickly yanked the animal into the shadows. While Geist peeled off his armor and donned clothing that looked more like a peasant than a monk, David made sure the donkey was as prepared as he could get it.