Rod seemed particularly concerned, but not for the same reasons that the earl was. He rode at Christopher’s right hand in the absence of the other knights and, along with de Wolfe, bore out the commands of the earl to the following army. His mind was at their destination, at least an hour ahead, and he knew that they would arrive sometime after sunrise. Moreover, it was becoming increasingly apparent that the weather was working against them as the snow continued to fall, slowing their progress. By then, his brother would have already saved the lady or failed trying. The more the minutes dragged out, the more anxious he became at the thought of Rhys all alone as he battled to both save the lady and breach Ludlow from the inside for de Lohr’s army. It was too much to ask of one man. Eventually, Rod could keep quiet no longer.
“My lord,” he addressed Christopher as the man steamed about his brother. “It is clear that we will arrive at Ludlow after the sun has risen.”
Christopher turned to him. “That cannot be helped.”
Rod cleared his throat, somewhat nervously. “That being the case, I would like to ride on ahead should my brother require assistance. As slow as our pace is now with this weather, we will not make it in time for the lady’s execution appointment. If Rhys runs into trouble, he will be alone in his endeavor.”
“He has Radcliffe.”
Rod sighed sharply, not wanting to beg, but he did not want to give up, either. “But we do not even know Radcliffe,” he said quietly. “We do not know, in fact, if he came to Lioncross to set some sort of trap for Rhys. We do not know anything about him. I am simply asking permission to ride ahead and support my brother in the event that Radcliffe does not, or cannot.”
Christopher’s helmed head stayed fixed in Rod’s direction. Eventually, he flipped up his visor and fixed him in the eye. “What makes you think that Lawrence didn’t leave Lioncross for just that purpose?”
“He would not have done it without your directive, my lord.”
“True enough. Or perhaps he knew that I would not give permission and decided to go ahead on his own.”
“Then my presence will only support both my brother and de Beckett and, I would assume, your brother if he followed de Beckett’s path there.” He paused a minute, watching Christopher’s indecisive features. “The point is that we don’t even know where Lawrence and David are so we cannot assume they are at Ludlow preparing to help Rhys. Moreover, if it was your brother attempting this feat, would you not want to be there to support him also? From one brother to another, I must be there to support Rhys. He would do the same for me. He would do the same for any of us.”
Christopher pursed his lips irritably. “Then why did you not ride out with him when he left?”
Rod cocked an eyebrow. “You know that he would not have let me. He was determined to do it alone.”
“Perhaps he knew best.”
“Perhaps. But I would like to ride on ahead anyway.”
Christopher gazed at him a moment longer before slamming his visor down and focusing on the road ahead.
“Go then,” he finally rumbled. “And if you see my brother, you will tell him that I am very displeased with him.”
Rod suppressed a smile of relief as he secured his own visor. “He might slug me. Perhaps you should tell him yourself when this is all over.”
Christopher fought off a grin of his own as he watched Rod thunder off into the night ahead. He found himself praying that the man would make a difference in his brother’s quest, whatever that might be. He knew they were going to arrive after sunrise at Ludlow and he knew very well what that could mean to Rhys’ mission. The mission that had begun those months ago had taken twists and turns that no one could have imagined. Rhys was still attempting to complete it successfully as best he could.
Christopher found himself praying for another miracle.
***
He didn’t particularly look like a priest, but the sergeant had informed Rhys and Elizabeau that the man was, indeed, a soul of the cloth. Rhys got the impression that the soldiers were simply trying to appease him so there wouldn’t be any complications when it came time for their appointment with the block. A priest would ensure Rhys’ good behavior, or so they hoped. This man could be a murderer for all they knew; in truth, they did not care who he was. They were simply bringing Rhys a priest as he had demanded.
So Rhys allowed the man entry into their cell, as if he had a choice in the matter, but he put up a good front all the same to project some manner of control over the situation. He stood between Elizabeau and the man, eyeing him hazardously. When the man in tatters hovered near the wall while the soldiers closed the door and bolted it, they could all hear distant laughter as their jailors found humor in the situation. A questionable priest, a doomed knight and lady, and all was quite funny in their world.