He stopped sharpening, agitation in his features. “I am sworn to Clifford.”
“And if he orders you to kill me?”
“If he orders it, I must obey.”
She looked at him with wide eyes. Then, she backed away from him, turning around completely and making way for the lancet windows on the opposite side of the room. Peeling the oilcloth back, she was hit with the freezing air as she gazed into the white-covered bailey below. Her line of questioning against Radcliffe had backfired and now she was verging on frightened tears. Then she heard him behind her.
“I am sorry, my lady,” he said softly. “I did not mean to upset you.”
She blinked and tears spattered on her cheeks; she wasn’t afraid for herself but for the life growing inside of her. It meant everything to her to ensure the survival of the child.
“The order will come,” she wept softly. “It came for Arthur and it will come for me.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. All Radcliffe knew was that he felt very badly for the lady. He’d tried so hard to be both jailor and caretaker. He had developed a very brotherly attachment to her simply because they had spent so much time together. But he knew, as did she, if the orders came down to execute her that he would be duty-bound to obey.
“I am sorry,” he said again. “It is not that I wish to do it, but if….”
She turned to him, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Edward, listen to me. Help me escape and I promise that you will have a great position and lands, all that I can give you, for your troubles. You are a good man; too good to serve someone as vile as my uncle. Do you not see this?”
He stared at her, something cold invading his expression. “I cannot be bribed, Lady Elizabeau,” he said flatly. “I would be a man without honor if I could.”
“Untrue,” she countered softly. “You would be a man of conviction if you helped me. You know the king is evil and you know that what he does is not right. There is no honor in serving a snake.”
Radcliffe’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “My father was sworn to John and his father Henry before him. I am always destined to serve the king and his retainers.”
She put a hand on his meaty arm. “But I have been named Richard’s heir. ‘Tis I who carry the bloodlines of the true throne. Henry was my grandfather.”
Radcliffe looked anxious as he gazed back at her. “But John is the king. And I serve the king.”
“But he should not be the king. He is destroying England with his greed and evil ways.”
Radcliffe didn’t know what to say and lowered his head, trying to turn away. But she held him fast.
“Edward,” she said in a less pleading, more firm tone. “May I ask you something?”
He shrugged, still not looking at her. “Go ahead, my lady.”
Her grip on his arm tightened. “Has serving Clifford been a good experience for you?”
He did look at her, then. “What do you mean?”
“Are your associates kind to you? Are you well treated?”
He had no idea what she meant. “They… they treat me as a knight, my lady.”
“Have they ever been mean or harsh to you? Do they… mock you?”
He was truly puzzled but she could see, in his eyes, a disturbing flicker. Like a child remembering bad memories he had buried away. He jerked his arm from her grip and lumbered back over to his stool and pumice stone. Elizabeau watched him sit heavily.
“Your silence is answer enough,” she said softly. “Forgive me if I upset you. But know this; I was unkind to you when we first met, but not for the same reasons others may treat you badly. I was unkind simply because I was afraid. But you have always been very kind to me and now I think of you as a friend. Remember that, Edward; we have become friends. And friends help friends in need.”
She resumed her seat at her palette, picking up her brush again and returning her focus to her painting. She would not say any more to him tonight, but she had planted a seed in his mind. And she intended to nurture that seed if there was any hope of escape.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The plan to storm Ludlow had come to a complete halt for two days. That was how long the Lady Dustin had been in labor, struggling to bring forth an enormous child that was unwilling to be born. Christopher was an emotional cripple and David along with him, leaving the duties of preparing for the siege to Edward, Lawrence and Rhys. Oddly, Rhys seemed to be coming around during this time and had become a semblance of his former self. He was an excellent tactician and a master of logistics, and planning the retrieval of Elizabeau had given him a reason to live. Those around him saw the gradual transformation but none dared to hope that it was permanent.