Face Down Before Rebel Hooves Part 17

"Devil take it!"

"The siege continues, then?"

"Aye. Sir George Bowes has made many enemies hereabout. One faction will fight against him long after they've ceased to support our cause."

"Then we must remain at Brancepeth." It was Susanna's fervent hope that the queen's men would soon arrive at the castle gates.

"No one stays here, and my lord means to go to Scotland. Scotland! Barbarous place!" She lowered her voice. "They have reason to hate me there."

The countess's comments, a mixture of the astute and the irrational, left Susanna in a state of confusion. Her gaze strayed to the ornate casket she'd noticed before. Did it once again hold letters? Was one of them from the queen of Scots? Her fingers itched to reach out and discover those answers for herself.

"My ancestors, the dukes of Norfolk, have led many a campaign against Scotland." Lady Westmorland glanced over her shoulder as if she feared being overheard. "I have here in this room a book the first duke took with him on campaign. Eighty years ago, that was." She rambled on about her family, alternately deriding the Scots and cursing her husband for a fool. "I am determined to throw myself on the queen's mercy," she declared. "My high rank will protect me. I will go to court. I will plead my case. Elizabeth will see reason."

Queen Elizabeth, Susanna thought, would at the least throw Lady Westmorland into the Tower of London to keep her brother company. Treason was not, could not be, taken lightly. The only leniency someone of Lady Westmorland's rank and s.e.x could expect was a clean death by the headsman's ax rather than the horror of being hanged, drawn, and quartered.

While Marion attempted to calm her mistress with words, Susanna searched the chamber for something more effective. She found it in a small, wooden box-poppy syrup, used to cure insomnia-and poured a generous dose into a cup of wine. She gave it to Marion to press upon the countess, and when they were both distracted, Susanna picked up the casket and left the study.

Since their return to Brancepeth, Jennet had slept on a truckle bed in the chamber Susanna shared with Joan Lascelles and Cecily Carnaby. She was there when Susanna returned, and for once they had the room to themselves.

Jennet gasped when she noticed the casket. "The letters?"

"Let us see." Susanna drew out one piece of parchment, unfolded it, and studied what was written there. She did not know whether to be elated or downcast. "A cipher."

No one put communications in code unless they had something to hide. But how, she wondered, could anyone prove a letter had come from Mary of Scotland? There were five missives. None bore any seal and none was signed. Each consisted of rows of uppercase letters. The top line of one read: Y A S I S S R E I N F R T H.

"Walter will have to decipher these," Susanna decided.

Holding a page this way and that, Jennet squinted at the columns. "There must be some way to read them."

With a sigh, Susanna took the paper back. "You know how complex the codes Robert used were. They required a key to interpret."

"Are there no simple ciphers?"

"Some secret messages are disguised as ordinary lists. Common words are a.s.signed other meanings. The correspondents use code names. In other cases, the message becomes clear by reading every third letter, or every eighth. You get the idea. But this . . . ." She stared at the page in frustration.

Y A S I S S R E I N F R T H.

T N S W E T E T L H N O H J.

S D E A N O H I U E E M G U.

U W T I I E E C F R E W I L.

R E N T L X H T T I U I E Y.

T L U O O C T O H T Q N R R.

T L O N H O E C G A R G O E.

H B C L S M T L I N U F N G.

G E D Y I M A A R C O I A I.

I L E F H U C I Y E Y E M N.

R O V O R N I M M A S L D A.

"Is Regina a name?" Jennet pointed to the bottom half of the last column.

"It means queen." The letters, which had seemed incomprehensible a moment before, abruptly s.h.i.+fted into focus. "I have been making this too difficult," Susanna murmured in amazement. "The message is meant to be read up one column and down the next.

Using one finger to follow them, she decoded a simple yet d.a.m.ning message. "Right trusty and well beloved countess. I wait only for His Holiness to excommunicate the heretic to claim my rightful inheritance as your queen. From Wingfield Manor, eighth July. Regina."

The other messages were similar. Thoughtfully, Susanna returned them to their casket and placed it in the bottom of the chest in which she stored her belongings. She could not bear to look at them, for they were more than mere messages. They were the death warrants for two countesses and a queen.

"We can do nothing more about this until late tonight."

"Then we will leave here?"

"We will try." First she had supper to get through, and she was expected to attend Lady Northumberland.

Susanna laid her plans with care. A judicious combination of bribery and sleeping daughts seemed best. She would not have to drug Joan, who would not wake if there were an explosion, and it was Cecily's turn to spend the night at the countess's beck and call. That would keep her out of the way. But if Margaret Heron had been murdered and her killer was watching them, they would need to use extreme caution. That person, Susanna believed, was Guy Carnaby, although Jennet continued to suspect Cecily was behind all the accidents. Jennet was certain Cecily's poor eyesight had led her to mistake Margaret for Susanna.

During the journey to Brancepeth, Susanna had reviewed all she knew about the attempts on Eleanor's life and realized that only three people had easy access to the earl of Northumberland's seal, the earl, the countess, and the earl's secretary. Guy Carnaby enjoyed the trust of the other two. He must have known of the plan to use Lady Pendennis as a courier. When Lady Northumberland wrote to Lucius Dartnall, Carnaby had been in an ideal position to send the second order to Augsburg, the instructions to arrange an accident for Eleanor, revenge for Walter's involvement in the death of Ranulf Carnaby. Guy Carnaby had also been on the scene of every accident Susanna had suffered since her arrival in Yorks.h.i.+re.

Unfortunately, Susanna had not a shred of evidence against him and was unlikely to discover any at this late date. Short of catching him in the act of yet another attempt on her life, she'd never prove he'd arranged Eleanor's death or murdered Margaret Heron by mistake. She hated the thought of letting a killer go free, but she consoled herself with the certainty that Guy Carnaby would be among those caught and executed for treason. It was time to cut her losses and escape, getting both herself and Jennet to safety before the queen's army laid siege to Brancepeth.

No one remarked upon Lady Westmorland's absence from supper in the great hall. Even her husband seemed relieved not to have to deal with her erratic behavior. After the meal, Susanna accompanied Lady Northumberland back to her chamber, where Cecily and Joan joined them a few minutes later. Jennet slipped into the room soon after, her gaze darting first to Susanna and then, once she'd rea.s.sured herself that her mistress was safe, to Cecily, whereupon her eyes narrowed with suspicion and she began to gnaw on her lower lip.

Dear, predictable Jennet, Susanna thought, and allowed herself, for the first time in weeks, to focus on going home to Leigh Abbey. A lovely daydream was well advanced when Marion burst into the chamber.

"She's gone! Lady Westmorland is gone!"

"When?" Susanna demanded.

"An hour or more past. She was asleep. I thought it safe to leave her."

"Where has she gone?" Lady Northumberland asked.

"I do not know."Marion sent a quick, warning look in Susanna's direction. "She took a chamberer and two henchmen but she left these behind." From the concealment of her voluminous skirt she withdrew a handful of letters, offering them up as she threw herself to her knees before the countess. "Let me stay with you, Lady Northumberland. We will not be in exile long. We will gather allies. Return. Triumph. Restore life in the North to the way it was before King Henry's heresy."

Susanna stared at the five coded messages with a sinking heart. Marion must have seen her take the casket from Lady Westmorland's study. It appeared she had underestimated Eleanor's cousin and put far too much faith in her own cleverness. She wondered what else she'd been wrong about.

Chapter 36.

"Master Baldwin?" Toby sounded hesitant.

Nick stood on the ramparts, studying the ragged army outside Barnard Castle's triple walls. The fortress stood high above the River Tees, guarding a three-arched bridge that crossed from Durham to Yorks.h.i.+re. The rebels held the bridge. They had no siege equipment, but that had not prevented them from imprisoning the entire garrison-nearly 800 men-for two long weeks. They waited to attack only until the food inside ran out, which it would do before much longer. Barnard Castle had been poorly victualed to begin with.

"What is it, Toby?"

"Some of the men have deserted."

That got Nick's full attention. There had been mutinous rumbles for days, even talk of surrendering Sir George Bowes to the enemy, since he was the one whose policies had provoked the wrath of these armed malcontents. "How?"

"The only way-over the wall. The first man landed safely. The second broke his leg."

It would require a leap of faith as well as of body in order to get away, Nick realized. The rebels, in spite of their stand here, were losing the war. They had no reason to be merciful to men who'd fought on the other side.

As the day progressed, more men tried to escape. For every five or six who managed to land unscathed, one was severely injured. Sir George kept a tally of broken legs and necks and announced that any fool who wanted to kill himself was welcome to join the ranks of the deserters. Nick considered the odds. The rebels seemed to welcome those who survived unscathed. If he jumped, he could be on his way to Susanna by nightfall.

She was in danger; he could feel it. And he'd become more certain with each pa.s.sing day at Barnard Castle that it would be wise to put as much distance as possible between himself and Pendennis. Even Toby had noticed the calculating way the other man watched them, as if he itched for an opportunity to do harm.

Toby jumped first. Nick breathed a sigh of relief when the lad landed without harm. He'd just steeled himself to follow when he felt a hand press against his shoulder. In the next instant he was tumbling from the heights, arms flailing wildly. Nick had no control over his fall. He heard the snap of bone before he felt it, as he struck the castle wall during his descent. Then the ground rose up to meet him, knocking the wind out of his lungs and stunning him senseless. He lost consciousness for a moment, only to be revived by a wash of pain.

Toby's face swam into view. "Master Baldwin! Are you dead?"

"Not yet. Get me away from the castle." Nick spoke through gritted teeth. Even with Toby to support him, every movement was agony. Fire erupted from his ankle. His left arm hung limp as a spitted game fowl.

"I saw Sir Walter up there behind you, Master Baldwin," Toby said.

Nick's jaw was clenched too tightly to allow any reply. After what seemed like an eternity, Toby got them both behind the rebel lines. Safe, he thought. Free to do something to help Susanna, even if it was only send Toby to her. But his optimism came too soon. A familiar form made its way to his side to study his injuries.

"Well, well," said Dr. Grant. "Master Baldwin, who deserted our cause in the dead of night. And what, I wonder, were you doing inside Barnard Castle with our enemies?"

Chapter 37.

Catherine Glenelg's journey back to Barnard Castle took twice as long as she'd expected. Her party was brought to a halt for almost a week at Penrith by a fall of snow that made the roads impa.s.sable. By the time she got close to her destination and heard about the siege, it was already over. So, apparently, was the rebellion of the northern earls. They and their few remaining followers were reported to be fleeing toward Scotland. Even those few hotheads who'd wanted Sir George Bowes's blood had realized their cause was futile. The terms of Barnard Castle's surrender had granted his release. Together with some 400 men still loyal to the queen, he'd marched out of the castle and set off for York unmolested. The victors, after looting their prize, had scattered.

"We will follow Sir Walter and Sir George," Catherine decided. She intended to turn her prisoner over to the proper authorities. Besides, she could not be certain Susanna was still with the rebels. There was no point in chasing after the earls if she did not need to.

In York, she found Walter at the King's Manor, preparing to set out again to track down the rebel leaders. "I have brought you a present," she announced. Fulke and Lionel followed her into the room, marching a sullen Lucius Dartnall between them.

Walter's reaction was most gratifying, a moment of profound shock, but the exchange of information that followed left much to be desired. So did Walter's accusation that Dartnall was behind several recent attempts to kill Susanna.

As Catherine struggled to take in the fact that there had been more "accidents" to Eleanor after her arrival in England, Dartnall blinked at them in confusion. She had not told him Eleanor was dead, only that Sir Walter wanted to question him about the accident in Augsburg. Dartnall was not very clever, but even he had sense enough to stop talking when he was trussed up and forced to accompany her to Yorks.h.i.+re.

"I went nowhere near Topcliffe," he protested, "nor Brancepeth nor Darlington nor Boroughbridge!"

Belatedly, Catherine found her speech. "He'd have known she wasn't Eleanor, and besides, he is not the kind of man who takes risks. That is why he let Nick Baldwin bring the second packet to England. Only after he arrived in Keswick did he see any advantage to raising more funds for the rebellion. That is why he went to visit Sir Roger Cholmeley."

"I went there for Haug and Company," Dartnall insisted.

Catherine almost felt sorry for the fellow. It had not taken her long to decide he was a poor judge of other people, a sad disadvantage in someone ambitious to make a fortune. He was the sort who did what he was told without stopping to question his orders. Even now, he was pa.s.sing slow to understand what serious trouble he was in.

"Where is Susanna?" Catherine asked, once Walter had turned Dartnall over to some of the earl of Suss.e.x's men.

"G.o.d only knows. The rebel leaders left Brancepeth before our troops could trap them. She's still in the countess's retinue."

"Scotland, then." Catherine heaved a deep sigh. She'd hoped to avoid returning to Gilbert's homeland. "Very well. I leave this afternoon for Carlisle. Send a messenger after me if you discover Susanna has gone elsewhere. Otherwise, I will contact certain friends in Scotland."

"Once the rebels cross the border, they will not be easy to locate."

"It takes a reiver to find a reiver, and a Scot to deal with a Scot."

"You are as English as I am," Pendennis reminded her.

Catherine fought an urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Have faith in me, Walter," she said in deceptively mild tones. "This time I am the one with influential friends in the right places. I carry a pa.s.sport signed by the regent of Scotland."

She'd received Gilbert's reply to her letter during her second sojourn in Penrith. His letter had contained two enclosures he thought she might find useful. Bless him. Gilbert, who had his own sources of information about the activities of the northern earls, believed in her ability to act on her own. And he'd understood why she'd abandoned him and their child in London to rush to Susanna's aid. Few husbands would have.

"I do not like this, Catherine," Walter said.

"And I do not like knowing that Susanna is still with the rebels. Why hasn't she left them, Walter? What holds her there, especially when someone has been trying to kill her?" She did not give him time to answer. "She's still trying to do something you asked of her. That's why she remains. She keeps her promises, no matter the risk."

"I have firsthand knowledge of Susanna's stubbornness," Walter said stiffly, "and it does not surprise me that both you and Jennet seek to emulate her, but there are times when I understand why Robert claimed to find Susanna so annoying."

"That is a dreadful thing to say!"

Walter was silent for a long moment, his expression as enigmatic as ever. Then he shrugged. "Go if you must. It scarce matters now."

Fuming, Catherine left the King's Manor. She would collect Fulke and Lionel and leave York at once. A great many things were clear to her now. Walter had not sent her to Keswick to find Dartnall. He'd thought Dartnall was somewhere else and had packed her off into the c.u.mbrian Mountains to get her out of the way. He was allowing her go to Carlisle for the same reason, giving her a pat on the head like a child and telling her to toddle off and play!

She was so angry that at first she did not recognize the third man waiting with her escort and the horses. When she did, she let out of cry of pleasure. "Toby! What news have you?"

"All bad," the lad said.

A short time later, Catherine sat in Nick Baldwin's chamber at the George. Nick lay on the bed, a wooden box around his left arm, which had been broken in two places. His right ankle was swathed in bandages and elevated.

"Why were you so desperate to escape?" she asked him.

"There seemed to be no end in sight for the siege. And I felt-I still feel-that Susanna is in danger."

"Yes. I sense it, too."

Baldwin scowled at his man. "I have tried to persuade Toby to go after her."