The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(18)

But as the three of them mounted and prepared to ride out in the clear, frosty dawn next morning, Kit prayed silently, Let us not be wrong.

They had forced Felix to mount a smaller horse, so that he would sit lower than the brothers and could thus be more easily covered in case of threat. All three of them wore brigandines—Felix’s a little large—and were well armed.

After the first two hours of tense riding, Kit felt himself relax slightly as the miles passed without incident. If anyone had been watching Blanclair, they had not troubled to follow. At least not close enough to be noticed.

Thanks to the depth of the cold, unusual for early March, the roads were tolerable and Felix was an uncomplaining and hardy traveler. By dint of changing horses several times and taking only brief rests, they reached Blois not long after sunset and secured a room for the three of them in one of the less respectable inns. It was Kit’s suggestion, meant to draw less attention to themselves by not announcing their identities.

While Stephen and Felix slept, Kit drank in the common room for several hours, accumulating a good deal of gossip. Some of it even to purpose. While they dressed next morning, he passed on what he’d heard.

“Renaud came through Blois three weeks ago. Stayed two nights, as though waiting for someone or something. There was a man last night who’d just come from Tours. He thinks Renaud was in conference with Navarre’s men there. If Renaud is still in Tours, that’s only forty miles. We can be there by dark.”

“If he’s still in Tours, then why haven’t we heard back from the fourth courier?” Stephen asked quietly, when Felix had gone out of earshot to relieve himself.

“Ah, yes,” Kit said reluctantly. “I asked around about local violence last night. I found there had been an anonymous body discovered on the riverbank just about the time you’d expect the Blanclair courier to have made it this far.”

Stephen shut his eyes, then sighed and opened them. “All right. Seems we don’t want to risk staying in Blois. But keep your eyes open and every sense alert today.” In a grim undertone, he added, “I will not have another dead child on my conscience.”

They were only ten miles out of Blois when they heard drumming hooves approaching from ahead, faster than the usual pace. Stephen drew his sword and urged his horse to the front, while Kit edged within arm’s length of Felix, ready to snatch the boy’s reins if they had to wheel round quickly.

Four men, riding hard. When they saw Stephen with sword drawn, they slowed. By the time faces could be seen, recognition had blossomed. They were Renaud’s men, wearing his badge of scarlet and black. When the soldiers recognized Stephen and the others, they drew up sharply. “You heard?” one of them said.

Kit shot a look at Stephen but could only see his brother’s back.

“Heard what?”

“The vicomte. He’s dead.”

Kit hissed in shock, but had the presence of mind to grab Felix’s reins to keep him from darting his horse forward.

“You’re lying!” Felix shouted as Stephen said over him, “What happened?”

“An assassination attempt on King Henri of Navarre. The king escaped unhurt, but Vicomte LeClerc was shot and killed in the melee. I’m sorry, monsieur,” the soldier said to Felix. “It was pure bad luck.”

Kit didn’t think so. No doubt Catholic assassins were always happy to try and kill Navarre, but to miss him and just happen to shoot Renaud instead? He didn’t like coincidences.

“How long ago?”

“Last night. The rest of the men are seeing to the necessities. We were sent ahead to warn Blanclair.”

“Why warn us?” Felix asked, too shrewd by half even when traumatized. “If Navarre was the target?”

Stephen answered. “Because your grandfather went to some lengths to keep his visit to Navarre quiet. The Huguenots have many enemies. He wanted you kept clear of possible reprisals.”

“Shall we escort you to Tours?” the soldier asked.

“No. We will see to ourselves. Continue on and let Blanclair know what has happened. Write to Madame Charlotte first of all.”

“Yes, sir.” The men were trained to obey, even if they thought their orders unwise. When they were out of sight, Stephen brought his horse round so the three of them could talk.

“We’re not going to Tours, are we?” Felix asked. To Kit, the boy seemed to be all eyes, wide and fixed but dry. For now.

Kit and Stephen shared a long look, then Kit answered. “Stephen is right. Even if your grandfather’s death was an unlucky accident, there are definitely assassins watching the area. The last thing he would want is to put you in immediate danger.”

“What about Tante Charlotte?”

Stephen said, “She will be wise. I wrote to her before we left Blanclair, laying out the situation. I do not think anyone will trouble her, not unless we draw attention back that way. The question is, where can we go to keep you safe?”

“Calais?” Kit mused.

“We’ll be expected to head to our fellow English, which means we shouldn’t. Nor should we go farther south into Huguenot territory. I suggest we make for Le Havre.”

“And find a ship? Not easy if you intend to keep us anonymous. We haven’t enough money to both hire a ship and hide our identities.”