The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(89)
“If you are lying—”
“How do you think they were able to get out of this castle unseen? I ensured they had a degree of privacy and time…and they used it to their advantage. I am glad of it. I think Queen Elizabeth dangerously hostile to her Catholic subjects, but I am not stupid enough to take out my anger on a single woman.”
Stephen couldn’t quite bring himself to thank the man. “I don’t suppose you have any idea which direction I should look for them?”
“Not the sea,” Arundel said cynically.
Stephen headed for the door, not waiting for more. But he hesitated at the last minute, the fact that there was more at stake than simply his sister returning forcibly to his mind.
“What will you do now?” Stephen asked abruptly.
“Now that the princess has slipped the attempted Spanish snare, and is no doubt well on her way to alert Lord Bolton and his army?” Arundel spoke cynically, but reasonably. “As little as I like this present queen, I have no wish for civil war. I cannot bring myself to support a side I despise, but no more can I bring myself to oppose it with blood. I will, at the least, hold my men neutral, and so you may tell your princess and your queen.”
It was as much as they could hope for at this point. Stephen nodded once, in grudging acknowledgment of Arundel’s conscience. “Thank you,” he at last managed.
Stephen was out of the castle, out of the city, and back to his company as fast as he could move. Splitting the company in three, he sent them in different directions and began to scout the countryside for Pippa—and the man hunting her.
—
Everything that happened after the courtyard etched itself into Pippa’s awareness like a steel-point engraving. A black and white procession of events, stripped of colour and texture, but perfectly clear in detail. Arundel’s blunt courtesy trying to conceal his distaste, Matthew’s distress manifesting itself in stark lines on his bone-white face, Madalena’s gentle care as she bathed Pippa’s flayed back.
Through it all, her vision was clear and her thinking sharp. There was pain, but no fear. Pippa knew absolutely that everything that had happened was meant to happen—and everything that was to come was equally necessary. She did not bother herself trying to anticipate events. God would ensure the end.
She slept on her stomach for an hour or two and ate what was brought. Matthew and Madalena had a low-voiced, urgent conversation trying to figure out what Arundel would do next. Pippa was the only one who was not surprised when the earl himself returned to the chamber where he’d left them.
He spoke in as few words as possible. “I tried, and failed, to persuade Navarro to return to the ship. He will not leave the castle without Lady Philippa.”
“And so?” Matthew, as he rarely did, rose to his full height. She had never seen him look so much like his intimidating father.
“And so,” Arundel rejoined coolly, “Lady Philippa must leave the castle without his knowledge.”
“Can you do it?” Madalena asked.
“Give me an hour. I’ll quietly have my men get horses outside the city. I know this castle better than the Spanish—I can get you out. But once I do, you’d best ride as fast as you can for safe haven. I will keep Navarro in ignorance as long as possible. But make no mistake—he will come after you.”
He addressed that last directly to Pippa. She smiled gently. “I know it,” she said. “I am not afraid.”
With one nod, Arundel turned to go.
“Philip,” she called after him. They had known each other for years, if not especially well. As she’d intended, her use of his name stopped him. And when he looked back at her, his expression had been stripped of its arrogance. He looked like a young man trying desperately to live his religion in an often hostile environment, not always sure of what was right and not overfond of interfering foreigners.
It moved Pippa enough to stand with care and take his hands in hers as she might have one of her brothers. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“Be careful,” he said in return, then left as abruptly as he’d come.
Matthew worried about her ability to ride, but Pippa assured him she would be well. She did not think he believed her. Just over an hour later, the three of them had been smuggled out of the castle and town through low windows and crooked alleys and mounted the horses left for them. The direction had already been decided by Pippa—west to the royal castle of Pontefract. They would have to come at it obliquely to draw off any pursuit, making the distance perhaps sixty miles. But there were hamlets along the way, and Arundel had sent them with minimal supplies to make camp.
They’d ridden for four hours and were just thinking of stopping when Matthew reined in hard and motioned the women to do the same. A low mist swirled against the ground, hampering sight. But Pippa heard it at once—or perhaps merely felt the vibration in her bones. The rumble of mounted men, coming fast and hard.
“Navarro,” she breathed out.
Matthew hesitated only a moment. If they stayed on the road, they’d be caught. There were no nearby manors or churches where they could make a stand. In that moment of hesitation, Pippa realized exactly where they were and almost laughed aloud. As if the location was burned into her brain, she could see the stark, unfriendly walls of the abandoned medieval tower they’d come across just weeks before. Where better to face off against Navarro?