“We cannot keep our swords thus,” Roland complained, though that was not the issue for Amaury.
He did not mind disguising himself or concealing his armor. He did not mind setting aside his tabard with the emblem of Montvieux. He could – and had – survived without his sword, and no man would deprive him of the dagger upon his belt, never mind the one in his boot. But he disliked intensely the notion of leaving Ténébreux behind, and even more, the prospect of abandoning Philip within the territories of Marnis.
Worse, he distrusted Edmund. It was one matter to agree to let the man live within his company, when Amaury could control Edmund’s ability to travel, but this, this required him to put himself into that man’s power for at least this journey.
Every fiber of his being protested.
But Amaury had to see Isabella. He had to aid Isabella, if indeed she wished for his assistance. She was his wife and her defense was his responsibility. This very day she would be sent to a convent, or worse. As she was within the walls of Marnis, that meant he had to enter that place himself.
“And you will have to abandon your hauberk,” Edmund continued, earning a sharp glance from Amaury. “It reveals your knightly status, sir, and any who notice that you are a knight will naturally wish to know which knight you are.” He shook his head sadly. “There is little affection for the family of Montvieux within the walls of Marnis.”
The driver cleared his throat and scowled. Doubtless, time was pressing.
Amaury felt a portent of doom, one that grew stronger by the moment, one that compelled him to conclude that his lady might not leave her family abode alive. He seldom experienced such convictions, but when he did, he heeded them. Her father might have changed his mind again about his daughter’s future.
Amaury had to enter the keep and soon.
He had to accept Edmund’s scheme. He beckoned to Philip and tugged his tabard over his head, turning his back to the boy to have his hauberk unlaced.
Edmund beamed with a satisfaction that did little to allay Amaury’s doubts.
“You may join me or return to Montvieux,” he said to Roland, who looked astonished. “I must aid my lady.”
“Then I will go with you,” his brother said with welcome conviction.
“And Philip, you will take the horses back to Montvieux.” He entrusted his sword to Philip. “Where are the casks?” he asked the driver, striding toward the cart while Roland similarly divested himself. He did not miss Edmund’s glee and knew for certain that there was peril for himself and his brother this day.
But he would risk all for Isabella.
Philip would defend himself and the horses. Amaury relied upon it, for he had trained his squire well.
But he had to protect Philip. He dared not leave the boy alone with Edmund.
“I would see you secured first, Edmund,” he said with false cheer, noting the older man’s surprise. He gestured to the casks, only two of which were open. They were in the middle of the cart, between rows of casks that must be filled with wine.
“I, my lord? But I did not intend to accompany you.”
The driver, Amaury noted, was watchful.
“But you must, Edmund,” he said heartily. “How else can we be assured that we will gain admission to Marnis? Upon who else would I rely to navigate that keep with surety? Nay, nay, we must have your assistance in this matter, which you have so generously offered.” Amaury gestured to one of the empty casks. “I insist, or the entire expedition must be abandoned.”
Edmund hesitated only a moment, then climbed into a cask. Amaury did not miss the respect that touched the driver’s expression before he became impassive again.
“By the way, Edmund, who did kill Denis?” Amaury asked.
The older man was clearly startled and stammered for a moment before he could speak. “I do not know, sir.”
“Come, Edmund, you always like to know the secrets of the hall. I would wager that you either know who killed Denis or did the deed yourself.”
“Me, sir? I could not, I would not, I did not…”
Amaury had little doubt of that. The blow that had ended Denis’ days had been a powerful one, and he could not believe that Edmund could have struck such a blow.
“You must believe me, my lord!” Edmund entreated, clutching the sides of the cask.
He protected someone else.
By his discomfiture, Amaury guessed that he feared the villain. “I believe you know who killed Denis, just as I believe you know who sent the candied elecampane to my father from Beaune.”