“It is,” Toby’s eyes opened but her head didn’t move; she looked at the startled physic. “Did you not hear Kenneth? I am fine.”
Momentary surprise was replaced by confusion. “But…?”
“Please do not ask questions.”
The physic stood with his mouth gaping. “But… what will I tell Mortimer?”
Toby hissed at him. “Tell him that you put me to bed and that I should sleep for hours. Tell him not to disturb me, no matter what.”
“Are you going to rest?”
“Nay.”
“Then where are you going?”
Toby dared to lift her head, looking at Kenneth. “I do not know. But I trust Kenneth.”
Timothy was perplexed but refrained from arguing. Kenneth left him standing in the entry hall as he took Toby out into the muddy bailey. By the time they hit the ward, Toby’s head came up again.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he shoved her head back down.
They walked for several more paces before she spoke again. “Now?”
“I believe so.”
Her head came up once more. “Then put me down.”
He set her to her feet and she noticed immediately that her pale surcoat was in danger of getting mud all over it. She froze where he had set her.
“Pick me up!” she commanded.
Dutifully, Kenneth picked her up again and began his trek over to the stables. Toby looked around the ward at the remnants of the queen’s entourage; a carriage, a few men, and a lot of horses. It was a big gathering.
“Now,” she looked at Kenneth. “Would you care to tell me what this is all about?”
He remained silent as they entered the stable yards. “Can I put you down yet? She looked at the soupy, muddy ground. “Nay,” she told him. “You will have to carry me so my skirt willnot become soiled. Answer my question; why did you bring me out here?”
Kenneth veered into the stables. It was cold and dark inside, although it was dry. It smelled strongly of horses and hay and he set her to her feet.
“I was ordered to bring you here,” he told her as they faced each other in the dim stable light.
She scowled at him. “Who on earth ordered you to bring me out here?” she demanded, rubbing at her arms. “I am cold. The least you can do is go and get my cloak if you are going to make me wait outside.”
“You will survive. That dress is warm enough.”
She growled. “Go get my cloak, I say. And bring me some warmed wine as well. I shall catch my death of chill out here and it will be your fault.”
“Good lord; have you been ordering Kenneth about like that all along?”
It was a familiar voice that didn’t register with Toby right away. Tate abruptly swung around the corner and into the stalls, almost plowing into his wife because she was standing so close to the door. Toby screamed at the suddenness of his appearance, tripping over her own feet. She would have fallen had Tate not reached out to grab her. She screamed again, startled by his grip, startled by the face, but only for a moment; when she realized her husband was standing before her, she threw her arms around his neck so tightly that she hit him in the throat with her rush.
Tate coughed a joyous cough from his bruised Adam’s apple as he wrapped his mailed arms around Toby tightly enough to crush her.
“My God,” Toby couldn’t catch her breath. “My God, my God,my God!”
She seemed incapable of saying anything else at the moment. Tate laughed softly, his face in her hair, feeling tears sting his eyes. He was so emotional he could hardly control it. He took a moment to breath in her scent; she smelled like roses. Then the kisses started and he kissed her face furiously, listening to her gasp with delight.