Saxilby nodded, picking at the stale bread. “We had heard Wakefield as well,” he said. “My scouts have not returned from Yorkshire so I do not know if, in fact, Warwick has gone there.”
“Nor do I,” Kenton said truthfully. “My focus has been on Babylon. Now, will you tell me how you came across me in Manchester? I would like to know. We thought you and your men were well gone, at least for a while, but you returned with strength.”
Saxilby eyed him a moment before answering. “We returned with Conisbrough.”
Conisbrough.Somehow, Kenton wasn’t surprised. Warwick had even warned him about the garrison.
“I see,” he said. “That is where you went after you left Babylon?”
Saxilby nodded in confirmation. “That is where we went, chased by Warwick until he veered away so as not to confront the garrison,” he replied. “Warwick did not send you word of any of this?”
Kenton shook his head. “He did not,” he said, “although I knew there was a big contingent at Conisbrough. So you brought the garrison with you, did you? That explains the fresh troops but it still does not explain how you found me. Did your scouts tell you?”
Saxilby, on his fourth cup of wine, was feeling his drink. It usually made him loud and humorous and chatty, and this was no exception. Had he not had so much wine in him, he probably wouldn’t have told Kenton anything but given the fact that he was slightly drunk, his usual control was weak. Plus, the conversation had been so casual, as he had intended, that it was almost as if old friends were speaking. He’d hoped to lure Kenton into a false sense of security and pump him for information, but it seemed that his plan was working in reverse. He was the one doing the talking.
“Nay, the scouts told us nothing,” he said, reaching for the pitcher of wine again. “Think, le Bec. You conquered Babylon and her occupants who are, in fact, loyal to Edward. Do you think they wanted you there? Do you think they would sit back and do nothing while you took over their fortress? Of course not. It was Babylon who sent a missive to Conisbrough telling us where you were. Even as we speak, Babylon should be back in our hands because hundreds of men went to reclaim her, knowing you had vacated and were heading to Manchester.”
Kenton stared at Saxilby, feeling as if he’d just been hit in the gut. He suddenly couldn’t breathe and his balance, tenuous at best, was in danger of weakening further. He struggled to regain his breath, and his balance, shocked to the core at what he was hearing.
“Babylonsent word to the garrison?” he repeated, stunned. “Who? A servant came to tell you? Or a soldier even?”
Saxilby took a deep drink of wine, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nay,” he said. “It was a missive from Lady Thorne. She told us everything. How she knew of your movements, I do not know, but she was right about you. If not for her, Manchester would be in Henry’s hands and Babylon would still be under his control. But I’m curious how she was able to send the missive, le Bec. Did you not lock the woman up?”
Lady Thorne.The room began to spin and Kenton fell back on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling that was moving around, as if he were looking at it underwater. Everything was moving and he felt sick, sicker than he’d ever felt in his life.It’s not possible!His mind screamed.Nicola would never do anything like that! She would not do that to me!
But then he stopped… and he remembered…
… the last time he saw her had been a terrible and tense conversation. God, what had she said to him? That she knew hehad only intended to use her? Kenton remembered thinking that someone had poisoned her mind against him and…oh, God… poisoned it enough so that she would hate him so terribly that she would send to Conisbrough and tell them of his battle plans?
Hate him so terribly that she would betray him?
Kenton put his hands to his face, closing his eyes, feeling like the biggest fool in the entire world. Nay, not a fool… he felt like a betrayed and defeated man. Nicola knew of his plans because he had told her. She had asked him.Asked him!Even then, was that what she had been planning? God in heaven, what on earth could have happened to poison the woman so much against him? What did he do to make her hate him so? He couldn’t even fathom what he might have done. Worse yet, she wouldn’t tell him. Now, he would never know, for it was clear she hated him enough to betray him to Edward’s forces. She had sealed his fate and he was now a prisoner.
It was what she wanted.
“Le Bec?” Saxilby broke into his whirling thoughts. “Are you well, man?”
Kenton still had his hands over his face. “I… I suppose the wine was too much,” he muttered, lying, when what he really wanted to do was cry. Aye, he truly did. “I… I will lie down for a time, if you do not mind. I find I have little strength.”
Saxilby gathered the food that Kenton wasn’t eating and stood up, heading for his own comfortable bed. “And I will join you,” he said, shoving bread in his mouth. “This wound is taxing me greatly.”
Kenton didn’t say anything more. He could hear Saxilby lay upon his bed and he could hear the man as he grunted, moving around and trying to get comfortable with such a nasty wound. But that was the extent of Kenton’s interest in Lord Saxilby. His thoughts, mind, heart, and soul were so battered and burdened that he could hardly hold a coherent idea. The one thought thatwas prevalent, however, rolling over and over in his mind, was something quite simple and factual…
Nicola betrayed me…
… Nicola betrayed me!
Even as the words filled his head, he could hardly believe them. He never knew it was possible to hurt so badly, for Nicola Aubrey-Thorne succeeded in doing what hundreds of thousands of men over the past twenty-two years couldn’t do.
She had defeated him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Babylon Castle
Prior to hershort stay when Kenton had her thrown in, Nicola couldn’t remember the last time she was in Babylon’s vault. It had been years ago and even so, she couldn’t remember why she had come. She thought it might have been because Gaylord had a pair of thieves in his custody, awaiting justice, but she honestly couldn’t recall. Looking around at the slick, stone walls, cold and some with a growth of mold, she couldn’t see why anyone would come down here voluntarily. It was purely hellish.
The steps leading down to the only level of the vault, which was just below the gatehouse, were narrow and slippery. Nicola found herself gripping the walls as she followed St. John down the steps, illuminated by the torch he held. Dipped in animal fat, it gave off thick black smoke that caught her in the face more than once. Eyes watering, she was fairly amazed that she hadn’t slipped on her way down the steps because she could hardly see a thing.