Page 73 of Dawnlands

“They’re in there?” she asked a woman who was standing, gazing towards the archway of the gatehouse.

“They hold them in the inner ward, the cells are under the courtroom,” the woman said miserably, never taking her eyes from the arched stone gateway. “They bring them up to the gatehouse to load on the wagons to go to the ports. In chains like slaves. My husband is in there now, in the gatehouse, waiting for the wagon. I hope to catch a glimpse of him as he goes.”

“Don’t they let you say good-bye?”

The woman shook her head. “Nay! They load the wagons under the archway and they drive past us without stopping, guards all round ’em. But if he looks up, he’ll see me. He’ll know that I’ll wait for him.”

“How many guards?” Rowan asked.

“Dozens. They all come running out of the castle when the wagons are leaving and hold us back, so we can’t give them food or money.”

“Come away, Rowan,” Johnnie said quietly. “We can’t do anything here.”

Rowan smiled at the woman. “God bless you,” she said gently. “And your husband.”

Johnnie drew her away. “Let’s go back to the inn,” he said. “We can’t do any more for him.”

He saw the sudden determination in her face, like that of a man mustering for a forlorn hope. In all the time he had watched her, he had never seen her set her jaw like that, not like a beautiful girl at all, but like a fighter squaring up for his last bout.

“Rowan, don’t look like that—”

“Can you give me money to bribe a guard? I just want to see him.”

“No,” he overruled her. “I won’t risk my life for him, and I won’t allow you to risk yours.”

She looked at him with her dark forthright gaze. “Not even for love of me, Johnnie?”

He nearly melted at her using his name for the first time, looking into his face, turning to him for help. But he knew best. “No,” he said firmly. “I’d do anything for you, but I won’t take you into danger.”

He expected her to argue, but she gave a little sigh, as if the fight had gone out of her, and nodded and tucked her hand in his arm as if they were already man and wife. He led her back to the inn, brushing people aside, and helping her up the steps, warm with pleasure that she hadher hand in his, that she was leaning on him, that he could guide her, direct her, and protect her, now and for the rest of their lives.

“I shall order dinner,” Johnnie told her at the doorway of the inn. “And you shall rest in my room while I hire a horse, and tomorrow we’ll start for London. You must be tired.”

He took her bowed head for assent, and he saw her up the stairs to his bedroom with a new pride that he had courted her and won her and that her adventure was over.

Johnnie found the biggest livery stables in Taunton and spoke to the liveryman. “A strong horse to carry two,” he said, flushing at the thought of Rowan riding behind him with her arms around his waist. “A pillion saddle. D’you have such a thing?”

“Almost all our horses are hired,” the man said discouragingly. “There’s that many with their hearts broken going home to mourn. But I’ve got a steady old horse that’ll take two.”

“I’m going to London. Where should I change him?”

“At Bath,” the man said. “Go to the Blue Boar. You’ll get another horse easily enough, and they know me there. They’ll return him to me.”

Johnnie reached into his pocket, unbuttoned the flap, and felt for his purse. “Here is… here…” He felt in his deep pocket. It was empty. “Good God,” he said, “I’ve been robbed!”

“You have?”

“I can’t pay you. I had all my money in my purse, and my purse is gone!”

“Try your other pockets.”

Johnnie was already thrusting his hands deep into his flapped pockets, and checking his belt and his breeches. “I always keep it in my right-hand pocket. But look! Nothing!”

“When did you last have it?”

Johnnie hesitated, re-creating in his mind the moment that Rowan was walking beside him, her hand in his arm, climbing the stone stairs to the inn, leaning against him as they went through the door. Her hand was in his arm, in his right arm, beside his pocket. He had held her against him, he had taken a moment to revel in her closeness…

“It’s not lost. I’ve been robbed,” he repeated flatly.