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“Only because I helped you. If you had been caught…” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you. And Lady Alice. Both of you. But shame on her for getting you into this mess.”

“It’s not her fault—it’s Lady Morwenna’s, for stealing it in the first place,” Bronwyn said.

He grew quiet. “You can’t think she is behind this?”

Bronwyn nodded.

“All right. You’re wrong, but I’ll play along. What makes you say that?”

“She has disliked Lady Alice from the start. Jealous, I think.”

“But stealing the crown and planting it in her rival’s bedding?” He frowned. “Lady Morwenna often plots and schemes, but I’ve never known her to be so cruel as to endanger the life of another person. No, you cannot be right. Lady Morwenna is many things, but she’s not a killer.”

“Why do you defend her?” Her limbs trembled.

“I am not. I’m only speaking the truth, from how I know her. We are… well-acquainted.” He looked away.

Bronwyn raised an eyebrow, but as it was dark, she knew he likely wouldn’t notice.

“I think you’re wrong. No one dislikes Lady Alice so much as she does.

Morwenna was so certain that Lady Alice had it.

Why would she be certain Lady Alice was behind the theft, and why would she think it was hidden in her bedding?

Unless she’d put it there herself.” Bronwyn paused.

“Also, she didn’t care that her own maidservant died. There are rumors that Lady Morwenna killed Mabel herself.”

“Why would Lady Morwenna kill her own maid?” he asked. “Just dismiss her and take on a new one.”

“Maybe to keep her quiet about what she’d seen?”

“Maybe, but all you have is rumors and guesses. Those do not make Lady Morwenna guilty of attempted murder. Have you looked at the other ladies-in-waiting?” he asked.

“Lord, Bronwyn, you’re like a dog with a bone.

Fine. Hunt this down, and prove me wrong.

I might just call you ‘Mistress Bloodhound’ instead of ‘Mistress Baker.’”

She stepped on his foot.

He grinned. “Step on my feet all you want, but the name fits. Besides, you have no proof that Lady Morwenna stole the crown in the first place. All you have is an empty theory you came up with because Lady Alice found the crown and left it with you. Lady Morwenna was possibly acting on rumors. You’re so keen that Lady Morwenna is behind this.

Did you stop to think that maybe she’d heard a rumor that Lady Alice had stolen it and hidden the crown in her bedding?

What if another person had fed Lady Morwenna lies to get them both in trouble? ”

Bronwyn gaped at him.

He grunted. “How do I know you ’re not lying?”

“Why else would I be in the empress’s tent?”

“Maybe you stole the crown yourself. Maybe Sir Ranulf had the right idea and you were in on the whole thing. Maybe Lady Eleanor was a thief, got cut down, and you saw an opportunity and helped yourself.”

“And where would I have hidden it? I’d only been there a moment before you all came in.” Her knees felt weak.

“Your apron, maybe? I don’t know.”

“That’s a lot of maybes and no proof. You’re guessing. Besides, you would have noticed the crown-shaped bulge in my apron.” She put a hand on her hip.

“See? Now you know what it feels like, to be acting on guesses and little evidence. You need more than that before you go around pointing fingers at people, Bronwyn.”

His eyes darted to her lips.

She swallowed and looked up at him. She shivered. “I know one thing to be true. We are not lovers.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “There is only so much I can say about that rumor. Sir Ranulf loves a bit of gossip, and he’s worse than the court ladies. He’s likely spreading the tale far and wide to anyone who will listen.”

Bronwyn clapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh, no.”

His smile fell. His voice grew quiet. “Is that so disagreeable, the idea of being with me? Am I so hideous?”

“Theobold…” She started.

“Save it. Save your pretty words for someone else. Your lady, perhaps.”

“Lady Alice is no longer talking to me,” Bronwyn admitted.

“Now, why am I not surprised?” he said with disgust before walking off into the night.

That night, Bronwyn slept in a circle with other women curled up on her side. They were huddled around a campfire, one of scores of fires that lit up the night like miniature orange beacons, crackling in the darkness.

When she woke, she was warm and had a long man’s cloak curled around her. She opened her eyes and saw a woman shivering near her, eyeing the cloak with envy.

“Morning. Uh… How did I get this?” Bronwyn asked.

The woman curled up next to her said, “Some man came and put that on you while you were asleep. Said you’d know who it was from.” She raised an eyebrow at her.

“Did he have black hair?”

“Mm-hmm. So you do know him.”

“Yes.” Bronwyn blushed and handed the cloak to the woman, who was shivering. “Take it. I’m fine.”

That morning, she rose and helped cook, doling out spoonfuls of potage into bowls as people queued for food. Their bellies full of the steaming-hot mixture, horses were fed and watered, and wagons were loaded as the group broke camp and set out for Gloucester.

Having concluded her business in Lincoln, Empress Maud now would take her followers with her, to where Stephen would be properly received at her court, as befitting a royal prisoner.

It was said the empress was positively gleeful at the idea of how it would look and wondered whether to receive him in chains, or just at spearpoint in her court.

“Ever one for appearances, our Maud,” a knight was heard saying.

But Bronwyn wasn’t so sure. She cast one look behind as they left the grounds of Lincoln, trying to memorize its walls and gates.

She stared hard, shielding her eyes from the morning sun that rose, as she tried to memorize in her mind the streets and alleyways she’d take to reach her family’s bakery, or the market, where they would sell bread on market days.

She felt a pang of regret that she was leaving, and now, she was losing any chance she might have of finding her parents and Wyot.

She felt cowardly, but she wouldn’t have wanted to search for them alone.

Not after what she’d seen at the old bakery.

It was no longer a home, but a shell of a home, and she wouldn’t have known where else to go.

She had no one, and nowhere, to call home.

They were on the move. Rupert stayed close by the prisoners, to ensure his master was as comfortable as could be expected and was being well-treated, whilst Lady Alice rode in a wagon with the other ladies-in-waiting and the empress.

Bronwyn walked behind the wagons of food with other servants and refugees who had joined the camp.

She felt there was a certain safety in numbers, should any bandits wish to attack, but she had been in two battles now and did not hold out a strong hope of her chances of survival should another battle or skirmish occur.

The casualties and fatalities she had seen were too often older men, women and children who were unarmed and defenseless, unable to protect themselves. She may just have been a humble baker, but she wanted to survive. She wanted to learn to protect herself, but how?

But there was safety in numbers, and here, every spare hand and helping body was needed. There was something always that needed doing in the camp, be it stirring sauces or cleaning pots in the cooking tents, mending linen, or caring for the sick and injured.

She marched, in a slow and orderly group with the other cooks. The older people and children rode in the wagons, whilst the fighters rode ahead and a handful behind to bring up the rear. By midday, Bronwyn’s feet were sore and ached from hours of walking. But she didn’t complain.

Still, at the first sign of stopping, she sat where they stopped, sitting on the ground. The grass was damp, but she folded her apron into a small bundle and sat on that to protect her bottom from getting wet.

She chatted briefly with the other cooks and they unloaded baskets of premade meals for luncheon.

Mostly the fighters, women, elderly, and children, along with the sick, ate.

Food was not readily had, so many of the servants went without.

Bronwyn was one of those. She could afford to skip a meal here and there.

Some of the children looked so hungry, she felt almost ill at the thought of taking a bit of bread for herself.

They were just packing up and preparing to start the trek again, when Theobold trotted up on his horse. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “And where’s your cloak? Don’t tell me you lost it already.”

She squinted up at him, shielding her eyes from the midday sun. “So it was from you. No. But there was a woman who needed it more than I did. Thank you, though. It kept me warm at night.” She paused. “I didn’t expect such kindness.”

He rolled his eyes, then let out a noise of exasperation.

“Just because we had a disagreement doesn’t mean I’m uncaring.

I walked by the camp in the night and saw you were cold, that’s all.

Besides, that’s the second time I’ve tried to give you a cloak.

Are you just averse to accepting gifts, or is it me? ”

“What does ‘averse’ mean?” she asked.

“It means you dislike something.”

“I thought we already agreed I didn’t like you.”

He flashed her a winning smile. “So we did. I’ll just have to try harder to convince you of my charms.”

She snorted. “Good luck with that.”

He grinned. “Do you want to ride with me for a bit? You look tired.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe next time you won’t refuse my gifts.”

“Maybe.”

He leaned forward and whispered, “Did you hear the news? The empress has found her crown.”

Bronwyn tensed.

“It’s almost as if it never went missing. She thinks she must have misplaced it, or it had gotten lost. Quite miraculous, you might say.” He gave her an even look and rode on.

“He’s got his eye on you, that lad,” one older cook said.