Hunsdon banged with his stick on the floor. “Well spoken, Sergeant!” he boomed.
The lady-in-waiting smiled. “Thank you for your advice, Sergeant Dodd. My lord Hunsdon, I think we are done here.”
Hunsdon harrumphed. “Indeed, I shall indict him on a charge of high treason…”
“Och for God’s sake,” groaned Dodd, goaded beyond endurance by this stupid Southron way of doing things, “He’s said hisself the bill’s foul, ye have him, string him up now and be done wi’ it. Ah’ll dae it for ye if ye’re too…”
“Sergeant, the laws of the Border and the laws of England are different. We can’t simply string a man up here without trying him first…”
“A’right, give me a crossbow and five minutes and…
The lady-in-waiting was almost laughing again. “Sergeant, then we would have to arrest you for murder.”
“What? Och, no, see, I took a shot at a deer in the forest and what a pity, I missed and hit…”
“No, Sergeant.”
“But he’s foreign.”
Both Hunsdon and the lady-in-waiting were laughing outright now. Dodd took a deep breath and set his jaw so no more words would escape for them to make fun of. It was obvious they were stupid fools with no idea of how to deal with a dangerous bastard like Don Jeronimo, because of living in the soft south no doubt. So it would be up to him. He knew Jeronimo would understand and so would Carey and if the worst came to the worst he could always join his Armstrong brothers-in-law in the Debateable Land.
Suddenly there was a confused noise outside. Dodd heard Carey’s shout and instantly drew his sword, ran as fast as he could hobble out of the hall.
There was a scene of chaos in the courtyard. The horses were plunging about, one of the Borderers had already caught one and mounted, Carey was lying on his back holding his face. Dodd struggled over to him.
“He’s awa’?” he asked.
“Oof,” said Carey, obviously part-stunned as he climbed back on his feet, shaking his head and feeling his jaw where there was blood coming from his lip, “Bastard!”
“Ay,” said Dodd.
“He started to puke, I went to help him and he decked me and ran. Caught one of the horses, got on board and off he went. He’s not as sick as he makes out.”
“Ay,” said Dodd.
The two Borderers were galloping down the path into the forest and Dodd was completely certain that they wouldn’t catch Jeronimo.
There was a sound behind him. Hunsdon was in the courtyard, looking furious, behind him were the women.
“We’ll ride back to Oxford,” he ordered. “Now.”
“Och no, we can quarter the forest with enough men…”
“We must first escort the ladies back to Woodstock palace. Then we’ll find Don Jeronimo.”
Well that was more Southron stupidity, give the women a couple of men to help them and send them off out of the way while everybody else found Jeronimo and accidentally killed him where no bloody lawyers could see. For a wonder, the ladies-in-waiting were not arguing at all, the two women were already at the mounting block, being helped into the side-saddles, one on the handsome hunter, the other on the pretty palfrey, while the tiny person with the unchildlike face was already on her white pony, her face thunderous and what looked like a small throwing knife in her hand.
“Ay but no’ by the Oxford road,” Dodd said, resigned to losing Jeronimo for the moment.
“Why not, Sergeant?” asked Hunsdon.
“Because Jeronimo can use a crossbow and we dinna ken if he’s got one or no’ and he knows this forest well for he’s been living here for weeks. All he needs is a tall tree and a clear shot and ye’re deid, my lord Hunsdon.”
“Harrumph.”
“Do you know the paths in the forest?” Carey asked. Dodd had to admit he didn’t, he hadn’t had a chance to learn them. “In that case, ma’am, I think the Oxford road is still the best way. It’s reasonably good, the trees are not close to it, we can use the messengers’ path to avoid the crowds and we can bunch up close.”
The black-haired lady was looking very annoyed as she controlled her big horse, but not particularly frightened. “Very well. But honestly, Robin, I’d thought better of you.”
Carey’s face was comically downcast. “You’re…you’re right, ma’am, he made a complete fool of me.”
Dodd had found his own horse without the stirrups, sheathed his sword again and jumped to the saddle, then wished for a lance and a good bow. There was something quite wrong with Carey, seeing he was so meek. It was worrying.
Hunsdon’s two Berwick men came back looking frustrated and, of course, without Jeronimo. Hunsdon ordered them out in front as scouts, the men bunched up around the women with Hunsdon on one side of them and Carey and Dodd on the other and they took the path that led from Cumnor Place to the Oxford road with Dodd’s back itching furiously and his heart thudding. He didn’t even have a jack or a helmet and if Jeronimo could find himself a crossbow and some bolts he could do terrible damage from the close woodland around them.
A little to his surprise, they reached the road without anyone shooting at them and from there they went to a canter and then a full gallop with one of Hunsdon’s men out front shouting at the people on the road to make way, make way! The red-haired woman was looking uncomfortable and frightened, the child-sized one was narrow-eyed all the way, but the black-haired woman seemed to be enjoying herself and even Dodd had to admit, she rode very well in her fancy side-saddle.
They got back to the bridge in record time, but instead of going into any of the colleges, they rode straight on through the crowded streets, bowed through at once by the gate guards, and trotted right up wide St. Giles to the northward road. From there it was perhaps ten miles to a village Carey called Woodstock. There, overlooking the valley, was a small fancy castle, probably once defensible but quite decayed now. It was surrounded by tents and horses. The ladies-in-waiting immediately disappeared into the castle. Then Hunsdon turned his horses and they took it easier as they rode back down the road to Oxford at last.
Dodd and Carey took their horses to the stabling at the back of Trinity College themselves and walked them round the courtyard a few times to cool them down. It was only mid-morning and no grooms to be seen, of course.
“Whit were ye talking about wi’ Jeronimo when he got ye?” Dodd asked casually as he rubbed his horse down with a wisp of hay. Carey was still looking pale as he did the same and kept rubbing his chin where a very well-aimed bruise was darkening the point of it. His lip was puffing too. You had to admit, a Court goatee gave a good target to aim at if you wanted to knock a man down.
“I was talking about music,” he said in a puzzled voice. “I said I’d sung the Spanish air he’d sent to the Queen as the signal that she was willing to meet him. I hummed it for him. He said he was hanging around Oxford to hear it, but then he came on you at the inn and decided it would be easier and safer to take you prisoner and use you directly as a lever. He asked me if anyone else had known it and I said no, but then I remembered…goddamn it!” Carey had gone even paler. He was standing like a post staring into space while his horse stamped uneasily. “Goddamn it to Hell and perdition.”
“What?”
Carey took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’d forgotten about it. I’d just learnt the tune and was humming it when someone…an old man asked me if I was sent by Heron Nimmo. That’s how I heard it. Of course, that was Jeronimo if you pronounce it the Spanish way. But I had no idea what the old man was talking about so I told him, no, the Queen wanted me to sing it specially.”
“Ay?”
“About an hour later, someone tried to shoot me with a crossbow. It was pure luck they missed. And that night someone put belladonna in my spiced wine and nearly killed me.”
“Ay?” Well, that explained the pallor and slowness. Poison? Jesu, that was a new one even for Carey. “Did ye tell Jeronimo those things?”