It was finally the daylight shrinking the shadows which helped him find what he was looking for. At first, now mortally tired himself, he almost passed her by. She was deeply asleep, and had curled so tight beneath the tree that she seemed part of the undergrowth; a shapeless pile of fallen leaves where pigs had scavenged. Then the leaves moved and he saw her foot twitch. Quickly Andrew bent over the small body, his face to hers, listening for her breath. He put his hand very softly to her cheek and called her name.
Tyballis bounced up in wild terror and swung the sword. From her lap where it had lain ready and unsheathed, she sliced it hard left and stabbed upwards. The metal caught the sunbeams through the branches.
Considerably surprised, Andrew lurched back, parrying with one upraised arm. He felt the blade cut through layers of velvet, shirt and flesh within, and knocked it forcibly away. With his other arm he reached out and steadied Tyballis, catching her as she stumbled. She grunted, disengaging hand from hilt, and gazed unbelieving into Andrew’s amused smile. ‘It is,’ he said softly, nursing his wounded arm, ‘an unusual greeting. Are you not pleased to see me, little one? I must warn you, once castrated I shall be far less use to you.’
Then, finally believing and with a small squeak of delight, Tyballis tumbled into his arms. He grasped her, one palm clasping her uncovered curls, holding her head firmly against his shoulder. Her voice was muffled by his velvets. She whispered, ‘My own beloved. You are a miracle.’
‘Unlikely.’ He smiled and sat with her beneath the tree, cradling her on his lap. ‘I have often wondered what I am,’ he said. ‘But that was never one of my guesses. Now tell me, my love, are you well? Are you hurt?’
‘No.’ She managed to shake her head. ‘I have a very sore throat and I feel sick. But I slept well. I never thought I’d like sleeping outside, but the fresh air was nice and the stars were pretty and there was the smell of warm tree bark instead of gutters. But I think the ants have found me, and now I ache.’
‘I have come to take you home, little one. Back to Cobham Hall.’
‘That’s where I was going. It seemed an awfully long way.’
‘Unfortunately it is still a long way,’ Andrew told her. ‘Too far for me to carry you without stopping many times. Can you walk a little?’
‘Of course I can.’ She nestled against him. ‘I’m happy now, I’m extremely hungry – and I’m longing to get home.’
He nodded. ‘You have a great deal to tell me, and I have some things to tell you. But before any of that, I shall wrap you warm in my bed, feed you a hearty dinner with hippocras, and then kiss you for a very long time.’ It was as he was speaking that Andrew realised beneath his encircling arm, she was stained with blood. He looked down bemused, and said, ‘My love, are you sure you’re not injured?’
‘No. It’s that horrid man’s blood. That’s why I had to hide.’
Andrew helped her stand, steadied her and looked her over with careful scrutiny. ‘Very well,’ he said at last, shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders, fastening the frayed and hanging laces tight across her breasts. ‘I can avoid the main roads, but at this hour there’ll be crowds approaching the Aldgate.’
Tyballis had discovered something else. ‘But you’re bleeding, too. Did I do that? Have I hurt you?’
‘Almost decapitated,’ he informed her. ‘You have a fine hand with a sword, my love. But now we must start to walk, for I want you home.’
When Tyballis saw the Cobham Hall walls rise up against the sun, she was too tired to run, but smiled and leaned her head against Andrew’s shoulder. They walked through the gardens together, kicking aside the weed-matted shrubbery and avoiding the sudden squawk of a chicken. At the end of the overgrown path, the doors were open and Felicia was waiting on the doorstep, Ellen peeping from behind her skirts.
‘The fire is lit,’ Felicia said, beaming wide, ‘and dinner is ready.’
Andrew took Tyballis immediately to his quarters, telling Felicia to bring strong wine, hippocras and food. ‘There’s a great deal to discuss in private,’ he told Tyballis, ‘and although you claim to be unhurt, I’m not yet convinced.’ He then pointed to the bed. ‘In,’ he commanded. ‘Or shall I undress you first?’
‘I’m almost undressed already.’ She returned his coat, flung the stolen sword and baldric to the rug, then clambered quickly onto the bed and snuggled there, half-propped back against the pillows and the huge oak headboard. The fire blazed, crackling and busy, the room was bright and hot, and the sunbeams through the smeared windowpanes reflected dewdrop shadows across the floorboards.
Andrew sat on the edge of the mattress facing her, sipping his wine as he watched her eat the pottage Felicia had brought. Eventually, when she had nearly finished, he said, ‘Now, my love, I know about Throckmorton, but there is a great deal I cannot know. So, will you tell me precisely what happened?’
She was amazed. ‘You know about Throckmorton? How?’
‘I’ve had most of the conspirators under surveillance for some time,’ he told her briefly. ‘I finally discovered the house in Gilt Spur Street, and went there yesterday. Unfortunately I arrived shortly after you left. I expected to find you nearby, but instead you were remarkably elusive.’
‘I was hiding. I was frightened.’
He took the empty bowl from her, and pressed a cup of steaming spiced wine into her hands. ‘Now, let us be practical, my sweet. You are safe now and I have no intention of leaving you. So, without fear or embarrassment, will you tell me exactly what occurred, and if any of this blood is your own?’
‘None if it.’ She shook her head, nose buried in aromatic steam. ‘So, is Throckmorton … is he – all right?’
Andrew paused a moment, frowning. ‘He is dead, my love. Were you unaware you’d killed him?’
Tyballis drained the cup. ‘I was hoping I hadn’t.’
He took the cup from her and refilled it. ‘On the contrary, I consider it an excellent result. And there’ll be no repercussion. I assume it was self defence.’
‘Yes, it was. But how do you know everything, Drew, when this only happened a few hours ago?’
‘I am far more interested in your story, my love.’ With a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face to his, gazing directly into her eyes. ‘Will you tell me without subterfuge, little one? Did he rape you?’
She shook her head. ‘I hit him with a candlestick.’
‘A wise decision.’
‘He was already drunk, so he was easier to hit. But I couldn’t be sure he was dead. He bled a lot but he was still twitching when I ran away. I very much wanted to kill him but now I don’t like thinking I really did. It makes me feel sick.’
Andrew moved beside her, leaning back against the piled pillows and taking her in his arms, her head against his cheek. ‘I understand, my love,’ he murmured. ‘But the man deserved to die for many reasons. He was a traitor, and would soon have died by the axe. No doubt your candlestick provided a quicker end.’
‘Before I thought – but now I’m confused. Does it get easier?’
He chuckled softly. ‘Perhaps. Though I must point out that slaughtering innocent passers-by has never been my habit. Now, let us begin at the beginning. Who took you and where? It is six days since I last held you in my arms, and I have been wretched without you. I have missed you desperately, little one.’
‘You really missed me?’ She was momentarily delighted.