Both Doug and I looked at him. Bottom bared his teeth until he saw Doug glance his way.
“Please forget I said that,” Gregory said with an embarrassed cough. “And Gwen, cease looking as if you were pleased that I was jealous of a man who is able to frighten that hellish nightmare of a horse. I am not jealous of the fluffy bunny, although I do find it amusing that he insists on holding on to you despite the fact that you are fully capable of standing on your own. Ha ha. I laugh at such a notion.”
I stared at Gregory, growing delight welling up inside of me. Not jealous, my shiny pink butt! He was practically green with it. He marched over and plucked my hand from where Doug had been holding it, giving both Doug and me matching glares.
“Ah,” Doug said, glancing down at where now Gregory held my hand, then up at me. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Yes, it is, and I’ll thank you to stop ogling my woman.”
“Hey,” I said mildly, giving him a mail-clad elbow to the ribs. “I’m standing right here. If I don’t want to be ogled, I can speak up. Not that he was ogling me. Were you, Doug?”
“I might have been, just a little bit, but that’s only because the sight of a woman in mail is a turn-on.” A little frown creased his forehead as he shifted his attention to Gregory. “I assume Lord Aaron sent you both back to fight, although you appear to have lost your armor.”
“Unfortunately, it’s worse than that,” Gregory answered with a grimace.
“Is it? I’d better hear about this in my tent, then.” He gestured to the tall, skinny young man, who had remained several paces behind him. “Have their horses seen to. This way.”
We followed Doug to the biggest tent and took adjacent canvas stools that sat in front of a long wooden table littered with papers. Doug settled behind the table and nodded at Gregory.
“There isn’t a great deal to tell,” Gregory said, and proceeded to give a succinct accounting of our last meeting with Aaron.
“A thief,” Doug said slowly when he finished. “How very novel. It hadn’t occurred to me to engage the services of a thief to end the war, but I can see the value in Lord Aaron’s thinking. Very well. Lady Gwen will take the place of one of my warriors who wishes to return to his home for a short period. His wife is due to birth their first child any day. You may have Sir Dedham’s tent. Your shift begins at vespers.”
“Um . . .”
“About six in the evening,” Gregory told me, giving my fingers a supportive squeeze.
“How on earth do you know that? You’re only sixty-four years old,” I pointed out.
“I read a lot. Where is my tent?” he asked, addressing Doug. “I’ll wish to get a few things together before I start my career of crime.”
Doug shuffled through his papers, apparently deeply engrossed in them. “Accommodations are only for those members of Lord Aaron’s household who are fighting or are present in a support role to ensure the comfort of the warriors. You are neither; therefore I am not obligated to provide you with food or shelter.” He looked up and gave Gregory a wicked smile. “Technically, the rules of war forbid me to acknowledge the existence of rogues, thieves, and highwaymen. You can’t even be classed as a spy who has obvious uses to the campaign. I’m afraid I must henceforth institute a policy of neither seeing nor hearing you. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding a place to sleep amongst the other camp followers.”
“That seems unnecessarily harsh,” I protested. “Gregory is here because Aaron asked him to do a job. And a successful completion of said job will end the battle, so you should be kissing his butt rather than engaging in this medieval-esque pissing contest.”
Doug’s eyebrows rose. Gregory, who had been looking irritated, gave me a warm look that had his eye crinkles standing out. He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles. “It warms my heart that you defend me, dulcea mea.”
“Well, it’s not fair! And I, for one, am not going to—”
“Quibble,” Gregory interrupted, and pulled me to my feet while giving Doug a long look. “I assume the audience with your august self is over?”
“It is.”
“There’s just one more thing.” I resisted when Gregory tried to escort me out of the tent. “Have you heard anything about my mothers?” I asked Doug.
“Who?”
“My moms. They were captured by that Holly woman with me a couple of days ago. I guess Ethan needed a couple of witches, because they were given some accommodations and access to an apothecary. I haven’t heard from them, since it’s impossible to get any sort of cell phone reception here, but I thought there might be a chance that you’ve heard if they’re OK.” I told him my mothers’ names, and waited, hoping for good news.
My stomach fell as Doug’s face grew darker and darker. “Lord Ethan has kidnapped witches to use against us? Why did you not tell me this when I first captured you?”
“They aren’t bad witches,” I said, but then honesty prompted me to correct that. “Not evil, that is. Sometimes their magic doesn’t work like it should. But they would never willingly harm someone. They’re very big on the Wiccan Rede, and not doing harm that can be returned to one.”
“Lord Ethan is unscrupulous! He’ll find a way to use their magic against us! I must communicate this to Lord Aaron immediately. You are dismissed, both of you. Be sure to see the armorer about having some new armor made that fits you.”
“I won’t be here long enough to need it,” I said gaily as we left the tent.
“What? What do you mean—”
Gregory let the tent flap drop, which wouldn’t have stopped us from hearing Doug, but it did shut him up. “Shall we make our way into the enemy’s camp?”
I glanced up at the sky, making a frustrated noise when it didn’t yield any hint as to the time. Behind us, someone screamed, followed almost immediately by the sound of shouting. Bottom thundered past us, eyes glinting with an unholy amusement, nostrils flared, and hooves pounding. His saddle was off, and a halter had been placed on his head, but a dangling short bit of rope hinted that someone had gotten a bit too close to him.
“Godspeed and good riddance,” Gregory said as Bottom disappeared into the distance.
I waved.
“As I was saying—”
“Good evening.” A soft, gentle voice behind me interrupted Gregory. I turned to see who it was. A small, tonsured woman dressed in a monk’s garb bowed to us both. A rosary swung from her waist. She smiled. “I’m Brother Helene. I understand that you are going to replace Sir Dedham at the front. If you will come with me, I will take you to his quarters, and thence to the armorer, who will no doubt wish to take some measurements.”
“Brother Helene?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Shouldn’t that be Sister?”
She looked surprised. “No, I am a monk, not a nun.”
“But . . .” I looked at Gregory. He shrugged. “OK, moving on. Thanks for the offer to show me around, but I’m going to take Gregory over to Ethan’s side and show him around.”
“Oh, you can’t do that,” she said in her breathy voice. She sounded like Marilyn Monroe about to burst into “Happy Birthday.” “They are the enemy.”
“I know that, but I was over there a few days ago, and—”
“And I’m afraid that I must ask the thief to leave now. He is not allowed within the confines of our encampment. I understand from the squires that accommodations are to be had in the fornicatresses’ camp. That’s to the northwest, just beyond the curve of the stream,” she said helpfully. “They always appear happy to see men.”
My hackles rose. I hadn’t, until that moment, known that it was possible for people to have actual hackles, but I swear that I felt a tingling between my shoulder blades that paired nicely with the ire that burned hot and fast. “Gregory is not going to sleep with prostitutes!” I said loudly.