The second-in-command arrived a few minutes later. Royce still hadn't dismissed the soldiers from their watch. He leaned against the door and quickly explained the situation. When he was finished, he gave his orders.
By Royce's command, the leader of the king's guard was to be alerted of the possible threat immediately, and the number of men on the night watch would be tripled. A clean sweep was to be made of the castle and the grounds. The old woman who'd told Nicholaa to kill him might still be lingering nearby, and Royce wanted her found.
"What about the men who are coming to challenge you at dawn?" Lawrence asked when Royce had finished giving his orders.
"I'll take care of that possible threat," Royce answered. "I hold little hope they'll actually show up, though. They used the old woman to give Nicholaa her duty and will now leave her to suffer the consequences on her own. It would be too dangerous for them to try to get to either one of us." He expelled a long breath. "God, I hope I'm wrong," he admitted. "I would like for them to try. I want a chance to kill the bastards. They frightened my wife."
Lawrence noticed that his baron seemed more furious over the fact that Nicholaa had been frightened than he did over the possibility that someone was trying to kill him. It was a telling reaction, to the vassal's way of thinking.
After bowing, Lawrence and the other soldiers left to carry out their assignments. Royce stood with his back protecting the door until two of the soldiers returned. He went back inside the chamber when the hallway was once again guarded by his trusted men.
Less than an hour later a knock sounded. Royce had the door open before Lawrence had let his hand drop back to his side.
The vassal moved out of the way so Royce could join him in the corridor. "We found the old woman," he announced in a low voice. "She's dead. Her neck was broken. Someone tossed her body behind a couple of crates. Do we round up all the Saxons in residence and question them?"
Royce shook his head. "The Saxon barons who have pledged their loyalty to William would be insulted by our distrust. That wouldn't matter to our king, of course, but it wouldn't serve our purposes. If there is a Saxon traitor in league with those who still resist the king, he certainly won't give us any answers. We'll have to find another way to ferret out the bastard."
Lawrence nodded agreement. "There are many people here, Baron," he said. "I don't recognize a fair number of them. The crowd will make it difficult for us to find the culprit."
"Damn, I wish we could set a trap now and be done with it," Royce muttered.
"A trap with you as the bait?" Lawrence asked. "It would be too difficult to control the outcome, my lord."
Royce shrugged. "It could be done," he countered. "Still, I won't take the chance. Nicholaa's safety comes first. I'm anxious to get her home. Once I'm certain no one can get to her, I can turn my attention to finding the bastard behind this scheme. This isn't finished, Lawrence. They'll try again. I'm sure of it."
"When do you wish to leave?"
"Tomorrow, by midday," Royce answered. "I'll talk to William in the morning."
Royce dismissed his vassal and went back inside the chamber. Nicholaa was sleeping soundly. The dark smudges under her eyes were still noticeable, and he wished he could let her stay in London a few more days, until she regained her strength.
There wasn't time, however. He wouldn't rest until he knew she was safe. His gentle wife didn't appear worried, though. She couldn't have slept so peacefully if she had been.
He tucked the covers around her shoulders. Wives were a damn nuisance, he decided. If a husband cared about his wife, the enemy could use her to get to him. They could, in effect, use her as a weapon to destroy him.
If a husband cared, he thought again.
He was desperate to get Nicholaa home to Rosewood where she would be safe. He shook his head. The evidence couldn't be denied. How in God's name had it happened? And so quickly, too? He thought about the week of hell she'd put him through on the journey to London, and had to shake his head again.
And then he grinned. He didn't understand how or why it had happened. Only one thing was certain: he cared.
Chapter Eight
The assassins didn't arrive at dawn.
Royce wasn't surprised. He was disappointed, though.
He let Nicholaa sleep several more hours before finally prodding her awake. She was pleased to hear that no one had tried to breach their quarters.
Baron Samuel arrived a few minutes later. Royce helped Nicholaa into her robe and stood like a sentry by her side while the healer looked at her injuries. As soon as Lawrence arrived, Royce took his leave to speak to the king.
Samuel wrapped fresh bandages around Nicholaa's hands and arms. The healer had promised to leave the bindings off, but since she was leaving for her home, he thought the raw skin should be protected from the brittle winter air. She didn't argue with him, however.
Samuel left her a small packet of herbs with instructions to mix a pinch with clear water to make a salve to apply to the injuries each morning.
Nicholaa thanked him profusely. Mary, the sweet-tempered serving girl, was waiting to help her mistress dress when Royce walked into the room and motioned to her to leave.
"I would like Mary to stay," Nicholaa said. "I need her assistance, Royce."
"I'll help you," Royce answered. "Lawrence, see to your duties now. We'll leave in one hour." He held up the packet of herbs. "What is this?" he demanded.
She told him. When she'd finished her explanation, Royce walked over to the hearth and tossed the packet into the fire. Nicholaa was too astonished to try to stop him.
"Why in heaven's name did you do that?"
He wouldn't answer her. His mood didn't improve, either. He finally allowed Mary to come back into the chamber, though, when Nicholaa asked him to braid her hair. He couldn't be bothered to perform such a menial task, of course, but he wouldn't leave the chamber, either. Poor Mary was so intimidated by his presence that she couldn't get the braid done. Her hands were shaking too much.
As soon as Nicholaa dismissed the servant, she turned to Royce. "What is the matter with you? Don't you trust me enough to let me have a few minutes alone with my servant to see to personal matters, husband? Do you still believe I would try to escape? Is that the reason for your irritable mood?"
He looked exasperated with her. "I'm thinking of your safety, wife," he announced. "I don't trust any of the servants. The sooner we leave for home, the better my mood will be."
She shook her head. "I'm not the one in danger, husband," she countered. "You are. Besides, the servants are in the king's employ. Surely none of them would try to harm me."
He clasped his hands behind his back and scowled at her. "Nicholaa, it's obvious that not all the servants are loyal to William. The old woman who came into our chamber last night to give you your assignment certainly wasn't loyal. There could be others. You're as much in jeopardy as I am," he added.
"Why?"
He let out a sigh. "You're my wife now. The Saxons could use you to get to me. That's why. Now quit your questions. It's time we left."
"How could the enemy use me to get to you?" she asked, completely ignoring his order to stop questioning him.
He didn't answer her.
They left London a few minutes later. Nicholaa rode with Royce. She noticed that the soldiers who escorted them were older than the ones who'd accompanied them to London. The younger knights now rode at the back of the procession.
"How many ride with us?" she asked Royce.
"Enough."
Now what did that mean? Nicholaa decided against prodding her husband for an answer. The set of his jaw indicated he wasn't in the mood for conversation.