Half of Oxfordshire had just seen my scarred back. I didn’t reckon I had much left to defend.
I could hear the murmurs of D’Oyly telling Essex what had happened, and once Essex looked back at me, his sharp, angry stare pointed straight at me.
He turned away a moment later.
When the woman were done with her task, I thanked her and went back to the others. I sat in a chair, and leaning back made all my muscles ache.
“Are you well, my lady?” asked D’Oyly.
“You hurt your vassals,” I told him.
His jaw went tight and muscled. “Rarely. But if necessary, if it will protect more people in the end, yes. On the scale that Prince John wanted me to—no.”
“And yet you didn’t tell him no.”
He looked at me. “I didn’t realize I could. Until you.”
I sighed. “I didn’t change anything about the tax, my lord. Or about Prince John’s right to collect it from you as your overlord.”
His shoulders rolled back a bit, and even sitting, he looked taller. “It changed something for me, my lady.”
My mouth fell into a hard line. “Good.”
Essex watched me, and looked brief at D’Oyly, and said nothing.
By nightfall, David returned, without Allan in tow.
“He’s gone,” he told me.
“You can’t find him. That’s not the same thing,” I assured him. “It isn’t as if he’s left the city.” I frowned. “Is it? You two fought over something in Glastonbury, yes?”
Color rose on his face. “Nothing relevant, my lady.”
I shook my head. He could keep his secrets; I never much enjoyed when people tried to pry mine away.
“Very well,” I said. “I want to leave at dawn, so let’s go look for him.”
David nodded, and it weren’t long before I were back in men’s clothing, covered over in black wool and leather, slipping out of the castle and into the night.
“I searched every street,” David said as we went to the town. “The only reason he wouldn’t return is if he’s hurt. I can’t find him—” he growled, stopping short.
I frowned at him. “He would limp home to great display if he were hurt. He’d live on just to let everyone fawn over him.” I shook my head. “No, if Allan’s not back, he’s got a purpose. And we won’t find him in a street.” I nodded down a dark alley and started off.
David were a moment or two behind me, hissing my name. He caught up quick, walking behind me, casting me deeper into shadow as we moved deeper into the city.
I saw warm light up ahead, and heard music even from far down the lane. We came upon the place, a break in the stone wall with a little worn wooden door. People were jumping and laughing in circles, dancing to the music pouring from a few instruments in the corner.
The door were low enough to see over, and I didn’t open it. I tucked my hat lower, looking round, feeling something tight in my chest. There were a ring of children in the center of all the dancers, doing a poor job of playing along and hopping to the right tune. I looked at the musicians—I knew Allan played a few instruments, but I didn’t have a lick of an idea what they were.
There were three men and two women—one only half of a woman, bare more than twelve I reckoned—and none of them were Allan, bright and noisy and noticeable.
Just as I nodded to David to move on, the music stopped, one instrument at a time until something with strings played by the youngest one were the last thing playing and she stopped, embarrassed. The dancers all stopped slow, rippling out from one woman standing a few feet from the gate, staring at me.
I turned away, ducking from their attention. The last thing I wanted to do were ruin their fun.
“My—my lady, isn’t it?” the woman said before I’d full gone.
Pausing on the street, I didn’t turn back.
“I was next,” she said soft. Everything else were quiet, so I heard it.
Turning back, I looked at her. Three children in different sizes—and like enough to the young one with the strings that I reckoned she were hers too—crowded near her skirts. Her mouth twisted down like she were ’bout to cry. I remembered her, kneeling in the street, like a thing. Like she weren’t a person, a mother, a wife. Like all there were to know about her were crimes that weren’t her fault.
“Come,” she told me. She came forward, opening the door and holding her hand out. “You must come in. What’s making you run these streets?” she asked.
I stepped forward, coming closer slow and halting. “My friend,” I said. “I’m looking for my friend.”
She took my hand. Hers were rough and worn, a good kind of a hand. A hand that had worked its whole life. “Who’s this friend?” she said. She nodded toward the others. “We know everyone in Oxford. We’ll find him for you.”
She brought me to a bench in the corner of the small courtyard and I sat.
“Allan a Dale,” David said for me. “He’s a—well, he’s many things, but I think minstrel is the most of them. Favors a red hat.”