A Loyal Heart (An Uncertain Choice #4)
Jody Hedlund
Chapter
1
Ludlow Castle, Eastern Marches
June, in the year of our Lord 1392
“The inner bailey wall to the south is down, my lady, and the castle will soon be overrun.” The soldier faltered in the doorway of my chambers, his armor slick with the blood of battle.
The news of the collapse didn’t surprise me. After all, I’d spent the past night, like everyone else, anxiously listening to the steady ring of picks as sappers chipped away the last of the stone under the wall. From the moment Lord Pitt’s sappers started digging the underground passageway beneath the walled fortifications several days ago, I’d known it was only a matter of time before they broke into the castle. I just never expected it to be so quickly.
While I’d hoped the tunnel would weaken and collapse on the sappers in order to halt their progress, they’d moved with remarkable speed and without any mishaps, clearly well commanded. I’d ordered my captain of the guard to do whatever he could to stop the digging, but he’d been too busy fending off siege engines and invaders scaling the walls.
The soldier’s knees began to buckle, but he grabbed onto the doorframe to hold himself erect. Only then did I see the trail of crimson running from between his gorget around his neck and his pauldron.
I yanked at the top sheet of my bed, made a slit with my sword, and ripped off a piece of linen. “You are losing too much blood,” I said, crossing to the soldier. “Stuff this under your armor against the wound to staunch the flow.”
My own shoulder piece flapped as I pressed the material into the defenseless spot of the soldier’s armor. Cecil had begun helping me don my armor the moment I received word the sappers had dragged brush and a fatty hog carcass into their underground passageway. A short while later, I watched out my high window as a torch man crawled inside to light the brush and hog. He’d barely made it out before the explosion rocked the castle.
My padding and chain mail were in place. But Cecil had only managed to assemble half my armor—the cuisse covering my thighs along with my breastplate and pauldrons. Now, we had no time to finish.
“You can’t tend the wounded, Olivia,” Cecil admonished. His slender face with his pointed black goatee radiated with rare urgency. “You need to escape through the west exit. Now. While Lord Pitt’s soldiers are distracted in the throes of battle.”
Though I’d planned to join the fighting to defend the keep, Cecil was right. This might be my only chance to sneak my sister away. I nodded curtly and stalked to my helmet where it lay on the end of my bed. “We shall disguise Izzy as one of the servants.”
Cecil bowed his head, revealing the shiny bald circle surrounded by thinning black hair. With bronzed skin, his Moorish ancestry was difficult to ignore. But his diminutive stature as well as gnarled limbs disguised the threat of his strength and cunning.
To anyone else, Cecil appeared to be nothing more than an old, crippled slave. But he was not only my personal trainer. He was my fiercest protector, my wisest advisor, and my most trusted friend.
He was the only one who could address me, the Earl of Ulster’s daughter, without my title of Lady Olivia. No one else dared such informality.
Tucking my helmet under my arm, I grabbed my weapon belt which contained the sword Cecil had crafted especially for me, lightweight yet powerful. I didn’t have time for the gauntlets for my hands or the sabatons to cover my leather boots.
“Return to the captain,” I said to the soldier waiting in the doorway. “Instruct him to distract the enemy in the inner bailey and hold them off as long as possible so that I might take Lady Isabelle to safety.”
He bowed his subservience before spinning and stumbling back the same direction he’d come, his armor clanking with each labored step.
I would need every second the knights could give me. As if sensing the same, Cecil was already hobbling across my chamber to the boudoir that led to the inner door connecting my chambers to Izzy’s.
As I entered the private room I used for bathing and dressing, I inhaled the sweetness of lavender and roses scattered among my many garments to keep them from taking on the scent of the damp and musty castle walls.
I followed Cecil past the massive walnut armoire and matching dressing table and past the locked chest that held all my jewelry. Did I have time to take a few of the most precious items? Perhaps the jewels that had belonged to my mother—the only links I had left to the gentle and kind woman who had died shortly after Izzy’s birth nearly fifteen years ago, when I’d been only three.
Father had married twice thereafter. His second wife had borne him a long-coveted son but she died a year later. His childless third wife, the current Countess of Ulster, had mothered Charles as if he were her own.
The countess was cold and formal and treated Izzy and me like foreign guests. In spite of her lack of warmth, I did appreciate her devotion to my half-brother, especially because at six years of age, he was sickly and in need of constant attention which she willingly gave him. At least they were safe at Wigmore Castle, my father’s principal seat of residence.
“My mother’s jewels,” I called to Cecil, stopping next to the chest. “I shall take the most precious.”
Cecil shook his head as I’d suspected he would. “We don’t have time.”
I pictured several pieces of my mother’s jewels. My favorite was the circular gold brooch studded with emeralds, the one my mother had often worn to pin her cloak closed. She’d told me the vibrant green was the same shade as my eyes and just as beautiful, the only aspect of my appearance I’d inherited from her.
Everything else about me resembled Father—my determined temperament, red hair, fair skin, and striking features. Still, my numerous suitors would have vied for me even if I’d been as ugly as a mule. Along with my father’s wealth and land, he was one of the most powerful magnates of the Marches which made me a prized catch among the nobility.
During the past year of playing the courtship game, I’d known as well as Father where my future lay.
With Lionel Lacy.
Ahead, Cecil was entering Izzy’s chambers and calling sharp instructions to her maidservant. My attention dropped to my jewelry chest again. At the very least, I should save the bracelet Lionel had recently given me.
The Lacys were another powerful Marcher family. Uniting the families in marriage would strengthen Father’s power and wealth. During Father’s last visit to Ludlow, he’d confided in me that he was making arrangements with the Marquess of Clearwater for my betrothal to Lionel.
As the oldest son, Lionel would one day inherit his father’s title of marquess as well as his wealth and holdings. Through the marriage, I would gain a new status as the future Marchioness of Clearwater, would spend time at the king’s court, and would likely become one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. I’d be in a place to hear valuable information as well as influence the other ladies, maybe even the queen herself. Such connections would put me in a position to help my father in any way he needed and show him my worth as a daughter.
Certainly Father would want me to save as many of our valuable jewels as possible. Moreover, it would only take an extra minute to retrieve the chest key from its hiding place. I spun on my heels and returned to my chambers, ignoring the slapping footsteps and shouts in the hallway.