“Hurry.” Evangeline hastened across the bailey. Her skirt was a bit too short for her tall legs, but that enabled her to move faster. Soon Muriel, with her shorter, heavier frame, was huffing and puffing behind her. Evangeline pushed forward, as the men had already exited the gate.
The main gate on the other side of the double moat was guarded by four men. Would they demand to know their names and what their business was? Servants rarely left the castle, and they certainly should not be leaving now, while the king was there. What would she and Muriel tell them?
Evangeline slowed her pace and kept her head down as they approached the guards. Muriel walked beside her. Evangeline held her breath. At any moment the guards could command them to halt.
As she and Muriel entered the gate, the guards looked at them but then glanced away without pausing their conversation. None of them said anything to Muriel or Evangeline.
Evangeline hurried on, and after several more yards she bowed her head to speak quietly in Muriel’s ear. “I will pretend to be mute so no one will suspect my true identity. You will tell this group of men that we wish to travel with them. You may tell them we are peasants whose lord has died of the plague and we are looking for work.”
Muriel’s eyes widened. “This is your plan?”
Evangeline straightened. “You may go back to the castle if you wish.”
“Very well. I suppose it is a good disguise—for you, at least. I will do the talking.”
Muriel’s dress was much too fine for a peasant’s. What if the men did not believe them? What if they became suspicious and alerted the guards?
And why was Muriel being so helpful? Perhaps she wanted to do her duty and protect Evangeline. She probably thought she could talk her into going back to Berkhamsted Castle later.
The men and their cart were just ahead. When Evangeline and Muriel had nearly caught up with them, the two men at the rear turned and saw them.
“Good evening,” Muriel said to them, a smile on her face.
The men called to the others in the group, who also stopped and stared.
“We are traveling tonight,” Muriel said, “and would be very grateful if you would allow us to travel with your group.”
“Where are you going?”
The man who had rescued the child from the runaway horse stepped toward them. He was even more handsome close up in the light of the moon and stars.
“We are going . . . in the same direction as you. We are free women servants whose master died in the last outbreak of plague, and we are in search of work. Is there work where you are going?”
Muriel sounded so simple, not like herself at all. Perhaps she truly was trying to help Evangeline escape.
“We can always use more workers in Glynval during harvest-time.” A look of suspicion crossed his face. He probably did not believe that their master had died. Muriel once told her that many poor villeins claimed to be free, when they were actually legally bound to the land and to their lords and were running away unlawfully from their villages. Since the uprising three years earlier, everyone was even more suspicious of strangers.
“You are welcome to travel with us. You have nothing to fear in our company.”
What would she have felt if Richard had asked her to marry this handsome stranger, with his kind face and friendly voice? If Lord Shiveley had looked and behaved like this man, she might not be risking her life to find whatever freedom she could.
“I am Westley le Wyse of Glynval, and these men are Roger, Robert, Piers, and Aldred.”
“I am Mildred, and this maiden is Eva. She is mute.”
“Mute?” Westley raised his brows.
“Yes, her . . . master’s wife beat her and injured her throat, and she has not been able to speak since.”
She felt a stab in her middle at the outrageous lies Muriel was telling—lies Evangeline had forced her to tell.
Westley le Wyse’s mouth went slack with such a look of compassion, she felt another stab. Compared to the Earl of Shiveley, he had such young, perfect, masculine features. Perhaps she was already falling in love, that contemptible emotion King Richard had spoken of as something only peasants felt before marriage.
They continued on, the rocks on the road cutting into Evangeline’s feet. The thin, calfskin indoor slippers would soon wear out, so she needed to change into her sturdier servant’s shoes as soon as possible.
Westley said, “I suppose the head house servant asked you to leave, due to the king and all his guests being in the castle.”
“Oh yes,” Muriel said. “We are not fancy enough and might get in the king’s way.”
“She told us it was his guards who wanted anyone not of the king’s party or of the household servants to leave the castle for the sake of the king’s safety.”
“Oh yes, that too.” Muriel gave Evangeline a quick cringing smile.