A few men had already mounted their horses. Evangeline took hold of her horse’s reins and was about to hoist herself into the saddle when someone shouted. One of the men drew a dagger from his belt and cursed.
Evangeline spun around as a group of men rode toward them on horseback, at least a dozen, surrounding them on all sides. Their arrows were nocked and pointed at them when another group appeared with swords drawn. And riding in the forefront was Lord Shiveley.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Westley placed his hand on his sword hilt, his muscles aching to draw his weapon. But with so many arrows and swords aimed at him, his men, and his father, he could do little.
Shiveley had caught them off guard.
Heat flowed through his limbs as a well-dressed man wearing leather body armor—Lord Shiveley, no doubt—moved forward. He seemed to be searching faces until he saw Father.
“Lord le Wyse. I haven’t seen you since my wedding ceremony. My first wife was your relative, was she not?”
“How kind of you to remember.” Father’s wry tone and steely stare belied his indifferent manner.
Where was Evangeline? If Shiveley saw her he would surely recognize her. Westley subtly scanned the faces of their group. Where was she?
There, to Westley’s left, not far from Lord Shiveley. Her hood covered her hair and most of her face. Two Glynval men stood close to her as if to hide her.
“Were you and your men out on a pleasure trip, Lord le Wyse?”
“We were on our way to Berkhamsted Castle, hoping to have an audience with the king over an attempted murder in Glynval.”
“Oh, I see. Then why did you bring so many men? Did you bring the prisoner with you?”
“No, we left him in Glynval. These men are for my protection.”
“For your protection? No, I think you were going to speak to the king about Evangeline, to convince Richard that she should not have to marry me.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Who is Evangeline?”
“She is the king’s ward, and Richard has ordered her to marry me, but she has run away. Are you telling me you do not know where she is?”
“I am not accustomed to having my word questioned, Lord Shiveley.”
“I am sure you are not. But I finally persuaded Muriel, Evangeline’s nursemaid, to tell me what she knew. She revealed that Evangeline was living in Hertfordshire. Glynval, to be precise.”
Father did not reply, and Shiveley continued. “If the wench was lying, I shall have to return immediately to the castle and resume my tactics of persuasion.”
Frederick made a deep sound like a growl, and Evangeline clenched her fist by her side.
“What does King Richard think of you using these tactics of persuasion on the daughter of an archbishop?”
“Oh, he doesn’t know. And because I cannot risk you telling him, unless you have a better plan, I may have to ask my men to shoot you.”
“So it’s to be a massacre?” Father asked. “The king will hear of it.”
“I might be persuaded to change my mind, if you give me Evangeline.”
“And if I don’t know where she is?”
“Then I shall begin by killing that one.” Shiveley pointed to Westley. Two of Shiveley’s guards seized him from behind, dragged him to the middle of the circle of people, and forced him to his knees. They pushed his head forward and down until his forehead nearly touched the ground.
“No! Don’t hurt him!” Evangeline’s voice rang out, high and clear.
Westley’s heart slammed against his chest as Evangeline hurried forward and yanked off her hood. “I am here. Do not hurt this man.”
“Evangeline.” Lord Shiveley’s eyes lit as he smiled down at her.
“This is indeed a surprise,” Lord Shiveley said. “But what peasant did you rob for those clothes?”
Evangeline hastened toward Westley and shoved the shoulder of the first guard holding him down. “Let this man go. I will do what you want, just vow to me that you will not hurt this man.”
“Why would you be so concerned about him, Evangeline? Could it be that you have come to care for someone else in Glynval? Let him up,” he ordered his guards. “I want to see his face.”
They let go of Westley’s hair and shoulders, and he stood and stared defiantly back at Shiveley.
“He is rather young, and I suppose you think he is handsome.”
Evangeline said nothing, her breath shallow at the thought of Shiveley harming Westley.
“Lord le Wyse? Who is this young man? Could he be your son?”
“He is my son, and if you harm him, you will regret it.”
Evangeline’s heart seemed to tremble at the intensity of Lord le Wyse’s expression. But what could he do? They were outnumbered, and Lord Shiveley’s men all had weapons trained on them.
O God, do not allow them to harm Westley or Lord le Wyse. I could never bear to lose Westley or to be the cause of it.
“You are not in a position to threaten me, le Wyse.”