“We don’t know where to find him,” Cato pointed out gently.
The governor only grunted at this reminder.
“Yarrow mentioned a cove, Puckaster Cove, that he thinks might have some relevance to Caxton’s ship. Rothbury’s gone with some men to take a look. They’ll throw a net over the area and see if they catch anything.”
“If he doesn’t know we suspect him, he might turn up here. He did last night… played whist with the king.”
“I think we need to move the king,” Cato said decisively. “Move him in secret to Newport.”
Hammond looked worried. “I don’t have orders from Parliament,” he pointed out.
“You may consider that you have,” Cato said aridly. “I’m representing Parliament in this matter.”
“You will take responsibility?”
“Haven’t I just said so?”
Hammond bowed his head in acknowledgment. “It might be difficult to move him secretly.”
“We do it now while the island’s still half asleep. Have you visited His Majesty this morning?”
“Not as yet. I don’t usually go in to him until after seven.”
“Well, let us pay him a visit now. Have a closed carriage ready and waiting in the courtyard. We’ll both accompany the king to the barracks in Newport. You’d best send a messenger ahead to have his lodging prepared.” Cato was already moving briskly back along the battlements as he spoke.
The governor hurried after him. “Channing can take the message, but where the devil is the man? You there…” He beckoned a servant, who came running. “Go to Lord Channing’s chamber again. This time make sure he’s awake before you leave. Make sure he answers you.”
The man ran off.
The sentry outside the king’s chamber in the north curtain wall saluted.
“Has His Majesty sent for his valet as yet?”
“Aye, Colonel. He’s with him now.”
Cato knocked imperatively on the door and it was opened by the valet.
“His Majesty is not yet attired to receive visitors, my lord.”
“His Majesty will excuse our intrusion,” Cato said brusquely. He stepped around the valet and bowed to his sovereign. “I give you good morning, Sire.”
The king was in the process of being shaved. He looked at his visitors in some indignation. “What is this?”
“Your Majesty is to be moved to Newport,” Cato said.
The king paled. He wiped soap from his face with a towel and stood up. “I beg your pardon?”
“Parliament’s orders, Sire.” Hammond stepped forward and bowed. “You are to be moved immediately.”
The king’s eyes burned in his white face. It was the end, then. They had been discovered. Within hours of his rescue. His disappointment was so profound he made no attempt to conceal it. He knew it had been his last chance.
“May I ask why?” he demanded when he had mastered himself sufficiently to speak.
“I believe Your Majesty knows why,” Cato said quietly. “You will leave within the hour.”
“I have not yet broken my fast.”
“It is but two miles to Newport, Sire. A meal will await you there.”
The adamant tone was laced with courtesy, but it didn’t disguise the fact that the marquis had given his sovereign an order.
“Granville, you were once loyal,” the king said sadly. “A most loyal friend.”
“I am loyal to my country, Sire, and I would continue to stand your friend,” Cato said in the same quiet voice. “I will leave you to your preparations.” He bowed low and stepped out of the chamber.
Colonel Hammond made his own obeisance and followed. The servant he had sent for Godfrey Channing was waiting in the corridor.
“Lord Channing, sir, he wasn’t in ‘is chamber. His man said his bed ’asn’t been slept in.”
“Good God!” Hammond exclaimed. “How could that be?”
“It seems unlike the man,” Cato observed. “He’s always been most assiduous about his duties. However, it seems we must do without him for the moment. Who else can you send to Newport?”
“Latham. He can keep a still tongue in his head.” The colonel sent the messenger for his other equerry. “D’ye care to break your fast, Granville, while we wait for the king to complete his toilette?”
Brian Morse gazed up into the face of a man he’d never seen before. A man he felt sure he would never wish to see again.
The man knelt beside Brian as he lay bound, swaddled tightly in the thick, heavy folds of a cloak, under a dripping hedge some half mile from the village of Ventnor. Brian had been carried to this spot, his mouth stopped with the folds of the cloak. Three men had carried him as easily as if he were a baby.
Anthony surveyed him in silence. His face was expressionless except for his eyes, and what Brian read in those eyes filled him with a cold dread.
“So you like to play with little girls,” Anthony said softly. “Tell me about it, Mr. Morse.” He jerked the folds of material from Brian’s mouth. “Do explain the fascination for me.”
Brian spat pieces of lint from his mouth. “So my little sister has been telling tales to her lover, has she? I never thought she’d turn whore. She always swore she’d never have anything to do with a man.” Somehow he managed to sneer even through his fear.
Anthony’s hands closed around Brian’s throat. The long, slim fingers squeezed. Hands that could hold a ship steady into the wind in the teeth of a gale. Brian gasped like a gaffed fish. His chest was so tight he knew it was going to burst. Spots danced before his eyes. He could feel them bulging. The hands squeezed tighter. And then the black wave swamped him.
Anthony took his hands from Brian’s throat. He flexed his fingers, then massaged his palms with his thumbs.
“You have killed him.” Olivia stepped forward, her voice flat. “You killed him.”
Anthony shook his head. “I have never yet managed to kill in cold blood, however great the temptation,” he said. “Besides, I would rather condemn this piece of vileness to a living hell.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a small vial. “Hold his head, Adam.”
Adam put an arm behind the unconscious man’s neck and lifted his head on his wrist. Brian’s mouth fell open as his head fell back. His neck was livid with the marks of Anthony’s fingers.
Anthony tipped the contents of the vial down the opened throat, and the unconscious man swallowed convulsively. “That will keep him out for twelve hours.”
He stood up and addressed the three men who stood beside the limp figure. “Put him on a cart and carry him to Yarmouth.
Olivia’s gaze was riveted by the immobile bundle that was Brian. Now, looking at him, it was hard to imagine how he had terrified her. He looked so old and yellow and lifeless.
Anthony glanced up at the full-risen sun and turned back to Olivia. “You will be missed, I fear.”
Olivia dragged her eyes from Brian. “I’ll find an explanation,” she said absently. She was thinking how it didn’t much matter now. Anthony would be gone from the island in a matter of hours.
“I’ll be off to Yarmouth, then, see about the Yarrows,” Adam said. “I’ll find a fishin‘ boat in Ventnor to sail me round.”
“How are you going to get into the castle?”
“Crab pots,” Adam said laconically. “Powerful fond of crabs, is the cook. An‘ she’ll tell me a thing or two. Quite gabby, she is.” He sounded faintly disapproving of Mary’s useful vice.
“See who’s on duty. Pete will-”
“Aye, there’s no need to teach yer grandmother to suck eggs,” Adam interrupted. “I’ll ‘ave ’em out of there, don’t you worry.”
Anthony laughed. “I don’t, old man, I don’t. But I need you back on
Adam nodded and set off back to Ventnor to find a boat to take him to Yarmouth.
Olivia had listened to this exchange in slowly dawning horror. “Anthony, you can’t still mean to rescue the king!” she exclaimed. “Not now that they know.” She looked at him as if he was out of his mind.
“My flower, I have a promise to keep,” he said, taking her hand and walking with her back to the field where they had left Gowan’s horse.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Whoever this woman is, she wouldn’t expect you to do this
Anthony’s response was instant and unthinking. “This is
She pulled her hand out of his, stopping dead on the lane. “What are you saying?” Her eyes were bewildered. How when they had talked of love could he dismiss her concern so curtly?
He read her confusion and her anger in her eyes and moderated his tone as he tried to explain. “I’m the master of a ship, Olivia. Men rely on my decisions. I must make those decisions alone and take their consequences myself. It’s always been like that for me, and, believe me, I learned the lessons the hard way.”
“So you never listen to advice?” she demanded in disbelief. “You never change your mind?”
“Of course I do,” he said with a touch of impatience. “But the final decisions are mine.”
Her father would have said the same, Olivia reflected. She frowned, thinking of what Anthony had just said. “You learned the hard way. As a child, you mean? From your parents?”
“You could say that.”
Olivia lost all patience. “Damn you, Anthony!” she cried. “Isn’t it time you explained some things to me? Don’t you owe me something?”
Anthony gazed across her head, over the hedge to the sea, but he saw little of the scenery. How to explain what it was like to be an outsider, to belong nowhere? How to explain that to Olivia, whose own place in the world was so firmly entrenched? How could she understand?
“My mother and father were killed on the night of my birth. Ellen and Adam took care of me,” he said distantly.
“Is Ellen the one who would have you rescue the king?”
“A woman of a most powerful conviction,” Anthony said. “And since I owe her more than I could ever repay, I will do whatever she asks of me.”
“How were your parents killed?”
“They were murdered.”
“In Bohemia?”
“Yes… Does that satisfy you, Olivia? I don’t wish to discuss this further.”
She struggled
