here.”
He smiled at her fondly. “I know. I’ve talked it over with Reginald and Walter and they agree. We must all get to France as soon as possible. It’s the only way now. And this is a good place to embark from, so when we’ve rested a little, Hugh is going to find us boats.”
She sighed. “Oh, how I long to see Giles again. Ask Hugh to hurry. I don’t care about resting. Let us leave quickly. I don’t think he’ll take it as an insult to his hospitality.” She made a brave attempt to smile.
But it proved much harder than they had anticipated to find a boat that would carry them south down the calm, blue sea toward France. The first two captains Hugh approached shrugged and gesticulated and bargained noisily and then sailed away without them on the first favorable wind.
Anxiously they scanned the waters of the lough for vessels that might be on their way to anchor in the sheltered little harbor behind the castle and could take them off; but in the calmness of a flat, unbroken sea no boats came near them. They could see flocks of gulls hovering and diving over hidden shoals of fish but no fishermen seemed interested. Tension mounted behind the high sandstone walls as the lookouts were doubled to the seaward side, and men spent hours straining their eyes toward the opposite shore of the lough as if expecting at any moment to see the massed armies of the king forming ranks upon the beach.
But no one came. High above the keep a lonely gull wheeled, its laughing cry echoing in the silent walls over the backs of the dozing men and the horses snuffling uninterestedly at wisps of hay in the heat of the courtyard.
Slowly the sun began to sink and the shadows lengthened across the translucent water.
The horseman could be seen a mile away, galloping down the track past St. Mary’s Abbey and the houses in the little township from the direction of Bael na Farsad, the ford at the mouth of the River Lagan. Silently the guards at the main gate strung their bows and waited.
“Quickly! Quickly!” The man pulled his horse to a rearing halt, its hooves plunging into the dust of the road. “Tell the earl the king is less than a day’s march away across there.” He waved across the slowly darkening water. “He’s reached Holy Wood. Others are coming from Rath. By sea.”
“May the Blessed Virgin save us.” Will crossed himself fervently when he heard the breathless rider’s message. “What do we do now?” He looked at Hugh and then from Walter to his mother and back. They were standing on the eastern wall, feeling the light wind stir their hair in the warm night. High above, a shooting star cut a green arc through the velvet sky. Matilda strained her eyes into the distance to where Hugh had pointed, as the last fingers of the sunset reflected on the lough, but she could see no sign of lights or campfires. The distant shore was as dark as the lapping water.
Suddenly Reginald gripped her arm. “Look! A boat-and it’s coming here.”
They squinted into the dark as the small fishing boat, illuminated by the glowing brazier it carried amidships, ghosted in with the tide. Hugh waited long enough to see it round the point and head in toward the small harbor below them, then he turned and ran soundlessly for the steps.
They watched the boat nose in silently alongside the quay and the black figures of the men working on the deck swinging baskets of fish over the side to waiting hands. Matilda saw the dull gleam of silver as each load was lifted high, then suddenly she saw Hugh’s men, their swords drawn, swarming over the quay. A basket of fish went flying and the silver trail spilled across the black stones, some of them slipping back into the dark water. The fishermen put up only a token resistance as the armed men jumped aboard. From their position high on the wall, the watchers could pick out Hugh’s tall figure pointing from the quay as guards were posted, and the sailors held at sword point on the deck of their boat. Then Hugh turned away and disappeared into the shadows. The whole exercise had been managed without a sound.
“He’ll be at the postern gate,” Walter murmured urgently. “Quickly. There’ll be no time to lose. The wind is going around, it’ll be in the right quarter to take us off if it doesn’t drop.”
The boat was an old one, open and shaky, its planks badly caulked, and there was barely room, with the fishermen to sail it, for the passengers. Mattie and Will and their two babies, Margaret with Egidia in her arms and the wet nurse following, Reginald and Matilda and Walter and, last of all, Hugh with a long regretful look behind him at the great fortress he had helped to create. Four guards stood amidships with drawn swords as the mooring ropes were cast off and the boat turned silently toward the sea.
There was a splash and a sizzle as Walter tipped the brazier over the side and then complete darkness, apart from the glow of the starlight on the square of bleached canvas above their heads.
It seemed to Matilda as she watched, breathless, that they were not moving at all. The black silhouette of the castle hung above them for what seemed an eternity before at last, imperceptibly, the sail began to curve and billow and the water started to cream gently beneath the vessel’s bow.
Slowly the black coast of Ireland began to drop away into the night and they were left alone with the shooting stars and the fiery phosphorescence of the warm sea.
Jo opened her eyes, puzzled at the sudden change in light. Something dark was standing between her and the lamp. Pushing away the heavy clogging sleep, she struggled to sit up. The music had stopped and the apartment was very silent.
“So you thought you could escape by sea.” The soft voice brought her upright with a jerk.
“Nick?” Panic shot through her. “How did you get in? What are you doing here?” She tried desperately to clear her brain.
“You were talking in your sleep. You should have bolted the door, Jo.” He was sitting on the arm of the chair near her, in front of the lamp. She could see the faint, gilded halo of lamplight around his body in the shadows. The balcony outside the open door was in darkness.
“What have you come for?” She looked toward him, still frightened, not able to see his face.
“What do you think I’ve come for?” He turned sideways suddenly and she saw that he was smiling. Her blood turned to ice. It was not Nick. The man behind those steel-blue eyes was calculating and cold and full of hatred.
Without conscious thought she tried to get up, but he had anticipated her. Before she could move he had grabbed her, pushing her back against the cushions. “No, my lady,” he said quietly. “No. Let us hear the end of this story, shall we? Let us hear it together.”
“No!” She pushed at him desperately. “Nick, you’re not supposed to be here. You must go away. I don’t want to go on, Nick. I mustn’t. It’s too near the end. Please, Nick. You know I mustn’t.” She stared up at him, terrified. “Nick,” she cried. “Stop it. Don’t you see what’s happening? It’s Sam! Sam is making you do this. Please. Don’t let it happen. Don’t let Sam win!”
He frowned as he looked down at her. “Sam?” he said slowly. “There was something I had to tell Sam-”
Jo swallowed hard. “He is with your mother,” she said. “He called earlier. He wanted you to call him back.” His grip on her wrists had slackened slightly. “Go on, Nick, please call him. It’s important.” She tried to keep her voice steady, her eyes on his face.
She saw the slight flicker of uncertainty for a moment behind his eyes, then it had gone and he was smiling again. “You are very anxious I should phone him all of a sudden. I wonder why.” His grip on her wrists tightened again and he bent over her until his face was only inches from hers. “Do you think he is going to distract me from what I came to do?”
Her mouth had gone dry. “What did you come to do?” she whispered.
From outside the open French doors the sound of a car hooting in the darkened square blasted into the room. Nick raised his head slightly, but his eyes did not leave her face. “I came to see you,” he said evenly. “The woman I love.”
Jo was breathing heavily, trying to control the panic that was threatening to overtake her.
“If you love me, Nick, you won’t hurt me,” she said pleadingly. She tried once again unsuccessfully to push him away. “Please, let me go. You’re hurting my wrists-”
He smiled. “So little a pain, surely, compared with the pain you caused me.”
“I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” she cried desperately. “You must believe me, I didn’t. I love you-” Her voice cracked into a sob.
Nick did not move. His eyes narrowed cynically. “Love,” he whispered. “What love?”
