It was a long and tedious ride. Despite the busyness of the roads and the interesting places they passed, the journey held none of the anticipation, none of the pleasure of her customary rides into Cheyneham. Norris’ urgency had been replaced by a nervous tension which communicated itself to her, so she was jumping at every sound of cart wheels or horses behind them. Was there any way in which she could conceal this journey from Kit? He’d be furious with her for thwarting him.
Much of the journey was spent at a jarring gallop, so keen was Norris to reach the city before dusk. How fortunate he’d offered to assist her—he knew every back road, every byway, keeping them out of sight as much as possible. She pondered on his need to be so devious—he was a powerful courtier, and his position was assured. The only person likely to wish him harm for this escapade was Kit. In truth, she suspected he was doing it largely to infuriate him—or to rouse his jealousy.
Seeing Norris muffled up in his cloak reminded her of the man who’d dropped the rosary bead. Kit had been so angry then, she thought he suspected her of being a traitor. He’d certainly think her a traitor now, but if she could get that name for him, surely all would be forgiven? It cut her to the quick to think he might shut her out once again. She must not allow that to happen.
The houses and wayside buildings became more dense, with more taverns and alehouses, stews and workshops. She’d never been in such a noisy place, the volume of which increased as they drew near the Thames. What a splendid spectacle the river was—if only she could afford the time to stop and admire it! She was fascinated by the wharves and jetties where cargoes were being loaded and unloaded, and the river-men who plied their boats up and down, full to the gunwales with passengers.
They eventually pulled their mounts to a halt at an inn, where Norris deposited his saddlebags, explaining he’d rather travel light on their first foray into the Tower. He would collect them later, once the right palms had been greased. Then he helped Alys down into one of the ferries with her bundle.
Her skin went cold. It must be breezier down by the water.
“Have you traveled by boat before?” Norris appeared concerned.
“I have not, but ’tis no matter. If you assure me it is safe, then I shall be well enough.” Everyone else looked comfortable, as they rocked about on the swell created by the multitude of vessels. It couldn’t be that dangerous.
As soon as they were out on the water, she detected a change in Norris. There was a glint in his eyes, and a look of fierce triumph on his round, swarthy face. He must be a man who thrived on adventure and challenge… a little like Kit, but also very unlike him.
The thought brought a sigh to her throat. If only it were Kit, not Norris, who’d decided to aid her. She’d far rather it was him now sitting in the bows of the ship, the river zephyrs ruffling his dark hair.
“This is where we stop.” As he helped her out of the swaying boat onto solid ground, his hand trembled. When she looked up at the edifice before her, she understood why. The Tower looked to be an impregnable fortress, with both inner and outer walls protected by massive drum towers, either singly or in pairs. The great sprawl of battlements and buildings was watched over by the massive ancient White Tower, its newly whitewashed walls and limestone blocks reflecting back the dying light of the day. Even here, down by the water, she could hear the sound of animals roaring in the royal menagerie and the shouts of the yeoman warders. Somewhere here was the royal mint, which would have its own guards. How could they possibly hope to gain admittance?
Norris brought them in via the postern at the Develin Tower, and they made their way alongside the wall enclosing the royal gardens and up into the Lanthorn Tower, topped with the sculpted pinnacle that gave it its name. It was thrilling to see places she’d only read about in books, but there was no time to dally and admire.
Norris walked confidently just ahead of her, greeting anyone who looked directly at him, whispering to anyone who seemed about to oppose him, and pressing unseen bounty into their hands. In this fashion, they made their way along the crenellated inner wall to the Salt Tower.
“Why, it hardly looks like a prison.” There were stores, and bags of flour on the floor below, just like any cellar in a country house.
He made no reply but led her by the hand towards the iron-studded door. The single guard, much occupied in paring his fingernails with his knife, came stiffly upright when hailed by Norris.
She waited while the usual negotiations took place. This guard was the most reluctant they’d encountered yet, claiming that the prisoner within was accounted particularly dangerous, for all she was only a woman. Norris emptied his purse into the fellow’s hand, but the man just stared at the coins, then rubbed his thumb thoughtfully along the hilt of his knife. Alys snatched up her purse and began counting out coins.
“No time for that.” Norris grabbed and jerked at the purse so hard, the thong securing it to her belt broke. He stuffed the whole bag into the guard’s hands, then before the fellow could blink, caught him by the front of his doublet and brought a knife up to the man’s throat.
“No more delays. The sum is enough. You will let us in and lock the door upon us, admitting no one else. No one, do you understand? When I knock thrice from inside, you will let us out. Don’t try any trickery—I have powerful friends.”
The threat had
