“Yes, for Lady Abadia, but no one else. If the jewelry had sentimental value to Mother Simone why send Maurice away? It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford the price. He didn’t ask for money. I don’t know what part the jewelry plays, but I intend to find out. Don’t you see? We can’t stop now.” Andrea drew in a breath.
He went over to the table and sat on the chair.
“We must find the relic.” Her voice was a whisper.
“And if we do?” he asked.
“When we do,” she responded.
Donald watched her resolve grow stronger. She had no intention of giving up this hunt. He poured them both some mead and cut a few slices of cheese. In truth, he also felt compelled to go on. This relic, this thing that was drawing them to it.
The Seeker and the Sword will win.
That’s who they were. Yes. She would show him the way.
A cold sweat covered his back. That made him the Sword.
Knives. He hated knives, any size.
“Lady Abadia has the information we need. I’m sure of it.”
“Then get some sleep. You’ll need to be refreshed if we’re to see Lady Abadia. We’ll go in the morning, after prayers. That would be the best time.”
Chapter Eight
The soft patter of someone walking down the hall toward their room set Donald on high alert. There was a muffled sound at their door, then footsteps retreated. He relaxed. Bette must be delivering Andrea’s clean washing.
Donald had slept on the servant’s pallet and stayed behind the screen to give her privacy. Up before the church bells rung, he was dressed. His thoughts from the previous night remained paramount in his mind.
This was a critical moment. Once they approached Lady Abadia, there would be no going back. They would have to see their quest through to the end. Their lives could very well depend on it.
Standing by the bed and looking down at Rea sleeping, nothing would please him more than undressing and crawling under the covers with her. He gently moved the wisps of hair from her face.
A sound outside their door brought him back to the moment.
“Rea.” He gently shook her.
Her eyes opened and she stretched.
Her movements were enticing. Her hair in disarray, her chemise opened daringly at the neck. He moved away, unwilling to torment himself any longer than necessary.
“I want to speak to the bishop before the morning prayer. I’m hoping he’ll introduce us to Lady Abadia. If you want to come with me you need to get up now.”
She murmured something and sat up on her elbows. “Did you sleep well on the pallet?”
He stretched his back and for a moment thought to tell her the pallet was awful. “As well as can be expected. It gives me a good reason to never become a servant.”
Andrea giggled, a delightful, carefree sound. He took a piece of fruit left from the night’s meal, opened the door, and found her clothes neatly folded. A quick glance up and down the hall showed him no one was there. He brought in the clean garments.
“Your clothes, m’lady. Do you need help dressing?” he teased, with one eyebrow raised. “No. I thought not. In that case, until later.”
His exaggerated bow made her chuckle. It was good to see her laugh.
“Lock the door when I leave. Open it only for me.”
“Yes.” He smiled as she swallowed her words with a yawn.
Donald waited outside the door until he heard her slide the bolt then headed toward the barn.
“I thought you would be up early.” Étienne was in the tavern preparing the room for the day.
Donald took a deep breath. The yeasty aroma of baking bread filled the room.
“I was on my way to the horses.”
“I looked at them this morning. Will you be needing them today?”
Donald ran his hand around the back of his neck. If they were lucky enough to get any information, Andrea would want to leave as soon as possible.
“Yes, when we return after Prime.”
“They will be ready for you.”
Bette came out of the kitchen and handed him a platter with a thick slice of bread, a small pot of honey, and ale.
“Bette, you will spoil me. No woman will treat me as well as you do.”
“You save your sweet words for your lady.” She put a second plate on the table for her husband, then turned to Donald and in a loud whisper said, “Not in front of Étienne. You don’t make a very good secret admirer—”
“Bette. Please.” Etienne faced Donald. “Go find your own woman, or have you already?”
Donald held up his hands. “I surrender to the better man.”
Bette swiped at him with her towel as the three of them laughed.
“Thank you for this.” He raised the plate in reverence. “I best leave before I get in trouble.”
Donald made his way back to the guest chamber where Andrea let him inside.
“Bette sent this. As soon as you’ve eaten we can leave.”
The dishes and food from the previous night were stacked on the floor. On the table were two pieces of parchment. She put the plate he brought in with the others.
“I found some things you left behind. One was this scrap of parchment.” She pushed the piece in front of him.
“This must be what I took from the thieves. It’s the only parchment they had. I never thought to look at it.”
He read the scrap.
“These are instructions to take what you carried in the oiled cloth.” He shook the parchment at her. His eyes were stony with anger. He read the rest out loud. “‘Make sure they do not reach Amiens.’”
“I compared this note to the one Mother Simone left for me.” Her voice had no trace of feeling as she stared at him and pushed that message in front of him.
He held both messages next to each other, then dropped his hands to his side, still holding the parchments.
“The handwriting is the same.” Burning rage
