Read Online Lindsay Townsend by Mistress Angel - Free Book Online Page A

and
smiths will loan us good horses along the way, if need be, as part of that
fellowship of blacksmiths Amice mentioned.”
    Isabella jumped to her feet and flew down
the stairs to him. “Thank you, how can I thank you?” she gabbled, hugging him
with surprising strength. “I am coming!” she shouted with such force that the
staircase rattled. 
    “We are,” said Stephen and Amice together,
both of them caught as Isabella was, between laughter and tears.
    ****
    Isabella did not see the countryside
passing as she rode out from London. Stephen insisted she ride behind him and
she was glad to do so. Amice, changed into a man’s tunic and hood, might pass
for a striking youth as she handled her spirited roan with the casual ease of a
knight, but Isabella was less certain of her abilities, especially now.
    I am about to see Matthew.
    She could think of nothing else. Even
Stephen’s reassuring bulk seemed as insubstantial as smoke. She clung to him,
her arms tight about his waist, her cheek pressed firmly against his back, and
wished only to go faster.
    “Will Matthew be pleased to see me? I have
no gift for him. Will he have grown? Will he know me? Will he like me? Will he
like my gown? I wish I had something for him.”
    She did not realize she was speaking aloud
until she had an answer.
    “He will love you,” Stephen called, above
the pounding of the horses’ hooves. “He will brag to all his friends of your
beauty.”
    I pray so. Stephen’s extravagant claims still comforted her and
she inhaled his musky scent, glad she rode behind him and not Amice, feeling
him moving with the snorting horse.
    They stopped at a forge on the Roman road
to feed and water the horses. Stephen suggested she take a brief walk with
Amice while he spoke to the farrier. “I took your suggestion, Isabella, and
went with it,” he added with a smile.
    While she and Amice wandered, Isabella
staring always at the road ahead of them, at the large skies of scudding
clouds, a carpenter suddenly ran out from a lean-to workshop.
    “Black demon and whore! Get away!”
    More startled than shocked they faltered,
Isabella keeping a sharp eye on the saw in fellow’s left hand, but Stephen was
the quickest. In a few long strides he stepped between them.
    “For God, man, leave off your bullying of
these good womenfolk.” He caught the carpenter’s raised hand, stopping it and
the saw in a grip of steel. “Go back to your shop and drink no more today.”
    The carpenter gawped and worked his mouth
until words spewed out. “They y’orn?”
    “Under my protection and that of my guild.”
Stephen removed the saw from the smaller man. “Come, I shall walk you back.”
    They disappeared into the lean-to and a few
moments Stephen reappeared, to the sound of furious sawing. He went first to
Amice.
    “I am sorry for that,” he said, taking her
hand in his, smiling down at her with his eyes. “That a man of Kent should be
so ignorant.”
    With a regal gesture, Amice waved it aside.
“I have had worse in London. Are we good to go?”
    Stephen nodded, glancing at the larger
thatched building beside the lean-to. Eyes blinked back at them from the smoky
gloom of the ale-house. “Aye, it be best.”
    “Amice,” Isabella began, sorry and ashamed
for the trouble she was causing, but her friend shook her head. “This place
smells wrong now.”
    They moved out quickly.
    ****
    Stephen felt exposed on the Roman road and
glad to canter off it as soon as they were out of sight of the hamlet. He drew
rein beneath a blossoming apple orchard and stepped down, passing a flask to Amice
as she also drew rein.
    “I know the way to Newington blindfolded
from here,” he told them. I will take us by old track ways and green paths so
we may reach the village unnoticed.”
    “Good,” said Isabella, glancing at the
cloudy sky to check the position of the sun. “We should hurry.”
    “We shall be there long before sunset,”
Stephen reassured her though he wondered