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Sir Philip’s silence spoke loudly, and Burdett turned away to the window.

Finally, Sir Philip said, “He has ever treated me with courtesy.”

“Would that he were so polite to my lady,” Neda said.

Edlyn picked up the spindle once more and bent her head to the task of spinning thread. “He has never been rude to me.”

“It’s not what he says, it’s how he says it,” Neda snapped.

The truth of that was what made Edlyn’s position so untenable. How did she complain about a man who not only spoke fairly, but was given to such extravagant refinement he made her cringe with discomfort? What could she say? He’s too polite? She was glad he’d failed to attend this meeting, for it freed her from the uncomfortable sensation of being the object of some incomprehensible amusement. “We’ll have to do without Sir Lyndon. No doubt he discovered something which needs his attention,” she said. “Pembridge holds the outer bailey, and we have no chance of retrieving it. But the inner wall is strong, the gatehouse is impregnable, the keep is stocked, and the water well is fresh. We could hold out until winter, and my lord Hugh will surely return by then.”

“Aye,” Burdett conceded. “Unfortunately, I know not what other dastardly tricks Pembridge has prepared.”

“He is right, my lady,” Sir Philip said. “In addition, I have my orders from Lord Hugh. I was to send to him at once if I suspected any threat to you.”

“To Roxford Castle, you mean,” she said smoothly.

“That, too, was in his mind,” Sir Philip agreed. “But it was of you he spoke, and I must obey.”

She squared her shoulders and didn’t answer.

“My lady, you must think of your sons!” Burdett said.

Think of her sons? She thought of nothing else. “Do you really think Lord Hugh will come if we send for him?” She couldn’t help sounding sarcastic. “He has sworn to rescue the king from the rebels, and if we send word that his castle is under siege, all that will do is distract him from his duty. He will not abandon it, but he will worry about Roxford, and perhaps that worry will weigh his sword arm down when he has need of it. Nay, Allyn and Parkin will benefit only from Hugh’s life, not from his death. So until I see a chance of defeat from Pembridge—and I see no such chance right now—we will keep Hugh in ignorance.”

Sir Philip said, “My lady, normally I would agree a man should not be distracted in battle, but Lord Hugh is no normal knight. He has the strength and courage of ten men, and defeat is not a word he comprehends.”

“Would you say death is a word he comprehends?” Edlyn asked.

Burdett answered, having decided to join with Sir Philip to sway her. “Nay, never, my lady.”

“Yet I saw death lay its hand on him.” A sight that had haunted Edlyn ever since he had left for battle, although she’d not say so to these men. “He’s not going to be undefeated forever. Every knight has a finite number of years to fight, and he’s already sustained one wound that almost killed him.”

Burdett and Sir Philip exchanged a glance that clearly expressed their dismay. They reached some unspoken male decision, and Sir Philip answered in a tone clearly meant to soothe. “Every knight has only so much time to seek his fortune, and if he’s good enough and lucky enough, he can find it. Lord Hugh did find it, and now he has a whole new life opening before him.”

“That’s why he married me,” Edlyn made haste to point out. “Because I have experience with this life and I can help him.”

“Aye, that’s one of the reasons, although—forgive me my boldness—it seems to me it is not the primary reason.” Sir Philip grinned for the first time since the tarred arrow had pierced his foot. “Nevertheless, your experience is not in fighting, and with all respect, I would point out mine is. I like not this Pembridge and his knowledge of this castle. I like not his confidence or the way he demands we surrender, and—again, forgive me, Burdett—I fear he might have a conspirator within. Please allow me to send a messenger to Lord Hugh.”

“They’ve done their damage,” Edlyn said stubbornly, “and I don’t believe we are in danger. Nay, Sir Philip, send no messenger. We are safe. I assure you.”

The two men watched in silence as she and Neda gathered up the spindles and the finished balls of wool and departed.

When the sound of their footsteps had faded, Burdett turned to Sir Philip. “I wish you would send a messenger to the lord, regardless of my lady’s wishes.”

Sir Philip looked long into Burdett’s face and clearly debated his answer. At last he said, “I sent a messenger the day of the attack, and again yesterday. I pray one of them got through.”

Alternately amazed and pleased, Burdett finally found his voice to say, “God grant that they did. God grant them both speed.”

Down the hill, across the meadow, and on silent feet, Hugh moved into the enemy’s camp.

He was a fool. He knew he was. But he wanted to visit with the Maxwells one time before he had to kill them all.

He made it all the way to the Maxwells’ tent before rough hands grabbed him from behind.

“State yer business, laddie, or ’twill go ill with ye.”

Hugh grinned and relaxed. He knew that voice. Moving with a care he hoped would not alarm his captor, he put the barrel down on the ground. Then, grabbing the man’s knuckles, he twisted them and turned out from underneath. “I’ll state my business, laddie, when ye can beat me at tossing stones without cheating.”