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Sir Lyndon pushed around her and stormed down the steps to the bailey.

“There’s trouble, m’ lady,” Grims said. “Shall I set a watch on him?”

She looked at her sons. “Why do you think it’s he?”

The lads exchanged glances, then Allyn said, “He’s tall and he’s thin, and he’s got such black hair.”

They were hiding something, she could see that. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Parkin wiped his nose on his sleeve. Allyn stared at the sky.

Edlyn wrapped her arms around them and held them firmly. “Tell me true—have you been out of the castle by the postern gate?”

“Once,” Allyn admitted.

“After Hugh left?”

She had to lean down to hear Allyn’s whisper. “Aye.”

Her knees quaked as she considered the peril they’d been in. That was the problem with being a mother. A mother could always imagine the worst, even when the danger was past.

Parkin sounded choked with tears. “Do you think we showed that man the way to betray us to the enemy?”

The man-at-arms turned the boys around by their arms to face him. “Did you tear boards away to open the gate? Did you move stone aside?”

They wiped their noses on their hands and shook their heads.

“Then ’twas not you who opened the postern gate to the enemy. ’Twas done by another.” He looked meaningfully at Edlyn.

He suspected Sir Lyndon, and she feared Sir Lyndon. “Put surveillance on him,” she said.

Moving to the stairway, Grims met Burdett coming up and they spoke, giving the order to watch Sir Lyndon. Burdett nodded and bounded away.

Grims came back to the top of the wall walk and called down to the people, “God’s grace has spared us. Now do your part. You women—get the children into the keep. Men—prepare defenses before they break through again. They’ll take down the curtain wall if they can.” He looked at the crack above the tunnel. “God grant it hold.”

Everyone in the bailey scurried to obey. Taking her sons by the hands, Edlyn joined the other women and ran for the keep. In the only doorway, an opening on the second floor, Burdett stood waving them inside. Edlyn stood beside him until all had entered, then watched with approval as he took an ax and hacked the stairway down.

“It’ll not be easy to take this keep, my lady,” he said.

The rhythm of the hooves on the packed dirt road accompanied the chant in Hugh’s mind.

“Please God. Please God.”

A priest would have been more eloquent, but Hugh was a fighter, not a poet, and if sincerity counted for anything, God would hear his prayer.

Hugh had never begged before. He’d said his prayers and trusted that God would realize the good sense of them. He hadn’t seen the need to grovel. But this—this was different. Edlyn’s well-being was too important for such overweening assurance. He had no pride where she was concerned.

Wharton kept pace with him, and now he shouted, “Roxford Castle is just ahead, master.”

Reluctantly, Hugh reined in his mount—the fifth in two days.

“Listen,” Hugh said.

The sounds of battle were muffled rather than clear as they should have been. Hugh glanced at Wharton, hoping his man would scoff at his foreboding.

Instead Wharton looked grim. “The enemy is within.”

But how far within? They needed to know details, so Hugh nodded at Dewey. “Scout out the situation.”