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“I’m thinking about my sons. That’s all. My sons. I want my sons back, and I want them back now. So if you must worry about something, worry about that.”

“Your sons. Aye.” A half-smile curved his mouth. “I’ve brought you your sons once before. I can do it again.”

Hugh captured his palfrey, found his saddle, and was halfway to the gate when Richard caught up with him. They spoke together, then Hugh rode out.

Richard appeared at her side, scowling. “He said he’s going to get your sons.”

“I pray ’tis true.”

“I wanted to go look, too.”

Gently, she answered, “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“That’s what Hugh said. Ah, but I’d best call him Lord Roxford now, hadn’t I? He said I’d better stay here or fights will break out.” Richard rocked back and forth on his heels. “He’s right, damn him.”

If she hadn’t been so troubled, she would have laughed at this little boy rivalry.

“Of course, if you ask him, he’s always right,” Richard said. “How do you bear it?”

Loyalty kept her tongue silent.

This man did read her thoughts. “Aye, ’tis irksome,” Richard continued. “’Tis why I can scarcely be with the man without trying to shatter that imperious attitude.”

“That’s why you let us go.” It was so easy to comprehend the simple workings of a man’s mind. “You didn’t care about the story. You just wanted Hugh to know he owed his freedom to me.”

“I liked the story. Besides, it’ll make him grateful.” Richard winked.

“You’re a man.” Exasperation made her sharp. “Do you really believe that?”

He looked down at his shoes and shuffled his feet.

“Oh, fine. You know better.”

“I know your lord is a fair man.” He spoke strongly and stared her in the eyes. “Owing his freedom to you might grate on him, but he’ll never take it out on you. He’ll just do his best to repay you. You’ll see. He’ll find your sons.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I know.”

Stepping down into the muddle of bodies and belongings in the bailey, she went to work organizing and packing. Richard forced his men to give up the big things—horses, saddles, tents, armor. But never would Hugh regain all the possessions from the trunks.

As she tried to place everything in Hugh’s cart, she heard a shout. Hugh rode across the drawbridge with only one figure clinging behind him. Edlyn dropped everything and ran across the bailey. Wynkyn clutched Hugh’s belt, and his white face frightened her more than the absence of her boys.

Before he even came to a halt, Hugh called, “They’re both fine. They’re coming behind with the outlaws.”

“Thank the saints.” No prayer had ever been more sincere, but she recognized now the signs of pain in the page and the way he rested his arm on his knee. “What’s wrong?”

“He broke his collarbone,” Hugh said, “falling out of a tree trying to reconnoiter the castle. They were planning an assault.”

Behind her, Richard choked off a chuckle and called for a stretcher. Edlyn heartily approved of it when it appeared; a blanket stretched between two poles, it was similar to the stretchers the nuns used in the infirmary.

“In our business, we get a lot of wounded men,” Richard explained. “And we’re constantly moving them.”

“Help me get him down,” Edlyn instructed, and the two men maneuvered Wynkyn until he rested flat on the ground on the stretcher.

Hugh and Richard held Wynkyn as she examined him, then with strips of bandages forced the bone back in place. Wynkyn cried out, then a startled expression transformed his face. “It feels better!” he said.

“It always does.” Edlyn dressed the outer skin with boneset, then wrapped the bone and his arm to restrict movement. “But he can’t go on tonight.”

Clearly disgruntled, Hugh nevertheless said, “Of course not. We’ll have to stay until the morrow.”