The Rose and the Thorn

CHAPTER 15

They moved swiftly down the uncomfortably narrow corridor. Richard led the way, holding a lantern high to help the bishop on what had to be his maiden visit to the dungeon. The sounds of the gala barely reached them-a muffled, muted blend of conversation, laughter, and music. When he reached the last cell, Richard used the key his son had given him.

“Reuben?” the girl called as he opened the door.

“No,” Richard said, entering, raising the lantern again, this time to reveal Rose as she sat huddled against the far wall. “I’m Reuben’s father. He sent me and I’ve brought Bishop Saldur, who wants to ask you some questions.”

They entered the straw-filled cell, and the bishop appraised the girl with a dismissive shake of his head. “Were you in the high tower last night?”

Rose nodded, wrapped in a straw-covered blanket.

Richard was pleased that she looked nothing like his Rose. She was much younger, about Reuben’s age, and had a round, doe-eyed face.

“Sergeant Hilfred tells me you overheard a conversation between two men. What did you hear?”

“They talked about killing the king.”

“Who were they?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Saldur stepped closer. “Are you certain? This is very important.”

“They never said their names.”

He took another step. “You’re positive?”

Huddled in the straw, Rose looked terrified. “I … ah, yes … no names, but one did refer to the other as ‘Your Grace’ once.”

“Anything else?”

She hesitated. Richard could see she was struggling to think of anything to appease the bishop, who towered over her. He saw her eyes brighten. “Yes … yes! They said the name Clare.”

“Clare?” Saldur pressed.

“I heard…” She looked at Richard, then at the floor. Her eyes drifted in thought as she struggled to remember. “Yes! They said what a shame it was that Clare had to die. That she had discovered who murdered the chancellor.” Rose was nodding rapidly, causing some bits of straw to slip free from her hair.

“Did they say who that was?”

Rose struggled again, her face revealing her frustration. “No.”

“Do you think you could identify the voices if you heard them again?”

Again she paused to think. Her eyes studied both of them, and in a pitiably small voice she admitted, “I don’t know.”

Saldur peered at the girl for only a breath longer, then walked out. Richard followed. They moved down the empty cell-lined corridor, then the bishop stopped and spoke, barely above a whisper. “Who else knows she’s here?”

“No one, just my son.”

“Your son?”

“Reuben. Today is his first day as a gate guard.”

“Is he on duty now?”

“Yes.”

Saldur smiled. “Perfect. You need to get Rose out of the castle. Do it now, before Exeter finds her. Take care of her. Find a safe place-somewhere no one will look. Then hurry back-I’ll need your help tonight. The fate of the kingdom is in our hands now.”

Reuben was starting to understand why Bale had been upset at his tardiness. Standing in one place turned out to be harder than splitting wood and a lot harder than brushing horses. Nothing of note had happened for hours, and the night had turned cold.

“So what was the fight about this time?” Grisham asked.

His fellow defender of the front gate was a grizzled veteran who had always frightened Reuben. He had a gravelly voice, unruly eyebrows, and stubble perpetually covering his chin. Reuben found it a mystery that he had never known the man to shave, but neither had he grown a beard. “What fight?” Reuben was surprised Grisham spoke to him. He rarely did, but perhaps boredom affected everyone.

“Between you and your dad, this morning. I heard you hit the door again. Woke me up.”

“Sorry.” Reuben left it at that, thinking Grisham just wanted to complain.

“Well? What was it about?”

Reuben looked at the old soldier, confused. Does he really want to know? Maybe putting the uniform on changed his status with more than just dungeon-trapped girls. “He didn’t like me being with the prince and his friends.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that. You’re lucky you got back when you did. They were about to get a patrol together to go out looking. If that had happened, you would have had more than just your father to answer to.”

“What exactly was I supposed to do? When a prince asks you to ride with him, you can’t really say no.”

“I don’t care what you did or why. I just wondered why Richard was bouncing your head against the door.”

“He had been drinking,” Reuben added, not knowing why. His father had beaten him plenty of times sober, and Grisham knew it.

The older guard looked out across the bridge at the line of carriages all still burning their lamps, then scratched at his stubble. He did that a lot. “He’s not a bad guy, you know-your father. Just hard. World made him that way, makes us all that way eventually. He’s just trying to toughen you up, build some calluses so you don’t bleed to death. Understand what I’m saying? It’s how you survive. The world’s a miserable place, kid. Give it any chance and it will kill you and not always with a blade or a cough. You know, there’s a reason men prefer to die in battle-living can sometimes be worse. You don’t make a tough son by coddling him. You do it by bouncing heads against doors.”

This was the most Grisham had ever said to Reuben, and with him in such a talkative mood, Reuben decided to push his luck. “Did you know my mother?”

“Sure, we all did.” Grisham caught himself and quickly added, “Not like that, though. She wasn’t … you know … like they say. She was a good girl, a nice girl.” He paused, then added, “That’s probably part of it too. He doesn’t want you to be like her.”

“How’s that?”

“Weak.”

“Because she killed herself?”

“It’s like I was saying. Some folks, they don’t have no armor at all. Rose Reuben was that way. You could tell what she was thinking just looking at her. She’d tell you anything-didn’t know what a secret was. If she was unhappy, she cried. If happy, she smiled.”

“And if her heart was broken?”

“You get the idea, I see.”

The castle doors opened and a sliver of light escaped along with two figures. One was wrapped in a blanket. Even at a distance, Reuben recognized his own Rose and his father as they moved quickly across the courtyard to the gate.

“I’m taking her home,” Richard Hilfred said before either had asked anything. He looked at Grisham. “This girl, Rose, overheard two men planning to murder the king. Isn’t that right?”

Rose nodded.

“One of them was Lord Exeter,” Reuben’s father said. “Exeter is looking to kill her. So I need to get her away from him.”

“Exeter?” Grisham said. “A traitor?”

“Afraid so. Obviously I would appreciate it if you forgot you ever saw her and didn’t tell anyone I left the castle.”

Reuben noticed Grisham glance at him with a look that said, Again, are you kidding me?

“You know the sheriffs are patrolling the city streets,” Grisham said. “They’re out looking for her.”

“I’ll go with you,” Reuben volunteered.

“You’ll stay here,” his father snapped. “This is your post.” He grabbed Reuben by the chain of his chest and pushed him against the castle wall. “I got you assigned to this post tonight to keep you safe.” He spoke softly. “So you stay here, understand? You don’t go anywhere. Not in the city and absolutely not in the castle-for any reason. Got it?”

He didn’t understand but nodded just the same.

“Listen…” Richard sighed, letting go of him. “Your mother, she wanted me to take care of you. I did that. I did the best I could and paid that debt. You survived. You’re a man now. I did that, so tomorrow just remember that I got you posted to this gate. Okay?”

Reuben felt like he was missing part of this conversation, like when his father drank. The words that spilled out of his mouth might make sentences, but they didn’t make much sense. He nodded again, pretending to be smarter than he was.

His father reached out and grabbed Rose by the wrist, pulling her away. As she passed through the gate, Rose looked back at him with frightened eyes. He wanted to say something to her, goodbye maybe. Before he could find the words, she was gone.

Rose would have been terrified if it were anyone but Reuben’s father dragging her along. Grim-faced, he pinched her wrist as he jerked her across the moat. The man was nothing like Reuben, and until they reached the gate, she had wondered if he’d lied about his identity.

She had calmed down the moment she saw Reuben again. Just seeing his face made her feel safe. Rose had only known him a little more than a day, but he’d already done more for her than any man ever had. He wasn’t like other men-men were evil. She had come to this conclusion ever since her father had abandoned Rose and her mother. Over the years that followed, she had many more examples that proved the point. But Reuben was different, unexpected-shocking. Finding him was like discovering dogs could talk. He was more than special; he was a miracle. For Rose, Reuben was a bright light and she a moth. During all those hours, alone in the darkness of the cell, he was all she thought about. What did he like? What didn’t he like? Who was the girl he loved? Finding the answer to that last one was a needle in her heart. And yet, she loved him all the more because of it. He was faithful. She couldn’t say the same for any of the men who came to The Hideous Head or the House. And wasn’t there a moment-just a moment-when she sensed something?

He was saving himself for her. He wanted the first time to be special. How amazing was that? Rose found it both touching and silly. She had no fond memories of her first time and did her best not to remember any of the times since. Her mind had a tendency to remember the good parts of life and forget the bad, though not nearly well enough. Still, it also meant that Reuben and his lady love hadn’t shared a first time. It didn’t sound as if he’d even kissed her. And there was a pain in his voice-his eyes too. She saw it, and wondered if that was how Gwen was able to see things when she read people’s palms. Maybe everyone had the power to look into the souls of others and see glimpses of truth. Gwen simply knew how to look, or maybe it was just that she took the time. Some people don’t want to know-most people don’t. But if a person truly cared about someone else, maybe they could search their eyes and know what troubled them-that it would be visible, if you really wanted to see. Looking into Reuben’s eyes, Rose thought she understood something about him and something about the girl he was saving himself for. He’d given his heart to her, but the gift hadn’t been accepted. Whoever the moronic girl was, Rose hated her. She was also grateful for her stupidity, because Rose was certain she had fallen in love with Reuben Hilfred.

A chill ran through her as Reuben’s father hauled her through the city, but it came more from the wind than the thought. The thin dress offered little protection, but that had never been its purpose. It was difficult keeping the blanket from falling off her shoulders and the wind whipped it open. Winter was knocking, and its icy fingers were everywhere.

She should thank him. He was the father of the man she loved, and this was her chance to make a good impression. Rose understood she was already off on several bad feet. She was a prostitute, wanted by the constable, and had met his son as an escaped party favor. Her only consolation was that it would make a great story to tell his grandchildren. She frowned. Maybe the story about how Mommy was a whore would best be forgotten. Still she imagined the conversation.

Thank you for helping me, Richard. Your name is Richard, isn’t it? Or should I call you Father? Yes, I should-so much nicer, and I’ve always wanted a real father ever since mine ran off, leaving me and my mother to starve. So you won’t have any contender for that title. Can’t you imagine us all before the fireplace on Wintertide, Father? I’ll be cooking the goose that you and Reuben brought home while little … ah … little Gwendolyn and little Richard-yes, we’ll name him after you-play on the floor.

“Thank you for helping me,” Rose said.

“Shut up.” Richard Hilfred jerked her arm again, twisting her wrist slightly so that it hurt. He sounded angry.

Maybe he was upset because her talking might give them away. Rose forgot she was a fugitive, and it made perfect sense that he would be fearful. All he needed was a chatty girl getting them both killed. Just one more bad foot she put forth. This one into her own mouth. Winning over her future husband’s father was going to take a lot of repairing, but if Gwen could make a pearl out of the ruins of that Wayward Inn, Rose could fix this. Reuben would help smooth things over and Richard would come around once she gave him grandsons. Grandfathers were suckers for grandsons. In the meantime, she’d be quiet.

A smile invaded her face as she imagined what she would tell Gwen when she got home.

Remember what you said about me falling in love?