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A young manservant entered, carrying a tray. “I bring this on orders from the kitchen,” he said, bowing his head in servitude even as he pulled a small table between them on which to place the tray. “Do ye need help eatin’?” he asked dubiously.

With slow movements, Philip sat up. “Should my master need assistance, I can provide it. Our thanks.”

When the groom had gone, Philip removed the cloth from the tray, revealing stew ladled onto bread trenchers and two tankards of ale. He sniffed appreciatively, then helped put cushions behind John’s back so that he could sit up. Philip put his own plate on the table, and the tray across John’s lap.

They ate in silence for several minutes until John said, “While you find out where Alderley’s soldiers are, I’ll position myself in the great hall, looking suitably ill, so they won’t insist we leave. I’ll find out if the steward is the true power while Bannaster is gone. And I’ll also see who has access to Lady Elizabeth. We’ll need to win their assistance.”

“You’ve already begun with Anne.” Philip grinned. “I suspect it will not be difficult for you to sway the young woman to our side.”

“She is the lady’s companion.” John wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed.

“And she is lovely in her own right.”

“That matters not.” John dipped a piece of bread in gravy and after popping it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “She is allowed to see Lady Elizabeth; that makes her important to us. If she’s eventually sympathetic to our cause, she could take messages up for us.”

“Risking her own life.”

John frowned. “Lady Elizabeth’s own life is at risk.”

“Are you saying you will tell Anne who we are?”

“Not anytime soon. I will have to be certain of her loyalty first.”

“Which means you’ll be spending time with her.”

John wasn’t doing anything to feel guilty for, but thinking of Anne already made him feel that way.

* * *

It was past mid-morning before Elizabeth approached the base of the round tower, which was guarded by two soldiers, each wearing his own master’s colors. Elizabeth wanted to smile with pride at her soldier, Lionel, a young man not yet knighted, obviously chosen by Milburn’s soldiers for his inexperience. A man lacking experience would be unlikely to stage an attack, or attempt a rescue alone.

But she knew that Lionel was the youngest of four brothers, all of whom were knights. Lionel had plenty of experience. She wanted to smile at him, but instead she curtsied deferentially, still holding the tray. Lionel gave her a single uneasy look, and then stared impassively at the wall across the corridor.

Bannaster’s soldier took the linen off her tray and took a piece of bread for himself. After Elizabeth glared at him, he lifted his hand as if to cuff her. She ducked, hating the subservience, but knowing it was effective with a bully.

“Might I pass?” she asked softly. “My lady has yet to break her fast.”

“Go,” Lionel said, narrowing his eyes at his fellow soldier as he opened the wooden door.

“Serve her ladyship,” Bannaster’s soldier said, “and then bring the tray back down. If you delay too much, I’ll come to find you myself.”

Straightening her shoulders, Elizabeth gave a nod, then walked between them and into the center of the tower. A winding staircase hugged the outer wall, and disappeared up into the wooden floor of the room above. There were no windows this low in the tower, so there were torches to light the darkness. She went up quickly, used to the narrowness of the stone stairs. They had been worn smooth with generations of use, but once it had been only soldiers who trod on these steps. Now, in more modern times, castles were gradually being converted into more luxurious homes. This tower had been her dear father’s indulgence to her. She had always liked the solitary feeling, the ability to clear her mind of distractions and concentrate on her art. She would draw elaborate patterns, embroider them, and give them as gifts, sometimes framed, sometimes worked into tapestries or cushions or coverlets.

It was ironic that although she loved solitude, she had now left Anne to endure it. Anne who loved people and conversations and an evening’s entertainment, and was bored when she was alone.

Elizabeth quickened her step and passed into the lady’s solar. Windows with their shutters thrown back let in the light. There were chairs and stools, cushions piled on the floor, and a worktable covered in fabric and threads.

“Lady Elizabeth?” Elizabeth called loudly, as she shut the door she’d just come through.

Anne descended several stairs from the bedchamber above, and the relief on her face made Elizabeth feel terribly guilty.

“Forgive me for being late, my lady,” Elizabeth said, motioning Anne to go back upstairs. Elizabeth hurried to follow her, and then shut this door as well.

The moment Elizabeth set her tray on a table, Anne flung her arms around her.

“What is going on?” Anne demanded in a whisper, pulling back, yet still clutching Elizabeth by the upper arms. “You didn’t come to sleep last night. I have been frantic with worry. For a while I thought you were discovered, but then no one came for me. But if those soldiers think you only a maid, they could have⁠—”

When Anne ended her babbling with a sob, Elizabeth knew how deeply frightened Anne had been.