Sebastie’s face fell when I told him I’d seen a dozen guards milling about the tower. “So many?”
“They were alert enough that I didn’t dare creep closer. I don’t know how many more are inside.” I slid into the shadows of the courtyard, where the others had waited for me. I didn’t lean against the wall. My back was still too tender for that.
Sebastie folded his arms and looked away. His disappointment was palpable, and shared. I wanted to rescue Gil, but given what I’d seen, I wasn’t sure it was possible. Not now, not with only four of us. I was scarcely an asset in a sword fight in the best of times, even with Gil’s pointers. With my back still torn and aching, I’d be even less helpful.
“What about a diversion?” Francisco asked. “If we draw half of them away . . .”
“Yes, but then we’d be split, and we’d still be outnumbered.” Sebastie shook his head.
I’d spent a long time watching the men at the tower. Many of them I recognized. They would recognize me, too, so that ruled out pretending to be a prostitute. I hadn’t wanted to play that role, but it would have been a convenient reason for a woman to walk into a tower full of soldiers.
The Catalans had once been formidable warriors—powerful enough to drive the Turks from Anatolia and seize the Duchy of Athens from Walter de Brienne. Their descendants had inherited the original company’s cruelty in double measure, but they’d lost the edge that strict discipline had once given them. They outnumbered us, but there had to be a way to rescue Gil. I couldn’t help in a sword fight, but perhaps I could provide the diversion. “Enough of the guards would recognize me that they’d send a group after me if I showed myself.”
Francisco frowned. “But I doubt they’d all chase you. They’d leave enough men to give the three of us trouble. And if Gillen is locked in the top of the tower, it could take us some time to fight our way up.”
“And meanwhile, they might kill him.” Rasheed crossed his arms. “What about a fire? If we light up something they want to save . . .”
Sebastie held a hand up. “Quiet.”
The faint sound of marching boots echoed from another street. At this time of night, a group like that was almost certainly Catalan. Which meant we needed to disappear. Anyone caught out in the dark would be suspect.
The boots hitting the ground came closer, and the glow of torchlight appeared.
“In here.” Francisco forced open a door, and we all followed him inside.
It was dark, too dark to see what type of room we’d entered. Most homes had doors set back farther from the street, so I guessed it was a business or workshop of some sort.
The marching grew louder, and something stirred above us. Then the glow of an oil lamp highlighted stairs. Someone was coming down.
“Who’s there?” a man called.
As he came closer, outlines of furniture took shape. We were in a taverna. Had it been Leo’s, I would have promised a reward in exchange for silence. This place wasn’t Leo’s, but I suspected most people would let us stay for a moment, if paid properly.
A woman was less threatening than an armed man, so I stepped closer. “Good sir, if you will shelter us for but a few moments, we will happily compensate you.”
He drew nearer. His gray hair reflected lamplight, and his lips pulled into a sneer. “Will you, now? Show me your coin.”
I didn’t have any money. I turned to the others. “Do any of you have something for him?” I doubted they’d brought much—we didn’t expect to buy Gil’s freedom the same way Rasheed had purchased mine. But they might have a few coins. Gil always did.
I couldn’t see the men, not well. Francisco stepped closer and offered the man a few Frankish coppers.
He huffed. “That’s all?”
“We can have more sent to you in the morning.” I tried to force calm and reason into my voice, despite the ever-louder sounds of soldiers outside.
The man shook his head.
Francisco drew his sword and spoke. “Not a word, old man, and no harm will come to you.”
Francisco was too far away for his threat to be imminent. The man seemed to sense that at the same time I did. “We’re being robbed!” he shouted.
“No,” I said. “We want nothing from you.”
But my words did no good. Above, I heard the sound of shutters flying open, then a woman yelling into the street. “Help! We’re being robbed!”
Francisco fumed and lunged at the man.
I grabbed Francisco’s arm. “Let him go. We’ve got to run.” There were two reasons for my request. The archbishop had said to do the least harm possible. The man was betraying us, but we’d come in uninvited. He didn’t deserve death. The other more pressing reason involved the Catalan troops just outside. I dragged Francisco toward the back, away from the street, meeting Rasheed and Sebastie. We ducked into the back room of the taverna as the front door burst open.
I felt around in the dark. Atumano had suggested prayer before we left, and I’d taken his advice. I took it again but didn’t bother with the kneeling part. I simply pleaded for help as I felt wooden board after wooden board and never a door.
The soldiers had brought torches, and light from those finally revealed shutters. I pushed them open. Rasheed, Sebastie, and Francisco raised their swords as the first Catalan soldier reached us. He wore the gold and red of the Duchy’s elite troops, with mail beneath his surcoat. None of us wore armor.
I grabbed Francisco’s wrist. “Through the window, before someone recognizes you.” I wasn’t sure how far Ballester had traveled, but I didn’t want him called back before de Urtubia arrived.
Francisco obeyed me, and I followed him out amid the sound of steel striking steel. Rasheed and Sebastie held off one, then two, then three soldiers. They slew one, and then Rasheed came out. Sebastie struck down another, and then he dove through the window headfirst. I feared he would hurt himself, but he rolled as he hit the ground and was soon on his feet.
“We should split up.” Rasheed led us through an alley.
“I’ll take Eudocia.” Francisco grabbed my hand and pulled me to the left.
“Remember, he can’t be seen,” Rasheed said to me.
I nodded. Francisco and I ran. Pain from the lash marks on my back flared, but I couldn’t allow pain to slow me. Francisco led, and after two turns, I knew he wasn’t used to this type of thing. We weren’t getting any farther from the shouts and marching boots.
Of course Francisco wasn’t used to this type of thing. He’d been raised a noble. His guardian might have prevented him from inheriting when he’d come of age, but that didn’t mean he knew what to do on the streets.
“Wait.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled us into a smaller street. We slid under a cart and hid while a pair of Catalan soldiers strode past.
Their footsteps faded, and Francisco slid from the cart. “It’s safe now, isn’t it?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. This way.” I led him farther from the main road, then over a wall. He dropped down beside me with a chuckle. “I’ve never seen a girl who could climb like that. You’re full of surprises.”
That phrase—Gil had used it too. Gil, who was still locked in the tower and who wouldn’t be rescued tonight. We’d made a proper mess of it. “We should make sure we’ve lost them, then head back.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Francisco asked as he followed me. He was quiet on his feet but not as quiet as Gil.
“No. I’m just disappointed, and Don Oliverio won’t be pleased. We were reckless, and we’ve nothing to show for it.”
“Nothing? Or no one?”
I sighed. “Both.”
“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he? The man in the tower?”
I wasn’t going to confess all my confused emotions about Gil to someone I barely knew. Maybe I hadn’t known Gil all that well either. The only people I did know well—Thomas and Andreas—hadn’t exactly earned my affection or my respect. They were like hanks of silk spun by an inexperienced spinster—uneven and rough. Gil had seemed so smooth on the outside, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hiding snarls and knots deeper down.
“Did he love you?” Francisco asked.
“There was a time when I thought he might. But you were listening when I told what he said in the tower. That doesn’t sound like love, does it?”
“You think he meant it?” Francisco followed me into another alley.
“I’m not sure. But could you watch someone you love be whipped and not show any emotion?”
“No. I’m not good at pretending.”
“I don’t think I could either. And I’ve been pretending my whole life.” Maybe that was my answer. It wasn’t possible to watch someone you love be tortured without feeling something. Gil hadn’t felt anything, so he must not have loved me. That realization brought with it a stab of pain.
“Think on it,” Francisco said. “He wanted to court you, perhaps? Or seduce you? Then he saw the way we smiled at each other and became jealous.”
The stab of pain grew into a flood. Gil hadn’t been pleased when I’d flirted with Francisco the night we had rescued him. Perhaps he’d been jealous. More than that, he’d been forced to see another side of me—proof that I was changeable: a thief, a criminal, a liar. And how could he love someone who changed as often as I did? He would have questioned everything—would have wondered if I had led him along the way I’d led Francisco along. I’d come to love Gil, but he couldn’t have known if my feelings were real or an act, and how could love exist without trust?
Francisco continued. “And the songs—they might have been just lullabies. Maybe his uncle wanted your help freeing his nephew and thought a simple lie like that would earn your assistance.”
I nodded. Thinking of the songs as lullabies instead of love ballads was easier, in a way. That meant it was just Gil’s kindness I’d lost. Not his love. “It doesn’t matter now.” And I tried to believe it. “Gil will have to stay in the tower until the Catalans are thrown from the Cadmea. That’s what we have to focus on now. A military victory for the Navarrese and a defeat for the Catalans.”