Page 8 of Peregrine's Call
Cecily went on, “What Octavian truly requires is a guide. But he’s been ordered to go alone. The king fears he can’t trust any stranger he might hire. A guide could be in the pay of an enemy.” Cecily sighed. “I will pray for his success and his safe return. What else can we do?”
Prayer had its place, but Robin could think of several other things she could do to help Octavian…none of which Cecily would want to hear.
What Octavian truly requires is a guide.
The idea was eminently logical, and Robin couldn’t let it go. When Agnes came in to the solar to tell Cecily her child was awake from a morning nap, Cecily rose.
“I must attend my little one,” she said, smiling. “Robin, that is enough sewing for now. Have you other tasks?”
“Yes, my lady,” Robin said quickly. “I can occupy myself till this evening.”
Once free of the watchful gaze of Cecily or Agnes, Robin hurried to make herself ready for her new plan. Certain supplies were needed. Food was to be filched from the kitchens. A horse had to be selected and fed well for its unexpected journey. And Robin had to pack all the essentials.
She rolled a set of men’s clothing up in a tight bundle, along with a simple shift and her old brown dress. She pulled out sturdy, heavy-soled shoes, and folded up a fur-lined cloak, which should keep her warm in most conditions.
Thinking of other possible dangers, she also snuck into Cecily’s garden work shed, and took several small items. “I’ll ask forgiveness later,” she whispered, praying that the things she took wouldn’t be needed for any patients at Cleobury.
Finally, she packed her knife and laid her bow and quiver in an out-of-the-way spot in the stables.
All was prepared.
She encountered Octavian in the late afternoon, when the weak sun was just sinking below the trees. “When are you leaving?” she asked bluntly.
“Tomorrow at dawn,” he replied. “I am sorry I cannot stay, but I—”
“You have your orders,” Robin finished. “I understand that, Octavian. I’m not a child, you know.”
“I noticed,” he muttered.
She went on, “This mission sounds perilous, from what Cecily said.” Far too perilous for one person, no matter how brave he was.
“I’m a soldier,” Octavian said. “I don’t get to choose which dangers to face.”
“Youwillbe careful,” she said, suddenly aware of the sheer audacity of her plan and the high chance of something—anything—going wrong.
“I’m always careful,” he told her, reaching a hand to take hers. “I like this life too much to rush out of it.”
Robin looked at the large dark-skinned hand encasing her own slender fingers. She wished Octavian didn’t have to face any dangers.
She woke well before dawn the next day, sneaking out of the warm bed she shared with Pavia and Agnes. If either woman noticed her going, Robin would have said she was bidding Octavian goodbye, but as it happened, neither of them stirred.
Robin bundled herself up in warm wool clothing. She slipped down the stairs of the manor house and through the courtyard to the stables. No one was about—even the lowliest servants would linger in the warmth of their beds until the last possible moment.
She saddled her chosen horse and led it outside, keeping to the packed dirt so that no one would hear hooves clattering on the stones of the courtyard. She walked the horse to a side gate just large enough to let a horse without a rider through. The main gate was far too risky, and Robin needed time to get away from Cleobury if her plan was to work.
When she could no longer see the manor walls, she mounted her horse and rode toward the village of Bournham, which all travelers passed through if they wanted to go north. She kept to the trees, in case anyone was awake.
Dawn was just coloring the eastern sky lavender when she halted on a small rise past Bournham. She had a good view of the road, and she’d see anyone passing by. Her breath puffed little clouds into the air. Her horse puffed larger ones.
She patted the creature. “Just a little while, and then we’ll be off!” she murmured.
The woods were calm, but not quiet. Birds began to twitter and chirp their morning song. An owl not yet gone to sleep gave a last mournful hoot above the highest branches. Robin pulled the fur-lined cloak closer about her body.
She could turn back to Cleobury this moment. Even if she were seen, she could claim she went on an early ride. Cecily might shake her head, but Robin could continue on just as before.
While Octavian continued on his task with no help at all.
Robin exhaled, knowing that she couldn’t turn back. The cost of her choice might be very high, but she was the only person who could help Octavian, even if he was too proud to ask.
