Page 10 of The Silent Songbird

“We are going . . . in the same direction as you. We are free women servants whose master died in the last outbreak of plague, and we are in search of work. Is there work where you are going?”

Muriel sounded so simple, not like herself at all. Perhaps she truly was trying to help Evangeline escape.

“We can always use more workers in Glynval during harvest-time.” A look of suspicion crossed his face. He probably did not believe that their master had died. Muriel once told her that many poor villeins claimed to be free, when they were actually legally bound to the land and to their lords and were running away unlawfully from their villages. Since the uprising three years earlier, everyone was even more suspicious of strangers.

“You are welcome to travel with us. You have nothing to fear in our company.”

What would she have felt if Richard had asked her to marry this handsome stranger, with his kind face and friendly voice? If Lord Shiveley had looked and behaved like this man, she might not be risking her life to find whatever freedom she could.

“I am Westley le Wyse of Glynval, and these men are Roger, Robert, Piers, and Aldred.”

“I am Mildred, and this maiden is Eva. She is mute.”

“Mute?” Westley raised his brows.

“Yes, her . . . master’s wife beat her and injured her throat, and she has not been able to speak since.”

She felt a stab in her middle at the outrageous lies Muriel was telling—lies Evangeline had forced her to tell.

Westley le Wyse’s mouth went slack with such a look of compassion, she felt another stab. Compared to the Earl of Shiveley, he had such young, perfect, masculine features. Perhaps she was already falling in love, that contemptible emotion King Richard had spoken of as something only peasants felt before marriage.

They continued on, the rocks on the road cutting into Evangeline’s feet. The thin, calfskin indoor slippers would soon wear out, so she needed to change into her sturdier servant’s shoes as soon as possible.

Westley said, “I suppose the head house servant asked you to leave, due to the king and all his guests being in the castle.”

“Oh yes,” Muriel said. “We are not fancy enough and might get in the king’s way.”

“She told us it was his guards who wanted anyone not of the king’s party or of the household servants to leave the castle for the sake of the king’s safety.”

“Oh yes, that too.” Muriel gave Evangeline a quick cringing smile.

The darkness surrounded them like a thick fog, and the moon was a sliver in a sky of tiny stars. The sound of the cart wheels covered the sound of their footsteps so that any number of bandits could have been lurking along the road. Yet Evangeline felt safe in the company of the strange men.

She sighed as she walked along. Her feet hurt from the rocky, uneven road, but she was free from King Richard and Lord Shiveleyand their oppressive expectation that she would be wedding that man in several hours.

Muriel scowled. Did she think Evangeline was selfish to leave the castle like this, to put them through this hardship? She should have tried harder to convince Muriel not to come with her.Please, God, don’t let her think I’m selfish.

After an hour or so, Westley said, “We shall stop here for the night.”

Evangeline and Muriel hung back and watched as the men guided the donkey and cart off the road. There was nothing here except grass and a few trees, no inn or structure of any kind, and it suddenly struck Evangeline—they would be sleeping on the ground.

The men went into the woods two or three at a time, no doubt to relieve themselves. Muriel and Evangeline went in the opposite direction to do the same behind some thick bushes.

“I cannot believe we are here, defying the king like this, traveling with these strange peasants,” Muriel muttered. “I’ve never slept on the ground in my life.”

“It is an adventure, Muriel,” Evangeline whispered back. “And you can return to Berkhamsted Castle anytime you wish.”

“And what do you think they will do when they realize you lied to them and you are not mute at all? They’ll be furious. They will cast you out of their midst.”

Evangeline shook her head. They would not be that angry, surely. Perhaps she would tell them she had been miraculously healed. But that lie seemed worse than one that did not include God.

They went back to where the men were spreading blankets on the ground.

Evangeline sat down several feet away on the grass. She pulledoff her thin slippers and shook out the dirt and small rocks from her shoes. Muriel did the same while she huffed her displeasure.

Evangeline lay down on the soft, cool grass, hugging her bag to her chest. Muriel stretched out beside her. “I am dirty and tired and I do not have proper shoes for this kind of walking. I have no way of washing even my face, as we have no water.”

“If we ask,” Evangeline dared to whisper back, “the men will probably let us share their water.”