Page 59 of To Protect

“This way.” Another man, this one unarmed, waved them through. Seneschal, perhaps?

They followed him down another corridor and through a small door that led to another set of stairs, their group now consisting of her, Roland, Alden, and the other knights, along with their leader.

“Roland?”

His hand held hers in a death grip.

“I will explain all when we are safe. The empress is ahead of us, already secured. After we parted at supper, I went to Eamon to learn what news the empress had received at supper. It seems there are some unhappy with the turn of events,” he explained in a hushed tone as they emerged from the stairwell into what appeared to be a tunnel. “I was sent with Darien and some of the others by Eamon to assess the threat.”

“And?” Amalia asked as they continued down the dank tunnel, thick with tension. Her heart raced but Roland’s firm grip steadied her.

“It is much worse than I feared. They surround the outer walls of the Tower and continue to stream in from throughout the city from every side. There also appear to be tents across the Thames that scouts are still assessing.”

“Tents?” Amalia asked, unsure what that meant.

“Some nobleman’s retinue, perhaps. They cannot be very large, as we’ve had scouts searching for such since we arrived. But until they meet us, we cannot be certain and will assume the worst.”

Amalia did not know what he meant by “the worst,” and neither did she wish to find out. That they were forced to leave a day after arriving, in the dead of night, seemed like the worst possible outcome already.

On and on they went, walking so quickly they practically ran. Reaching what appeared to be a stone door, already ajar, their party climbed a set of stone stairs lit only by the lanterns they carried. The chill of the late evening air only heightened Amalia’s dread. As they moved, however, Amalia realized they were well beyond the Tower’s formidable outer walls.

With the Tower of London looming behind them, the air carrying whispers, or scents at least, of the Thames River, her clandestine companions continued to make their escape. Their leader opened a creaky wrought-iron gate, barely visible in the darkness.

“I leave you here,” he said.

Amalia looked over her shoulder to their savior as they made their way down a narrow path that wound through a lush thicket.

“Who is he?” she whispered.

“His name is Ealdred, a devoted servant of Matilda’s family for generations.”

“He is not coming with us?”

“He serves the Tower, first and foremost.”

“Despite his connections to Matilda’s family? Will he not be in danger for having aided our escape?”

Escape. For that was, indeed, what had happened. She and the others had just made their escape from the Tower of London. How was such a thing even possible? Were they still in danger?

Amalia did not wish to have the answer to that particular question.

Eventually, the murky waters of the Thames flowed silently in front of them, reflected only by the moon above. Waiting boats, their outlines barely discernible in the shadows, bobbed gently against the stone steps to the water.

Just then, she spotted other boats already making their way down the river.

“Is that . . . ?” she asked, and Roland answered.

“The empress? Aye.”

By the time they made their way into the boats, Roland only letting go of her hand to row, Amalia was unsure what to think. She had so many questions.

Their boat consisted of her, Roland, Alden and three others. Others like it appeared to hold the same number of people—certainly not all of those who had come to London with Matilda.

“Where are the others?” she asked when it seemed Roland was more relaxed.

“They will be meeting us, God grant them safe passage, with our mounts, north of the city,” Alden responded.

“When reports first reached the empress,” Roland said, “none thought there was more of a threat than a few angry folks. It quickly became apparent that was not the case. I was sent, along with a contingency of her own men, to assess the threat.”