To Be a Spy

Chapter 8

Her curiosity was aroused by the presence of her name on the paper in William's possession. What did it mean? After returning to her camp in the woods, she undid the string and opened the papers. Scanning the top of them she realized that they all started the same way: Dear Rowen. Letters. Letters addressed to her that she had never received. There was almost twenty-five of them. All had a date in the upper right-hand corner. The first one she saw was the oldest, dating almost ten years ago. Rowen paused. As a spy, she had read many things that hadn't been intended for her eyes. But this was different somehow. William wasn't some stranger she had never met. He was her friend and to read these letters seemed wrong. But he had forfeited any right to privacy. Besides, maybe there was something about the Maverick Clan. Shaking off her guilt she began reading the first letter.

Dear Rowen,

I cannot believe that you want to be a spy. Do not think I am doubting your ability to become a spy. I fear I made the wrong impression with you. I was just astonished that someone, well, pretty and delicate would want to spy. I hope you do not think I was looking down on you because you were a girl. That certainly was not the idea I wanted to convey to you. I apologize for any misunderstanding. -William

The bottom half of the letter was folded up. Gently, Rowen uncreased the paper, revealing a dried and pressed dog rose. For a moment she didn't understand, then it came to her. That first day, the flower she had thrown in the corner. William had found it and kept it because he liked her. A glow spread over her and a gentle smile unbidden curled her lips. She turned back to the letters. This one dated about three years later.

Dear Rowen,

You saved me. I shudder to think what that Irish mob would have done to me if you had not stopped them. Seeing you there, pleading with the crowds to spare my life, I realized something. I love you, Rowen. I love your courage, loyalty, spirit, beauty and everything that makes you who you are. But to write it makes me hesitate. Is it truly what I feel? For one moment I was absolutely certain, but now I am not so sure. Doubts crowd my thoughts as I write this. Oh, what am I to do? Even still I remain your friend, William

Rowen dropped the papers like they were on fire. He loved her! Or rather had. If only someone had said something. How different things might have been! Wiping tears from her eyes she picked the papers up again. For the next thirty minutes, she read the letters, all full of William's admiration and feelings for her through the years. Rowen was overwhelmed by his praise for her. Then, there were only two letters left. She picked up one. The date read two years ago.

Dear Rowen,

I found out who you were today. The Lady Maverick. I scarce can believe it is true. I was doing some things in the Maverick Clan and I befriended a talkative little girl. She poured information into me. One thing caught my attention. The missing Lady Maverick. While still just a babe, the Maverick Clan had been attacked by another tribe. Fearing the danger for their newborn daughter and future ruler, her parents set her with a nurse to England. When I questioned the girl further, I found out she is said to have left right before you appeared at Great Hall. I think you are the Lady Maverick. Your nurse, who should have brought you home, died somehow. Whether she put you on the steps herself or had someone else do it, I do not know. But I think that she did not realize where she was leaving the heir of the Mavericks. Mayhap she thought Great Hall was an English church or something of that sort. But you ended up on those steps for which I am forever grateful. Love, William

He had known. Yet, he still loved her. Even though she was Irish, from a disgusting clan, he loved her. She shook her head and reached for the last letter. With a start, she realized that it had only been written three days ago. The day they had learned of her 'betrayal'.

Dear, sweet Rowen,

They tell me you are dead. I cannot believe it. They say you are a traitor. That you have betrayed us to the Irish. But you did not do this I am sure of it. I fear that you are dead because of me. Oh, Rowen, there are so many things I regret now. Why did I never tell you how I feel? I love you, Rowen! I love you! But the words are too late. Empty words thrown to the wind. There are so many times I wanted to tell you how talented you were, how beautiful. Yet, I refrained, and now I can never tell you. Though it is too late, let me say it. Rowen, your beauty cannot be compared to anything. If I could take the stars and form a necklace with the crescent moon as a pendant it still could not make you more stunning. Why has this happened? My world is shattered. My heart is broken. Life without you is pointless. And it is all my fault! I should be the one dead, not you. It was I who is the so-called traitor. But I did not compromise England. I only gave the Mavericks hope that their true ruler was still alive. It was all a mistake. I should have told Edward, I see that now. But things seem clearer looking into the past. My mistakes are so obvious now. Forgive me, Rowen. In anguish, William

Twin tears fell down Rowen's face and hit the bottom of the page. Here was her proof. But she didn't want it like this. Why did she have to learn this? It would have been so much easier if he had hated her. She wanted to scream. But there was nothing. William. Oh dear, sweet, precious Will. She pulled her knees to her chest and stared into the fire, rocking back and forth, weeping. All night she stayed there, not caring when the fire died. She fell in and out of sleep. When the sun rose her sorrow was replaced with rage. She snatched up her sword and took out her anger on a young tree. Chips of bark flew off the trunk as she hacked at it with strokes lacking her usual style and grace. The feeling of being watched descended on her. She whirled, throwing a blade. It quivered in the tree beside the man standing there. She walked over to the tree and yanked her dagger out of it.

Barely glancing at the man she said, "Do not bother me, Edward. I am not in the mood to talk."

"Did you find out anything?"

"He did it."

Edward came to stand beside her. "You know he loves you now, do you not?"

She turned and faced him, tears welling out of her eyes. "Yes."

"Oh, Rowen." His arms wrapped around her and she cried onto his shoulder. Her rage was gone leaving her weak. She had thought she had cried all her tears, but she had been wrong. For a few minutes, they stood there. Teacher and student; friends; father and daughter. Then, Rowen drew a deep breath and wiped away her tears.

She handed him the last letter. "Here."

He read it, absorbing the information. When he finished he looked at her. "If I could have protected you from this I would have."

Rowen grasped at a hope she had. "But he did not give the Irish any important information. There is no traitor. No one has been betrayed."

"I wish that was true. The Irish have an army. They are going to attack England. Whether it was intentional or not does not matter. That army formed because of something William did."

She glanced at him. "And? If that was gone. If the army disappeared, would he be free?"

"I cannot offer any promises. I did receive word from William today, though. His ran into bad winds on the sea and was unable to make it to France. They turned back and he is now on English soil again. He wished to know if I wanted him to return or try again to get to Normandy. I told him to come back to Great Hall. He is on his way here as we speak. When he reaches Great Hall I must put him in jail, if not kill him as I tried with you."

"Edward, I beg you, spare his life."

"Then I shall put him in prison."

"In the cell at Great Hall? Or somewhere else?"

Edward thought for a moment. "At Great Hall, I know of no other cell that can hold a spy."

"Oh, I see."

Edward glanced at her sharply. "Rowen, do not try anything. If he were to escape somehow I would have to question you first."

She nodded. "Understood."

"Good girl. But I must go. William should be back in an hour, that is, if no further obstacles delay him. Rowen, my heart aches for you and what you are going through. Farewell, my daughter."

"Farewell." She watched him out of sight, a plan forming in the back of her head. No matter the danger she was going to free William. He would have done the same for her. But she only had one hour.