Heart of Gold by May McGoldrick Page A

the friar shouted as he put his arm around her, pushing his way through the oncoming men. Elizabeth held on to her friend’s cloak, all the while keeping her head down and allowing him to lead her. Anytime Matthew came across an immobile knot of people, Elizabeth gasped for air and emitted the most heart-wrenching cough she could muster.
    Within a few moments, Elizabeth could tell they were leaving the dense throng for a more open area. With the exception of an occasional brush of a passing shoulder, she could no longer feel the press of bodies all around them. Still, she dared not look up, for fear of being recognized.
    “I think we’ve passed the immediate danger,” Friar Matthew said quietly, coming to a halt. “I want you to go back to the stables.”
    “I have to find Mary. She is out there...vulnerable.” Elizabeth looked around; there was no sign of her sister. They had stopped at a crossing of alleyways, but they were still in the English sector of tents.
    “I’ll go after her,” he replied. “I saw the direction that she went. You go back, and I’ll bring her to you.”
    “But—”
    “This is no time to argue with me, child. By now there are probably a hundred English soldiers looking for a woman with a freshly cut face. You’ll be safe among the peasants. They’ll never think to search among the poor French wretches.” The friar looked about him cautiously. “I give you my word I’ll bring your sister to you. Now go.”

Chapter 9
     
     
    If only I were a man, she thought.
    Pushing against the streaming mass of humanity, Elizabeth moved down the cloth-walled alleys toward the open fields and the stable. She hardly dared to look up at the oncoming faces, for fear of being discovered. She knew she had to leave for Italy. It was her only escape. But she had to convince Friar Matthew that she could survive on her own. The friar’s last words as they’d run toward the fires had been that he would not allow Elizabeth to go alone. Even if he could bring himself to believe she would be able to protect herself on the arduous road to Italy, he believed that she would need fellow travelers, with a female especially among her companions. He was certain that would improve Elizabeth’s chances of traveling successfully in the guise of a young man.
    But Elizabeth did not want to disrupt any more lives. She and the friar both knew that finding a trustworthy, female companion who would want to travel to Italy right now was nearly impossible. The friar did not have to mention it, but Elizabeth knew that, in spite of all that was happening, he was already considering going with her. She’d seen it in his face. In fact, he probably was thinking of finding her a safe place—not in Italy, but rather in some remote French convent.
    That wasn’t the answer. She could not remain in hiding the rest of her life, idling away her time and letting someone else take care of her. She could not sit, a silent observer, while the world moved on without her.
    Elizabeth looked up as a young peasant girl banged into her side. The girl murmured a word or two and continued on. But something in the innocent face of the child washed away the thought of her own problems and reminded Elizabeth of her youngest sister, Anne. She wondered where she had gotten to in the midst of the fiery chaos. Mary obviously had been able to escape Garnesche’s wrath, but would the man stoop so low as to bring his fury to bear on a defenseless child?
    Anne was smart, though. Even at her age, she was capable of outwitting those around her on nearly every occasion. Elizabeth knew that the young girl had already made a place for herself at the English queen’s side. And she had a way with their father, as well. No, Anne would be fine. Elizabeth could let her mind rest on that score. But Mary was a different story. Whatever would become of her?
    Glancing across the alley, she saw him first.
    Ambrose’s eyes roamed the crowd before him. Suddenly he