Amiria began to make her way down the passageway, but had gone no more than a few steps. She halted at an unexpected sound, catching her attention. She turned back in surprise to the see the hidden tunnel door being pushed wide open.
She would have called out for help, but none would have heard her voice above the distant sounds of the raging war. Instead, the sound of her blade rent the air as ’twas released from its scabbard. The noise carried an eerie echo off the walls, causing her eyes to narrow at the foe afore her. Her fingers gripped the familiar hilt of her blade, knowing she would face him alone.
“How many times have I told you, I detest you in armor?” Hugh grinned evilly.
Amiria gave no answer, for she quickly saw more than a dozen men begin to fill the narrow passageway. She held her stance firm and steadily brought her sword forward. Instead of words, she would let her blade speak on her behalf.
Sabina wearily opened her eyes, trying to focus on her surroundings, guessing the new day had yet to dawn. She lay abed and could hear the loud snores of her companion. She knew not how long she had been held at his mercy, as he had stubbornly ignored her constant pleas to be released. She had quit asking days ago, ever since a fist had been her reward for annoying him.
She tried to rise and fell back awkwardly against the coverlet. There was not an inch of her that did not hurt from his continual cruelty and misuse of her body. Filled with shame, Sabina tried again and made it to a sitting position, only to wait ’til the room stopped its swirling motion. She felt stickiness between her legs and reached down. Bringing her hand forward, she suppressed a startled cry. Her hand was covered in her blood. She had lost the babe, although mayhap, given her foolishness, ’twas a blessing in disguise.
I must flee, her tortured mind screamed. After several attempts, she at last stood on wavering legs. She glared down at the foul pig who had used her, over and over again. The offensive villain was flat on his back with spittle drooling from his mouth. She spat on him and felt a small bit of satisfaction when he did not so much as even flinch. She was not surprised, for he had consumed more ale than she thought a man was capable of drinking and still able to perform his worst on her.
She looked into a chest of Hugh’s and found garments she thought she might manage to fit into. A dirk fell from one of the items she held. She smiled when she picked it up, feeling its weight in her palm.
She went to the side of the makeshift bed, glaring down at the vile excuse of a man who had harmed her. She gave a hasty prayer, hoping God would forgive her actions this day. Quietly, she straddled the mercenary, who then began to stir. She smiled into his eyes even when he looked on her most hungrily.
“Now this is more like it,” he whispered, trying to bring Sabina closer. “I’s knew ye’d come to favor me!”
“I have something for you, my brave soldier,” she said huskily, almost retching at the smell of his breath.
“Do ye now? Well whatcha got fer me?” He began licking his lips. Sabina only wanted to wipe the smirk from his disgusting face.
“This!” She whispered her words in such a seductive manner that he did not react afore she speedily drew the dagger slicing his throat. Men are such fools and only think of one thing, she thought smiling in satisfaction. She watched the dying man beneath her gurgle ’til he took his last breath. A heavy sigh escaped her. Wiping the blood from the knife on the coverlet, she held it up into the dim light of the tent. “’Tis a most useful dirk to be sure. I think I shall keep it.”
She rose from the man and pulled a blanket over him. ’Twould be hours afore anyone realized he was not asleep.
She carefully opened the tent flap to peer outside at the nearly deserted campsite. Cautiously, she made her way to her horse still corralled with several others. She was surprised to see no others lingered around the camp to detain her, but mayhap this was a testament to Hugh’s conceit.
Sabina somehow managed to free her horse and spoke softly to the animal to quiet it. Finding a stump, she stood upon it and noticed her blood beginning to seep through her stolen clothing. ’Twas not a good sign and only weakened her already abused condition. Thrice she attempted to mount her steed and ’twas not ’til the fourth attempt that she managed the feat.
She struggled to stay atop the horse as it slowly made its way towards home. Sabina grasped its mane to ensure her hold on the animal. Her only thought was to return to Berwyck and right the wrong she had done to her family. If she made it, she would beg their forgiveness, and ask them to pardon her errant ways.
Her last thought was of seeing her siblings. She drifted into unconsciousness still atop her steed which continued forward at a slow pace careful of the burden it held, plodding ever onward towards Berwyck and home.
Thirty-Eight
To say Dristan was annoyed would have been an understatement. He raked a hand through his already mussed hair in irritation and adjusted his tabard that seemed to be choking the very breath from him. Whilst he appreciated the offer King Henry had given him for additional aid, he was puzzled on how he was to make haste and still remain undercover with well over one hundred men creating the rising dust. Fifty he could have concealed easier but the amount had tripled. He had left behind a good majority of men at court, who were still waiting for horses to be readied. Those men had now joined his army when they answered the call to rise to arms. All in Christendom must see there was a legion on the move towards Berwyck. They would be hard to miss.
Dristan turned as four riders came abreast of him. Nathaniel, Rolf, and Fletcher stilled their horses even though ’twas clear they, too, wished to quicken their pace. Ian sat, unmoving in his saddle, a grim expression on his face. Dristan had not thought Ian would accompany him straight back to Berwyck, but Amiria’s former captain made it clear nothing would stop him from reaching the family’s side. It seemed the two of them had only one thing on their mind and ’twas to ensure the safety of those they had left behind.
“We must ride ahead,” Dristan insisted. “I will take no more than a score of men. Fletcher, you stay here in my stead, and half past the hour get this army moving again towards Berwyck.”
“As you will, my lord,” Fletcher drawled, “although I am not sure I can get them moving any better than you have done with any sense of remaining unseen for miles around. With this many men, ’tis a most improbable task.”
“Do what you can,” he said sternly. “I cannot waste any more time.”
Ian moved his horse closer. “I come with you.”
Dristan raised a brow at Ian’s assumption that he would travel with him. “You could be of more use here with Fletcher.”
“Aye, I suppose I could,” he snorted decisively, “yet I know something that can be most useful. If I were to guess, Amiria did not as yet have time to tell you of Berwyck’s secret.”
“What secret?” Dristan roared.
Ian began somewhat sheepishly to tell Dristan of the tunnel that led down to the strand. His reaction was instantaneous and understandable. “You willna find it without me, my lord.”
“I swear, when I get a hold of my wife, I shall throttle that woman within an inch of her life,” he snarled. “It explains much on how she left the castle on the two occasions that I am aware of.”
Dristan began muttering about all the ways he would make his lady’s life miserable when he returned to Berwyck, ’til Nathaniel and Rolf began to laugh at his expense. He glared them into silence. A sound of thunder reached their ears. Then a speck of dust on the horizon caught Nathaniel’s eye and he peered into the distance. As the riders came closer, they recognized their comrade in arms.
“Ho, Geoffrey!” Nathaniel called to his friend, wondering what caused him to be so far from the castle.
Strain showed on Geoffrey’s face as he grimaced in pain and rubbed his leg when they came abreast of the group. Kenna came along side of him and he held out his hand to her. She took it and he placed a kiss upon its gloved back.
Dristan watched the pa
ir with a bit of amusement afore his thoughts returned to the obvious fact they were far from home.
“Your news must be grim for you to travel this far from Berwyck,” Dristan voiced coolly. “Let me guess . . . Sir Hugh is up to some mischief.”
Geoffrey and Kenna looked astonished he had guessed so correctly. “How did you know?” Geoffrey wheezed.
“It seems my vassal has sent word to the king on matters that would be questionable if I was not in such good graces with His Majesty,” Dristan chided.
Kenna looked about her at the mass of men who accompanied the group. “’Tis apparent you are still in good stead with him,” she guessed.
“’Tis even more so,” Ian proclaimed. “He has just been knighted an Earl.”
“All the more reason you must hasten your journey to reclaim Berwyck,” Geoffrey replied quickly. “Hugh will be laying siege to the castle. I have seen his army moving in its direction as we rode out.”
Dristan’s gaze went to Kenna ’til she nodded in answer. “’Tis true my Lord Dristan but there is more you should know.”
“He knows the castle secret,” Dristan guessed. “But who would betray us so?”
“Search your heart and you will find the answer, my liege,” she replied with a hushed tone.
It did not take Dristan long in his pondering. “Sabina! That wench is more trouble than she is worth!” he rasped.
“I have seen much as we rode, my lord,” Kenna said. “Trust me when I tell you, Lady Sabina has paid a price for her treachery. One that no woman should endure.”
“What of Amiria and her guardsmen?” Dristan and Ian exclaimed in unison. They shook their heads at one another and waited for Kenna to continue.
Closing her eyes, ’twas clear another vision overtook her. Dristan continued to watch his healer from his saddle, although he did not wait long for her to once more come back to them. The look of sorrow was one he was not prepared for.
“Taken . . . it appears. Thrown into the pit and dungeon, my liege,” she whispered. “The garrison continues to fight on in your name.”
“We must go, and now,” Dristan bellowed.
“My lord I−” Geoffrey began. His words halted from his lips as he slid from his mount.
“Geoffrey!” Kenna cried out the same instant Nathaniel leapt from his horse to catch his friend as he fell. Blood once more began pouring from his wound.
“Take care of him, Dristan ordered. “Ian, you come with me.”
Their stallions reared in their eagerness to run as both men turned their steeds. Dristan called out to several of King Henry’s knights, who were only too eager to join him as he rode off to claim what was rightfully his. ’Twould not go well for Hugh when he got him within the reach of his sword. Dristan pressed onward, knowing within his heart Amiria would not fare well in Hugh’s clutches.
It had seemingly been days since Patrick had bolted the door of the garderobe. He had become immune to the putrid stench rising up to meet his nose, or so he thought, muffling a cough. Cut off from his sisters and any form of security, he was about at his wits end to this hiding business. He was, after all, a page to one of the most notorious knights in all of England. Surely a page such as he should not be hiding away, doing nothing.
He glanced through a crack in the frame of his confinement, but only saw the flickering flames of the nearby torch lighting the passageway. ’Twas time to take a chance for surely something must have befallen Amiria, since she had not come for him by now.
He quietly unlatched the door and peered without. Seeing nothing, he scampered down the corridor and made his way down the tower stairs. All was silent and frightfully so.
He slowed his pace at the entrance to the Great Hall and examined the number of men who lounged about drinking and eating their fill. To his dismay, he did not recognize any of Berwyck’s garrison. The men’s laughter grated on his ears whilst they boasted of their easy victory. Patrick could not miss how Sir Hugh sat at the high table, lording over all. The traitor . . . What trickery is this? he wondered. Patrick listened only long enough to hear Sir Hugh bellow to the men to get their sorry arses out to patrol his battlements. Patrick soundlessly quit the room. He had heard more than enough.
Keeping to the shadows, he made his way towards the kitchens and held his finger to his lips to silence the servants, who were surprised and overjoyed to see him. Cook led him to the back of the room behind some barrels of flour. He was joyful to see Lynet, although he frowned at her change in clothing. Dressed in a gown of coarse wool, she was frantically mixing various herbs together.
Patrick, having learned of Amiria’s fate, could not believe anyone, even someone as foul as Sir Hugh, would sink so low as to put a woman in Berwyck’s pit. ’Twas a foul place and far worse than his most recent place of hiding.
Since Cook would see to serving those in the Great Hall, Patrick held out his small hands for another pitcher. “I will do my duty to my sister and descend below into the bowels of the castle and encourage the guards to drink their fill,” he declared. With the pitcher in his hands, he gulped down his feeling of the sudden fear attempting to creep upon and consume him. Trying not to spill the contents of the jug, Patrick slowly made his way down the steep steps into the depths of the most dreadful place to be found within Berwyck’s walls.
Reaching the final step, he moved into the light where three guards immediately came to attention.
“Who goes there?” asked the tallest guard.
He made an excuse as he held out the jug. “The ale is an offering from Sir Hugh for a job well done.”
The men took the jug, taking turns as they greedily guzzled down the brew. With a loud belch, one went back to his post and waved Patrick away to fetch more.
Patrick took the pitcher and made it appear as if he returned above to fill their request. Instead, he waited in the darkness on the stairs for the herbs to work their magic. When he heard the loud thuds, as one by one the guards fell to the floor, he quietly came down the remaining steps to peer within the room. Snores met his ears, and Patrick gave a sheepish smile. Looking for the keys and finding them hanging from the belt on the tall guard, he gave a brief laugh at his cleverness and turned towards the first of several cells. ’Twas time to free his sister.
Thirty-nine
Amiria was freezing. Her legs and body exhausted from trying to keep herself out of the sticky slime beneath her feet. She swore when she was released from here, she would demand the pit be filled in forevermore. The dungeon itself would be punishment enough, since the cold penetrated down to one’s bones at this level beneath the keep.
How long had they remained here in the darkness, she did not know. It seemed God had forsaken her, but still she continued to offer up prayers to save her and her guardsmen from the hellhole they found themselves in.
For she was not alone in her misery . . . nay, she was not. Riorden and Ulrick shared her fate as they huddled together, trying to find enough warmth between the three of them. Unfortunately, they were failing and would not be able to endure the extreme temperature much longer. They had attempted to climb one on top of the other to escape, but had failed to reach anywhere near the top of the slick and icy walls. Now they stood there shivering in the cold dampness of their prison. ’Twas almost ironic she would wind up in the pit of all places, and yet this was better than in Hugh’s bed.
Images of how she had put up a valiant fight flashed within her mind. At least she had taken down two opponents afore Hugh had stepped in to take over, in his pursuit
to become victorious. His remaining men had poured from the doorway and she could do nothing to stop them whilst Hugh had bellowed at them to get the gates opened. In the end, the narrow passageway had been her downfall when she inadvertently tripped over one of the fallen men. With nowhere to go when her feet flew out from beneath her, Hugh had brought his sword forward, knocking her blade from her hands. To watch his face light up as he grabbed her and then feel his lips viciously crushing her own, she did not know which had been worse.
Repulsed, she had done the only thing she could think of and, clenching her gauntlet hand into a tight fist, she had swung back her arm. Blood had oozed from the cuts she slashed across his face. Amiria had then been the one to smile in satisfaction. Her small victory had not lasted long, however, for he had retaliated in kind, knocking her senseless.
She had roused briefly at the sound of those coming to her aid. The feeling of a knife to one’s neck tended to bring one back to their senses though. The sound of Hugh’s voice, threatening to slice her throat if her men advanced further, had added to her disbelief and disappointment she had failed. Her eyes had met Riorden’s and she had seen his displeasure from her disregard to follow his orders. ’Twould have made no difference, however, since deceit had won the day.
Left with no alternative since her life was in jeopardy, Riorden and the other guardsmen had surrendered their swords in surrender. They had been herded down the stairs of the tower at the point of steely blades. Turquine and Taegan had put up the biggest fight as they were led down into the depths of the dungeon whilst Killian and Nevin had followed suit, voicing crudely how the men would pay.
Amiria thought she was to have shared their same fate when her men had been thrown into their cells. But the iron doors had closed with a loud clang and the key had been inserted to lock the men in. The guardsman had then turned to Ulrick and Riorden, and, with a leer, they were shoved coldheartedly down into the castle’s pit.
Hugh had advanced on her and she had felt his breath on her skin that began to crawl at his touch. He had told her in no uncertain terms she would be in his bed, but not afore Amiria learned her place. She had let out a scream in fear whilst she, too, was pushed into the murky depths below.