Candle in the Window: Castles #1

by Christina Dodd

  “Drop it,” she answered cheerfully.

  “’Twill break! Let me lower it.”

  “Nay, the dust is up to my ankles. It’ll not break. Just drop it.”

  “Awright.” He sounded doubtful, but obedient. Saura stepped out of the way and the bench came flying down to land with a splinter of wood. Bronnie heard it, complaining, “M’lady, ye said—”

  “It must be farther to the ground than I’d realized,” she explained blithely. Scurrying into the swirling cloud, she scavenged the pieces of bench and thanked God for opportunities. The long board that had been the seat seemed thick enough to move a boulder. It was still connected to one leg, but she knew that William could separate the pieces.

  Above her, she heard a thump, like a branch falling on a hollow log, and suddenly the floor beside her exploded in a flurry of dust. Flabbergasted, she stood with the boards in her hands and wondered which way to run. “So I will deal with all who assist you, Lady Saura.” Nicholas’s voice chilled her with its intent, and then the door above closed gently and she dropped the lumber.

  “Bronnie?” She scrambled and found his body, twisted in a distorted shape. “Bronnie?” Her fingers found a break almost right away. His collarbone had snapped, his arm twisted below him. Her hands skimmed over him. She found a swelling on his shoulder, put there by his angry lord. She found another lump, a bigger one, on his forehead.

  From the tunnel she heard a cursing and grumbling, and then William demanded, “What in the name of Saint Wilfred was that? Are you hurt?”

  “Nay, but I would have been if Bronnie had landed on me.”

  “Bronnie’s down here? Oh, splendid, now we have to get him out, too.”

  “Not at the moment, we don’t. He’s senseless. Our friend upstairs caught him providing us with a meal and clobbered him, and knocked him in.”

  “God’s teeth,” William said blankly. “Will he live?”

  “Aye, he landed in thick dust. But I’ll need your help setting this collarbone and making him comfortable.”

  “In a prison we’re going to make him comfortable? All we can do is bind his shoulder; there’s nothing to splint with.”

  “We’ll use the leg of the bench Bronnie dropped for me.”

  “A bench?” His voice rose in excitement. “How did you get him to give us a bench?”

  “I lied,” she admitted. “There’s a good long piece to lever that boulder with, but first you have to help me with Bronnie.” Sitting back on her heels, she sighed, “I never expected Bronnie to look like this.”

  “Like what?” William asked cautiously.

  “Beautiful. At first, I thought he’d be a graybeard with eyebrows that met over his nose and hair that grew out of his ears. Then, when he hefted me around upstairs, I knew he must be a younger man, but still pictured him with long arms and knock-knees. My fingers don’t lie, though. This boy is a god.”

  “Humph.”

  She sat forward to work on him, but William brushed her hands aside. “I’ll do it.”

  “But I’m used to working without light,” she objected.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Bronnie was bandaged with an efficiency that would have amazed him, had he been awake. As William finished, he assured her, “He’ll be fine. Listen to him.” Bronnie had slipped from unconsciousness to sleep with nary a pause between. His snores serenaded them as they squeezed into the tunnel, pushing the lumber ahead, pulling the food and drink behind.

  William surveyed the boulder that blocked them with renewed hope. It was still too big, but with the lever Saura had obtained, they would do the job. First they had to move the stone enough to put the board beneath it, and so he commanded, “Put your shoulder against the rock, dearling, and we’ll get this pebble moved.”

  “And then can we eat?” Saura braced herself between the boulder and the wall, he reached one arm beneath it, and together they heaved. It rolled just enough for him to shove the board under the boulder.

  “We’ll eat when we’re out. ’Twill be incentive.”

  She scooted around to help him lean on the lever, but he pushed her gently aside. “I can do this. You’re too delicate.”

  “But, William….”

  “This will take more muscle than you have. Trust me, Saura.”

  Silently, she crawled to the side and laid one hand against the boulder.

  He leaned on the lever. The board made ominous cracking noises, but nothing moved. He stopped, got his breath, and tackled it again. He shoved, he struggled, he panted, all with no success. He groaned with the effort he used against their obstacle, but the stone hardly budged.

  She let him try until she couldn’t stand it any more before she said, “I can’t believe it wouldn’t be easier if I pushed, too.”

  “Would you like to take over this operation?” he asked between his teeth.

  “Nay. You’re doing fine.”

  He leaned on the lever again.

  “I just think—”

  He roared, and it echoed around the tiny cavern. “Help me, then, Mistress Saucebox.”

  She flounced as she moved into place and couldn’t resist asking, “Are you always this grumpy when someone comes up with a better idea?”

  “Aye.”

  She decided to drop the subject with a murmured, “Oh.”

  She pushed and he heaved, and the boulder moved up a bit. Forgetting his pique, he shouted, “Hold it there!” and thrust the board deeper. In painfully small increments, the stone rolled out of its resting place until suddenly Saura lay flat on the ground and the boulder rolled away. Pebbles from the ceiling showered on her and William crawled forward after the rock as if he were afraid it would return. Surveying the scene outside the tunnel, he announced, “’Tis out. The rest of the cave slopes down.” Cramped from his kneeling, he raised himself to his feet and picked her up like a rag doll, hugging her in mighty pleasure. “We did it!”

  She hugged him back, agreeing, “We did it.”

  William looked at her as she lifted her face to his and laughed and groaned. “Do you know what you look like?”

  That was not at all what she expected, and she blurted, “Is it important?”

  “Nicholas will never spot you in the scenery.” He blew on her face, set her down and brushed at her clothes. “You’re white,” he pronounced. “And likely to stay that way until we find you a bath.”

  “Are you any cleaner?”

  “Nay. Perhaps when I come for my vengeance, he’ll think I’m a ghost haunting him.”

  “A very healthy ghost.” She scoffed at his fancy and demanded her reward. “May we eat now?”

  “My gluttonous wife,” he sighed, reaching into the tunnel and dragging out the food and wine. “Come out toward the front of the cave. The sunshine will feel good.”

  “What about Bronnie?”

  “One insurmountable problem at a time, wife,” he reminded her.

  She took his hand and let him lead her. She let him seat her and open the cloth bundle wrapped around their food. She let him tear off a chunk of bread and put it in her hand. She let him open the animal skin bag filled with wine and she let him dribble it into her mouth. Leaning her back against the wall, she sighed. “I’m tired.”

  “Such an indomitable warrior has the right to be tired,” he soothed.

  “Nay, ’twasn’t being a warrior that wore me out. ’Twas waiting to be a warrior. I didn’t sleep well last night. Not that I’m afraid of rats, you understand, but I don’t like to think they’re nestling with me. I was worried Nicholas would realize why I wanted you in the cave with me, and I worried he’d change his mind and take me to his bed.” Her words drifted along, the spaces between them became longer and longer, and her head nodded and dropped.

  William rescued the chunk of bread in her hand before it could dip in the dirt and carefully laid her down on her side. With a sigh, he stared at his wife. Blotted with chalk, unconscious with weariness, she was still an inspiration to him. If not for
her calm good sense, he’d never have escaped the fear that held his mind prisoner. If not for her quick thinking, they’d never have escaped the prison where Nicholas had them confined.

  Now it was up to William. He would arrange for them to escape this cave, this prison that was even more dangerous, even more confining than the dungeon within. If Nicholas found them here, he’d be furious they’d outwitted him so well. If he found them here, their bodies would never even wash up in the tide. Nicholas’s men would toss them into the surf and they’d be carried away, to become simply another mysterious disappearance in this time of trouble.

  They had to get up on the top of the cliff. But how? He walked to the ocean side of the cave and looked down. Waves battered the bottom of the cliff, foaming against the toothy rocks. He looked up. Far above him a sheer cliff loomed, an unbroken expanse of white. He looked to the left, he looked to the right. No steps, no handholds.

  No way out.

  The sun shone directly overhead when William lifted Saura into his arms. “Come, dearling, we have to go.”

  She moaned and snuggled into his chest, and he stroked her hair. How he wished he didn’t have to wake her. Exhaustion had claimed her, and her upper lip had quivered with the heavy breath that sighed between her teeth. She’d never turned over, never moved the whole time she’d lain there.

  “Come, sweet, ’tis time to become heroes again,” he crooned.

  “William,” she complained, never waking.

  He hugged her and thought, Just a few minutes more.

  He glanced around the narrow cave. Defined by its high ceilings and walls hung close together, it was nothing more than a slot over the ocean. During the time she slept, he’d busied himself with preparations. He’d broken off jagged bits of board and tucked them in his belt. Sharp enough to scratch and pick, they’d be his only hand tools on their climb to the top of the cliff. The boulder he’d rolled back into its snug niche at the mouth of the prison. It was easier to move the second time, he’d discovered. It functioned as nothing more than a plug, but time counted, and the rock would slow Nicholas and his men. He’d hung far out over the ocean and studied their route up the cliff. It was just as far to the top—farther, perhaps, than he’d realized the first time he’d looked—but his second observation had yielded a few rays of hope. Scraggly bushes hung here and there, defying the salt spray to sink their hardy roots into the soil. Here and there, a tougher stone hung out to provide a toehold, here and there were indentions in the smooth expanse.

  A difficult climb for him, but not impossible.

  For Saura? He winced. The thought of directing her, step by painful step, up the smooth, upright surface made his hands shake. Clasping her closer, and closer still, he placed his mouth on the top of her head and prayed with all his might.

  “William?” She still rested against him, and for a brief moment her arms encircled his waist to hug him. “William?” She tugged free and sat up. “Are you going to sleep all day? Hadn’t we better go?”

  With silent profundity, he reflected on how rapidly she could turn his sentiment to vexation. “You’re a nag, do you know that?”

  She stood and shook out her skirts. “I’ve been called worse things,” she assured him, “but not by better men.”

  He grunted and dragged himself up. “Do you think to flatter me with compliments?”

  “I think we’d better climb that cliff above us,” she answered.

  Startled, he studied her wide, innocent eyes and mobile mouth. “How did you know there was a cliff?”

  “You would have never let me sleep if it had been an easy walk to the top.”

  “You’re an annoying woman. I should leave you here.” He studied the boulder blocking the way into the cave and sighed. “But I can’t.”

  “I’ll be fine, William.” She reached out and stroked his cheek. “We’ll be fine.”

  They were fine.

  William lay on the coarse grass at the top of the cliff and held it clutched in his fists and panted. They were fine, except for the sweat that poured down his sides and the heart that beat out of his chest. Saura was fine. She’d been gallant, patient, awaiting his instructions before moving hand or foot, never faltering when he’d had to go on ahead and gouge a tiny toehold out of the bluff. She hadn’t complained about the heat, although the afternoon sun beating on the unrelenting rock had baked them. She didn’t seem to realize, although he warned her, that the slightest slip could end in a long fall. She’d just smiled and said, “’Tis not falling that worries me. ’Tis landing.”

  He’d been in no mood for levity.

  Now she sat just a little away from him, the sea wind blowing the chalk from her hair, waiting for him to recover from his fright. He didn’t see the care with which she lifted the end of her sleeve to wipe the perspiration from her forehead before she asked, “William, are you well?”

  “Aye.” He turned his head and studied her. “Are you?”

  She clasped her hands. They trembled slightly, and she tucked them into her lap. “My hands are sore from gripping the stones and I have a few bristles imbedded in my palm, but compared to—”

  “Don’t!” He reached out and shook her knee. “Don’t even say it.”

  “Husband.” Catching his hand when he would retrieve it, she stroked it in both of hers. “You must stop worrying. We’re at the top now, ’tis time to move on.”

  “Most women would have been hysterical about such a climb. How can you be so calm?” He found himself perturbed by her unfailing good humor. Didn’t she realize that nothing, absolutely nothing else he had to do, would compete with that crawl up the cliff?

  “I never doubted you would bring me to the top.” She paused to invest her words with significance. “You would never let anyone or anything endanger me. I trust you.”

  “Trust! What has trust to do….” His words trailed off, and he sat up. Catching her chin in his hand, he questioned, “Trust?”

  A slight smile danced about her lips, and she veiled her eyes shyly. “Trust,” she confirmed.

  He discovered he could knock down Cran Castle with his bare hands, stand flat-footed in the bailey and toss Charles over the curtain wall, and gallop to Burke with Saura on his back, sans horse.

  “You trust me to take care of you?”

  “Eternally.”

  “We have to go now,” he murmured, entranced by his wife’s confession.

  “I know.” She sounded vague. “If Nicholas should find us lying on the grass….”

  Like the jolt of a lightning flash, her words brought clarity back to him. “Correct.” He stood, pulling her up after him. “We have to go. I must find a place close by where I can hide you.”

  “Hide me?” She jogged along behind him. “I thought I’d go with you.”

  He chuckled. “Foolish love. I couldn’t care for you in a fight. There may be many men against me. It will take all my concentration to defend myself and destroy Nicholas.”

  Tugging at his hand, she said, “Nay. Nay, we’ll just run and keep running.”

  “Nicholas has horses and men and a thorough knowledge of this land. He’d find us.” He glanced around at the flat, clear land and grimaced. “’Twould be too easy, I fear. There’s that pile of rocks.”

  She set her heels and jerked him around. Knitting her brow fiercely, she yelled, “You can’t fight a castle of men by yourself!”

  “Now, dearling,” he soothed. “I was with Charles when I realized you were right, did I tell you?”

  “Did you tell me I was right? Nay, somehow that slipped from our conversation.”

  She resisted as he pulled her underneath his shoulder, but he dragged her along beside him. “Aye, Charles was quite indignant that I thought he’d try to kill me in such a cowardly manner. It humbled me to be so wrong.”

  “Oh, you are humble,” she agreed sarcastically.

  “And some of the incidents he told me about Nicholas cleared my mind. He’s mad, you know.”

 
“Nicholas?” She nodded. “Aye, he is. And quite without logic.”

  “Nasty little piece, aren’t you?” Savoring her wit, he hugged her in a sweep that lifted her from her feet, and when he put her down she stopped struggling against his briskness and walked at his side. “You’re cooperating,” he said in surprise.

  “I can take a hint.” She ducked out from under his arm as his grip loosened and took his elbow. “You’ll carry me if I don’t.”

  She saw him more clearly than he saw himself, he realized. He hadn’t meant to coerce her when he lifted her, but perhaps that was what he intended. “My men are probably close to the coast already.”

  “In only a day?” Skeptical, she slowed her step. “Your father never moved with such haste in his life.”

  “You’ve never seen my father go to war,” he answered with unwavering faith. “I pity the men-at-arms who lost their sleep last night.” Double-time, he towed her toward a stony knoll covered with scrub, and once more she gave up the struggle and hurried with him. “You’ll know they’re here before I do. Sit up on the top of this rock and listen, and when you hear the sound of battle you’ll know we are victorious.”

  The three men rode toward Cran Castle, their troops trailing behind. Raymond and Lord Peter flanked the great lord, arguing across his saddlebow and never missing a stride.

  “He bragged about it, I tell you.” Raymond stripped off his helmet and ran his hands through his long, dark hair. “At the wedding, he hinted and I shrugged. So he suggested and I looked interested. Then he told me of his plans to murder William and I admired him with all my heart.”

  “He believed you?” Incredulous, Lord Peter glared at Raymond.

  “Aye, he’s so far gone he can only see his own greatness.”

  Lord Peter shook his head, interested in spite of himself, afraid it was the truth and feeling foolish for dragging his men halfway across England for a fairy tale. “Why didn’t you come to me at once?”

  Raymond turned his fine, dark eyes on Lord Peter. “Would you have believed me?”

  Lord Peter’s gaze dropped away.