"They go well, milord. I hear Sir Edgar continues their instructions in the art of war."
Miles ground his teeth. “I must get out of here, Cuthbert. Have you learned anything which might facilitate my release?” He thrust his hands through the bars and grabbed the front of the other man's tunic.
Cuthbert tried to step back, but Miles held him tightly against the bars. His face close to the servant's, he growled, “I want you to go to the healer in the village and obtain a sleeping draught. Then we—"
Cuthbert interrupted. “Milord, the healer is gone."
Miles vented his frustration by shaking the man. Would nothing go right for him? “As soon as she returns, you are to purchase a sleeping potion from her. Enough for all the midnight guards’ ale."
Cuthbert nodded. “I sees where yer going, milord. When she comes back, I will purchase the potion. However,” the man hesitated, his little piggy eyes gleamed avariciously, “I have no coin..."
Miles reached in his pouch. Some money remained wrapped in a piece of cloth as dark as the inside of the pouch. Only weapons had been taken from him, a surprise to a man who always stripped his prisoners to the skin, seizing all their belongings.
He thrust the coins into Cuthbert's hand. “Here. See that you use these only for the purchase of poppy juice. There will be more when I have left this damned place."
"You down there. Yer time is over. Get up here,” the guard shouted.
Miles watched Cuthbert scurry up the stone steps and disappear through the door at the top. The guard came down once more and regarded Miles through the bars.
"He give ye anything?” The man's eyes swept the small room with naught to see but the chamber pot, the basin and a pile of straw with a blanket spread over it, another in a heap on top of it.
"Nothing,” Miles said truthfully.
Placated, the guard went back upstairs and this time shut the door. All sound ceased.
Miles sank down on his pallet. He would have to exercise vigorously to keep his muscles in shape until the time came when he would need them.
Earlier, he had been bored, now he had to bide his time until Cuthbert returned. Miles had never waited well. This time was no exception, but he would use the time to study the guards, learn who would take bribes and who would not.
In Nicholas's squeaky clean keep, Miles suspected the former would be hard to find. For some strange reason, these people adored his brother-in-law. The why of this escaped Miles.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 23
The winter passed too quickly for Julie. Each day shortened her time with Nicholas. She found herself wishing Lily would return, so she could beg her not to send her back to a time that promised her nothing but agonizing heart break.
In the early hours of a night in April, Julie climbed the stairs to her chamber knowing Nicholas still slept. If he had awakened, he would have found her gone, and searched for her. Because sleeping comfortably was impossible now, she often slipped downstairs for a walk in the courtyard to ease her aching back.
The well oiled bedchamber door made no sound as she pushed it open. With his first exhausted sleep past, Nicholas stirred the moment she stepped inside.
Throwing back the coverlet, he rose and went to her. “Where have you been, love? Were you not able to sleep?” His arms pulled her against his warm, naked skin. His lips brushed hers lightly, then settled into a deeper kiss.
Julie fought the deep feelings Nicholas's touch engendered whenever they were intimate. His love-making now was gentle and she enjoyed it almost as much as the fierce coupling they indulged in before the baby grew so large. Often she wondered to whom he made love—her or Julianne. Doubt overwhelmed her. Reluctantly, she pushed him away.
"I was restless and did not wish to disturb you, Nicholas.” She tugged off her gown and climbed up on the bed. “I'm going to try to sleep now."
Nicholas stared at her but said nothing. No words were needed since the misery in his eyes spoke volumes. Lifting the coverlet, he climbed in beside her. When he reached for her once again, she slid away.
"I love you, dearling,” he said softly.
Yes, but which one of us do you love?
Miles paced back and forth in his cell. Damn that idiot of a meddling priest for visiting him and holding up his escape. He had bided his time until that old witch of a healer came back from whatever hell she visited. Now that his man had the drug, Miles was anxious to implement his plan.
He peered up the stairs, trying to see if the guard was still upright. Cuthbert's grating voice blathered on, filtering down through the dark shadows on the staircase. Though Miles could not make out the exact words, his man must be persuading the guard to drink the opium-laced wine.
If Cuthbert succeeded, Miles would soon be free again, free to devise an appropriate death for Nicholas. One that would demonstrate to everyone that their high and mighty lord's phenomenal luck had run out.
With an impatient snarl, Miles dropped down on the hard pallet to bide his time, until Cuthbert came with the key.
Julie lay on her side, watching the moon slip from sight. She regretted denying herself Nicholas's arms. But lately, her ungainly bulk made her uncomfortable in every position. She needed to be free to toss at leisure.
Nicholas's even breathing told her he slept deeply again—at least for now. Could she risk rising without disturbing him? Worth a try. The dull pain in her back didn't lessen with any change of position. She wanted a drink, but the pitcher beside her bed was empty. She wouldn't bother Gwyneth. It would do her good to walk. In fact, she felt an overwhelming compulsion to move about.
Carefully sliding from the bed, she tiptoed to the chair where she'd left her robe. As she dressed again, her back gave another twinge and she stifled a groan. Nicholas hadn't moved, so she slipped from their room, carrying the empty pitcher to the well in the upper bailey.
She avoided the sleeping bodies in the great hall. Strangely, the guards at the entry seemed a little lax. Both leaned against the wall, with their eyes half shut. Nicholas expected his men to be alert and they knew it. Could they have been drinking?
"Good even,” she said to them, as she walked through the door.
Each mumbled something like ‘milady,’ without the usual sharp courtesy. She frowned. Perhaps she would speak to Nicholas in the morning. These two would not like the consequences of their actions when he learned of them.
It was warm in the castle for the beginning of April, too warm, she thought. She walked across the bailey, her way lit by low rays of the waning moon. At the well, she pulled up the bucket and filled the pitcher. The outside air felt fresh and cool. She poured a little water into the communal drinking cup and took a sip, wetting her dry mouth. The gentle breeze dried the sweat on her forehead, and she opened her gown a little to cool her breasts. She seated herself on the edge of the well, thinking to lull the kicking baby to sleep and relieve her aching back.
"My lord,” Cuthbert whispered.
Miles had dozed off during his long wait, but at the sound of his henchman's voice just outside his cell, he bounded to his feet. “Are they drugged?"
Cuthbert grinned. “Aye, Lord Miles, and down on their asses snoring."
"About time. If not for that stupid priest, we could have had another hour of darkness. Miles glanced at his servant's hand. “Have you the key?"
The man nodded and inserted it in the lock. “The guards on the gate and walls have also succumbed."
"Then let us be off.” He shoved open the cell door. “I have spent too long in this dungeon already."
A loud whisper from a cell at the end of the dark corridor made him hesitate.
"My lord. Take me with you. I have served you faithfully in all your commissions."
"Nay, Selwick, you must stay here and try to mislead Nicholas as to where I went.” Sir Selwick was a fool and Miles did not suffer fools lightly. Therefore, he would give him a fool's errand.
"But, my lord, he wi
ll know...” Miles ignored Selwick's pleas.
The two crept up the stairs and through the passageway to the great hall. They peered about. All the house serfs and knights slept soundly. The men-at-arms not on duty were quartered in the barracks above the stables in the lower bailey. They, too, would be asleep.
Miles and Cuthbert edged along the walls, keeping to the deep shadows. The door to the bailey stood open, and the men on watch lay slumped on either side, deep in slumber.
Cuthbert leaned over to check on them only to have Miles grab his sleeve and order, “Slit their throats. I already took care of the dungeon guard. Dead men tell no tales."
The servant did as Miles bade, then hurried down the stairs after him.
Crossing the upper bailey, Miles suddenly halted and grabbed Cuthbert's arm. “You fool. I thought you said the bailey was deserted.” He pointed to a figure seated on the well coming, its back to them.
"Him were not there before, Master,” the man whined.
"Take your knife and kill him,” Miles commanded. “Another death is naught."
Cuthbert moved forward stealthily and clapped his hand over the person's mouth. He took one look, then called softly, “'Tis the Lady Julianne, milord. Surely, ye do not wish her throat slashed."
Miles cursed. “Nay, but I know not what to do with her.” He thought a moment.
Julie struggled against Cuthbert's grip both over her mouth and around her chest. Clearly she was no match for the big muscular servant.
Julie tried to bite him, but he held her lips shut with the pressure of his hand. He gave a nasty laugh, then shook her like a dog with bone.
"Do the horses await without the main gate?” Not expecting any answer but an affirmative one, Miles added, “Bring her.” He strode off, leaving Cuthbert to follow, dragging Julie.
"Aye.” Cuthbert caught up with his master. Julie and her extra bulk seemed no problem for him. Sir Robert had dragged her from this castle the last time, except he had knocked her unconscious. And these two were even more ruthless than Robert. A blow to the head would be a mild reaction for them—and perhaps merciful.
The guards at the gatehouse lay unconscious, prey to whatever Miles’ servant had used to drug them. Miles swiped his dagger across their throats as he passed, then raised the portcullis enough for them to slide beneath before he lowered the drawbridge.
Julie hoped the guards on the wall would raise the alarm, since both the portcullis and drawbridge's mechanism creaked and groaned. But all was silent. No one challenged their passing. They must be drugged, too. At least those men would live, she thought, blinking back tears for the slain guards.
Once across the moat, they hurried to the horses hobbled in the deep shadows cast by the castle's wall. Miles produced a piece of rope from his saddle bags and tied Julie. Then Cuthbert gagged her with a foul smelling scarf. The stale odor of sweat, as well as the fear from being in Miles’ power again, made her feel faint.
Miles hoisted her up on his horse and mounted behind her as Cuthbert sprang into the saddle of the other animal. They galloped off, a cloud of dust rising behind them in the last pale rays of the moon.
Miles’ clamped her tightly against him. Though his presence disgusted her, his grip stood between her and a hurtful fall. Julie might have chanced leaping from the horse and trying to escape, but she could not endanger the baby. Therefore, she endured her position and the terrible jouncing as the horses ate up the miles to Norville Keep.
"Has Sir Marcus dealt with the men who refused to switch their allegiance back to me? The ones who remained loyal to Nicholas?” Miles shouted at Cuthbert over the pounding of the horses’ hooves.
"Aye. They be secured in the dungeon, milord. The rest stand ready to obey your orders."
Julie gasped. Sir Marcus, the next experienced knight after Selwick, had sworn loyalty to Nicholas. Apparently, his oath meant nothing. And what of Sir Edgar? Miles would scarcely go easy on the man whom Nicholas had charged with Eleanor's safety. And Eleanor? Miles would not have missed the expression on her face when she and Edgar stood together after Nicholas defeated Miles. Their feelings for one another had been plain to Nicholas and he had told Julie. Lord, but this is an unsafe world, she thought. The sooner she returned to her own time the better. If only that didn't also include leaving Nicholas.
She squirmed in frustration and Miles glared down at her. “Sit still,” he ordered, banding his arm even tighter beneath her breasts.
Since she couldn't answer, Julie turned her head and sent him a steely glare. For her baby's safety, she would bide her time for an opportunity to escape.
Oh, Nicholas, she prayed silently, please come and rescue us. In her heart, she held fast to the image of Nicholas on Archangel thundering down the road to Norville Keep once again followed by his army. Come soon, my love, and take our child and me home.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 24
Nicholas awoke with the premonition something was wrong. Julie's side of the bed was empty. Mayhap she still could not sleep and had risen early. He dressed and hastened to the great hall.
The castle folk were stirring about as it was nearly time for mass. Perchance Julie had already gone to the church, but she always went with him—always. Before he could inquire as to her whereabouts, somebody near the door cried out, “My lord, the guards are slain."
Nicholas strode quickly to where the two men lay sprawled in their own blood, great gaping wounds in their throats. He glanced around. Everyone seemed as astounded by this as he was. They clustered behind him, whispering. A few women began wailing.
"Did no one see or hear anything?” His gaze raked the crowd again. People looked at one another, many shaking their heads.
Lady Beatrix arrived, her hand flying to her mouth at the grim scene. However, she recovered quickly and began giving orders.
"These men must be removed and the floor cleaned,” she said in her take-charge voice. She pointed at two husky men. “You there, and you. Carry these men to the chapel.” The servants lifted the dead guards and hauled them away.
A commotion in the upper bailey caught Nicholas's attention. Now what? He hastened down the steps and saw a grim-faced Sir Harald running toward him. “The guards on the gate are dead, their throats cut, my lord. And the men relieving the night wall guards report they are all sprawled unconscious at their posts. But, they are alive."
Nicholas nodded. “Ah, that is partly good news. At least, we have not lost one-third of the garrison. Once more, he glanced around, then asked, “Have you seen my lady this morn? It is not usual for her to rise so early."
Sir Harald shook his head. “Nay, Lord Nicholas. I have seen naught of her since last even. Think you she is in trouble?"
"I know not, but after these murders, I confess to a great unease as to her whereabouts."
He followed Sir Harald to the lower bailey and inspected the newest victims. “These are the same as those inside. Ask the first wall guard who wakes what he ate or drank last even and who brought it to him."
Nicholas organized some of the soldiers to conduct a thorough search. When no sign of Julie was found, he paused to think. Who would have done such a treacherous deed? And how? The dead men were adept fighters. No single adversary could have killed them all so swiftly and so silently. He scratched his head. The drawbridge was down and the portcullis partly open. Someone had not come in, but gone out. Besides Julie, who else was missing?
He set his knights to checking the barracks, accounting for every man who should be present except one servant named Cuthbert. Again Sir Harald came toward Nicholas shouting, “My lord, the dungeon guard is dead. He, too, has had his throat slashed."
"Come with me,” Nicholas said grimly. He found the guard lying on the steps, his throat slashed just as Harald had reported. The truth dawned on him. “Miles! Bloody hell! He dashed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to stare. Miles’ cell was empty, the door ajar. “Miles, I am going to kill you with my bare han
ds,” he swore under his breath. Turning, he strode down the corridor to Sir Selwick's cell.
"Selwick,” he shouted, “where is your vile master?"
Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, Selwick unfolded himself from his pallet and approached the bars. “I assume from your question, he is not in his cell."
"Oh, you assume, do you? Just what do you know, you bastard?” Ice water circulated in Nicholas's veins. His love had once again been taken from him by the man least likely to honor her person.
"Nothing,” Selwick replied in a surly tone.
"Did you hear me say a moment ago, I would kill Miles with my bare hands? Since he is not here, you could make a satisfying substitute.” He flexed his fists.
Sir Selwick stepped back from the bars, reluctant to have Nicholas's fury at Miles vented upon him. “I know nothing about the time Miles left, but I think his henchman, Cuthbert, who is a servant here, freed him."
"They did not take you. Why? Does that not rankle?” Nicholas decided to rub in the fact that Miles had left Selwick behind to face Nicholas's wrath alone.
"Aye, that it does."
"And you accept this without protest?” Nicholas's sarcastic tone covered his growing impatience. “You might somewhat atone for your wrong doing by telling me what you know."
Selwick saw the way to save his own skin and took it. “Cuthbert came once before to visit Sir Miles. I overheard them talking about an opiate which Cuthbert planned to obtain from the witch, Lily."
"Lily is not here.” Nicholas's fingers begin to twitch as he eyed Selwick's neck.
"Aye, Cuthbert told Miles she had gone away, and they would have to wait until she returned."
Nicholas nodded. “Lily must have returned and sold them the opiate, or mayhap they found it elsewhere. I will deal with the supplier later. Right now, Miles has Julianne, and I must free her,” he added softly, almost to himself.
Selwick shook his head in disbelief. “He must be mad to take your lady again. You spared his life the last time. I think he will not be so lucky this time."
The Amethyst Amulets Page 27
