She froze, though, staring at the partially eaten tart, and her thoughts flashed to her captor, dead outside the dungeon. What killed him? There had been no obvious signs of blood around the body.
He must have bitten into it.
She dropped her tart back onto the tray and wiped her hand on her dress. Why so many tarts for an empty castle? Who were they for?
Was it possible that the food was poisoned, and that eating the tart had killed him? It seemed crazy. Then she noticed that the way the tarts were laid out, another one seemed to be missing. There were a few crumbs where it would have been.
More crumbs lay on the counter, and she traced them. They led behind a large pot in one corner. She pulled it out, and then jumped back. The body of a dead rat was there, most of a tart next to him as though it had fallen from his mouth.
Her eyes flashed back to the tray of tarts and she found herself counting them. Someone had made these tarts with the intention of killing a large group of people. They were meant to be taken elsewhere, but where? No one else was present. Where had they gone?
Suddenly it struck her.
Sweets.
The noble children who had been kidnapped—the ones whose location she and Marian had been unable to discover. Chastity gasped as she realized that the Prince must have intended to kill them, tricking them with the little sweets. The tarts had been delivered to the castle, but hadn’t made it past the kitchen.
The man outside the dungeon ate one and it killed him before he could give them to the children, Chastity realized. She had no idea what the poison was, or whether John or the Sheriff had seen to it. What she did know was that the children hadn’t been in the dungeon with her. If they were being kept in this castle, that meant they had to be locked in one of the towers.
She picked up a small lantern, lit the candle inside, and moved out the door with a mission in mind. Making her way as swiftly as she could back into the main hall, she found the staircase there and ascended it. If the children were prisoners here, too, then like her they’d have been several days without food and water.
On the upper floor she found another narrow staircase that led, most likely, to a tower. She took the steps as fast as she could, her own muscles quivering in anguish. Abruptly she regretted leaving the kitchen without bringing the bucket of water with her. If she found the children, they would be in desperate need of it. Perhaps even more than she had been.
Her heart was racing and she was panting by the time she made it to the top of the stairs. There was a small landing and a heavy door with a heavy bolt securing it. She slid back the bolt, pulled it open, and stepped inside. Then she gasped.
Littered across the floor like a bunch of discarded ragdolls were the missing children.
CHAPTER TEN
All the horror of the past few months washed over Chastity as she stared at the bodies of the children. Tears welled in her eyes. If she’d only known they were here. If she’d only been able to escape sooner.
If only we had not been captured by that evil bastard.
If only King Richard hadn’t abandoned us to this.
She heard a small groaning sound and one of the figures began to move. She dropped down next to a young boy who blinked up at her. There was fear in his eyes. His lips moved as though he was trying to speak, but only another groan came out.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said, her voice shaking with relief that her initial impression had been wrong. “I’m going to go get you some water. I will be right back, I promise.” She tried to put reassurance into her voice. Standing up, she ran back down to the kitchen as fast as she could, grabbed the bucket of water and a dipper, and hurried back, careful to not slosh any of the life-giving liquid. By the time she made it back into the tower the boy had sat up. Around him, others were starting to stir, and she felt a surge of hope.
With a shaking hand she held the dipper of water while the boy drank from it, slowly at first, and then more eagerly. She made soothing noises the entire time. Her eyes kept darting around the room. Finally a girl struggled to a sitting position nearby. Her cheeks were smudged nearly black with dirt except for where tears had left streaks down them.
“I’ll give you some more in a few minutes,” she promised the boy when she took the dipper from him. He nodded and she moved over to the girl and gave her some water to drink. After several long sips the girl looked at her with big eyes.
“Are you an angel?” she whispered hoarsely.
“No, just a girl like you. But I promise you, I’m going to get you out of here. Everything’s going to be okay now,” Chastity said as calmly as she could. Yet as she moved on to help the next child sit up and drink some water, she could feel the fear rising in her. Every minute that passed there was a risk that someone would come to the castle, to check and make sure that they were all dead, as had clearly been intended.
Everything in her screamed at her to hurry, to move the children before it was too late. Looking around, though, she wasn’t sure any of them were up to walking down the stairs, let alone fleeing the castle. Several of them were emaciated, and a couple were shaking uncontrollably—whether from fatigue, dehydration, or terror she couldn’t tell.
“It’s going to be okay, I’m here to rescue you all,” she said, raising her voice enough that everyone could hear her.
“Not all,” the girl with the tear-streaked cheeks said softly. She pointed to three different children, two boys and a girl. Chastity’s heart felt like it was breaking as she realized that those three children were already dead. How long had the children been living there with the dead bodies among them? She tried to push the thought from her mind as she moved on to the next child and helped him drink some water.
She didn’t want to look at the bodies, but it was as though she had no choice. She was almost compelled to look, to see the ravages of deprivation on the tiny bodies, the frozen faces, the lifeless eyes. Shuddering, she nearly spilled some water and forced herself back to the task at hand.
All the other children could still end up that way if she didn’t do her best to prevent it. She had to think fast, move quickly. The panic welled up in her again, but she fought it down. She was hungry and that wasn’t helping. The fatigue, pain, and lack of food were starting to take their toll. She was shaking more now, and it was getting harder and harder to steady the ladle of water. She had to find them some food.
A hand suddenly closed around hers, and she looked up from where she knelt. The first boy who had awakened was staring at her solemnly.
“Let me help,” he said. “I think you need to rest a minute.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Don’t lie to me,” he whispered, so soft she was sure only she had heard him.
“Okay,” she said, nodding slowly. She sat back and watched as he helped one of the younger boys drink.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked him.
“I recognized the hall. I was here once with my father. This is Lord Locksley’s home. I don’t know where he is, though,” the boy said, frowning at the last.
Lord Locksley was dead, but she didn’t want to burden the children with that knowledge. At least now she knew where they were. It wasn’t as much help as she would have liked, though, since she wasn’t entirely sure which direction to go when they left the castle, other than straight into the forest.
That really was the best choice. The forest held dangers, but none of them compared to the Sheriff and his demons. She took a deep breath.
“We’re going to get out of here soon,” she said.
The boy looked up at her. There was fear in his eyes, but hope as well. She was pretty certain she wasn’t the rescue he and the others had been praying for. The Lord worked in mysterious ways, though, and she knew He had led her up the stairs to find the children.
“They are all very weak,” he said. She noted that he didn’t include himself in that statement. Standing up, she moved toward the door.
“I�
�m going to go find some food,” she said. “That will help build their strength. In the meantime, make sure everyone has enough to drink, including you. I will bring more water as well.”
“Okay,” he said, although he looked a little more fearful.
She took a torch from the wall and lit it with the candle in the lantern. She would light the rest on her way back down the stairs and in the hall so they could see to leave.
“I promise, I will be back,” she said, praying it was a promise she would be able to keep. He nodded and she turned, heading back toward the kitchen as quickly as she was able and lighting the torches along the way. The only thing she’d noticed there was the tray of poisoned tarts. She couldn’t help but wonder if anything else she might uncover would be poisoned as well.
Once in the kitchen she found the larder. To her relief she discovered some jars of jams and some salt pork. Carrying as much of the food as she could out to the great hall, she set it on the table. She threw away the poisoned tarts so none might accidentally find and eat them. Then she filled another bucket of water from the well, and returned to the tower.
The boy who was helping the others looked up, relief clear in his eyes. All the children were sitting up now, and their eyes were starting to look clearer than they had earlier.
“There’s food downstairs in the hall,” she said to him. “Do you think they are capable of walking down the stairs to get it?”
“Food?” the one girl asked, pulling herself painfully to her feet.
Chastity nodded. “Yes, in the hall. Can you walk down the stairs?”
“Yes,” the girl said, even though she swayed slightly on her feet. “I can make it, even if I have to crawl.”
“Good,” Chastity said, trying to sound strong and encouraging instead of sorrowful at the child’s state. “After everyone eats something, we’ll leave here.”
“Can we go home?” a young boy asked, and several voices suddenly spoke up, echoing the question. They were all hoarse and thready, but the eagerness and longing were unmistakable.
“Soon,” she promised, not having the heart to tell them the truth. Some of them didn’t have homes to which they could return. Families either. She turned away suddenly lest they read the anguish on her face. These children had already been through so much, and for some of them the worst was yet to come.
“Let’s get downstairs so we can eat and get out of here,” she said, still looking away.
The girl walked past her on unsteady feet. Once she reached the stairs she put a hand against the wall and began to descend, carefully taking each step. Another boy and a little girl who looked to be a relative, a cousin perhaps, walked past, clutching each other’s hands.
“Be careful,” Chastity advised. “Go slow.”
One by one the other children began to shuffle past her. When they stopped coming only the boy with the water and two other youngsters were left.
“I don’t think they can walk,” the boy said solemnly.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Bartholomew.”
“My name is Chastity, Bartholomew,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” he said, though his eyes gave the lie to his words.
“I can carry them down, one at a time,” Chastity said. “I’ll take the first one. Will you wait here with the other one until I come back?” she asked, not wanting to leave any of the children alone, especially not in a room with the dead.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
She bent over a boy who seemed to be all arms and legs, though they were painfully thin. “Can you put your arms around my neck and hold on?” she asked.
The boy nodded faintly and lifted his arms. His grip was tenuous and she realized she couldn’t rely on him to hold on. Gritting her teeth she picked him up and put him on her hip, trying to let part of her frame carry his weight, since her arms were still weak and her hands still throbbing in agony from the damage she had done to her thumbs.
She walked slowly, taking the steps carefully. The boy’s body flopped loosely and kept trying to fall backward. It was all she could do to keep holding onto him and not lose her footing. By the time she made it down to the great hall she was shaking and drenched in sweat. She managed to lower the boy down onto a bench and he flopped over against the table with a little cry.
At least the table was holding him up.
The other children were already eating. The little girl who had gone down the stairs first looked up and flushed slightly as though she’d been caught doing something wrong.
“We already prayed over the food.”
Chastity nodded and forced herself to smile. “You did good. Keep eating and make sure everyone eats something.”
The girl nodded and got up and carried some of the pork over to the boy Chastity had just carried down the stairs. She wasn’t sure he was even going to be able to feed himself, and her mind was already racing ahead, wondering how they would manage to carry two children out of there and all the way into the forest.
She wondered if there were any horses in the stable. If there were, though, they too might be suffering from dehydration. She squeezed her eyes closed in a quick prayer that God would lead the way.
“I’ll return with the other two,” she told the girl before heading back to the main staircase. What seemed like an eternity later she barely managed to drag her own body up the last few stairs to the tower. The one boy stood quickly and he picked up the water bucket that was still partially full. She bent down and spoke to the other child. The girl, though, wasn’t even able to lift her arms to put them around Chastity’s neck.
Picking the child up, she held her close. Her arms were shaking with the exertion and terror filled her that she might drop the child on the way down.
“Can I help?” the boy asked.
“Walk beside me, and help me balance if I start to fall.” She hated to put the burden on the boy, but she was terrified of what might happen if she lost her footing. As it was, she could tell that her bare feet were beginning to bleed. The stones beneath her were becoming slick, and she cursed the day that her mother had forced her to start wearing slippers as a child.
She’d been happy being barefoot, and when she was little she could walk on anything and it never hurt. Her mother had told her, though, that if she was going to be a lady’s lady, she had to wear proper things, shoes being chief among those. In the years that followed her feet had become as soft as a royal’s.
True to his word Bartholomew hovered right next to her, his hand lightly touching her back as though trying to offer her support. She could tell that he wished he could carry the girl down, but was wise enough to realize he didn’t have the strength. He would grow up to be a fine man, compassionate, level-headed.
If he ever got the chance to grow up.
She gritted her teeth as they made it down the last of the narrow tower steps. She wished she could set the girl down for a moment, but knew that if she did she’d never be able to pick her up again. They finally made it to the main staircase and she readjusted her grip before putting her foot down on the top stair.
She grunted as she lowered her body down, step by step. Everything was hurting, throbbing. A muscle in her back seized and started to spasm. She cried out, and her grip on the girl loosened for a moment.
Bartholomew reached out quickly and put his hands under the child, lifting her slightly and holding her while Chastity tried to force her own body back into submission.
“I can take her,” Bartholomew said, his terrified voice belying his brave assertion.
“No, save your strength for later,” Chastity panted.
She considered sitting on the stairs and trying to scoot herself and the child down, but realized that might produce an even greater strain. So she forced her foot down to the next step, grunting again as it took her weight. Slowly, painfully, they made their way down each torturous step. Her eyes stung but no tears came. Muscles in her cheeks
started to twitch. Her right calf cramped hard and she paused, teetering on the edge of a stair.
“God help me,” she breathed.
The cramp eased, she was able to step down. Three stairs left.
Two.
One.
She reached the ground and a sob was wrenched from her. She shuffled slowly to the table and then placed the girl onto the bench. The child fell sideways but remained there. Chastity’s legs gave way and she crashed down onto the bench beside her.
Small hands of the boy on her other side reached out and pushed the girl up to a sitting position. Bartholomew sat down at the table, eyes enormous as he eyed the food. He reached out, grabbed a piece of the salt pork, and then bit into it eagerly.
Chastity reached out toward the food, but her hands were shaking so hard she could barely grasp a bit of pork for herself. Suddenly the girl who had been overseeing the distribution of the food was beside her. She put a piece of the pork into Chastity’s mouth. It was tough and salty, but she couldn’t remember ever tasting something so delicious in her life.
Bartholomew had set the pail of water on the table, and the other children began to take turns drinking. The saltiness of the pork was probably a good thing, making them want more water.
She slowly looked up and down the table. They were all starving, but they were all chewing slowly. It was all they could manage at that point. She couldn’t help but wonder once more how on earth she was going to get herself all the way into Sherwood, let alone take them with her.
She finished chewing the piece of pork she’d been working on and reached to take another. Her hand froze as a sick feeling suddenly twisted in the pit of her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Bartholomew asked, staring intently at her.
She didn’t know. It was as though she could sense something she couldn’t quite hear or see. She struggled to put it into words. All she could hear, though, was a sudden screaming inside her own head. Bile flooded her mouth and she broke out into a cold sweat.
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