The Lost Lady

by Amelia Brown

  This time Luveday knelt to watch him and was surprised to see one of the square panels in the headboard give way, and the boy looked to slide through the gap and down into darkness without fear. Luveday almost called him back, but she remembered that Artair had done this before. It was no wonder she had missed the hidden door. The space beneath the bed was probably larger than her modern beds at about eighteen inches giving her a clear view of the clean space, but the opening in the panels of the headboard was barely big enough for the boy to slip through. She wondered what it had been used for and made a mental note to ask Leah eventually.

  Leah appeared not long after Sterling had left, at least once a day he visited her to make himself felt, and she guessed that he was anticipating what he would do to her. Claudia had not been with him on this last visit; she hadn’t liked to look upon Luveday’s bruised face. Luckily, she couldn’t see her arms, or the lady would see the marks her lover’s rough handling had left. Luveday wasn’t one to bruise easily, but you would never know it looking at the damage he dealt her.

  Leah silently applied the salve to her face, but the glances they exchanged were full of unspoken words. Luveday mouther her thanks for the messages. Leah smiled and nodded. The last day or so the guard had not allowed them to talk in private, now often standing in the doorway while Leah or Bea accomplished their task. Luveday guessed that the tension was mounting as the hall grew impatient for Benedict’s return and no one more than her.

  “Out with you woman.” The guard called.

  Leah quickly gathered her things and gave the man a look. “Keep your hands off her Sir Knight. She is a lady and if anything happens to her…” Luveday knew she threatened the guard with her closeness to Lady Claudia, being only one of two women in her confidence concerning Luveday. The guard seemed to take her bluff seriously and glared at both women before closing the door behind them.

  Luveday almost laughed at the nonsense. It was strange that Claudia did seem to care for her well-being. Luveday wondered about it and thought it was most likely that Claudia respected another intelligent woman to some degree. If her concern was truly self-serving than Luveday really shouldn’t care, but there was something fragile about the woman at times. From what Leah had said Luveday feared that Claudia was mentally unstable. More than once she had heard of or witnessed severe mood swings, taking the lady from pleasant to wrathful in a breath. Claudia’s anger, once riled, what like a rabid beast that bit anyone who came too close.

  It looked like some of the house was still in denial about their lady’s instability, while others took the route of least resistance, and chose to avoid her as much as possible, which was rather easy for an operation of this size. Those most loyal to her, those closest to her were the ones that took the brunt of her anger but were also the ones that tried to hide her deterioration. What some wouldn’t do for love, she mused.

  Dawn came as bright and crisp as ever finding Luveday up and ready for the day. A part of her still feared that Sterling meant to do her more harm, catching her when she was most vulnerable and force himself upon her. Luveday’s stomach rolled at the thought of such a violation. Her nerves quivered, and her palms sweat just thinking about it. She wouldn’t put it past him to forgo Claudia’s warning and hurt her anyways.

  The first hours passed until she heard the strange scratching noise once again. Luveday knelt beside the bed and waited. It was not long before the small door popped inward and a small head immerged in the shadows under the bed. The small head turned toward her and Luveday was surprised to see a grin split the boy’s dirty face. Soon he was out from under the bed and standing beside her. Luveday wondered that there was any grime left in the secret passage after the boy traversed it; all the dirt seemed to be on him.

  She smiled at him and wiped something off his head. “Good morning Artair.” She whispered.

  Whispering back, the boy informed her of some good news. “Momon said John brought news the lord is coming back today.” He grinned. “John said he heard last night that Lord Benedict,” he stumbled over Benedict’s name, “…was de-laid, and was on his way.”

  “Thank you, Artair, that is great news.” She smiled. “Is there anything else?” The boy just shook his head. “Oh, can you tell your mother that we will have to signal Benedict somehow before he enters the hall. Sterling’s men might be waiting for them.” Luveday didn’t doubt that Sterling meant to frighten her when he threatened to kill Benedict and his men before doing worse to her, but she couldn’t say if he would follow through. For all his words, Luveday doubted that the traitor dared to stand and fight, especially when his enemy had larger numbers. She pegged him for the type to let money pave the way and let someone else handle the dirty work. After all, hadn’t he used the mercenaries to fight the King and run at the first opportunity? He was a bully, a man who only hurt those weaker than himself; something sneaky and underhanded was exactly his style.

  “Momon sent John this morn’. He’s to wait at the crossroad for the lord, even if it takes all day.”

  Luveday quelled her relief. “John has my note, my letter?” She asked patiently. Artair grinned and nodded. Luveday felt like hugging the boy, and she would have, if he weren’t so dirty. “Wonderful.” She thought she heard something outside. “You had better go, Artair. They’ve not brought my morning meal yet, and I don’t want them to find you.” She whispered her thank you as the boy slid under the bed, but the door opened before Luveday could get entirely back to her feet.

  Startled, Luveday did turn to the boy hoping, but no. The guard yelled and dove for the bed. Luveday moved to wrestle with him, but a solid shove to her middle sent her flying backward. Falling hard on the floor, she barely missed striking the post at the foot of the bed. Luveday kicked out, but the knight caught the boy in one hand and her ankle in the other.

  “Who do we have ‘ere?” Artair fought like a wild thing though the knight held him upside down by his leg. “Little miscreant.” The man grunted as Artair’s foot landed a kick to the man’s chest.

  Luveday looked around, but Bea only stood in the doorway shocked and torn about what to do. There was no doubt that she recognized Leah’s boy and only when the knight shook him did both she and Luveday tell for him to stop. Luveday was released, but the boy was not. Bea looked as if she might turn and flee but a moment later the tray she carried was tossed at the Knight causing him to drop the boy. Luveday lunged, but Artair was already moving. He landed hard on his side, and thankfully not his head. Scrambling to his feet, the boy dashed through the door, the Knight in hot pursuit. Unfortunately for Bea and Luveday, the scuffle and the crash of dishes had alerted another man, who, unable to stop the boy running down the stairs moved to lock the two women in the room while they chased the runt down.

  Bea and Luveday only looked at the locked door before turning to each other. “I am so sorry, My Lady!” Tears brightened the woman’s eyes but did not fall. Luveday only nodded. How many times had Luveday looked at the woman only a few years older than herself or Claudia and wondered at the woman’s torn loyalties. Time and time again, Bea had sided with Claudia by choosing to do nothing rather than doing what was right. Now the woman had, consciously or not, thrown in her lot with Luveday. She didn’t see Claudia going easy on her trusted friend’s betrayal.

  The stairs beyond the door had been silent for some time when both women moved to pick up the ruined breakfast. The only thing that had survived the tosh into the knight’s face was the wooden tray. The clay teapot and mug, the flatbread trencher full of meat and eggs with their toppings lay scattered on the floor. They scooped up bits and tossed the ruined meal out the window, leaving the shards of pottery in the empty chamber pot. Washing up in the basin of water Leah had left the other night, both women settled onto the bed, Luveday taking the head near the window and Bea taking the foot near the door, so the stretched out looking diagonally across the bed at each other.

  “You know this cannot go on for much longer?” Luveday asked after a
few moments.

  Bea nodded sadly, looking down and pinching at the skirt of her gown nervously. “My Lady, she is not thinking clearly. I fear… I fear she has called down the King’s wrath on us.”

  Luveday didn’t know what to say to that. She had the urge to comfort, but too much had happened for her to give platitudes and she did not want to tell this woman something that she knew was probably untrue. “Sterling’s presence here changes everything, Bea.”

  “’Tis Beatrix, Lady Luveday. Only My Lady and Leah call me Bea.” Beatrix spoke with her head down glancing up at her every once in a while. Luveday nodded, not liking the use of a nickname, they were not friends.

  “Beatrix, if Lord Benedict and the King’s men are hurt or even killed,” Bea looked up, startled and shook her head violently, but Luveday continued. “Then there will be no helping you.” Almost looking distraught Luveday watched the emotions and thoughts flash across the serving woman’s face. “Help me,” Luveday begged. “Help me to help your lady and save my friends.” Luveday looked at her, and for once their gazes held. “Please Beatrix. I need to find a way to warn the men of trouble. I am sure they will arrive today.” Luveday watched the woman nod as if she too had heard the news.

  “I will, for My Lady.” Luveday watched as determination settled over the woman like a cloak before Beatrix moved off the bed and rose to her feet. They looked around, but there was nothing to help them escape. The serving woman looked back to the bed. “The sheets My Lady!” She gasped.

  “They aren’t long enough to form a rope to climb out of the tower,” Luveday said matter-of-factly. She had thought of fashioning a rope and repelling down the three stories to the group, but not only was there not enough material, but Luveday doubted that she had the upper-arm strength needed to hold onto the rope.

  “Nay lady, we would fall to our deaths, but if we dangle the sheet out the window, then the men might be able to see if from the road…”

  “And think it strange at least, maybe enough to look around?” Luveday got up, and they quickly stripped the bed. “Good idea Beatrix.” A few moments later the bedclothes were securely tied to the bedpost on one end and flapping in the spring breeze on the other. Luveday thought she heard some commotion below, but no one raised the alarm.

  If Benedict did not hurry, then she was sure someone would come to take down the sheets. Looking at the door Luveday assessed her chances. Even with the items Beatrix had brought there was nothing to open the door which latched from the outside, but a thought occurred to her. They might not be able to get out, but perhaps she could keep them from coming in. Luveday had passed on the idea days go as being left without food or water was only marginally worse than focusing Sterling’s wrath on her defiance. The guards would eventually break through the door, but perhaps they could stall them long enough for her friends to arrive.

  “Beatrix, let me see the tray.” The serving woman retrieved it from its place on the only stool looking confused. It was a solid piece of wood, oak if she guessed right. The iron handles on the end were heavy and twisted to give it an ornate design for something so simple. “If we can find a way to wedge this beneath the door, it might keep out the guards long enough for Lord St. James to see our warning.” Luveday glanced at the sheets. Beatrix looked at her and nodded.

  “I’ve nothing better, lady.” She shrugged.

  Luveday approached the door, listening but heard nothing on the other side. Part of her expected it to be thrown open at any moment. As she approached and was thinking of how to wedge the tray in the gap between door and floor or door and jam to best stop it, the latch scraped on the other side, and the door opened. Rather than the violent movement that would have slammed into Luveday the door opened only a crack and a small dirty face peeked inside. Upon spotting Luveday, Artair grinned impishly.

  “Artair!” Luveday explained and met the boy for a quick hug which he returned. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “Nay lady, they can’t catch me.” The boy looked sheepish as he let go of her.

  “Oh, thank the creator, you escaped.” Bea expelled a breath. “I feared he’s beat you, child.”

  Artair seemed wary of the serving woman but didn’t run. “Only if they can catch me.”

  “Artair, where are the guards?” Luveday asked, not hearing any movement in the hall.

  “Gone, Lady.” The body looked wide-eyed for a moment. “Lots going on down in the hall.”

  “I bet,” Beatrix mumbled.

  Luveday looked at the crack in the door. Escape was not the best option, but perhaps fortifying their position was. “Beatrix, Artair, I need your help.”

  Both looked to her, and she saw a note of eagerness in their eyes. “It’s foolish to think we can escape, especially since Benedict is not far off.” She mummed over the slip of using his Christian name. “But there is someone else who needs to be rescued.” They looked at her questioningly. “Now here is my idea.”

  “Nothing yet My Lady,” the boy’s whispers echoed down the stair.

  “Pull Beatrix, on three.” Each woman grasped one of the handholds on the heavy wooden door on the floor of the cell below the tower. “Get ready to push Minstrel.” Grunts were her only answer. “One, two, three.” It was a miracle that the three of them could move the door at all. As the door rose high enough that a body might slip through, Luveday used her knee to wedge the stool into the space, keeping the door from slamming back down should they lose their grip before the minstrel could get free.

  The man slithered out of the cell, his lower half soaking wet. Hardin crawled on all fours until he heard the door close rather softly behind in. Though he smelled foul, each woman grabbed an arm and helped him gain his feet.

  The lady whispered, “Quickly, Hardin,” as the three tried to negotiate the stairs. At the first landing, Artair kept watch. The boy took one look at them and ran ahead. A moment later he waved them on and ran up the next flight of stair. On the second floor, another passage linked the tower to the rest of the house. Once back to their room, and with a few items pilfered thanks to Beatrix intimate knowledge of the house and Artair’s speed, they quartet was back into the tower room without anyone the wiser.

  Luveday looked around, thinking someone must have come while they were gone, but the sheet was still tied to the bed where they had left it. If anyone had come to find they had escaped, surely, they would have thought that the lady would make a run for it, and not go below to rescue another prisoner, and thus, Luveday hoped, it would take them some time before they thought to come back here.

  “On the bed,” Luveday guided.

  “Nay, My Lady.” Minstrel and servant spoke together. “The stool, Beatrix countered, and the man agreed.

  Not wanting to argue, Luveday helped to settle Hardin on the stool, before going to close and wedge the door shut. Testing it, Luveday couldn’t move the door though she used her foot as leverage against the jam. It would have to do, she thought.

  “Good, My Lady.” Hardin looked too thin, bone warry and bedraggled.

  “Beatrix help him undress. We’ll wash him as best we can and see to any wounds.” She watched as a look of determination came over the other woman’s face. Artair looked on from the end of the bed as the serving woman helped the man take off his soaking clothes. Among the items they had procured from the rooms closest to the tower room was Luveday’s backpack and healing bag. Both of which had been in the study on the first floor. Sterling had combed through the items setting aside somethings from her modern time. Luveday had swept everything back into her pack along with a knife and some bread left over from what she assumed had been Sterling’s morning meal. Artair had procured several pitchers of water, and one of ale. The water would help clean up the minstrel; the ale was to drink. Luveday’s healing bag was full of bottled salves, bandages, knife, scissors and an assortment of other items.

  Searching through the backpack, the lady pulled out the wad of clothes from the area once reserved for her laptop. Her
old boxer shorts and t-shirt would have to do. She looked at the foot of the bed and saw the folded coverlet. It was all they had. Wash clothed in hand, Hardin was wiping down as much as he could reach, while Beatrix washed what he couldn’t. It took only a few minutes, but there was already a vast improvement.

  Luveday grabbed the scissors, holding them up as she asked permission. “May I?”

  The startled look on his face quickly turned to gratitude with an eager nod. If Luveday remembered the man correctly he had been handsome, well kept, and polite despite the hard life he must have led.

  Luveday trimmed his beard and cut his hair. Without the grim and ratty mess, she glimpsed the charming man she remembered, though the smile on his face no longer had the roughish charm that has bewitched some of the serving women, it was full of emotion. “Better,” Luveday said as Hardin’s eyes brimmed full. Beatrix dried off the rest of him in an economical fashion. Sitting wrapped in a bit of cloth the man shivered but looked human once again.

  “Now, let us look at your feet.” Luveday started at the bottom and worked her way up. As expected, the skin of his feet and legs were waterlogged from hours if not days in the hole. “Were you in the water the whole time?” She whispered under her breath.

  Clearing his throat, he answered. “Nay, Lady.” He coughed. “The water drained slowly. Every few days they would open a gate, and water flooded the hole through an opening below.” He shuddered at the memory. “They wouldn’t open the door above me, just let the water fill it up until there was almost no room left.” Luveday grabbed him by the shoulder, and the gesture grounded him in the present.

  “There might have been a small blessing in that.” Though he didn’t answer, Luveday could feel he wanted to object. “I doubt they let you out to relieve yourself; the water would wash away some of it, so you weren’t sitting in it for long.” She received thoughtful looks from the two other adults while Artair moved to listen at the door. Once wounds were cleaned and bandaged, Luveday offered her clothes. Hardin put them on. Both garments were large on his skinny frame. Luveday worried about the weight he had lost since she had last seen him.