by Alisa Adams
“Thank ye for all of yer help.” Brice did no wait for an answer. He turned and followed in the same way his fellows had left.
The hunt for Louise was about to begin.
22
22
The Road Ahead
* * *
Aquitaine, December 1356
* * *
The cart had rolled over the uneven ground throughout the night. Louise could barely feel the tips of her fingers because of the bonds that were tied around her wrists. She had tried to get some sleep as exhaustion overcame her but the incessant jolting and the hammering of the side of her head to the barrel had made that impossible. Also, the winter cold provided no added comfort – her teeth chattered incessantly.
The conveyance had only recently come to a halt. She heard Jean Philippe and Gaston discussing something nearby, but she could not make out the words. The only thing she did realize was that many more men had joined them.
The realization added more piquancy to her predicament. Whoever found her would have to deal with a far larger force than what she had originally perceived – that is if someone ever found her.
Could Doogle convince the others that she was worth saving? Louise almost immediately scolded herself for thinking such a thing. She knew that she had become much loved by both Mungo and Murtagh. Alick and Bruce treated her like a sister. And Brice – he was always a continuous presence. Constant smiles of encouragement and words were his way.
If they could save her from Château Le Blanc, then they could surely free her on the open road. The main problem, she knew, was that they would have to find her first. Aquitaine was a large duchy. It would take days. Louise knew that she had to find a way of getting out of the barrel so that she could leave some trail for the Highlanders to follow.
She promptly started banging her head against the wood. She continued doing so no matter how much it throbbed. The only thing on her mind was getting her kidnappers’ attention.
The next thing she heard was Gaston muttering a series of ripe oaths close to the barrel. A short while later, she heard scratching above her head. And then, the lid creaked up, revealing the brightness of the day. Louise shut her eyes, the skin of her eyelids flaring red when they came into contact with the daylight.
“Why are you making all of that noise, woman?” Gaston snarled. He promptly started removing the gag with rough fingers that strained her neck.
“Why do you think?” she snapped. Louise immediately regretted the forcefulness of her tone. If she was going to survive this, she needed to appear resigned to her situation. “I have been locked inside of this barrel for hours. I am thirsty, and I need to relieve myself.”
Gaston grunted something incomprehensible.
“The wench needs to piss, and she’s thirsty,” he yelled.
“Let her do it inside of the barrel,” ordered Jean Philippe.
Louise understood then and there that her captor was even worse than he was before he went to jail. Whatever was left of any shred of empathy he had once harbored for his fellow human beings was gone. She was not to be his wife or sexual plaything – she was there to get his revenge. And his ire was not even directed at Doogle because he had not killed him at once when he had the chance. All of his hate was for her alone because of the imagined humiliation she had caused him.
“Please! Let me out of here. I promise that I will be a dutiful woman to you,” begged Louise.
When a shadow blocked the sun’s rays, Louise opened her eyes.
Jean Philippe was peering down at her. “Do you think I want a woman who stinks like a caged animal, eh?”
“Please, I am thirsty,” pleaded Louise.
Jean Philippe hacked out a laugh. “Drink this.”
He stood to his full height and emptied the contents of a bucket onto her person. The water was freezing. Louise did her best to capture as much of the liquid as she could with her open mouth and tongue. The relief was all too fleeting as most of the water drenched her clothing and created a puddle at the bottom of the barrel.
“Not so haughty now, eh. I’d wager that you are asking yourself why you did not take me up on my offer to become my wife. But what surprises me the most is that you thought that I would want you back,” said Jean Philippe in the most deathly icy tone.
“I can be your servant, just let me out of here.” Louise had to do something. She needed to find a way to help Doogle and his brother find her. If she was gagged and locked away in a drum, she could do nothing.
“Now, what makes you think that I want the leftovers from another man?”
As he began to slide the lid across the barrel’s opening, Louise screamed at the top of her lungs.
“I will do anything,” she pleaded.
“Let me think about it. I first want to hear you beg for a while longer.” Jean Philippe threw the soiled gags into the cask and shut the lid.
She heard him laugh as he moved away again. Burning hatred surged through her veins when he made some lewd and hateful remarks to Gaston and the other men in his party who were obviously as disreputable as they were, judging by their mirth.
“I will get my revenge for the pain you have caused me,” swore Louise.
Then, her captor’s words filled her mind again. Louse’s brain was as clear as mountain water. She knew what she had to do. It was something that made her sick to the core. But survival and her love for Doogle were more important than anything else, especially something as fickle and worthless as false pride.
“Jean Philippe, I am so sorry for the way I treated you. I just didn’t know what an honor you bestowed upon me by wanting me to be your wife…”
Louise was still heaping the abominable man with praise many hours later. When her throat threatened to constrict because she was so thirsty, she willed herself to continue. No matter how much it hurt, she soldiered on.
“I deserve this fate. I was ungrateful to a generous and brave man. The man I always loved but just didn’t know it yet…”
The lid on the cask slid open again. Jean Philippe peered down at her. Louise could hardly see his features because of the brightness surrounding his head. But she recognized him nonetheless.
“Please – I know that I made a mistake,” she said with a croak, making one final attempt to plead her case.
“I thought that it would’ve taken far longer for you to break.” Jean Philippe sniggered. He looked extremely pleased with himself. “Gaston, get the stinking wench out of there.”
Something was wrong. Louise had not expected him to remain so obdurate. The moment she had seen his face again, she thought that she had won. Her tormentor had other plans. For a heartbeat, she thought that it might have been better to remain locked away in the cask.
Rough hands pulled her up. Next, Louise was being herded like a piece of livestock through the camp. Despite her tiredness, she counted over thirty men. She barely heard the rude remarks concerning her bodily hygiene. All she could do was let Gaston take her wherever he had planned.
The next thing she knew, the feeling of thousands of piercing needles assaulted her skin. With a loud splash, Gaston had thrown her into a lake. The water was glacial. She spluttered as she tried to regain her breath. All the while, Gaston peered at her lewdly from the bank.
He held a coarse brown garment in his hand that he swung on his fingertip. Louise recognized it as the jacque she had once worn when she had lived on the farm. Those days seemed so far away now.
“Make sure you wash yourself thoroughly.” Gaston snarled.
He gave her no privacy whatsoever when Louise removed her soiled clothing. His gaze kept devouring her as if she was a piece of meat. Louise looked to the left and right – there was nowhere she could escape. She would drown before reaching the far side of the lake.
“That’s clean enough. Get out! You have work to do,” ordered Gaston.
Louise had no choice but to heed his command. Tentatively, she navigated her way over the small stones on the muddy ground.
When the water reached the advent of her breasts, she stopped.
“Could you throw me the jacque?”
“We wouldn’t want your dry clothing to get wet now, would we?” He lifted the garment. “If you want it, come and get it.”
Louise knew that she had no choice. She swallowed down the revulsion of being ogled by Jean Philippe’s henchman and started to move her feet. She heard him gasp when the water reached her waist. A small moan passed his lips when the waterline was at her ankles.
“I can see why the Scot appreciates you,” he said, almost moaning with covetousness.
Louise did not respond. She snatched the clothing from his hand and quickly put it on. To her surprise, Gaston also had shoes for her to wear. She slipped them on and began to rub her body to get warm again.
“Come! You can warm up by the fire and drink some hot wine before you prepare the evening supper for the men,” said Gaston, taking her hand and guiding her back to the camp.
Louise felt a change in the man. He was no longer as hostile as he once was. Could the female body have such power over men? She knew that Doogle desired her, but she had never thought much of it because he loved her. Gaston was an entirely different prospect. He wanted her for himself, and Louise was going to use that to her advantage she decided.
By the time they got back to the camp, some of the men were already busy skinning the rabbits, and there was even a boar on a spit. Gaston told her to sit by one of the fires where Louise gratefully held her hands to the pleasant heat. Her turn in the lake and the entire night in the cask had cooled her body down significantly. She felt her muscles ache every time she moved.
“Drink this. When you are done, you will start preparing the stew,” ordered Gaston, handing her a cup of steaming hot mulled wine.
Louise took it gratefully and promptly brought the drinking vessel to her lips, almost burning them in the process. She had to blow on the piping hot liquid for a while before she could risk another sip. When she estimated that the beverage was sufficiently cool, she drank, slowly at first until her mouth got used to the temperature.
It felt good – her bones reacted almost instantaneously to the warmth. She felt the strength returning to her. Now, she had to devise a plan to somehow get word to Doogle and the others that she was still alive.
“That is enough rest.” Gaston indicated with his hand for Louise to follow him.
She did not have far to go. She soon saw what task he had in mind for her.
When they reached another fire, she was told to make sure it burned evenly and to keep feeding the heavy cauldron with pieces of rabbit flesh and vegetables. She nodded that she understood what he wanted of her and he was gone again.
Louise looked to the left and right. When she saw a green bush, she remembered something her father had once told her. All it would take was a few paces, and she would be able to reach it.
She had to move fast. The light of day was already fading quickly. She estimated that the onset of dusk was barely an hour away. Making sure that nobody was looking at her, she walked up to the large plant and promptly started to rip on the branches and twigs that hung heavily with moistness.
After gathering as much as she could carry, Louise walked back to the fire. She placed her bounty on the ground and began to feed the campfire with the wet branches and leaves, but not too much so as to smother it. She begged that her father had not exaggerated.
Almost immediately the amount of smoke from the fire increased until a large thick spiral of smoke eddied into the air. People would see it for miles. If Doogle and the others were nearby, they would certainly take a closer look.
She looked about herself furtively. So far, none of the men in the camp had noticed what she had done. She added some more wood until all traces of her foraging was burning in the flames. The amount of smoke grew larger still as the moisture begot more smoke. Louise said a silent prayer that they would find her.
“Did you learn nothing on that farm?” Gaston said with a snarl when he saw the large amount of smoke.
“I added some more wood because I thought the fire would go out,” lied Louise.
“Be more careful in future and avoid wet wood.”
To her surprise, he sat down on a log and watched her stir the contents of the stew while she added more meat and vegetables. He said nothing, but Louise felt his eyes; it was like they were boring into her. It made her feel uncomfortable. Maybe she had mistaken his brief softness earlier. Something was happening.
“That’s enough. You can let it simmer until it is ready,” he said out of the blue.
Louise frowned. She slowly turned to face him. There was a lustful sneer on his face. She immediately realized what was afoot.
“Come!” he ordered.
“Where are we going?”
“Do as I say, woman.” He snarled.
He led her in the direction of some foliage close to the edge of the campsite. The men sniggered as they went. She could not fail to hear their lecherous comments. Her complexion went as white as the snowy caps of the Alps. She knew exactly what her fate was to be.
“But what about Jean Philippe?” was all she managed to ask.
“What about him?” responded Gaston blithely.
“He will kill you if you…” Louise could not finish her sentence. The mere thought of doing something magical like coupling with Doogle with another man chilled her to the bone.
Gaston hacked out a laugh. “He has given you to me.”
Louise could not believe what she was hearing. “I thought that he wanted me for himself?”
“No, that is not why you are here. The reason for abducting you is your abject humiliation. You are a small reward for the men when I am finished with you. Naturally, I said to the baron that he should have a go first, but he would hear nothing of it – he said that you were used goods. Doesn’t bother me though,” said Gaston, sniggering. “I am not that picky.”
“But—”
Gaston pushed her to the ground. “Spread your legs, woman. You should be used to it by now.”
She looked for an avenue of escape, but there was nowhere she could go. Gaston had removed his sword belt and was already fumbling with the front of his breeches. Instinctively, she knew that she would be dead before the night was out. There were over thirty men in the camp, and all of them had no qualms in sharing a woman one after the other – it was the way of the brutish mercenary.
“I am going to enjoy this,” said Gaston, slowly lowering himself.
Louise almost wretched when she sniffed the stench of dried sweat on his clothing. She felt his hands fumbling between her legs. There was no more time – she had to think of something now.
With feral intent, she brought her knee up until it crunched against something soft. Gaston emitted a cacophonous bellow as he pulled away, nursing his manhood with fumbling hands.
“I will get you for that, you bitch,” he moaned.
But he was in too much pain to do anything. Louise knew that she had to act now. She sprang to her feet and spun around. Without thinking about any particular direction, she dashed into the woods. She paid no attention to his cries of pain and anger. She just ran and ran until she thought that his exclamations had disappeared behind her.
The branches and twigs scratched her face. Louise paid them no heed. She had to get as far away from Jean Philippe and his men as possible. Her heart hammered in her chest. She was out of breath, but she willed herself further with sheer determination. Her fatigue and burning muscles forgotten – escape was the only thing that would keep her alive.
When she reached a small clearing in the forest, she gradually slowed her pace. She needed to catch her breath and somehow get her bearings right. She knew that if she didn’t pay attention to where she was going, she would get even more lost, and worse still, backtrack to the mercenaries’ campsite.
She looked up at the sky. It had already taken on the multi-facetted hue that heralded the end of the day. She feared t
he dark, but it might be her only chance of slipping away unnoticed. The main question was whether Gaston had returned to the camp to get help.
Far more slowly, Louise trudged over the grass to the next tree line. She constantly looked to the left and right. If she got caught out here, nobody would find her ever again.
Time seemed to stand still. She walked and walked. Louise had no idea for how long. When she looked back, she was certain that she had lost Jean Philippe’s vile henchman. When she turned to the front again, she was knocked down, forcing her onto her back.
“Now, that was most unbecoming, hurting Gaston. But it is all the more fun when a woman has some fight in her.”
Louise felt fear course through her. She was almost at her limit – she could not run away again. In contrast, Gaston looked as if he had fully recovered from his injury. His breathing was even and unstrained.
“I am going to enjoy this. But this time, you are going to have to be more inventive. I underestimated you,” said Gaston, sneering.
He held a knife in his right hand. Like a predatory cat, he moved forward slowly. Louise did not dare move. The glinting metal hypnotized her. Before she could think another thought, he was upon her. The blade touched the skin on her throat almost simultaneously.
“If you move, I will slit your throat,” he threatened.
He bunched up her tunic until the hem was above her knees. He forced himself between her legs. He constantly grunted as he moved. Louise screamed for her life when he pressed his lower body onto her.
“I am going to enjoy this.” He snorted into her ear.
It was the last thing Louise heard before she blacked out.
23
23
In the Nick of Time
* * *
Aquitaine, December 1356
* * *
Gaston was about to plunge himself inside of her. His body trembled with lust. But when he saw Louise’s head move about lifelessly, he hesitated. He grunted some ripe oaths. Then, he slapped Louise on the face. She did not respond. The woman was out cold.
