“Give them ale and bring them in.”
The men banged their cups on the table as the women entered the hall. They were all shapes and sizes, something to please every man in attendance. Robert had gone to great expense to ensure his guests’ pleasure. Some of the women pulled the men to the center of the hall to dance. Servants cleared the tables, pushing the benches and tables to the sides of the hall. Several would be left near the fire for those who wished to play chess.
’Twas as good a time as any to check on his guest. Robert slipped away from the hall and up the stairs, nodding to the guard on duty.
Connor opened his eyes and groaned as he struggled to sit up.
“I hear music. Ye know ’tis not wise. If anyone finds me here, will be both our heads.”
Robert poured the man a glass of wine. “Did you drink the healer’s foul brew tonight?”
The Scot grimaced. “Aye. Only to keep the wee lassie from weeping.” He sat up, breathing heavily from the effort. “Foul-tasting potion.”
Robert raised a cup. “I could not send everyone away; would raise too many questions. I have guards posted, and if anyone asks, I will say the chamber is under repair and unsafe. As long as you are quiet and don’t call out like a woman, all will be well.”
“When I am able, we will cross swords in the lists and then we shall see how free you are with your slurs, ye wee bastard.”
Robert laughed. “I shall look forward to it.” He told Connor about the guests in attendance and saw the worry in the man’s eyes.
“Radford will not hesitate to give us up to the king. Anything to better his station.”
“Leave him to me. I will do my best to see them gone in a few days.”
The Scot frowned. “Do not tempt the fates. Send them away on the morrow.”
“As soon as I can.” Robert sat back, talking to the man as they discussed the best course of action. Rancor swirled through him that he must give up his revelry because of a debt he owed. Was it not bad enough he had a future girl locked in his dungeons? What was next? Robert shuddered and wished he had not asked the question. For he knew the fates were not done tormenting him yet.
Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth had pried at every corner, wiggled every bar, and found no way to escape. A bribe came to mind, but without money or anything else of value to offer, well, it wasn’t like a smile was going to do her much good. She’d learned that from her previous seven stays in the poky.
While she’d been locked away down here, she’d decided there was no way this was a prank. If it had only been a few hours she might have believed so. But now? Now all she could think was that something else was going on. With nothing but time on her hands, she’d gone over every moment since she’d arrived in England. The only thing that stood out was the terrible storm. What had happened to the beautiful strip of fabric? Looking down at her dress, she decided it was indeed a scrap meant for the rag bin. She’d gone to sleep, afraid of the storm and then woken to snoring. Him. Finding Robert the jerk in her bed. Of course, he’d claimed was his bed and she was the interloper.
There didn’t seem to be any kind of rational explanation except for the whole cult idea. “A cult of medieval re-enactors.” Sounded crazy when she said it out loud. As she sat pondering her situation, Elizabeth heard voices. A man entered the dungeon. The guard had tried unsuccessfully to keep him from coming further into the room. She stood, hoping perhaps this man could help her.
“Hello? I’m over here.” She waved her hands through the bars to catch his attention. He swayed on his feet and changed direction, staggering toward her.
He made a clumsy bow. No doubt some hedge fund guy who liked playing with fake swords on the weekends.
“Lord Radford, at your service, lady.” He peered into the gloom and sniffed. “Why is such a beauty locked away?”
Not one to ignore a chance at freedom when it presented itself, Elizabeth put on her most charming smile. The man in front of her was short and squat. He smelled of body odor and wine. The guy was dressed even fancier than Robert. He must have a lot of money and clout by the way the guard was acting.
“Robert…Lord Highworth and I had a disagreement. He locked me up.” She batted her eyelashes. “Surely one as powerful as you can help me. I would be most grateful. Would you set me free?”
The man looked to be approximately five feet tall. He puffed up to his full height, and Elizabeth noticed he was wearing some kind of buckled shoe with what looked like a heel on it. He had skinny legs encased in yellow hose and he wore a longer jacket than Robert did. It was yellow and brown. Formfitting and buttoned—maybe silk? It looked like there were actual jewels sewn onto the fabric, winking in the dim light. Who were these people?
The man imperiously waved a hand at the guard. “Release the lady at once.”
The guard spluttered, hemming and hawing before the guy called Lord Radford stamped his little foot.
“Do you dare to disobey my order? You know who I am. Release the lady. At once.”
The guard’s face turned bright red, making her feel the tiniest bit sorry for him. The man walked over slowly as if going to death row. Muttering to himself, he turned the key, opening the door. Without waiting for him to move, Elizabeth pushed past him and touched the good samaritan on the arm.
“I don’t know how to thank you. I didn’t think I would ever get out of here.” As she moved past him, he grabbed her arm.
“Not so fast, lady. There are many men upstairs. You must allow me to escort you for your own safety.”
“That’s very nice of you.” She took his arm and let him lead her up the stairs. As they walked into the great hall, she blinked, her mouth falling open. It was the same room and yet it wasn’t.
There were men drinking and women in various states of undress scattered around the hall. Musicians played as she scanned the room looking for Robert. The hall looked newer than when she’d arrived. The tapestries brighter, the tiles on the floor a deeper color. Almost as if she were in a newer version of the exact same hall. As she looked around, her knees shook and her mouth went dry. All of the men were dressed alike. And the women. They wore simpler dresses than she did. They were obviously what Robert called a wench or what she would’ve called a hooker. And there were the torches again. No electricity in evidence. Anywhere.
As Elizabeth stood there pondering exactly what had happened to her, Robert appeared, stalking across the room. Somehow she resisted the urge to break free and run.
“Highworth. Look what I found when I went in search of the good wine you always hide away.” Lord Radford waved an arm at her, and she noticed the other men paying attention to them and their conversation.
The look on Robert’s face was priceless. His left eye twitched, which she’d noticed always happened when he was being an ass. Tension radiated from his body. She’d seen the same rigid stance in men before they brawled. Unconsciously, she took a step back, waiting to see what would happen. She looked around, but there were too many men with hands near their swords for her to make a run for it. And the swords. What was up with all the swords? They didn’t look fake.
“She is my prisoner. You should not have released her without speaking with me.”
It was the wrong thing to say. The little man puffed himself up. “Your prisoner. Does she not belong to the king, as do all in the realm?”
Robert clenched his teeth together and Radford smiled, an oily smile. For the first time since he’d released her, Elizabeth thought she might have made a colossal mistake. What if this Lord Radford was worse than Robert?
The little man looked her up and down, making Elizabeth feel like she was back wearing a blanket with nothing underneath it.
“I will take her with me so you will no longer have to bear her presence. I will see that she gets to the king. He can decide what to do with her.”
Robert looked to her, searching her face, and she tried to convey a message back. Only she didn’t know herself if she want
ed to go with the little man or stay. All she knew was that as soon as she could, she was making a run for it. All the way back to London and a nice, normal hotel.
Robert narrowed his eyes at Radford, then smiled. “The king is busy; we should not bother him with such a trivial matter. Let us settle this matter with a wager, what say you?”
There were shouts from around the room. Other men moved closer, walking around and looking at her like she was a horse for sale at auction. The little man examined his nails, flicking his fingers when he looked up at Robert.
“A wager indeed. The winner takes the lady.”
Elizabeth felt her mouth fall open. The nerve. She wasn’t an object. They couldn’t bet on her. What kind of crazy had she fallen into? As she opened her mouth to disagree, she caught Robert’s look and snapped it shut. There was something else going on here, something she didn’t understand. She took a deep breath. Could she trust him? He’d been nothing but awful to her from the moment she’d woken up. Yet this little man, there was something about him—a meanness around his eyes that made her nervous. Until she could escape and go to the police, she decided she’d play along.
Other men called out suggestions. The wenches walked around, looking at her. Some of them sniffing, others making comments.
“Look at her, she’s far too skinny,” one of the women said.
Another peered closely at her. “But look at her skin. Like a babe.”
One of the knights came close, and Elizabeth had to breathe through her nose, he smelled so awful. “I would wager for the wench.”
Radford huffed. “The wager for the woman is between Highworth and me.” He frowned at the man. “There are plenty of wenches here for you; go find one.”
The man grumbled but left them alone. Elizabeth shivered even though fires roared in all six fireplaces. Robert walked around, looking her up and down from head to toe.
“Let us get on with it. She isn’t much to look at, and she has a tongue that will make your ears bleed. I want to drink and find a woman to warm my bed this night.” He let out a long-suffering sigh, as if she were a puddle of something spilled on one of his precious rugs.
“Nay, she isn’t worth very much,” he said.
Elizabeth resisted the urge to reach out and punch him. Robert stepped back, sensing the violence in her. Smart man.
Radford looked her up and down. “What did you have in mind?”
Robert smiled, the grin of a con man. “I saw you brought your two best horses. Add the horses and a bag of gold and then I might be inclined to wager.”
The short man belched, not bothering to cover his mouth. “I know you, Highworth. You would not ask for so much if she were worth so little. First we wager for the girl. Once you lose, I will allow you another chance to win her back. Then I will pledge my horses. And you will add all the wine in your cellar. Do we have an accord?”
Robert held out his hand. “We do. Shall we begin?”
She was being auctioned off. Like she was nothing more than a piece of property, these arrogant men were deciding who would get to claim her. She was loath to admit it, but her feelings were hurt. What had she done for Robert to be so mean to her? Was it all because she’d slapped him for trying to take advantage of her? If so, he was a world-class jerk. To say such awful things about her. She despised him.
A cold clarity swept through her. This was no cult. She pushed the thought away just as quickly. There was no way it could be true. It couldn’t be, could it?
Elizabeth had never been one for fairytales. Never read romance novels. She was too busy trying to save the world. When she was eight, she’d set up a lemonade stand to raise money to free a wolf that was on display in a run-down shopping center. She freed the wolf and the activism bug had bitten her hard. Her parents were so proud of her that they’d encouraged the behavior through the years.
Why hadn’t she paid more attention to history? She was always too busy figuring out what needed to be fixed. Like better lunches or higher pay for teachers. What use was the past? It sure would come in handy right now. Because no matter how much Elizabeth tried to deny it, somehow she’d fallen through time. The only question was—when was she in England?
Chapter Sixteen
As Elizabeth stood there gaping, coming to terms with the fact she was somehow in the living, breathing past, some kind of dice game was taking place. She heard one of the men call it “hazard.”
Robert and Lord Radford were seated at a table in front of the fire in comfortable chairs. There was wine on the table, and one of the men pushed her down roughly onto the low stool across from them, like a particularly ugly vase up for auction.
Men gathered round to watch as all boasted how good they were, if only they could play too.
“Play your own games,” Lord Radford said to the men. There were two dice, and she watched, trying to figure out the game as Lord Radford threw them. Men quickly placed bets, wagering on whether he would win or lose. It seemed to go back and forth for a while. She couldn’t really follow it, but then she heard a cheer and realized Robert had won.
He smirked at her. “Told you I would win, Mistress Smith.”
Lord Radford looked furious. He drank deeply, setting the cup down with a bang. “I will add my best horses for another game. We race at dawn.”
Robert leaned back in his chair and Elizabeth somehow resisted the urge to stick out her foot and catch the leg, tripping him. The man was insufferable. He raised a cup to his opponent.
“’Twill be my pleasure to best you, Radford.” He stood up, bowing to all in attendance as men exchanged money based on who had won the wagers.
“On the morrow.”
While everyone was otherwise occupied, Elizabeth edged out of the room. Halfway across the hall, she flinched when Robert’s captain stood in front of her.
“Going somewhere?”
“Thomas, right?”
He nodded.
“I’m leaving. I have had enough of this insane asylum.”
His mouth twitched as he looked to where Robert stood. “I cannot let you leave. I will escort you to your chamber.”
She shot a glance at him. “Are you taking me back to that awful jail cell?”
“Nay, lady. I am taking you to your chamber. You are a guest at Highworth.” He held out his arm, and she had no choice but to take it. She’d bide her time. Tomorrow while they were racing she’d have another opportunity to try to escape.
He led her up the stairs, and she had a moment of déjà vu so strong she put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Was it only a few nights ago she’d walked down this very corridor as she followed Featherton to her chamber? The Featherton now must be the present-day Featherton’s ancestor. Wait until she told him what happened. Were he and Martha frantically searching the castle looking for her at this very moment? If only she could find a way to let them know she was trapped in time.
What would’ve happened if she’d stayed in her own room? If she hadn’t been creeped out and opened the door to what she now knew was Robert’s chamber? Would she still be in her own time?
He opened a door and she blinked. It was the chamber she had initially been given. When Elizabeth walked in and looked around, she noticed the furnishings were the same but the decorations were different.
The walls were painted pale yellow and there was a rug on the floor. None of the awful pink from when she stayed there. There was a pretty ewer and basin on a small table next to the bed. She sat on the bed, running her hands over the bedspread. It felt like wool, as did the blankets. The sheets were soft and there was a feather mattress and pillows. Sumptuous for any time. The room didn’t feel creepy now. When had the creepy vibe taken over the space?
“How did you come to Highworth? None of my men saw you arrive.” Thomas fidgeted.
What to tell him? She couldn’t exactly say she’d gone to sleep in the future and woken up in the past. He was watching her so closely that for an instant she had the feeling he knew. But
that was ridiculous.
“When I arrived, no one was here but Featherton.”
Thomas frowned. “Yet he did not see you arrive.”
She shrugged. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but when nothing came out of his mouth, she moved to look out the window.
“Someone will come for you in the morning.”
“Wait.”
He turned and looked at her.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
He blinked at her for a moment, and then his face brightened as if he’d understood her words. “This way.” He motioned to a small alcove off the room.
Elizabeth made a face. He mistook the look for one of interest. Thomas stood next to her and pointed. “’Tis the latest garderobe. See, the seat is covered with cloth. The…er…waste…falls down the chute into a barrel, which is emptied every day.”
He pointed to a pile of rags. “There is wool and linen to…take care of…wipe…yourself. Along with a basin and jug of water to wash when you’re done.”
The burly man’s face was as red as his hair by the time he finished talking. She had to bite the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t laugh. As he left, she heard the key turn in the lock. Locked in. Exchanging one prison cell for another. At least they’d left her wine to drink. She’d never drunk so much alcohol as she had since landing in the past. The water must not be good, or everyone here thought it wasn’t good. Elizabeth stopped, remembering very few people drank water unless they knew it was clean. She felt a little bit dehydrated and looked down, feeling like the skin on her hands looked wrinkled, and she imagined her face looked the same.
She was unsure of the year, but pretty certain she’d landed in medieval England. Oh hell no—it better not be during the plague. Before she worked herself up into a state, Elizabeth decided if the plague was happening, people would be talking about it. So was it before or after?
Forever Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 2) Page 7
