by Ken Johns
Mila snuck into the hall and stopped at the first door. The door opened easily, and she glanced inside. Empty. She slipped through the opening and closed the door behind her. It was somebody’s bedroom. What if they came back? What the hell was she doing? She was alone and cowering in a castle she knew nothing about. If only she hadn’t yelled at her mother and stormed off. If John was at a hundred percent, he would probably have Jess rescued by now.
Mila forced herself to breathe slowly and leaned her back against the door. Jess. That’s why she was here. John was out of it and Sandra was useless, so Jess needed her. She was going about this all wrong. Improvising would get her killed. This was real. If she was ever going to rescue her sister, she needed a plan. Popular belief held that prisoners were kept in dungeons and that dungeons were under castles. Great. Then what?
Stop it. Just find her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
April 28, 1341
“She said you gave it to her!” Lady Evelyn stood in the entrance to their pavilion with her hands on her hips.
“I assure you, darling, I have no idea what you are talking about.” Raymond drifted to the other side of the pavilion and bent to lift the lid of a chest. He removed the white robes, and she watched the muscles in his back ripple as he rummaged deeper into the chest. He was magnificent, and she briefly wondered how she might feel if he ever did betray her. She smiled. That would never happen.
“Why do you continue to search for it? I have told you she has it. All I want to know is why.”
Raymond stood and came toward her. His soft voice rumbled in his chest. “I do not know why she has it, Evelyn.” He took her hands. “Perhaps she stole it. I will speak with the carter and see if he saw anybody loitering.”
“I trusted you.” She pouted.
“And I have done nothing to betray that trust. Just give me a little time to find proof of my innocence.”
“How could you?” She turned her back to him. The ache in his voice made her smile. She almost felt sorry for deceiving him. She wanted to tell him she believed him, but she needed to keep him out of the castle for a while longer. Her brother knew not what Raymond looked like, and that fact might prove useful before the night was over.
Lady Evelyn made a show of storming from the pavilion in a huff. Raymond called to her, but she ignored him and continued toward the castle. She had to find the foreign woman who had Raymond’s sword. What was the real reason for her disguise? And did she have access to Chad’s ceremonial orb? She quickened her pace.
Evelyn hurried into the great hall where she was deafened by the noise of the banquet. Two long trestle tables ran the length of the room. All of the lesser knights and ladies sat along these tables, lost in boisterous conversation. The men’s wine-fueled shouting was occasionally overshadowed by the high-pitched giggling of the ladies. Evelyn scanned the crowd for any sign of the foreign woman in Raymond’s armor. Not finding her, she stepped onto the dais where Reginald sat with his most honored guests.
“Evelyn, you are late.” Reginald sounded pouty.
Evelyn walked behind the table and stood behind Reginald. “There is a most urgent matter I must discuss with you.”
He ignored her. “May I introduce Lord Wessex?”
The giant man sitting on his right stood and bowed formally while his eyes roamed her décolletage. She resisted the urge to show her contempt. Wessex was an unknown, and she did not yet know if she would have use for him. She would take his measure before deciding if she would allow him to wed Mary and thus ally with the family.
“Lord Wessex.” She curtsied and paused with her head down, so Wessex could take in the view.
“This is my sister. Do sit down, Evelyn,” said Reginald, pointing at the empty chairs on Wessex’s right. “Where is Raymond?”
Evelyn straightened. “He has been detained. I must speak to you.”
“Not now. The bishop is about to bless the feast.”
The bishop sat on Reginald’s left, chatting with Captain Henri. He did not look at all like he was in a hurry to start the blessing.
“Edward!” Reginald poked the bishop’s shoulder.
The bishop glanced at Reginald in shock, but he stood and raised his arms, waiting for the crowd to grow quiet.
Evelyn climbed onto the dais and sat down. She searched the crowd sitting at the two long trestle tables. The foreign woman was not among the guests.
The bishop started into the Latin, and everyone bowed their heads. Claude appeared at the door. He had his eye on Reginald. The bishop lowered his voice and slowed his delivery, took a long breath, and continued even more emphatically.
Reginald seemed to grow bored and opened his eyes to look around. Evelyn smiled inwardly. Reginald had no idea what the bishop was saying, because he could not speak a word of Latin. He spotted Claude and waved him over.
Claude walked around behind the dais and whispered, “My lord.”
“Why are you not at the gate?” asked Reginald without whispering. Several guests opened their eyes and raised their heads. The bishop continued with his blessing. Apparently, interruptions from Reginald were not new or unusual.
“I must report that a young squire has snuck into the castle.” Claude lowered his eyes. “I have no idea what his true intentions are, but he gained entry with a falsehood.”
“Henri!”
This time the bishop did stop. He opened his eyes and glared at Reginald.
Henri stood up and stepped around the bishop. “Yes, my lord?”
“Go with Claude. He will explain.”
Claude and Henri strode from the hall.
“I lost track. Are you done yet?” Reginald yelled at the bishop, who stood glaring at him.
The bishop took a deep breath, raised his eyes to the ceiling, and crossed himself. “In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
“Let us feast!” Reginald slapped the table with his palm.
The music started up in the gallery, and the din of renewed conversation filled the hall. Evelyn stood and walked over behind Reginald. “Excuse me, Reginald. I shall return shortly.”
Reginald grunted.
Evelyn hurried after Henri and Claude.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
April 28, 1341
“What is the matter?” Henri stood in the passage that led to the keep door.
“A young French squire has entered the castle with a falsehood.” Claude refused to look him in the eye.
“Mon Dieu. When?” Henri’s hand slipped to the hilt of his sword, and he glanced around the passage.
“Just a few moments ago. He wears a hauberk with coif and carries an ornate sword and a crossbow.”
“Return to the gate. We will discuss your failure at a more convenient time.”
“Yes, Captain.” Claude nodded and stepped out of the keep.
Henri returned to the entrance of the great hall, where Eric and Paul stood guard. He signaled, and they followed him toward the circular stairs. It was probably just a squire from the retinue of one of the invited knights. He would find the lad and teach him a lesson in manners.
“Henri.”
He stopped. That soft voice. It could only be Lady Evelyn. He had not yet had the chance to speak with her since her return. “My lady. It is good to have you back in the castle. We have missed your company.”
“Thank you, Henri. You are most kind.” She stepped toward him and rested a hand on his arm. “There is something else you should know about the person you seek.”
“You have information about this boy?”
“She is not a boy. She has stolen my husband’s armor to disguise herself.”
“Thank you, Lady Evelyn.” This was more serious. Women did not dress in armor.
“Henri?”
“Yes, my lady.” She had stepped even closer, and his upper arm brushed her chest as he turned.
“I should like to ask you a favor, if I may.” Lady Evelyn’s voice was low and melodic. The heat f
rom her breasts still lingered on his arm as he stared into her captivating eyes. She was as beautiful as the day he had escorted her from the barony. When she had been Reginald’s guardian, Henri had taken his orders directly from her. They had spent many long hours together, supervising the young baron’s lands. It had always been a pleasure to be in her company. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and her fingers slipped up his neck and around to the back of his head. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as she drew his head down to whisper in his ear.
“I would like to speak to the girl before you give her to Reginald. Can you arrange that?”
He continued to lean toward her as he considered her request. Her perfume engulfed him, and for a moment he would have done anything she asked.
Paul shuffled his feet, and the spell was broken.
“Of course, my lady.” Henri lifted his head. “Please follow at a distance while we search the castle.”
“Thank you, Captain.” She stepped back and Henri led his men up the stairs.
Mila had her ear pressed to the door. She hadn’t heard anything for a while, so she opened the door and peeked into the hall. Deserted. She snuck toward the stairs. Footsteps tumbled up toward her. She spun around and rushed back to the room, closed the door, and slid down between the bed and the wall. Her weapons scraped along the stones and she froze.
The footsteps stopped outside her room and the door swung open.
She held her breath.
“No one here, Captain,” said a gruff voice.
“Next room,” said another.
The door closed, and the footsteps moved away. Mila lay there, spent, her heart racing. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t give up. Even if she didn’t find Jess, she still had to get out of the castle. She opened her eyes. A spider crept along the wood of the bed, next to her face. Okay, time to go. There may have been armed men in the hallway, but there was no way she was staying under the bed with a spider. She pressed her back against the wall and dragged herself out from behind the bed, keeping both eyes on the spider until she could stand up and get clear. Only then did she let out her breath for what seemed like forever.
She returned to the door, and after a thorough search of its surface, pressed her ear to the wood.
Henri finished checking the second floor and led his men up the stairs to the third floor, nearly colliding with Nigel as he rushed down toward them. “Have you seen any strangers?”
“Yes, sir. Surely you passed them on the stairs.” Nigel pointed past Henri.
“Them? Describe them.”
“A woman in blood-soaked clothes, and a man in filthy rags.”
“Enough! Turn around!” It had to be the heretics from the dungeon.
“But sir. I assure you.” Nigel stood, blocking his advance.
Henri drew his sword. “Nigel! Turn. Around.”
Nigel finally obeyed and started up the stairs.
“Is Mary’s chamber secure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Check the baron’s chamber then return to Mary’s door.”
Henri addressed the others. Eric and Paul stood below, but Lady Evelyn was not behind them. He had no time to wait for her. “Come, we will check the passage.” He rushed up the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
April 28, 1341
Hearing nothing, Mila slipped out of her room and started to sneak down the stairs. As she approached the main-floor archway, the crowd noise swarmed into the stairway. Own it. Mila stopped sneaking and resumed her man-walk. She made it past the opening and continued toward the lowest level of the castle.
At the bottom of the stairs, she came to an open gate of iron bars. That was a good sign. Bars meant cells, right? She crept through the gate. A narrow, torch-lit, stone hallway lined with heavy wooden doors stretched into the gloom. Each door had an opening the size of a face.
At the first door, she stopped and peered in. Darkness filled the cell. She checked behind her then whispered, “Jess?”
No answer. She tried the latch. Locked. She moved to the next door. This room was even darker. “Jess?”
Nothing and locked. A torch hung from a wall sconce back near the iron gate. The next torch hung at the end of the hallway at what appeared to be a right-angle corner at least thirty feet away. The three cells between her and the next torch would be even darker. If she had a torch with her, it would maximize her light and minimize her need to whisper into the dark rooms. Who knew what might lunge out of the darkness toward her face? She walked back to the gate.
A muted shuffle came from the bottom of the stairs. Mila’s heart leapt into her throat. Scenes from too many horror movies leapt to her mind, but no one appeared at the gate. She took a deep breath and reached for the torch. It refused to come loose. No matter how hard she pulled, she could not free it. Her luck wouldn’t last forever, so she gave up and returned to her search.
At the third door she didn’t even bother to look into the gloom. “Jess?”
No answer, but when she tried the door, it moved. She pushed it open to maximize the light. The door swung until it knocked into the stone wall. She stood in the entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The cell was empty. She moved to the next cell.
This door was open, and her foot hit something soft as she stepped in. A fat little man lay in a dark puddle. There wasn’t enough light to make out the color, but it had to be blood.
“Shit!” Her hand flew up to her mouth as the curse echoed off the stone walls. She stepped back out of the room.
“Who are you?” asked a quiet voice behind her.
“Shit!” Mila spun around, drawing her sword. The heel of her sword hand drove into the wall long before the sword came clear of its scabbard. Crap. She’d forgotten how narrow the hallway was.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Lady Evelyn as she stepped in close and held up a dagger. “I only have a few questions.”
Mila jerked her face away from the dagger and bumped the back of her head into the door frame. “Dammit!” Mila let her sword slide back into its sheath.
Lady Evelyn smiled and lowered the dagger. “How is your head, my dear? Have you hurt yourself?”
Mila massaged her head with the heel of her hand.
“Who are you and who is this Jess you seek?” Lady Evelyn asked.
Mila had to decide how to play it. Honesty or fiction. Jess was already missing, and who knew what had happened to her since she’d disappeared? Lady Evelyn was clearly a member of the ruling class. Maybe she could help. “My name’s Mila and Jess is my sister.”
Lady Evelyn nodded slightly, but her dagger hand hung at her side, twitching. “She is why you snuck into the castle?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you steal my husband’s sword?”
“Um, the belt made the chain mail look more flattering?”
A smile ghosted across the Lady’s eyes. “I find the truth to be of value in a case like this.” Twitch.
“I needed a disguise.”
“Ah. Honesty. Is that so hard?”
“No, I just…”
“Why would your sister be in my brother’s dungeon?” Twitch.
This was getting old fast. “The bishop had her captured.”
“Why?”
“He thinks we’re witches.” Mila smiled and rolled her eyes.
Lady Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “And are you?”
“Seriously?” Mila waited for Lady Evelyn to crack a smile, but she just stood there. Mila stopped smiling. “No.”
“Why does the bishop believe that you are?” Twitch, twitch.
“I have no idea.” Mila glanced at the dagger.
“Why do you not look me in the eye, child?”
She forced herself to lift her eyes to Lady Evelyn’s face. “Your dagger keeps twitching.”
“Shall I put it away?” Lady Evelyn lifted the dagger.
Mila spun away and ran to the corner before Lady Evelyn’s words registered. She stopped a
nd glanced back. Lady Evelyn still stood by the open cell. She hadn’t chased her. She hadn’t even moved.
“Here, I’m putting it away.” Lady Evelyn slipped the dagger into a fold in her dress and her hand came away empty. “Is that better?”
“I guess so.”
“Do come here. Look me in the eyes and tell me why the bishop thinks you are a witch.”
“But I—”
“Your best guess, then.”
Mila wandered back toward Lady Evelyn. Any mention of time travel would probably convince her that Mila was a witch. But she didn’t have any choice. Jess wasn’t in the dungeon. If not here, then where? Mila had no plan beyond the dungeon. “I believe the bishop has found out where we are from. He may even have seen us arrive.”
“Is this a riddle?” Lady Evelyn cocked her head to the side.
“I’m sorry.” Mila couldn’t think of a way to describe their arrival that didn’t sound like magic.
A scream from the stairwell echoed down the stairs.
“It seems my attention is needed elsewhere.” Lady Evelyn walked to the stairs.
Mila followed her.
When Lady Evelyn stepped through the iron gate, she closed it. “Please wait here.” She smiled and hurried up the stairs.
Mila tried the door, but she already knew it would be locked. Dammit. Now she was trapped. Worse than that, the more she replayed the scream in her head, the more she was convinced it was Jess.
Chapter Thirty
April 28, 1341
Edward sat listening to Reginald fawn over Wessex. Reginald asked him about horses, hunting, weapons, even women, hanging on every word. Yet Reginald had no interest in any of those subjects, and Wessex’s responses to all of Reginald’s inquiries were guarded. He was civil but not open. He wasn’t drinking his wine, and he seemed uncomfortable with Reginald’s attention. What was he hiding?
