The Crimson Castle

by Samantha Holt

She gave him a look of confusion and he pulled out a large scrap of fabric, moving to place it over her eyes. Panic coursed through her, she could not allow herself to be at the mercy of these men! At least with the use of her sight, she had managed to maintain a careful hold of her nerves. Without it she was sure she would succumb to the horror of her situation and the practical side of her knew it would not make the rest of their journey any easier.

  Thrashing and screaming, she tried to evade the blindfold, much to the amusement of the man holding her captive. Pinning her head between his meaty hands, she was forced still and the darkness consumed her along with a gnawing throb of fear, deep in her stomach. Her head was released, as the blindfold was tied painfully tight around her head, and she felt the hand back on her arm, now more aware of the strength behind it.

  Hot breath in her ear caused her to tremble and she feared her legs would give way as Lazarus hissed at her, “I do not want to harm you, Lady Evelyn, but if you continue to be difficult I will do whatever is necessary to subdue you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded quickly and sucked in a breath as his reeking stench faded with the sound of crunching footsteps.

  The rest of their journey seemed to take an eternity, though she was unsure of how far they had actually come. Without the use of all her senses, it became harder to stay upright on the rough ground and she tripped many times only to be jerked back by the painful grasp of her captor. He let her fall once, whether deliberately she was not sure, but it caused them all much amusement as she scrabbled in the dirt to find her footing, her body throbbing in pain.

  Their arrival was signalled by being callously thrown to the ground, but exhaustion prevented her from complaining and she gratefully sank to the ground, indifferent to the damp ground seeping through her gown. Around her, footfalls sounded and the shouts of men greeting one another rang out, great joviality in the air, presumably satisfied with their catch for the day.

  Clumsy hands suddenly tugged at the blindfold, pulling at her hair, forcing a squeal from her. Blinking dazedly as the fabric was removed; she slowly took in her surroundings. Great trunks of legs strode past her through a small clearing in an impenetrable part of the forest. From her position she saw there had to be at least two dozen men in the encampment, but she saw no women or children. Crude shelters had been fashioned out of woodland materials and when she tilted her head towards the forest canopy she could see rudimentary lookout platforms upon which archers kept guard.

  It was clear to her now that they had been settled here for some time without discovery and there was little hope of her ever being found if Tibald refused to pay the ransom. She was confident Gabriel would do everything in his power to liberate her and she prayed she would have the opportunity to see him again, even if it meant returning to Tibald. There was so much that needed to be said and she found herself aching to be in his presence.

  The owner of the hands turned out to be that same red haired man who had hauled her unsympathetically through the forest and he pulled her to her feet with no more sympathy than previously. She remained silent as he led her to a small hut, pulling aside a flap of fabric and ushering her inside. Little light filtered in and Evelyn tamped down on the dread that filled her, thinking morbidly that this could be the setting for her last night alive. Crouched double, he motioned for her to sit down and she dropped gracelessly to the ground, on the verge of collapse.

  He squatted next to her, holding out some rope to bind her legs with. She made no effort to struggle as he reached for her leg, fatigue casting a heavy fog over her body. His fingers settled upon her ankle and brushed gently up her calf, a depraved look in his dark eyes. She kicked out at him instinctively, catching him in the gut and he cursed, lifting a hand to strike her.

  Evelyn was almost grateful when Lazarus stepped into her prison, his shoulders practically brushing the sides, stooping low to fit his form in the small space. The man, upon seeing his leader, hurriedly tied her ankles and hulked away.

  Determined not to be intimidated, she met Lazarus’ burning gaze, regretting it upon viewing the coldness within his pale eyes. His grating voice jarred her ears and she wondered if the scar upon his neck had also affected his voice or whether years of rough living had been the cause.

  “Welcome to our humble home, Lady Evelyn. Let it be known, if you behave yourself, you shall find us quite hospitable.”

  She laughed at this, feeling her spirit renewed as her lethargy eased. “You obviously know not how to look after guests for I have never before been treated thus!”

  “I doubt it not. Consider it a lesson in humility, my lady. I will not warn you twice, any ill behaviour, any attempts to escape, will be punished.”

  She gulped but held his gaze refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her cower. “You would not dare, if I am harmed Sir Gabriel will hunt you to the death.”

  His eyes glittered at the mention of Gabriel’s name. “Sir Gabriel will hunt me? How very interesting. And what of your betrothed -”

  “He is not my betrothed!” she protested and he lifted his hand in a warning movement, silencing her.

  “Would Lord Tibald not have a vested interest in your welfare? Mayhap I have ransomed you to the wrong man.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, realising her mistake, she opened them, hoping to cover her blunder. “I merely meant that Sir Gabriel will hunt you down on the lord’s behalf. No doubt, you will have angered him gravely.”

  Lazarus grinned at her, yellowed crooked teeth flashing in the gloominess. “I am sure your female powers of persuasion have worked well on Sir Gabriel, but he always was a fool. You will not deceive me so. I thank you for the information, my lady, it shall be most valuable. Now I suggest you watch your tongue from now on and I will have you brought some food.”

  Narrowing her eyes at him as her heart sank with anxiety; she looked at him dismissively, summoning every ounce of courage. “I want naught from you. I would not let one morsel of your ill-gotten gains pass my lips.”

  His smile quickly disappeared at her haughty guise. “Very well, starve yourself. You will hurt no-one but yourself. I will let it be known that the Lady Evelyn will not demean herself to break bread with us.” He went to leave but turned once more. “We poor men are used to rumbling stomachs but you, I suspect, will be begging for our scraps by morning.”

  “Never!” she cried at him as he stormed out.

  Tears burned in her eyes as she sat alone in her damp hut but she refused to let them fall, the thought of seeing Gabriel again filling her with determination. She had not realised until now how important it was that he knew she had not meant her harsh words. Upon reflection she could see she had judged him unfairly and, although she was still bitterly hurt by all that occurred, her anger was now rightly directed towards Tibald. If only she could see him just once more, she would take back the hurt she had caused and have him look at her with admiration again.

  The night was long with only the sounds of life in the camp to keep her company. The raucous laughter and heavy pacing feet kept her on edge and the spitting warmth of the fire was visible through thin openings in the wood but she received none of its comfort. Unable to stay warm, she shivered until fatigue overcame her and she drifted into a light slumber, resting her aching back against the wooden wall of the hut, unable to find a more comfortable position with her hands still bound behind her back. She had tried to free them but all she achieved for her efforts was an excruciating burning around her wrists which grated with her every move.

  By morning, Evelyn was dispirited, her weary body draining her hope as the light of dawn streaked through the walls. Her stomach groaned in hunger and she could smell food cooking on the fire, increasing her discomfort. As if sensing her loss of courage, Lazarus entered the dwelling, a cruel smirk on his face.

  “Good morrow, my lady, I trust you slept well.”

  Evelyn maintained a silence, fearing she would give away her weakness if she spoke.

  “Mayhap I coul
d interest you in some breakfast? You must be hungry and Cookie has outdone himself this morning.”

  Turning her head quickly from him, she kept her mouth firmly shut but not before her stomach growled, betraying her hunger and releasing a low chuckle from Lazarus causing her cheeks to flame. Unbinding her ankles, he hauled her to her feet and dragged her outside, the meagre light filtering through the forest canopy hurting her eyes after her imprisonment in the darkness.

  It seemed to Evelyn there were unkempt men in every corner of the woods, emerging from the trees, and every now and then her eyes would pick up yet another body hidden amongst the thickets. She prayed Gabriel would be accompanied by plenty of guards, for even with all his brutal strength, he would be no match for such numbers.

  As they enthusiastically tucked into breakfast, sat around a large fire, Evelyn was deposited on a rough log in lieu of a chair. The wood pricked through her ripped skirts but the pain seemed of little significance compared to the burning agony in her shoulders and around her wrists. No-one restrained her now, most likely believing she would make no efforts to run, having seen their strength of numbers.

  Lazarus stood up and gave one of the men a hearty slap on the back as the rest looked up from their meal as their leader spoke.

  “This day shall be a grand day. With our new wealth we will start o’er and, with the blood of our enemies, we will have our revenge.”

  The men cheered and Evelyn’s ears pricked at his words, a fresh rush of alarm coursing through her. What did he mean ‘the blood of our enemies’?

  He grinned towards her, noticing her look of alarm.

  “Oh aye, Lady Evelyn, I mean to spill the blood of your Sir Gabriel.”

  She stood sharply, her waning strength barely able to hold her up. “I will not allow it!”

  A rumble of laughter sounded and Lazarus stepped towards her.

  “Pray tell me, my lady, how you intend to stop us?” He smirked.

  Frantically looking around, distress threatening to overcome her, she squared her shoulders as best she could. “You will not use me against him. I would rather die first!”

  Evelyn knew with a sudden startling clarity that it was true. She could not let him die for her and having nearly lost him to the unforgiving depths of the mere, she knew she could not lose him this time either. She had prayed for the chance to tell him how she felt before and she prayed again, hoping her own thoughtlessness would not be the end for them.

  “Aye, that can be arranged.” Another pace brought him closer, towering above her and, panicking, she turned and ran.

  She barely made it two steps before his hands closed over her waist, violently whirling her around. Yanking her towards him, a hand moved up to her throat closing in around it, his huge hand easily spanning the fragile breadth of her neck. Her terrified scream was cut off as he squeezed mercilessly, pure hatred burning in his eyes. Her head pounded as she struggled helplessly in his grasp, unable to even claw at his powerful grip with her hands still bound.

  Dots jumped in front of her eyes, the pounding pain unbearable, and she knew she was on the verge of oblivion. Her last thought was of Gabriel as the blackness closed in upon her.

  ***

  They entered the clearing in the forest on horseback, Gabriel leading the troupe. The trees surrounded them, like old men bent double, leaving little natural light fluttering through the leaves. On the far edge of the clearing a beast of a man stood. Lazarus.

  The rest of the ragtag group of outlaws fanned out behind him all with weapons drawn. Gabriel noted several archers amongst them, arrows aimed at their smaller group. Gabriel cursed Tibald - if only he had let him bring more men. There were far more of them now and they would be lucky to get out of this alive. Dismounting his horse, his men followed suit and they moved cautiously towards the ragged bunch of outlaws.

  “You have the money?” Lazarus snarled.

  “Show us the woman first.”

  “Very well.”

  He stepped to one side revealing Evelyn, hands bound behind her back, in a make-shift noose. She hung from a tree, the only thing preventing her from strangulation was a log placed precariously beneath her feet. Gabriel’s heart jumped at the sight, as she hang limply, hands bound, propped up by the sickening touch of a flame haired outlaw. Her eyes were closed and, for one heart breaking moment, Gabriel thought he was too late and they had already killed her.

  Relief swamped him when her eyes fluttered open. A rag was tied tightly across her mouth but she cried out when she saw Gabriel, the sound muffled.

  Gabriel rushed forward at the sound, it seeming to startle him into action and Lazarus stepped in front of her once more, sword pointed menacingly at him.

  “Try aught and she’ll be dead before you know it. Bring the money!”

  Gabriel calmed himself and stepped back, signalling for the money to be brought forward. One of the men advanced with a chest, placing it next to Gabriel’s feet.

  “Open it!” Lazarus barked.

  Gabriel opened it cautiously, his eyes flicking between Evelyn and the point of Lazarus’ sword. Gabriel had no qualms about being able to best him in hand to hand combat but Lazarus was devious, as the scar on his side proved and he knew he wouldn’t think twice about killing Evelyn in an attempt to divert his attention.

  Lazarus glanced down at the money, a crooked smile across his face. “It looks like your master is more generous than I thought him to be. I had rather hoped he would refuse the ransom and we could have a little fun with the lady.” He chuckled and his men sniggered behind him. “Tom! Ed!” he bellowed. “Take the money.”

  Two of the men stepped forward and grabbed the chest, quickly dividing its contents between several saddle bags before dumping the chest on the ground.

  Lazarus moved towards Evelyn. “My lady, it has been a pleasure.” He stroked her cheek with a finger and she shuddered under his touch.

  Gabriel seethed at the sight and swore to himself that one day he would take great pleasure in chopping every one of Lazarus’ putrid fingers off.

  As Lazarus made to set off, he took one last glance at Gabriel and nodded to his men in a signal that he assumed meant for them to leave. He saw a flash of movement to the side of the clearing and a searing pain hit him in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. As he lay stunned in the dirt, agony shooting down his arm, he was aware of several other shouts of pain and, to Gabriel’s horror, a muted scream from Evelyn. Pulling himself up, he saw Lazarus kick the log out from under Evelyn.

  Lazarus jumped on his horse and with one last jaunty wave to Gabriel, galloped off, following his men who were already escaping through the forest. Gabriel shouted at his men to follow as he ripped the arrow from his shoulder and ran to where Evelyn was hanging.

  The uninjured men took off in pursuit as Gabriel grabbed Evelyn from behind, attempting to take some of the weight as he struggled to loosen the cord. He roared with frustration as his shaking hands failed to release her neck from the noose and he could hear her whimpers of pain.

  “‘Tis alright, Evie,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

  His fear riddled mind finally remembered his dagger and he pulled it out, cutting the rope from the tree whilst keeping her supported with one arm.

  They fell down in a heap as the rope gave way. Gabriel quickly cut through her bonds, releasing her trembling hands and pulled the rope from around her neck, revealing raw welts encircling it. Evelyn pulled at the filthy rag across her mouth, finally loosening it and flinging it away. She gasped for breath as Gabriel took in the state of affairs. Several of his men were incapacitated by arrow wounds but it looked as though there were no fatalities. Gabriel’s blood boiled at his own stupidity.

  He had dealt with that piece of filth many times before and should have known it would not be that easy. He had known with no uncertainty that Lazarus would not think twice about killing Evelyn but he was obviously banking on Gabriel’s distraction to buy them time to get away.
Lazarus was not stupid enough to think they would have just handed over the money and let them be on their merry way.

  Evelyn, feeling faint, rested her head back against him as he shouted commands at the men. Two of them arrived back from the pursuit, dragging an unfortunate outlaw behind them

  “Where are the rest?” Gabriel snarled.

  The guards reddened and looked at each other before the smaller one spoke, “Most of them had disappeared into the trees by the time we gave chase, Sir. This one had tripped so we grabbed him. The others are still trying to track down the rest…” he trailed of seeing the fury in his master’s eyes.

  Gabriel punched the tree next to him in anger and cursed, instantly regretting it as Evelyn flinched in his arms and his injured shoulder throbbed. He dragged himself from the ground and helped her to her feet. She wobbled feeling faint again and her eyes fluttered closed. Gabriel pulled her back into his arms, motioning to the two guards.

  “Help me with her then ride on to the castle. Lord Tibald will want to know the fate of Lady Evelyn.”

  He didn’t envy them the duty, knowing Tibald’s reaction was likely to be a volatile one after learning that the outlaws had escaped with his money.

  “Lock up that criminal and do not touch him until I return. Lady Evelyn is not well enough to journey on tonight, I shall find her somewhere to recuperate and I will join you in the morrow.”

  They both nodded and helped hand Evelyn up to Gabriel as he mounted his horse. He laid her across his lap, resting her head against his chest and knowing of an inn not far from their position he began their short journey to it.

  Offering up a prayer of thanks, he looked down at her peaceful face laid against his chest. Her features showed the effects of the ordeal she had faced, scratches and bruises marring her soft skin, but she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Guilt filled him, unable to reconcile himself with the fact that he had allowed her to be taken from him. Never again, he swore.

  ***

  Evelyn awoke laid out on a strange bed with no recollection as to how she got there. She was surprised she had slept so soundly after the terror of that day, though, when she spotted Gabriel sat in the corner of the small room, she knew why she had not dreamt of horrors. She put a tender hand to her neck and felt the proof of her ordeal, in the form of a welt wound around her neck. Her heart began to pound as the events of that day came flooding back to her and she sat up abruptly.