by Park, Elsie
Again, Heath refused to look at Roland, his eyes wandering about the streets instead. “They are so commonplace now that most don’t even notice them anymore. They hie from the oubliette.”
Roland’s head whipped around to Heath. “Guildon has an oubliette?” That sent shivers down Roland’s spine. An oubliette, from the French meaning “to forget,” was a dungeon with an opening only at the top of its high ceiling. The rounded shape and structure of the cell made it impossible for prisoners to scale the walls and reach the trap door above. People were lowered down or dropped into it, often forgotten and left to die of starvation. Roland considered the oubliette a barbaric structure having no place in a civilized castle. Unfortunately, he could fully picture it in a place like Guildon.
Heath shook his head. “No, it’s not a true oubliette, just a dungeon, but it’s what many call it because prisoners are often forgotten within those walls. As the dungeon is home to Doyle’s ‘interrogation’ chambers, many enter but never come out . . . alive, anyway.”
Roland shuddered. As much as he hated the oubliette, Guildon’s dungeon didn’t sound much better. He never agreed with torture, even on an enemy. And to die alone in the dark with only the horrific screams from dungeon-mates as company was a fate he couldn’t fathom.
Remembering the young man he’d seen being dragged down to the dungeon, Roland asked, “But are the prisoners genuine lawbreakers or are they possibly innocent of—”
“Listen, Roland,” Heath interrupted, looking him in the eyes for the first time since they began talking of Guildon. “I like you—a lot more than I thought I would—so heed my advice and don’t pry into things that don’t concern you. If you do, your fate may well echo those cries.”
Roland stared at Heath. His concern appeared truthful. Heath’s head turned away, looking about the streets again. “I think we’ve lost our quarry.”
Roland’s eyes turned to where he’d last seen his squire at the cobbler. She and her maid were gone. He stalked to the shop, Heath right behind him, and peered inside. They weren’t there. He circled around to view the surrounding area. The women were nowhere to be seen. The knights strode to the middle of the square and then turned to each other with questioning looks. They had no idea which direction the ladies had gone. They’d underestimated their prey, losing the sly females with their casual pursuit. So be it. Let Audri have the day to herself, but next time I’ll be ready. He’d find out what she was up to.
That evening after cena, at which he didn’t see the ladies, he neared his chamber door and heard the familiar female voices across the corridor in the adjacent chamber. He almost ignored it and went to his own room, but the thought of their intentionally evading him and Sir Heath fueled anew his curiosity. He rapped loudly on their door and Lady Pritchard soon answered it with a hairbrush in hand. The aroma of lemon wafted out into the corridor. He looked past the handmaid’s shoulder to see Audri sitting at her table, her long brown hair cascading down her back. He wondered how soft her locks were. His hand itched to touch them and find out. It was almost enough to make him forget why he’d come to the door in the first place.
Bringing his mind back to his undertaking, his initial tone wasn’t harsh but slightly annoyed. “You,” he said, looking at Audri but remaining in the doorway. She lifted an inquisitive brow. “You deliberately dodged me and Sir Heath in the village today. Why, and where did you go?”
Audri calmly stood up in her sage-green dressing gown, which fit quite nicely over her trimmer form, Roland noted before catching himself again. She moved to stand beside Lady Pritchard. “First of all, we didn’t try to lose you because you weren’t with us anyway. We knew you were there but didn’t realize you were trying to keep track of us. We turned around at some point and you simply weren’t there anymore, so we figured you were done with your errands and returned to the castle.”
Roland narrowed his eyes in doubt, but he said nothing since he really didn’t know if it was true or not.
“As for where we went, we simply made our rounds about the village, talking with all the good people I’ve missed so much. I don’t see them as often since coming under your charge.”
Roland pursed his lips and stared at her. “And you didn’t purchase anything of the sugary type?”
Audri’s hand flew to her chest, her mouth agape after a sharp inhale. “Sir Roland, how could you even think that? No, I did not purchase, nor even partake of free samples. I thought I had gained your trust on those grounds.”
“I trust that you’re trying to break an old habit,” he admitted, “but temptations sometimes get the best of our good intentions.”
“And you would know,” she added through a tight smile.
They stared at each other.
“May I check your chamber for treats?”
Audri gave an exaggerated curtsy. “Be my guest.”
The ladies moved aside and allowed him entrance.
Roland spent a good fifteen minutes searching every cabinet, chest, and nook in the room. Audri sat back down at her table during his search, Gail continuing to brush her lady’s hair. They spoke softly between themselves about trivial things and paid him no heed except to make an occasional comment on his progress.
“Don’t forget to check under the bed, Sir Roland,” Audri suggested with a light air.
He hadn’t intended on searching there, supposing no one would hide food in a place that mice had easy access to. But what if she did have something under there and told him to look knowing he wouldn’t because she wouldn’t have suggested it if there really had been anything there?
Producing a low growl, he grabbed Audri’s candle from the table and got down on his hands and knees to peer under her bed. Nothing but dust. He did the same to Gail’s bed across the room with the same outcome. Exasperated, he stood up, returned her candle to the table, and then brushed off his chausses.
“Very well,” he said, glancing at Audri sitting primly on her little chair. Her calm demeanor bothered him greatly. He felt she was still hiding something, but perhaps it wasn’t anything one could stash in a room. It drove him crazy not knowing, but he’d find out, by heaven. “I take my leave of you. Good night.” Not waiting for a reply, he strode to the exit and left, pulling the door closed behind him.
During the following weeks, Roland took advantage of several days where he had Audri reading in the library to go into the village alone and seek out the Griffiths. But he found that asking questions of the villagers was a fruitless venture. He tried ascertaining the location of the Griffith home, assuming it still existed, but the community was close-lipped and paranoid to answer anything that might get themselves or another peasant into trouble. And being a Guildon knight didn’t help, either. Roland was inevitably branded as someone to fear, thanks to the harsh rule of Craven and Doyle. One wrong word could spell out arrest, punishment, or death. He was frustrated. It seemed he met with one dead end after another, but he continued to hope that something would open up, anything that would help him move forward.
Audri’s training continued with horsemanship in the mud, sword play in the damp tent, crossbow in the rain, and everything else between. There wasn’t a dry moment the entire time, apart from changing into clean clothes at the end of the day. The drills were normal except for one thing: almost overnight, it seemed his squire had emerged from her plump shell to become a toned, trim-figured woman full of competent knight skills. It caused him to smile with pride at her being his squire. He’d noticed the vast change in Audri’s thinning face and in the way her clothes fit. In the middle of the week, he observed Audri continually readjusting her loose attire.
“Get that woman a smaller pair of chausses,” he told Gail one day. “And a smaller tunic as well. She’s swimming in her present ones, and I fear they’ll fall right off if I put her through another drill.”
Gail’s eyes enlarged at the comment. “How dare you su
ggest such an indecent possibility!”
“It’s not a suggestive possibility but an inevitable result should you do nothing about it,” Roland said, his mind trying hard not to think of the awkwardly provocative scene that would ensue should it occur. “You are excused to fulfill my directive,” he said to the woman.
Gail huffed through tight lips but quickly ushered Audri back to the castle, the latter pulling her baggy tunic up over her shoulder after it had slipped down again.
When Audri showed up in chausses and a tunic that nicely framed her figure, however, Roland almost regretted the order. He became even more aware of her transformation as his eyes lingered on the leather belt cinched around her trim waist. In fact, it was such a shock, not to mention a distraction to his male senses, that he ended training early to give his mind time to adjust to his new squire. He had Audri take her noon break in her chamber with a book on weapons’ tactics. She was to study it until cena.
Roland ate his noon meal alone in the great hall. He was exiting the space when a guard approached with a summons for him to see Lord Craven in his conference chamber. Roland went directly there. As he neared the double doors, they opened, and Heath departed the room. He seemed surprised to see Roland standing outside, his eyes widening slightly before he gave Roland a friendly grin. He slapped Roland on the back as he passed by but didn’t say anything. Roland turned and watched as the other knight stalked down the hall at a swift pace. Roland turned back to the open doors and entered the room. Lord Craven and Sir Doyle stood in close proximity to each other at the far end of the large rectangular table. They conversed quietly with each another, but as the guards shut the doors, leaving the three of them alone, the men looked over at Roland.
“Ah, Sir Roland,” Lord Craven greeted with a smile, gesturing with a flick of his hand for him to approach.
Roland closed the distance and stopped six feet in front of the men before bowing to the lord and head knight.
“Have a seat,” Festus invited. Roland sat in a tall, high-backed chair on the right side of the table, nearest to Festus’s chair at the end. Festus moved to sit in his usual place, and Doyle rounded the table to sit across from Roland. Doyle’s gray eyes watched him with an unnerving steadiness. Lord Craven’s voice turned Roland’s attention away from the silver-haired knight.
“You and Sir Heath have become good comrades.”
Roland nodded. “Yes, he’s a good man. He has provided invaluable aid in the training of Aud—” Roland stopped himself from using her Christian name. “Lady Gibbons.”
“Yes, so we’ve heard from Heath himself,” Festus said, sending a knowing look in Doyle’s direction, which Roland couldn’t quite decipher. “After hearing of his desire to help your situation, Doyle lifted his other duties so he could spend more time in your company.”
“Thank you, milord, it was much appreciated, I assure you,” Roland said, glad to know Heath hadn’t been skirting his other duties in order to help with Gail. But he sensed underlying implications in Festus’s statements. Roland suspected suspicious dealings among his superiors, and again wondered if they stretched as far as Sir Heath. What had they all been discussing before he arrived?
“How goes the training of my ward?” Festus smirked, glancing at Sir Doyle. The other man sneered back as if there was a private joke. Roland’s face reddened, but he held his tongue. Their treatment of Audri was deplorable—their behavior juvenile. Fools, both of them.
Roland brought his hands up and clasped his fingers together, resting them and his forearms on the table. He stared at his hands, thinking how to answer. He must make them think he was taming the “wild” woman and gaining their desired outcome with her submissiveness.
Roland cleared his throat. “She’s made great strides these past ten weeks. In addition to being extremely intelligent and taking on the duties of a squire with skilled proficiency, she rivals any other squire. She’s shed roughly three stone4 as well.”
“Yes,” Festus said, his mouth curving into a dissolute grin. “To be honest, we hadn’t expected such a physical transformation. What’s emerged can only be described as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.”
Roland nodded in agreement, having thought the same thing a number of times. And he admitted that Audri’s stubborn determination, brief moments of humor, and sparkling brown eyes had endeared her to him long before now.
“To be honest, Sir Roland,” Festus said, looking at him through half-closed eyes, “I couldn’t care less about how smart she is. We only want to know if she has been humbled. She still throws scathing glares in our direction any chance she gets.”
He knew Audri wasn’t defiant with those who treated her with respect and with those she trusted, which made him realize there was at least some trust between him and her, but he knew these men wouldn’t be completely satisfied with the outcome of Audri’s training until she completely yielded to them. No matter what he—or anyone else—put her through, he knew that would never happen.
He chose his words carefully, not wanting them to think he wasn’t doing his job, nor think he had done all he could with her either. Both would result in his dismissal. “She’s not as resistant to my orders anymore and willingly follows my instructions—”
“Yes, yes,” Doyle interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand, “but what of her insolence toward others?”
Roland resisted glaring at Doyle, keeping his focus on Lord Craven instead. “She’s been a tough nut to crack, milord, and to date, she isn’t completely obedient.” The sound of Doyle’s disapproving grunt forced Roland to add, “But I feel I’ve made great progress with her through my strict and rigorous training. Her full compliance will come in time,” he lied.
“But how much time?” Doyle voiced with annoyance. Roland glanced over at the sneering knight. He hadn’t realized he’d been on a timetable with her training, yet Sir Doyle’s question affirmed it. Why might they need her to be docile by a certain time? Did they already have a husband picked out for her? Was the man coming to get her in the near future? The thought of Audri being given to a man, who, if chosen by Festus and Doyle, might be just as cruel, bothered him greatly. Audri given to any other man concerned him, really. He couldn’t deny that he deeply cared for her.
Their questions seemed to have underlying implications that he couldn’t place. And if they found he wasn’t up to the task they gave him, they might release him and get someone more brutal to take over. There was more at stake here than he realized.
“How. Much. Time?” Doyle repeated with impertinence.
Roland truly detested the man. How dare he speak so dishonorably to a fellow knight? “I cannot put an exact time on her development, sir,” Roland said through clenched teeth.
“If you feel you’re not up to it, then perhaps we should let you go and put someone else in charge of her.”
Roland became livid at Doyle challenging his competence. He remembered Doyle giving the same threat to Sir Heath in the hallway. But Roland wouldn’t back down from Doyle’s demeaning remarks. “And how long did it take you to tame her, Sir Doyle?” he shot back at the hypocrite. “For years, you and Lord Craven had her placed under the strictest nurses, tutors, and ecclesiastical leaders, all with the same outcome—making her worse than before. Neither disrespect my tactics nor expect me to come up with a sure timeline when you couldn’t do any better in all the years prior.” Doyle stood fast, placing his hands on the table and leaning in toward Roland with flared nostrils, but Roland was undeterred. “I have come further with her in both physical and mental adjustment than all the years and your minions combined.” He was breathing hard at the end of his defense but was satisfied to see the shock on Doyle’s face. But was his outburst worth losing his position?
“How dare you,” Doyle hissed, starting in with a reprimand. “Your brazen words will surely mark the end of your service here—”
“Stand dow
n, Doyle,” Festus’s firm tone interrupted, ending Doyle’s rant. The man glanced over at his lord before sitting down with slow reserve, but he continued to frown at Roland. If Doyle hadn’t been a rival before, he certainly was now. Roland knew he’d have to watch his step, and his back, where that man was concerned.
“All we want to know is a roundabout number, Sir Roland,” Festus confirmed evenly as he gave Doyle another warning look to stay silent.
Roland thought about it. Audri was as friendly as she’d ever get toward these men, which wasn’t tame at all, but he didn’t want to lose his position, and thus lose Audri as well, if he said he couldn’t change her any further.
“Mmm, another few months, I’d wager,” Roland finally said.
Doyle breathed out in exasperation, rolling his eyes. “That’s too long.”
“Too long for what?” Roland raised, almost yelling at the man in his desire to protect his squire. He was tired of the secrets where Audri’s future was concerned.
From the corner of his eye Roland saw Festus give another warning glance to Doyle before facing Roland. “Very well,” Festus said, standing up from his chair. “You may continue training my ward as you see fit.” Roland noted Festus’s emphasis, the subtle words letting Roland know his jurisdiction over Audri’s future was really none of his concern, that he had been hired to do this duty, and that was all. It was a hint that Roland remained employed in this position only because Festus wished it. Roland felt the implications of treading on enemy territory and checked his tongue.