by Sherry Ewing
“Let me out this instant!” she fumed, shaking the bars once more to no avail.
Faramond chuckled. “I should have put you here the instant we reached Hull. Be thankful you are at least not residing in our pit.”
She tried again to reach some compassion in her son. “You have no reason to place me here. I am your mother and have done nothing wrong.” Her plea was apparently not heard.
Faramond moved forward ’til they were practically nose-to-nose through the iron bars. One of them had the freedom to leave the area. One obviously did not. “Who gave you permission to leave the keep in order to go to the village?”
With one last shove at the unforgiving bars, Ella moved away from the door. If she must be a prisoner, then so be it, but she would never again consider this uncaring man before her as her son. “You did not gainsay me when I said I wished to go.”
“I told you no.”
“Nay, you did not. You said to go to my chamber. I declined to listen to you and instead went to enjoy what I could of the day.”
Faramond paced back and forth in the small outer area of the dungeon. “You never did listen, even while I was a young lad.”
Ella frowned, hearing something in his voice that caused her to pause. “What are you talking about? I was always there for you when I could be. ’Twas not my fault that it was the custom to send you off to squire with another lord. Your father thought he was doing what was best for you.” Her voice was soft and she began to realize how much her son hated both his parents for what happened to him.
“Bah! You could have ordered father to squire me himself.”
“No one ordered your father to do anything if he did not wish it. You would have known this yourself if you paid attention when you were returned to us in disgrace. But nay… your only thought was of the riches that were lost to you.”
“How did you—”
“What? You did not think your father and I had speech about your deeds while you were away? We knew everything you did, including impregnating your lord’s daughter.”
“You have no idea what that man did to me once I arrived in his house. The daily beatings were nothing compared to what he did behind closed doors.”
A gasp escaped her as she understood the underlying meaning at what had happened in her son’s past. “Faramond… I am sorry for whatever he—”
“Do not speak of it ever, mother,” he shouted while his fists shook with rage. “You lost that right years ago when you sent me to squire with a man who was anything but knightly.”
Faramond’s face contorted in anger and Ella could only surmise what memories he was reliving. “Now that I can guess what the man did to you, was this your way of getting back at him… through his innocent child?”
He chuckled and his lips curled upward with an evil leer. “Such may have been the case at first but then I could see the benefit of such a union. ’Twas not my fault she refused me when I offered to wed with her.”
“You were both but children…” Ella answered while further memories of her son’s return invaded her mind.
“…and marriages were arranged by people even younger than we were, so what was the difference?” Faramond said finishing her sentence.
“Perchance if you had not bedded the girl, her parents would have accepted your offer. But you were always rash when it came to deciding how you must live your life.”
“At least I offered for her. I was not even her first,” he bellowed.
Ella shook her head. “Do you think that mattered in the eyes of her parents? Does your offer change anything when their only child killed herself instead of accepting her fate that you impregnated her? Of course, they blamed you.” Ella made the sign of the cross offering a quick prayer for the dead girl’s soul.
“You talk too much.” Faramond’s fist landed upon the bars of her cage before he stepped back.
“’The truth sometimes hurts, does it not, my son?” Ella’s voice cracked in grief. She made her way to a small stool located in the corner of her cell. Taking hold of it, she brought it forward and sat. Folding her hands on her lap she stared at her son.
“’Tis not my fault she took her life! ’Twas her choice, not mine.”
“Where did I go wrong in raising you?” Ella whispered before heaving a heavy sigh. “If only I could change whatever sin you feel I did to you.”
“Enough of this foolishness. I will no longer cater to your whims. I will not let you have your freedom of the estate or spend years of my life searching for you if you were to escape yet again. Now you shall go nowhere except to the altar to speak your vows once your betrothed arrives.”
He left her without even one last glance in her direction. Tears slid down Ella’s cheeks. “If I could turn back the hands of time, mayhap I would try to convince Simon to let Faramond stay with us. I wonder if that would have made any kind of difference in the man my son has become.”
’Twas no use pondering an event that would never happen. There were only two outcomes to her situation that Ella could foresee… either her groom would appear taking her to Spain to live out the rest of her days or Killian would somehow manage to rescue her from this dungeon. She might as well get ready to say her vows for she was losing hope she would ever see Killian again.
Killian was at his wits end. With no way to get word to Ella, he was left waiting outside the keep, wondering as to her fate. They were losing precious time if he was to keep his vow to reunite Ella with the man she loved.
His gut wrenched at the thought of Ella with anyone else but him. If he could but earn her release from her son’s clutches, he would profess his love and be damned to the consequences. He knew within his soul she cared for him. He just needed to hear the words pour from her lovely mouth and then she could release him from a vow he never should have made in the first place. He was such a fool!
He tossed a coin to the merchant and took the wedge of cheese he had purchased. Bread and cheese made a simple way to break ones fast. He gave a wistful sigh as he longed to return to Berwyck’s hall and the bounty found at its tables.
Sauntering along the River Hull, he pondered his fate that was tied to a woman originally not from this time. He was aware there had been other women who had come before her to Berwyck’s gates, whether they had done so willingly or not. But he never thought he would find himself falling in love with one of them. And yet Ella had spent almost as much time as an adult here in the past as she had in her future life, or so she had told him.
He could not imagine having to live your life all over again. Living in the present was enough for him. He was a simple man and had no desire to seek the fame and glory that the younger knights who came to Berwyck claimed. Having Ella to love would be enough but would he ever be enough for Ella? He had no hall to call his own. Would living at Berwyck satisfy a woman who previously had an entire estate where she had been its mistress?
Looking up, Killian realized he had ventured further along the riverbank than he had originally intended. As he turned, he saw Ella’s attendant making her way toward him in a hurried stride.
“Sir Killian, at last I have found you,” she said in a rush, while attempting to catch her breath.
“Is something wrong, Mistress Isabel? Is Ella unwell?” he asked, afraid to hear her answer.
“I must not tarry. I do not wish to be missed and call attention to myself, or you, for that matter. As far as anyone is concerned, no one knows about you and we must needs keep it that way.”
Killian took her elbow to steady her. “Then tell me your news so I may help as I can.”
“My lady has been placed in the keeps dungeon. But—”
“I shall kill him,” Killian hissed cutting off her words. His fists clenched, as did his jaw while thoughts of Ella wallowing in some filthy dungeon filled him with rage.
“There is no time for that. I have a plan. Do you know where Meaux Abbey is located?”
“Nay, but I am certain I can find it if you but give m
e general directions,” he answered.
Isabel nodded before taking his arm as they began to walk. “This is what we need to do…”
Killian listened to Isabel’s plan and thought it had merit. As they parted, a small measure of hope filled Killian’s heart that he would soon see Ella again.
Chapter 20
Ella’s whispered words were cut off when an unexpected groan escaped her lips. Reaching down, she rubbed at her knees, having lost count of the hours when she had placed herself upon the stone floor to say her prayers. Prayers for Killian to find her. Prayers for her own sorry self that she may gain a measure of courage in the event a rescue would not come to pass. Prayers for her son, for despite his treatment of her, he was still her flesh and blood and she still held out some small measure of hope that there was some bit of goodness left in his heart.
Her vision blurred and she rubbed at her tender eyes. She could tell they were puffy from the tears she had shed, and she began to wonder where the strong-willed woman from years past had gone. Her loud sigh echoed off the walls, almost confirming her worse fears. This was the reason she had evaded her son and kept herself hidden for so long from his attempts to find her. All her efforts had been in vain. Everything had gone up in smoke in one bit of ill-fated luck. She now found herself in a situation far more disheartening than falling through time not once but twice.
Ella’s heart shattered from the injustice of it all. How much more was one woman supposed to endure? she mused silently, while raising her eyes to the heavens as if God had not forsaken her. Despair consumed Ella. She felt as though she was broken and did not know how she could fix what she had no control over.
She at last took a grim look at what she could see of her surroundings. Her prison cell was just that. There were no windows to see the time of day, although she presumed night had fallen. Her sense of smell was heightened only because of the dampness seeping into her bones as she shivered from the cold. ’Twas another reminder that the stones around her hid from view the fact the keep was situated up against the River Hull. The candle her son had left for her was almost spent. It flickered from some unseen breeze and Ella began to wonder how much longer the stub of wax would last. She did not relish the thought of it being consumed. What would keep the rats at bay once there was not even the smallest bit of light to keep them scurrying from the shadows in which they currently hid?
With a hastily voiced amen, she gave up on her pleas to a higher being that He would save her from her fate. Her fate that Faramond would not see reason and release her. Her fate of finding herself wed to a man she did not love and living on the distant shores of Spain. She did not know how she would survive living on foreign land. She had had enough of a hard time adjusting to living in medieval England. How would she ever endure being gone from the few people she had become close to in her travels? More important than anything else… Her fate of losing Killian.
Killian… his name rushed across her soul causing her to gasp out, misery leaked from her eyes with the thought of never seeing him again. He had been right before her each and every time her feet had made their way to Berwyck. She had wasted so much precious time and now she would never have the chance to tell him of her feelings. She had been such a fool!
She pulled out the silver ring she had kept hidden in her gown to examine it closely. ’Twas a simple band with no further engravings, and she pondered who it might have belonged to that he would carry such a ring with him all these years. That he would give this same ring to her must mean there was no other woman in his life that he cared about.
Ella made her way to her pallet and pulled the thin-bare blanket up around her shoulders. The fabric barely touched the surface of the cold surrounding her heart. Henry… Simon… Killian… three men had come into her life. All three had served some purpose, but she had not given a flicker of attention to the one who mattered the most. She had thought only of returning to a man who did not even know her in his time. She had bent over backwards to keep herself in this time to be reunited with Henry when she should have concentrated on Killian. She had all but ignored the twinkling spark in his eyes whenever they were in each other’s company. Ugh! Her life was a shamble. Her spirits were finally broken leaving her no hope that she could rebuild that which she discounted as nothing but friendship.
Hushed voices reached her ears and she wondered who approached. Ella stood, rushing to the bars of her cell when she heard a thud. Before she could call out, a body rolled down the stairs to be followed by the flickering light of a torch.
“Who goes there?” she called out, before squinting from the brightness of the light.
“’Tis me, my lady.” Isabel stepped closer to the cell while a guardsman held the torch to light the lock. Keys jangled while her friend tried first one then another key. Ella held her breath while Isabel’s attempts to open her cell sounded loud enough to wake the entire keep.
Ella did not realize she had been holding her breath ’til the air left her lungs in a loud whoosh when the bars of her prison swung open, ensuring her release. “Thank God, Isabel. You came for me, but at what cost?”
“’Tis not of import, Lady Ella. We must needs get you from this place.”
Ella peered at the guardsman who waited with them. “You!” she fumed while recognizing the guard who had carried her down the majority of the way to this dungeon. “Why are you helping me now? You certainly were not coming to my aid before.”
Isabel stepped between the two of them. “This is Sir Peter.”
Ella could not believe this man had the nerve to show himself before her. “As if I care for his name,” she sneered knowing the part the man before her played in having her in a dungeon of all places.
The knight raised his chin. “I am helping you only because of this woman,” he replied, pointing to Isabel who smiled warmly at him. “Do you wish my help or not?”
Ella took askance to Isabel. “Can we trust him?”
Her friend nodded. “With our lives.”
Ella was still wary. “What is the plan then? I cannot foresee me just walking out the front gates unnoticed.”
Isabel handed her a bundle, while Sir Peter turned his back to the women. “You are going to do just that, my lady. Put these on, and quickly,” Isabel urged. “We do not have a lot of time before the guards change places.”
Ella began pulling clothing from the bag Isabel thrust upon her. She smiled at the duplicity of the scheme as Isabel helped bind her breasts in linen. Ella took Killian’s ring and tucked it inside the cloth before she quickly changed into hose, tunic, and boots. Isabel took a leather strap from her own hair and passed it to Ella who tied her hair up and covered it with a cap. When Isabel handed her a small container filled with a muddy concoction, she thought of the stories told of when Lady Amiria at Berwyck hid herself in a similar fashion, putting dirt upon her face to help hide her feminine features.
Ella worked quickly, applying the mixture to her face while trying not to gag from the stench of it. She decided to also smear some on her clothing. No one in their right mind would pay her the least bit of attention with the stench now emitting from her body. She looked for approval from her friend, who nodded her acceptance that Ella appeared as a small man. Isabel began collecting Ella’s discarded clothing by shoving them into the bag and handing the bundle to her.
“We must needs make haste, ladies,” the knight whispered into the darkness.
Ella took a deep breath. “I am ready.” They began to pass by the unconscious guard upon the floor. “What of him? How did you manage to disarm the knight? Will he not know ’twas you who was his downfall?”
Sir Peter gave the man a nudge with the toe of his boot. “He shall sleep off what he unknowingly drank. If he is wise, he will say nothing for ’twill appear he was remiss in his duties by falling asleep, allowing your escape. Lord Faramond will not be pleased with him.”
Ella had a sudden sense of foreboding awaiting the guard’s fate. “I do not want hi
m hurt because of me.”
Peter nodded. “I shall see that no harm befalls him, my lady.”
They began the climb up the narrow stairway, the flickering torches lighting the way to freedom. When they were almost at last at the top, Isabel halted their progress.
“My lady, this is where I must leave you. Do not rush when you are above ground but make haste once you are past the village. Hopefully you remember your way to Meaux Abby, and this is where Killian awaits you.”
Ella turned to hug her friend. “I shall never forget what you have done this day for me, Isabel.”
“Go, my lady, and God speed.”
Ella watched as Isabel and Peter quickly disappeared topside. She smiled, wondering what their story was and mayhap one day she would still have the opportunity to ask.
With a deep breath, she took her first steps from her forced captivity. She passed unnoticed by the servants who were busy in the great hall, nor did anyone else pay attention to her while they went about their daily chores. She had a moment of panic when she passed through the kitchens and the Cook came at her with a raised pan in his meaty fist. He bellowed at the man who dared come into his domain reeking like he had spent the night in the stable yard.
Ella clutched her bundle containing her other clothing to her breast as she fled through the bailey and out the front gate, thankful there was no further hindrance with a guard halting her progress. ’Twas almost too easy, but she would ponder her good fortune once she was free of the place.
She made it to the forest edge where she took one last look at the keep, resting at its place near the River Hull. She wiped at a tear, knowing her son was beyond her reach. With a heavy heart, Ella made her way into the trees and began to run. She had no desire to be captured again.