Dryden's Bride

by Margo Maguire

  She was in!

  Siân scored the game-winning point of a spirited game, making her a favorite among her new young friends. The boys were in awe over her skilled foot-work in this game of camp-ball that required the use of feet only to move the ball toward the goal. She’d played fairly, passing the ball and making sure to include all of the others, even the smaller boys who had little experience and even less ability at the game.

  Children were gullible. Siân knew it and had counted on that fact when she gave her explanation of who she was, and where she’d come from. Not for one minute did they doubt that she was an orphaned Welsh boy named Madoc, who’d left home to come to Wrexton to serve the earl. They saw it as a great adventure.

  Luckily, several of the young boys also saw it as their chance to show their new acquaintance around. Siân was able to explore every nook and cranny within the walls of Wrexton Castle, and listen to their talk of the two prisoners who were being held in the tower, at the top of the keep.

  Siân was relieved to hear that Hugh was not chained in a dark dungeon, but wondered how she would ever be able to get him out of the high tower. It was likely to be filled with Wrexton’s guards and Siân could not imagine how she would ever get past them. She shaded her eyes with one hand as she gazed up at Hugh’s prison.

  Somehow, she would have to gain entrance to the place, disable the guards and free Hugh, without getting herself caught in Wrexton’s web.

  It was impossible, she thought, completely discouraged now that she’d seen the place. How would she ever get up there, let alone get Hugh out?

  Refusing to give in to despair, she forced herself to assess the stronghold as well as she could, notice every possible entrance, evaluate every weakness. Unfortunately, there were few.

  The boys stopped at the well for drinks of water, and one boy, Robby, offered to go filch a bite for them all to eat from his mother, Wrexton’s cook.

  “Might I come along?” Siân asked abruptly, handing the ladle to the boy next to her.

  “Suit yerself,” the lad replied as he ambled off toward one of the doors that faced the rear of the bailey. “She’s liable only to have a bit of bread, but the lads will like it. She’s a good cook, my mum.”

  Siân didn’t care how good a cook the boy’s mother was, only that this was a way to gain entrance to the keep, and perhaps manage to take a look around. She did not think she’d be able to slip away to wander freely about the stone fortress, but it was worth a try, as long as she remained cautious.

  The kitchen was hot. But it smelled heavenly to Siân, who had not had a bite to eat since leaving Pwll. “Where is that jackanapes, Raulf?” one of the women demanded.

  A huge joint of meat cooked on a spit over an open flame in the center of the kitchen. A burly-armed woman turned it, and Siân’s mouth fairly watered with the savory smells of the cooking meat. There was a lot of activity in the kitchen, with the comings and goings of servants preparing to serve the evening meal, and Siân blended right in with Robby.

  “Raulf’s gone, Mum,” Siân’s companion said as he slipped an apple to her. Siân shoved it into her pocket. “Have ye any wafers for the lads?”

  “Go away, Robby, I’ve my own work to do,” the mother said as she put a flask of water and two crusts of bread on a tray, “and now Raulf’s work, to boot.”

  “We can help you, Mum,” Robby said. “Just tell us what you need.”

  Robby’s mother handed him a bucket and told him to fill it with water. She directed Siân to the buttery for ale.

  When the two “boys” returned, Robby’s mother was still as flustered and overworked as before. She blew a strand of hair from her face as she picked up the tray that was now ready. Handing it to her son, the woman spoke quietly to him with one hand partially covering her mouth. Robby took the tray and headed toward the hall. Then he stopped and winked conspiratorially at Siân. “Come on!” he said quietly.

  Siân did not wait to be invited again. They went to the far end of the hall, then exited the keep and walked around the corner of the buttery, where the stone building was built low over the river. She could hear the water rushing underneath, and wondered where they were headed. “Where are we going?” she whispered as she followed him around to an outside stairway leading down.

  Robby admonished her to keep quiet and started down the long flight of stone steps.

  Hugh sat on the cold, damp stone floor and watched Marcus sleep. Their little prison was a small storage room, closed in by a thick wooden door with a stout iron lock. It was a stuffy little room with no windows, and a sweet-sour smell permeated the place, like over-aged ale. Hugh was grateful it did not smell like the dank and rotting cavern where he’d been held prisoner at Windermere.

  Hugh stood and paced the small chamber, thankful that at least there was one torch to burn. He knew he would not have been able to endure complete darkness. It was all he could do to bear this confinement—the stone walls around him and the low ceiling above him.

  Worse, though, was not knowing what had happened to Siân. He had not seen her since their arrival at the castle, nor had Wrexton said anything about her. The earl seemed particularly gleeful, however, to have captured Siân Tudor’s two champions, and Hugh had a sinking suspicion that history was about to repeat itself. A fool like Wrexton would know only one trick, which he was likely to repeat at any opportunity.

  From everything Siân had said about Wrexton, Hugh should have foreseen the trap at the castle gates. Obviously, Wrexton had surmised that someone would come after Siân, even going so far as to anticipate that it would be Hugh himself. He’d had his guards looking out for any strangers, especially a man with an eye patch. Now, he and de Grant were locked up in an impregnable little room where they could not help themselves, much less Siân.

  Where was she now? Did Wrexton have her locked up, only to bring her out when he was ready to execute her would-be rescuers? What was Wrexton waiting for?

  Hugh knew he had to get de Grant and himself out before Wrexton had a chance to repeat his vicious stunt for Siân’s benefit.

  But how would he manage it?

  One of Marcus’s eyes was bruised and swollen shut, and the other was damaged almost as badly. He’d taken a lot of vicious blows to the midsection and Hugh suspected the young man had some cracked ribs, although he was a strong, well-conditioned knight. He would recover. The question was—how soon?

  Hugh’s back and shoulder wounds were painful, as well. The stitches in his upper arm had torn out, but that was the least of his problems. He did not know whether he’d be able to wield a sword, even if he could get his hands on one.

  They were a pitiful pair.

  Muffled noises were audible outside. “Marcus,” Hugh said as he crouched down next to his companion, touching his shoulder gingerly.

  De Grant tried to open his eyes, with only partial success. He groaned and pulled himself painfully to a sitting position, leaning his back against one of the large wooden casks that lined the walls of their cell.

  “Someone’s coming,” Hugh said. “Do you think you can—”

  All too quickly, there was a key in the lock, and the door slammed open. They’d missed their chance to act.

  “Stay back, now!” the turnkey demanded harshly as a young boy entered the chamber, carrying a tray laden with coarse, brown bread and drink. An archer stood just behind, with his bow at the ready, an arrow knocked and ready to fly.

  Hugh stood still, keeping his eye on the archer, knowing that one untimely move could get either himself or Marcus killed. A small cough from the doorway distracted Hugh momentarily, and he glanced at the second boy who’d come to look at the prisoners.

  Then he glanced again. Siân!

  Sweet Jésu in Heaven! Hugh was not high in the tower, but here! Down below the keep! And still, there was nothing Siân could do! She could not overpower the burly turnkey as well as the archer. She’d managed to push her way through with Robby, and gotten Hugh’s attention, bu
t what now? At least Hugh could rest at ease somewhat, knowing she was not in Wrexton’s clutches.

  But he still was!

  Her eyes drank their fill of him, taking in all the new injuries, the new damage to his arm. He was battered and filthy, a few days’ growth of beard shaded his jaw, and his eye patch was gone, so the scar was fully visible. But the sight of him had never been more appealing. She could not have loved him more.

  Siân would have to get him out. Somehow, she would figure a way to return to free Hugh and the man imprisoned with him. Catching his eye again, she silently mouthed the words, “Soon. Be ready!”

  With no idea whether or not he understood her message, Siân took the tray from Robby as the jailer shoved her back. She turned of her own accord and went back through the passageway with the boy and the two guards. Discreetly studying her surroundings, she realized that this would be her only chance to get a good look around, to come up with a plan for getting Hugh out.

  Beyond the room where Hugh was being held was another short flight of steps that led down to the water, and with the waning sunlight streaming into the tunnel below, Siân could see that there was a small boat tied there.

  This would be the only way to get back in, she thought dismally, though she needed more information. Where did that tunnel lead? Would she have to swim to get back here again? Somehow, she had to get a better look at the jetty where the boat was tied.

  Knowing this would be her only chance, she pretended to trip on a step, and dropped the wooden tray she carried, letting it go flying down to the stone jetty. Turning quickly, she said, “Sorry, I’ll get it!”

  Seeming to skip casually down the steps, Siân took a good look around as she picked up the tray, then ran back up, ignoring the nasty words that the jailer directed at her for her clumsiness.

  “Go on,” Robby said in a rasping whisper, landing a punch on Siân’s shoulder. “I’d a never ’ave brought you if I’d a known you were gonna be so clumsy.”

  “Sorry,” Siân said simply as they reached the upper door where the turnkey unlocked the door and let them out into the late afternoon sunshine. “Didn’t mean to,” she mumbled petulantly, hoping she sounded like one of the boy’s peers.

  It was getting late, and would be dark soon. When would Wrexton act? Tomorrow, as the herb peddler had said? Or tonight? Siân had a feeling that time was of the essence. She had to get Hugh and his companion out of there, and quickly.

  Hugh was in terrible condition. Siân didn’t know how she’d managed to keep from crying out at the sight of his new wounds, or throwing herself into his arms in spite of the guards’s presence. Somehow, by sheer force of will, she’d maintained her composure.

  The other prisoner was in even worse shape than Hugh. Siân did not know if he would be able to walk, or how she would get him out of the little prison.

  Siân chewed her lip and considered the problems she faced. It was obvious that neither Hugh nor the other man would get far on foot. Even if they were able to walk or run, it was miles to Pwll. And Pwll was the first place Wrexton would look for them. Once Siân freed Hugh and his companion, they would have to travel in any direction but west.

  She was going to need horses and weapons, too, but where would she find them and how would she steal them? The obstacles seemed insurmountable, but Siân refused to be foiled. She would need all of her wits, and every ounce of courage she could muster. Hugh’s life depended on it.

  Siân nudged Robby and said, “Let’s get some of the other lads and go throw stones in the river.”

  She spent the time examining the fortress as she asked questions of her guileless young companions and discovered the location of the tunnel’s entrance. There was no way to get to it without swimming, and that would be a challenge. She was an excellent swimmer, but the current was strong and the water icy cold. She would be lucky not to freeze to death crossing the wide, watery expanse.

  Once she reached the tunnel, Siân would have to disable the guards, and hope there would not be more than the two who were there earlier. Then, she could get Hugh and the other man down the steps and into the boat, where they would float to safety beyond the portcullis Robby mentioned, then on outside the castle walls, and across the river to the far bank.

  An hour later Siân was alone in the stable, looking over the horses. She recognized Hugh’s warhorse, as well as several other huge destriers, but could not figure how to take his mare or any other horses out of their stalls and get them past the stableman.

  “Go on with ye now!” that man said sharply, shooing her out of the long, low building that housed the horses.

  She scooted away from the man before he could swat her, then ran around to the side of the building. Sliding down the wall to sit on the rough ground, Siân buried her face against her knees and tried to stop shaking.

  Her pathetic tears would not help the situation, she thought, sniffling. What was she going to do? The first part of her plan was in place, but it would be no good if she couldn’t get the two men away from Wrexton once they crossed the river. There had to be a way to get some horses over to the far bank. Reaching into her pocket to move the uncomfortable bulk of an apple Robby had purloined from the pantry, she rubbed it absently on her tunic. She had to settle herself down and think!

  Absently, Siân took a bite of the apple, and gathered her thoughts. Hugh and the other knight needed mounts. They would not be able to stay in the little boat and float down the river because it flowed right past the gatehouse. They would be discovered before they had half a chance to get away.

  She was stuck. She was right back where she started, with Hugh and his companion locked in that room, and her only access to the little prison was by way of the river. And even that passage might be blocked if the portcullis was down.

  Siân sighed heavily. She finished her apple and stood up, brushing off her bottom, then stepped over to a workhorse waiting to be unhitched from his cart. She palmed the apple core and fed it to him.

  And a new plan suddenly came to her. Siân realized she’d need a diversion to be successful. Glancing around the bailey, Siân looked to see which of the lads were still hanging about, who could possibly become interested in another game of camp-ball before it became fully dark.

  It was all Hugh could do to keep from leveling the jailer who’d laid his grimy hands on Siân to push her back. Only the lethal point of the arrow trained on his heart had kept him from grabbing her and hugging her close.

  She’d told him to be ready. Hugh did not know for what, but he had no intention of being caught unprepared again. Though there was not much he could do, locked in this small room, there might be one thing.

  He started moving barrels away from the wall to make a barrier just inside the doorway. The barrels were full, and most were heavy, but Hugh managed to roll or slide them into place.

  “Marcus,” Hugh said, waking the man again, “you’ve got to move back here.”

  De Grant looked up and saw what Hugh was doing, and hauled himself painfully to a standing position. “I can help,” he panted.

  “I doubt that,” Hugh said, “but you’re welcome to try.”

  Together, they formed a wall of barrels in front of the door. When the guards came in again, Hugh and Marcus would be somewhat shielded, and might possibly be able to overpower the guards.

  With high hopes, Hugh began to pound on the door and shout for the jailer to come.

  “Look,” Marcus said from his position behind the barrels. Hugh came around and noticed a mound of white sand flowing from a crack in one of the barrels. He smelled it, then tasted it.

  “Salt.”

  “Won’t feel very good…in the eyes,” Marcus said as he gathered two handfuls of the common spice.

  Hugh almost smiled as he went back to the door and began pounding again. He shouted everything he could think of that would get the guards to come, while Marcus flattened himself up against the wall next to the door.

  The noise and distraction b
ehind Hugh’s prison door was all Siân needed to pull herself up out of the water without notice. Thankfully, the portcullis had been up, and the little boat was still there. There was precious little light to work in—only just barely enough from the torches of the guards far above. She sat for a moment on the little jetty and caught her breath, fully aware that there was little time.

  Soaked and shivering with the cold, Siân got up and quickly loosened the heavy knots that kept the boat tied to an iron loop on the quay. Then she retied it loosely, so she’d be able to pull away quickly once she had Hugh and the other fellow on board.

  She took one of the paddles from inside the boat, and moved across the jetty to the stone steps that led to Hugh’s jail room, where someone inside was still making an awful racket.

  “Quit yer caterwaulin’, ye shard-borne maggot feed!” the turnkey growled as he lumbered down the steps toward Hugh’s door. The archer walked behind, just as he had earlier, just as Siân hoped he would.

  The jailer shoved the big key into the iron lock, turned it, then slammed the door wide open. At the same time, Siân ran quickly and silently up the steps, carrying an oar.

  Confusion broke out. The burly jailer suddenly staggered backward. Siân took the opportunity to raise the paddle and strike the archer with it, hitting him square across the back of his shoulders, then jumping back as the man fell down the stone steps.

  Hugh disabled the turnkey, and relieved him of his sword, while the other prisoner, wincing in pain, picked up the fallen torch and came out to look around. “Siân Tudor?” he asked as the slightest curve of a smile lit up his battered face.

  Siân nodded, glad of the poor lighting in the passage. She’d left her tunic and hose on the on the other side of the river before swimming across, and wore only Madoc’s long, linen shirt. She felt naked. “We’ve got to hurry. Can you walk?”