by The Prisoner
Recalling Brian’s words while they were held prisoner before by Loutrant, Constance knew she could rely only on herself for her rescue.
The door she leaned upon was not terribly heavy or thick, but still it was nearly impossible to hear any sounds. Did she hear the rumble of distant voices?
Lord, she was heartily sick of escaping from Loutrant. She sagged against the door for a moment, wondering if it was all worth it. When all was over, would she even have what she wanted? Constance did not know.
But she did know she would not just give up. She could not be a victim waiting to be rescued like Brian’s beloved Katherine. Constance knew she was not being fair to the woman, but she was past caring.
Constance straightened from the door and once more glanced around the room, looking for anything she could possibly use as a weapon.
The one room cottage was bare save for the cot, the old table and the candlestick. Loutrant was no fool.
She returned to the small window, peering out into the waning day. A few rather large trees blocked her view of anything more significant.
Constance growled and turned from the window. Eyeing the cot dispassionately, she threw herself down on it hard. Reaching down she felt along her right leg. Relief flooded her. The dagger she had decided to carry ever since learning Loutrant was likely alive was still there. Somehow the beast missed it.
A slight scratching at the door told Constance her captor had returned to check on her at last. She braced herself, waiting for him to open the door.
But when the door did open, Constance was not staring at Loutrant’s hateful face, but rather at a brown haired young man of no more than twenty.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Marcus,” he said, not meeting her gaze. He carried in his hand a small black sack. “I have brought you some food.”
“Marcus?” Constance repeated. “You’re his brother, are you not?”
He closed the door behind him and turned to face her. His gaze remained locked behind her. His skin was flushed red.
“Aye, half-brother. We share the same father.”
“I see,” Constance said. She shook her head wearily. “And he has ordered you to watch me, has he?”
Marcus winced. “Aye, I suppose so.” He turned a darker shade of red. “Are you comfortable?”
“I am being held against my will. Would you find it comforting?”
“I…” Marcus ran his hand through his hair and turned away for a moment.
Constance decided to ask him about his brother. “You and Finius share the same father?”
Marcus stole a glance in her direction. “Aye. William Loutrant raped my mother.” He looked down at the dirt floor. “He was feared by all.”
“Finius told me his father is not William Loutrant,” Constance whispered, watching Marcus. “Do you know why he would say such a thing?”
Marcus blinked, then stared, his mouth gaping open for just a moment. He quickly closed it and then said, “What?”
“So you do not know?”
“Nay,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “What is this? He said he was not his father?”
Constance wondered if Loutrant had made up his story, or at the very least lost his mind and invented a way to disconnect himself from the rest of the Loutrants.
“Mayhap it was just a tale,” Constance replied.
Marcus walked over to where she sat on the cot and crouched down. “Tell me. What did he say?”
“He wouldn’t really tell me much. Just William Loutrant was an abusive man and he wasn’t even really his father.”
Marcus licked his lips. “And how does he know this?”
“With his last breath he told Finius the truth,” Constance explained.
Marcus nodded, then leaned back on his heels. He bit his bottom lip, looking thoughtful.
“Marcus?”
He met her gaze at last and she could not mistake it. Gladness shown from his blue eyes.
“He is not my brother,” he whispered the words almost reverently.
“I don’t understand.”
Marcus clenched his fist and stood up. “Do you not? I am free. All this time I thought I had to do everything…” He broke off. “He has naught over me now.”
He dropped the small black sack and turned to the door.
“Marcus?”
“Do not worry, Lady Constance. I know you are afraid, but I am going for help,” he assured her.
“Why not take me with you now?” Constance exclaimed, quickly rising from the cot and heading for the door where he stood.
Marcus shook his head. “I dare not risk it. Finius is in the village right now, only a few paces away and is likely watching this door, so I dare not bring you with me. If he catches us both, all is lost.” He grabbed her hands. “Listen, he does not intend to keep you here. He plans to take you to a cottage he knows of by the sea. Not long ago, Finius took me there. There are many caves there; you may be able to hide in them until help arrives.”
“But how will I be able to get away?” Constance asked.
Marcus eyed the sack on the floor. “There are sleeping herbs in the bag. Use them. Farewell.”
He opened the door and disappeared into the growing darkness. Constance tried the door, but he had re-latched it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“We’ll find her, Brian. I know we will.”
Brian heard Lucien’s words but they were hollow comfort. Constance was gone, abducted no doubt by Loutrant, and he had only himself to blame.
“Brian?”
He looked at his brother, struggling to keep the sorrow he felt down to his soul from showing on his face. Aye, they would find her. But he feared they would find her dead.
The two brothers stood in the castle courtyard discussing their next move. Around them Fitzroy warriors prepared as though for battle, but Brian barely noticed them.
“I know, Luc.” His voice came out like mist, cold and light, barely carrying. He could not manage much more.
“Constance is strong. She escaped from him once, remember?” Lucien reminded him.
Of course, Brian remembered. But he also knew Loutrant. The man would be on his guard against such a possibility a second time.
“We do not even know where to look.” Brian shook his head. “The little girl from the village was hardly any help at all.”
“At least we know it was likely Loutrant who took her. The girl was able to describe the man.”
Brian looked out over the courtyard and Fitzroy lands from the doors of the castle. He shook his head wearily.
“We knew that was most probably the case before. ‘Tis merely a confirmation of what we suspected.”
Lucien grimaced and touched his brother’s arm. “You must not lose hope, Brian. Constance deserves better.”
Brian did not reply. He could not seem to find the words to form on his tongue.
“I know you love her, Brian.”
He nodded. Why deny it?
Lucien sighed. “And I believe she loves you, too. I don’t believe in fate, or I don’t think I do. But if anyone was fated to be together, it is you and Constance.”
“Do you think so?” Brian asked.
“Aye, I do. Which is why you cannot give up on her. She will find a way to get away from him, and you must find a way to find her.”
“I don’t even know where to look.” Brian rubbed his chest where his heart was. “I have no idea. And this time, there will be no ransom. He wants me, Luc. This is what this is all about.”
Lucien moved restlessly away from the castle doors and kicked at a loose rock. “Hmm. I think most animals are territorial. If I were to hazard a guess I would say Loutrant is. He would stay around the area he was most familiar with.”
Brian thought about it for a moment and then nodded his agreement. “You may be right. ‘Twould put him somewhere around his former castle.”
“Precisely.” Lucien frowned. “I don’t know the area well.
”
Brian straightened from leaning on the wall next to the doors. “I do. I used to go there often when Katherine was alive. There’s a small village near to the castle. And the castle is on a cliff by the sea, so there are many caves.”
“To hide in.”
Brian nodded. “Aye. No doubt where he has been himself all the while we have thought him dead.”
“How will we find Constance?” Lucien voiced what Brian feared. It would be impossible. Or near to it.
Brian glanced at the sky. It was near dark and he did not relish traveling at night, but neither did he want to delay searching for Constance.
“We’ll leave at once. Tell the others.”
Brian walked back into the castle to get ready. He had no squire. There hadn’t been a reason for one after all these years. Now he would have to gather his equipment himself.
Brian had one foot on the steps to go upstairs when the front doors of the castle were flung violently open.
“Brian!” Stephen shouted, running toward him.
“What is it?” He was filled with a keen sense of dread. His stomach twisted in knots.
“We have Loutrant’s brother,” Stephen said. He bent over, struggling to catch his breath. Droplets of sweat fell from his forehead.
Coming through the same doors was Brian’s son.
“How?”
“He surrendered to us,” Trevor explained, catching up to Stephen. “We were near the village, coming back from questioning the villagers about Constance. Marcus approached us.”
“And where is he?” Brian asked, frowning.
“The guards are holding him outside. We came for you.” Stephen straightened. “He says he has seen Constance.”
“Then she is alive?” Brian managed to ask around the lump clogging his throat.
“Aye, Brian.” Stephen grabbed his brother’s arm. “Come, he asks to see you.”
****
“We move on from here,” Loutrant told Constance with a glare. She sat stiffly on the cot.
“Where are you taking me now?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral.
“Fitzroy is clever. He may figure out I am near Loutrant Castle. He may even guess I am at the village near to it. I dare not risk staying here. Surprise must be on my side.”
“That doesn’t tell me where you are taking me,” Constance dared to point out.
A cold glint lit Loutrant’s blue eyes. “What does it matter where you go? The end result will be the same. Your death.” He laughed low. “And the death of all the Fitzroys.”
“Why do you hate so?” Her voice came out raw and slight.
“I do not hate everything. Just my enemies.” He frowned. “‘Tis not so unusual.”
“Why are the Fitzroys your enemies, Finius?” Constance took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Is it because of Katherine and Brian, or is there more?”
Loutrant glanced toward the tiny window. “It grows dark. We have no time for this.”
“I just want to understand.”
“Brian has always gotten what I should have.” Loutrant’s voice was soft, low, barely a whisper. “Even before Katherine.”
He pulled her up from the cot, his fingers digging into her arm. “Come, we travel quickly and silently. I will not hesitate to give you another blow to the head if you make a sound.”
Constance stumbled but righted herself. “You’re hurting my arm.”
“It will seem as nothing soon enough,” Loutrant vowed, though he lessened his grip. He dragged her to the door and then glanced around the small cottage. “I should burn this place and all around it to the ground. It belongs to Nicholas Fitzroy now. It would be a fitting end for these traitors.”
Constance shook her head, desperately trying to dissuade him from such evil deeds. She would not want innocent villagers to suffer. “But you will not have time, Fin. You want to get away before Brian and the others find us.”
Loutrant’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “You are right. I have not the time. Where is that idiot Marcus? This would be a perfect task.”
He pushed her through the door of the cottage and Constance tumbled to the ground. Her knee hit the hard dirt and the sound of her gown tearing broke the stillness of the early evening. She winced at the searing pain and looked at her knee. As she suspected, blood stained her surcoat.
Loutrant’s fingers gripped her upper arm and he yanked her up. “Get up. Stop wasting our time.”
Constance spit out the soil she’d tasted when she hit the ground. She wondered if she ought to yell for help. Some of the villagers might come to her aid. Not too far from where she and Loutrant stood, Constance could make out other cottages. Two or three, at least.
She opened her mouth on a scream. His recent threat of another blow to her head closed it. If he knocked her out again, she would be less likely to make an escape later.
Besides, Constance reminded herself, Loutrant was a vicious man. He would kill any villager who sought to interfere with his nefarious plans. She could not have someone else’s death on her conscience.
Loutrant dragged her toward a group of thick foliage. The sound of a horse pawing the earth reached her ears. The animal was impatient to be on its way, much like its master.
****
Brian stared at Marcus. A man, he knew, who had helped Loutrant on many occasions against the Fitzroys. Someone he should loathe, surely.
Yet now, Marcus knelt before him, his face smeared with dirt and dried blood, and Brian could not hate him. Marcus was little more than a boy around Trevor’s age.
Brian crouched down to face Marcus. “Tell me what you know.”
Marcus blinked and stared at Brian, his eyes fearful, his cheeks pale. He trembled, took a shaky breath, and then said, “I—I want to tell you.” He stopped, choking.
“Slow down,” Brian said, gently, taking pity on him. “No one here will harm you.”
Marcus nodded and swallowed. “Loutrant has Constance.”
“We know,” Stephen snapped, standing a few feet away.
Brian shot his brother a warning glance. “Go on,” he urged Marcus.
“He is, no doubt, moving her this very moment,” Marcus said. “She was at a cottage in the village by Loutrant Castle.”
“Fitzroy Castle now,” Stephen interjected.
“Stephen.” Brian glanced at his brother again. Stephen flushed.
“But he is moving her,” Marcus continued. “He doesn’t want to stay in one place for long.”
Stephen moved closer to Marcus, scowling. “We watched Loutrant die. How is it he is still alive?”
Brian intended to interrupt and tell Stephen such explanations did not matter now. There would be time to hear about Loutrant’s miraculous survival later.
“Fin fell into the sea from the tower,” Marcus replied. “He was rescued by an old man who had a cottage near.”
“Where is your brother taking her?” Brian asked quickly before Stephen had another chance to speak. He clenched his fist.
Marcus shook his head. “Nay, he is not.”
Brian frowned. “What?”
“My brother,” Marcus babbled. “He is not my brother. I—I found out. He is not my brother.”
Brian refrained from shaking the young man. He had no time for this. “Where is Loutrant taking Constance?”
“He mentioned the cottage where the old man lived.”
“The one by the sea?”
“Aye. He took me there less than a fortnight ago. I think he might have done something to the man because he was not there.” Marcus stared hard at Brian. “There are many caves there. Places to hide. I told your lady to hide there if she can. I gave her some herbs to use against Fin.”
“Why would you help her?” Stephen demanded.
“I am tired of all of it. The killings, the trickery.” Marcus grabbed Brian’s shirt of mail. “Fin is mad. He is doing all this to get you. He wants you dead.”
“I know.”
“And there
is more.” Marcus gulped. “A man who worked for us spied on Fitzroy Castle for weeks.”
“Bastard,” Stephen ground out.
“Stephen, for God’s sake, be quiet,” Brian said, losing all patience with his brother.
Stephen turned and walked away. But Brian did not care.
“The man saw you kissing a blonde woman and he thought she was Constance,” Marcus continued.
Brian frowned. He was kissing a blonde woman? He shook his head, trying to recall such an occasion recently. The only woman he could recall kissing was Constance. No other woman mattered.
“Her name is Vanessa,” Marcus answered to Brian’s confusion.
Vanessa. Of course, Brian had nearly forgotten her. His heart skipped a beat. What did Loutrant have to do with Vanessa?
“He abducted Vanessa and produced her to Fin.” Marcus looked down at his fingers, entwined in Brian’s shirt. “My brother, I mean Finius, wanted her killed.”
Brian grasped Marcus’ arm. “Are you saying Loutrant killed Vanessa?”
“Nay. The hired man killed her escort when he took her but I did not want to see the woman dead when she had done nothing wrong.” Marcus trembled. “I—I disobeyed Fin and took her to safety. He believes her dead.”
“Thank the Lord for your small bit of conscience,” Brian said.
“I will tell you where she is, also. If—if anything happens to me, I would see she is safe,” Marcus replied, looking down.
“You will take us to this cottage by the sea,” Brian ordered, disengaging Marcus’ grip from him and rising from the ground.
“I would rather avoid seeing Fin again.”
Brian exhaled, his chest aching. “As would I, Marcus. But my former captor and your former brother is not yet done with either of us. Ready yourself. We leave immediately.”
****
Constance watched Loutrant out of the corner of her eye. He would not turn away.
She tried not to grit her teeth, but Lord, she was losing patience. How was she to slip the sleeping herbs into his food if he would not cooperate?
“Eat your food.” Loutrant glowered from the chair he sat on. He shifted, restless and on edge since their arrival.
They’d reached the cottage by the sea a short time ago, and the soothing sound of waves crashing ashore surrounded them. The dwelling was deserted and nearly empty save for two small cots and a table with two chairs and two benches. There were three windows, one each on the three walls that did not house the door.