Winter of the White Wolf (Noble Heart Book 4)

by Cynthia Griffith

  The man who had tied Noble up glanced once more at the ropes and nodded. “We left them in Bangor,” he answered. “We will send word to them right away and they should be able to meet us here by tomorrow, Wolf.”

  The door closed behind Foster and his men. That last word seemed to hang in the air, ringing in Noble’s ears. Wolf! Could it be? Could Simon Foster, that small frail man, the old liar and deceiver, the one King Stephen had called a sly old fox, actually be The Wolf? Now as he sat helplessly tied to a chair, a prisoner himself, he considered it. Foster was not a loner, after all. He was the leader of a gang, a larger gang than he had first thought, it seemed. Others would soon join Foster and the three men already here. And then what? Would they do to Aber what they had done to other villages in the kingdom—rob the people, force them out of their homes, set fire to the town? And where were the other knights King Stephen had sent out looking for them? Were they on their trail, or had they been led astray somehow, looking for a gang that was now in a different part of the land altogether?

  Noble did not know, but somehow he had to find a way to stop The Wolf and his gang, nevertheless. He could not do it alone, though. One person against a whole gang? One person with no weapons, even? Noble’s thoughts went to David, the David of the Scriptures. The shepherd boy had stood alone against a giant with only a few rocks and a sling. Noble did not have even that much, but he did have the same One on his side that David had—the Lord Himself.

  Granny had taught him many of the psalms of David and one of them came to his mind now, “Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart, all ye who hope in the Lord.” Yes, he had hope, and he had the Lord. It would be enough.

  Noble’s thoughts went back to Thomas and his father. Master Locke could be of no help, he was sure, for even if they had not harmed him, the wolf pack had at least put him away where he could not hinder them. Noble hoped the kindly man was only tied up and held prisoner like himself and that he had not been hurt.

  Thomas? Where was he? He had not seen the boy since suppertime. Had they discovered him and taken care of him first? Or had Thomas somehow escaped their notice? Was he in hiding now somewhere? Did he know what had happened inside the inn? If he did, he would be looking for some way to help. Noble did not doubt the boy’s bravery or intelligence. If there was something he could do, Thomas would find a way to do it.

  Noble considered his own predicament now. He kept a knife hidden in his boot, but with his wrists tied to the arms of the chair he could not reach it. His legs also were tied, but Noble had managed to flex his muscles while he was being tied up, and now the ropes were not as tight as they could have been. He wondered if he could get to his feet, would he be able to get to the window? There was only one way to find out.

  Carefully, and as quietly as he could, Noble leaned forward and stood as far as he was able with the chair behind him. He was bent nearly in half, and the chair pressed into the back of his knees and neck, but he has able to shuffle his feet slightly and inch by inch make his way to the window. He hoped the men downstairs would not hear the shush-shush of his boots against the wooden floor. There was nothing he could do about it. To try to slide the chair along the floor or to hop would be far noisier.

  He reached the window at last and tried to straighten up a bit. Fortunately the sill was low enough that he could see through the panes to the courtyard below. Dawn was just beginning to break. Pink and orange streaks painted the sky and tinted the snow around the inn and stable, chasing away the shadows of night. There was no one outside, although Noble could hear the faint murmur of voices in the common room downstairs.

  It was a long drop to the cobblestones below. If he could free himself from the ropes that bound him, would he be able to escape through the window? Perhaps the ropes would be long enough to get him down partway, at least, if he tied them together. The window was narrow, but Noble had no doubt he could squeeze through. Somehow he had to find a way.

  Noble looked across the courtyard to the stable once more. The door was closed, and the only window visible to him was the one in the hay loft above the stalls. It was not quite as high above the ground as the window Noble was looking out of in the inn, but he could very nearly look into it from where he stood. It was dark, except for the few early rays of sunshine that were reflected off the glass. He stared at it for several minutes, thinking. Wondering if Valiant was alright. Trying to form a plan if somehow he should escape. Hoping the innkeeper and his son were unharmed.

  At last he bowed his head in prayer, bringing all these concerns and fears to the Lord. “Give me Your strength, my Lord, as You did for David, for truly I do hope in You,” he whispered finally. Noble lifted his head and looked through the panes of glass once more.

  There was a face in the window across the way looking back at him.

  Noble blinked once and looked again. A shadowy figure had appeared out of the darkness of the hay loft. A hand reached up to unlatch the window, and it slowly swung open. Thomas cautiously stuck his head through the opening and looked straight into Noble’s eyes.

  Noble felt relieved and helpless all at the same time. Thankful that Thomas was still free and unharmed, and frustrated because he could not communicate with him. He could not open his own window; he could not call to him; he could not even use hand gestures to try to get a message across to Thomas, for his arms were tied to the chair.

  Now he stared back at Thomas. The best he could do was to mouth a message to him and hope the boy would be able to read his lips. He put his face as close to the window as he could and slowly whispered the words, “Take Valiant. Go to King Stephen!” He repeated it, trying to exaggerate his mouth movements. He looked from Thomas down to the stable door and then jerked his head as if to say, “Go! Go!”

  Would Thomas understand?

  Thomas stared back. He shook his head no and pointed to himself and then to Noble. Help you! he seemed to be saying.

  No! No! Noble shook his head urgently. “Go to King Stephen! Take Valiant!” he whispered. They could not risk Thomas being caught, as well. Foster might think of the innkeeper’s son at any moment, and the search for him would be on.

  Thomas looked across the courtyard at Noble and slowly nodded his head. A moment later he disappeared from the window.

  Noble stood at the window, watching, waiting. The chair was pressing into him heavily, and his back ached from being bent over for so long, but he dare not turn away. He must know if Thomas made it away safely.

  At last he heard the clip-clop of Valiant’s hooves and saw Thomas appear in the doorway, leading the big, black stallion. He scrambled onto Valiant’s back and looked once more up to the window where Noble stood. He waved a silent farewell.

  Suddenly Noble realized that if he could hear the sound of the horse’s hooves, then surely the men downstairs would hear them as well and go to investigate. He had to provide a distraction to draw their attention away!

  Noble fell to the floor, making as loud a clatter as he could, and sliding away from the window. He let out a yell, partly to add to the racket, but also because it really did hurt! A moment later he realized the fall had been worth it for he heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and men shouting.

  The door burst open. Foster entered quickly, followed by all three of his men, Noble was relieved to see. His plan might have failed if anyone had remained downstairs.

  Simon Foster stood there for a moment looking at Noble lying on his side on the floor, still tied to the chair and helpless. He grinned a nasty, mocking grin, and said, “Oh-ho! So our young hero is trying his best to get away! Perhaps you think you can stop us? Play the part of the courageous king’s man, the noble knight? Well, as you can see, you won’t be going anywhere—at least not for a while. We have our own plans for you later, Sir Noble!” He turned to one of the other men and said, “Pick him up and make sure the ropes are still tight. I’m not wasting any more time on him. We have work to do.” Foster left the room and a moment later the othe
r men followed him back downstairs.

  Noble was alone once more. There was a scrape across his forehead where he had fallen, and his wrists burned where the ropes had cut in. He knew there would be bruises everywhere later, as well. He sat there for a second, but then slowly got to his feet and once more shuffled over to the window. He smiled to himself. The men had checked the ropes binding his arms and wrists but had forgotten the one that tied his legs. It was now looser than it had been before!

  Noble peered out the window. The stable door was slightly ajar, but the courtyard was empty. Thomas and Valiant were gone.

  __________

  CHAPTER NINE

  __________

  Escape!

  Noble wasted no time. He quietly set the chair down and sat. The ropes on his legs had loosened but it still took several minutes to work them down and around his ankles. At last, he was able to step out of his bindings. Now to reach the knife in his boot! Noble crossed one leg over the other knee and brought his foot as close to his hand as he could. The ropes tying his wrists to the chair cut in further as he strained against them, stretching, reaching for the hidden knife.

  His finger tips barely reached the top edge of his boot but somehow he managed to get them inside and into the leather sleeve sewn into the boot. They touched the hilt of the knife and pressed into the smooth bone handle. Little by little Noble managed to inch the knife out until finally he could get a good grasp on it and slide it out of his boot.

  Carefully he turned the knife in his hand until the blade was facing inward and he could slide it under the loops of rope that bound his wrist to the chair. He flexed his hand, putting as much pressure on the rope as he could with the sharp edge. He managed to nick his wrist with the tip of the knife once, but he ignored the spot of red that appeared and began to drip onto the floor and kept working at his bindings. One by one the strands of rope began to break until finally, with one last mighty effort he sliced through the final loop and his wrist was free.

  A moment more and he had loosened the ties that bound his upper body to the back of the chair and he was able to fully move his arm and cut the rest of the rope. Noble stood up and stretched his aching muscles. He wiped the blood from his wrist and hand and ripped a piece of sheet to tie around the wound.

  He silently went to the window and looked out. Clouds were rolling in once more, blotting out the early dawn’s promise of sunshine. Noble looked down to the courtyard, trying to measure with his eyes the distance to the hard surface below. He gathered up the pieces of rope that were scattered now on the floor and began tying them together.

  When he was finished knotting the rope he looked at the long length he now held in his hands. It would get him most of the way down, he was sure, and hopefully he could drop the rest of the way and not break his leg or crack his skull. It depended on what he could tie the rope to, he supposed.

  Noble looked around the room. There was nothing on the window itself to which he could tie the rope. The chair was too light and would not hold his weight. The only other thing was the bed. It would do, but it was several feet away from the window. He could not risk trying to move it closer so that he would have more length to his rope. It would be bound to make a loud scraping noise on the floor if he did that and bring Foster and his men running back upstairs again.

  He would have to take his chances. Noble opened the window and tied the rope to the leg of the bed closest to it. He dropped the other end out of the window and looked down. It reached perhaps halfway down the stone wall of the inn and dangled many feet still above the ground.

  Noble did not think twice. Breathing a prayer that the knots would hold, he swung his leg over the sill and squeezed through the small opening. He held tightly to the rope and pulled the other leg out the window. Hand over fist, he slowly descended toward freedom until at last he reached the final knot and knew he could go no further. Noble glanced down and let go.

  The fall was not nearly as bad as he had expected. He landed on his feet with a light thud, but no broken bones, praise the Lord. Noble looked up at the rope still hanging from the window. There was nothing he could do about its telltale presence except pray that none of Foster’s men would look up and see it for a while.

  Noble slipped across the courtyard and into the stable. He looked ruefully at Valiant’s empty stall and almost wished he had not sent Thomas off on his precious horse. But no, it was the right choice. Better to send the innkeeper’s son for help and stay behind himself to deal with The Wolf and his pack.

  Brownie and Lacey were still in their stalls, lazily chomping on some hay. Brownie softly snickered at him in greeting. Noble patted him on the rump as he slid past the old horse, looking for something to use as a weapon. His sword had been taken from him, and though he had his knife, there would come a time when he would need more than that, he was sure.

  His saddle bag was missing from Valiant’s stall, but his bow and quiver of arrows still stood in one dark corner. Noble grinned and breathed a sigh of relief. Thomas had left them for him. He picked them up and looked around some more. A few old tools hung on a wall, including a scythe used for cutting grass. Its long curved blade would be awkward to use, but Noble would keep it in mind. For now he would leave it where it was.

  He had just mounted the ladder into the hayloft when he heard voices coming across the courtyard. He grabbed the ladder and pulled with all his might, barely drawing it up into the loft behind him in the nick of time. The voices grew louder and a hand appeared on the stable door below. Noble glanced around quickly in that split second and spied the pitchfork just a step away. He reached for it and held his breath as the door opened. Bits of hay and particles of dust drifted down from the loft, caught in the shaft of light that poured into the dark stable through the door.

  Simon Foster entered, followed by his men. “Come out, boy!” he yelled. “We know you’re in here! Get out here now, before we burn you out!” He turned on his men and snarled, “You idiots! How could you forget about the innkeeper’s son? All this time I thought you had him locked up with his father and he’s been on the loose! We need him to go after the rest of the gang! He’ll go, and plenty fast, too, once he realizes we are holding his father hostage and he’ll never see him again if he doesn’t do exactly what we want him to do!” Foster’s voice rose loudly as he spoke and he yelled once more, “Do you hear that boy? Come out and do what we say or your father will suffer the consequences!”

  Noble stood still in the loft just above their heads, hardly daring to breathe. At first he had thought they were looking for him; that they had discovered his escape. Now he knew it was Thomas they were after. He knew one other thing, as well. Master Locke was still alive.

  There was a scream of rage from down below as suddenly Foster realized that Valiant was gone. “The horse!” he shouted. “The knight’s black horse is gone! The boy has gone for help!” The sounds of things being thrown around in rage and a wooden bucket clattering against a wall filled the air. The horses stamped nervously, tossing their heads, trying to break free from the cramped quarters that just a few minutes before had been so peaceful.

  “The knight will pay for this!” Foster screamed. “That village boy would never have taken his horse if he had not told him to do so! Sir Noble will pay!”

  Foster flung himself out the doorway and headed back toward the inn. His men went after him, pushing and jostling in their haste to do their chief’s bidding. Suddenly Foster stopped. He bellowed in rage and pointed up toward the window where his prisoner was supposed to be. The window stood open and a rope dangled from it halfway down the wall. Sir Noble had escaped, as well!

  The missing knight took a step toward the window in the loft and looked down on the men in the courtyard. Snowflakes were beginning to fall again but they did not seem to notice. Noble smiled grimly as he saw Foster take a swing at one of his men and give another a mighty shove. Foster was still screaming, and although Noble could not quite make out the words, he knew The
Wolf was not happy with his pack!

  Finally they turned back and once more entered the dark, quiet stable. “Jones, you’ll go after the rest of our men in Bangor. Bah! These old nags are useless! You must make haste. Find a better horse somewhere in the village and steal it! You and the others must return here before the knight and the boy can bring help from the king. Get going!” he shouted. “There’s no time to waste!” The man called Jones went out on the run.

  Foster turned back to the remaining two men. “In the meantime, we will do what we can. There are helpless old women in this village who live alone. Easy pickings for the three of us, I am sure! We will have robbed them blind before anyone else in this small hole of a town even knows what is happening! But first, we are going to repay the good innkeeper for his services to us—starting with burning down his stable! By the time his brave young son returns with help there will be nothing left of his home, either, or of his quiet village, or even of his father! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Foster laughed wickedly at his evil scheme.

  Noble’s blood ran cold up in the loft above. He could scarcely believe this small elderly man, who at times had appeared almost helpless, could be this ruthless, hard-hearted, vicious criminal. The lying, deceiving old man was unmasked at last and there was one thing Noble knew for sure now. Somehow, someway he had to stop The Wolf and his pack, even if he had to do it all alone.

  He listened for a few minutes more as Foster went on to spew his hateful plans. The other men would add a suggestion or two every once and a while, but it was obvious that Foster was the one who was running things and he had no time for anyone’s ideas but his own.

  Noble’s mind was racing as he listened. If Thomas rode Valiant hard they could be in Caernarfon before nightfall. He would need to get his message to the king, but once King Stephen heard Noble’s plea for help, he would waste no time in sending the Guard, he was sure. They would ride all night, if need be. They could be back in Aber by morning. He must pray it would be sooner rather than later, though, for Bangor was closer than Caernarfon. Foster’s men could return first. He had to find a way to draw their attention away from the townspeople for as long as he could. If that meant using himself as bait, well, so be it. He would lead them on a merry chase; draw them away from the village if he could.