by Jody Hedlund
I glanced over to the side door. Though it stood wide open, there was no sign of Bartholomew or Derrick.
“Whatever are you doing up at this hour?” I asked, hoping to divert the men from the room before Bartholomew showed up. “Did you bring me any news regarding the investigation?”
James came several steps closer but eyed the shadows of the room as though he would like to disappear into them. “I’m sorry, my lady.” His large forehead was crinkled in distress. It was then that I noticed another man creeping up on Trudy with an empty grain sack opened wide.
I glanced to the man who stood behind James. He too carried a grain sack. And when he stepped around James and came nearer, something inside me froze. He was one of the hired laborers from the convent, the same one who’d delivered the news about the sheriff’s death.
“James, why are these men here?” I tried to keep my voice from quavering with a sudden burst of fear.
But James had stepped several paces back and dropped his gaze to the rushes strewn about the floor. His broad shoulders shrank inward. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to let them in. But I had no choice.”
My mind struggled to make sense of what was happening. I could only watch with horror as the laborer slipped his bag over Trudy’s sleeping head and cupped his hand over her mouth to cut off any sound she might make when she awoke.
A scream welled up in my chest, but it caught in the tightness of my throat. I pushed back from my chair. But before I could move or force a sound out, the other laborer had closed in on me.
My gaze flew to James, to his hulking body. He was there to protect me, so why wasn’t he doing his job? Instead of answering the question that was surely glaring in my eyes, he slunk back farther.
The laborer grabbed my arm, yanked the bag over my head, and plunged me into frightening darkness. The grain dust lingering in the sack bathed my face and suffocated me. I jerked against him and fought to pull away, but he clamped his hand over the bag, pressing the coarse material against my mouth and nose, forcing me to breathe in the pungent fumes that saturated the sack.
Screams burned in my chest. I twisted and tried to pull free of my captor. But I could feel my body begin to weaken and reality start to fade away.
One last thought sent a rush of panic through me before black oblivion claimed me: I loved Derrick. I knew with certainty I loved him — because suddenly I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever live the rest of my life without him.
Chapter
21
I PACED BACK AND FORTH ACROSS MY CELL. TEN STEPS TO the wall. Ten steps to the bars.
I’d worn a path through the straw to the point my boots now slapped the stone floor. The darkness was so black I was unable to see my outstretched hand. My skin was damp with the dankness of the cell. And my stomach rumbled.
My morning meal should have come by now. It was past time.
But the door to the dungeon hadn’t been opened all night or morning — except for the one time the jailor had shoved a drunk prisoner into the cell across from mine. The man had passed out, and from the heavy sound of his breathing I could tell he was still asleep.
I stopped at the bars and listened hard again, as I had many times during the long night. I strained to hear footsteps, jingling keys, anything to signal that Rosemarie’s old guard was coming.
But there was nothing. Only silence and the choppy breath of the prisoner in the opposite cell.
Why hadn’t Rosemarie sent Bartholomew for me as she’d done the other nights? The question pounded through me with such force my chest ached.
When I’d left the last time, she’d jested with me as she had previously that we would have to finish our chess game the next night. Of course, I’d purposefully neglected the chess game so that I would have some excuse — any excuse — to return to her for our midnight meetings.
Perhaps she’d decided it was too risky to send for me again? And I agreed. It had been risky. I dreaded to think what the abbot would do to her if he found out she’d been spending time with me . . .
I blew out a shaky breath against the cold bars, then spun and resumed my pacing.
Or what if she’d grown tired of me? But she’d seemed to enjoy our times together as much as I had. She’d laughed with me, spoken animatedly, and had been genuinely interested in my opinions. Her eyes had been alight, her expression open and eager, and her smile . . .
My heartbeat pounded with the strength of my warhorse in a battle. Her smile was beautiful enough to knock me senseless and make me do whatever she wished.
I almost groaned at the vision of her sitting across the table from me, the strand of her spun gold hair waving about her face, the delicate curve of her chin, and the lovely arch of her eyebrows above her wide eyes.
I hadn’t been mistaken at seeing something in those eyes whenever she looked at me, had I? Some growing affection?
She surely wouldn’t have sought me out if she didn’t want to be with me.
I jabbed my fingers in my hair and released a groan. I had the urge to pound the bars and break them down so that I could find her, fall on one knee in front of her, and beg her to marry me.
Although I had no right to ask for her love, although I was still a poor, landless knight with the accusations of crimes upon my shoulders, I knew I must ask her to be my wife. I’d let my past insecurities command me far too long. And I’d waited beyond endurance for the duke to return to clear my name.
Rosemarie’s birthday was on the morrow, and I couldn’t put off the future any longer.
With a surge of renewed will, I pounded my fists together. Yes. Today I would find a way to see her, even if I had to send a message to have her come down to the dungeon. I would tell her I loved her, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life making her happy, that I didn’t want to live another day without her by my side.
We could get married today. In the dungeon. Couldn’t we? Nothing in the exception clause to the Ancient Vow had said anything about where Rosemarie got married or under what circumstances — only that she did, by midnight on her eighteenth birthday.
Surely Rosemarie wouldn’t care that the duke hadn’t returned with the evidence to clear my name yet. I’d seen the trust in her eyes. She didn’t believe I’d committed the crimes.
Even so, my muscles tightened at the thought of asking her to marry me and at what her answer would be. If by some chance she agreed to my proposal, I wanted better for her than this cell. I brushed a hand against the slimy stone wall and listened to the scratching claws of a scampering rat.
Was I a fool to believe she’d return my love?
The echo of a door opening far above the dungeon was followed by footsteps. I blew out a breath, straightened myself, and waited by the bars. Finally.
After several long moments, the footsteps sounded in the passageway outside the dungeon, keys jangled in the lock, and the door squealed open. Through the light of the torch, I squinted and could make out the shape of the day jailer.
“Brought you something to eat, Sir Derrick,” the jailer said in a gruff whisper. “Even though apparently I’m not supposed to.”
Something in the jailer’s tone sent my nerves into a headlong charge. “What’s happened? Is Lady Rosemarie safe?”
“Oh, she’s safe as can be.” The jailer approached and slid a steaming mug through the bars. “Heard she left last night for the convent. Guess she decided to go a day early.”
Left for the convent? Every last bit of the frustration I’d been feeling since last night spilled out of me and left an eerie emptiness in its place. “So she just left. Without saying good-bye?”
“Rumor going around the castle this morn is that she thought it would be easier on everyone if she left without making a big fuss.”
I stared at the thick slice of bread on top of the soup mug, my appetite suddenly gone. So that’s why she hadn’t called for me to join her for our midnight game of chess.
She’d left.
A blaze
of searing hot pain ripped through my chest, leaving me breathless. Even my hands shook, and I had to take a quick step away from the bars so that the jailer wouldn’t see my reaction and brand me as a weakling.
She hadn’t loved me enough to stay. She’d chosen a life in the convent over a life with me.
“Sure do wish we could have said good-bye to the lady,” the jailer said, moving back to the door.
“Yes,” I replied. She could have at the very least come to me and told me of her decision. I would have expected no less of her.
“I know she would have wanted us to continue treating you kindly, sir.” The jailer paused before the door. “She was clear on that.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your kindness,” I managed, even though my chest was caving in and I could hardly think straight to get the words out.
“I don’t care what Father Abbot’s orders are,” the jailer tossed over his shoulder. “If Lady Rosemarie insisted we feed you and keep you comfortable, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“What do you mean, the abbot’s orders?” I called after him.
The jailer shrugged. “He said he’s the one who’ll be making the rules from now on.”
So I’d been right. The abbot had wanted Lady Rosemarie to enter the convent so he could continue to control her, perhaps gain even more power.
As the door closed and darkness fell around me, I leaned back against the cold wall and sank to the floor. The mug of soup fell to the ground next to me, spilling the precious drops of liquid. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care that it was likely the last bit of food I’d be given. As kind as the jailer had been, I knew no one in the castle would be able to defy the abbot’s orders for long. He wielded a strong power.
I leaned my head back and stared at the black nothingness above me. My heart pulsed in painful spurts, and my chest ached so deeply I felt as if a lance had been thrust through my body.
She’d left.
She hadn’t loved me enough to stay. Maybe she hadn’t ever loved me at all.
My head dropped and my shoulders sagged. I’d lost her.
I closed my eyes and let the last bit of hope seep from me. Without Rosemarie in my life, it no longer mattered what fate befell me.
I rubbed the fog from my eyes and darted up, my hands making contact with a hard bed.
A scratchy wool blanket slipped off and fell onto Trudy, who was sprawled on a pallet on the floor. My nursemaid snorted once in her sleep and then stirred.
From the light coming in a high barred window, I could see that I was in a small, narrow room. The walls were whitewashed and barren, except a wooden cross hanging opposite of the tiny bed where I sat.
There was nothing else in the room, save a chamber pot in one corner.
“Trudy,” I whispered, glancing at the thick planks of the door. “Wake up.”
Where were we?
Trudy rolled over, muttered something under her breath, and went back to snoring.
I slipped my feet over the edge of the bed and smoothed down my crimson gown, which seemed out of place in the unadorned, colorless room.
How long had I been asleep?
My heart jolted at the remembrance of what had happened, of how I’d been waiting for Bartholomew to bring Derrick, of the men sneaking up on Trudy and me, throwing sacks over our heads. Then everything had gone black.
I stood, tiptoed around Trudy, and padded straight to the door. With a silent, desperate plea, I yanked on the handle, only to fall back a step.
It was firmly locked.
I glanced again at the window. It was too high and the bars too narrow to even consider escaping through it.
“Trudy,” I whispered again, louder. “We need to get out of here.”
I rattled the door, studying the lock and praying I could somehow miraculously open it.
“My lady,” Trudy said from behind me, finally sitting up and yawning. “You’re up early this morning.”
Had my eighteenth birthday come and gone? Had I missed my chance to speak with Derrick and discover if we had a chance at happiness?
A strange panic beset my limbs. I lunged at the door, yanking on the handle and pulling against it.
“Derrick!” I cried. I needed to find Derrick.
“My lady,” Trudy said, blinking hard. Her voice rose with a note of anxiety. “Wherever in the world are we?”
“We’ve been kidnapped.” I stood back and appraised the room again.
“Holy Father, Son, and Spirit,” Trudy unfolded her portly form from her pallet and rose to her knees. Her prayer echoed against the barren walls. “Looks to me like we’re at the convent. This room reminds me of one of the chambers they use for the ill.”
The clamoring inside me came to an abrupt halt. “The convent?” I gave a shaky laugh. But as I took in the room, I recognized it too, from the time my parents had sent me to the hilltop monastery to protect me from the Plague. I’d been restless and had wanted to help, so I’d sneaked into the infirmary to assist the monks in caring for the diseased.
“We shall call for the abbot,” I said, drawing in a calming breath. “He’ll be able to get us out of this strange situation in no time.”
Trudy climbed to her feet and pursed her lips together.
I leaned against the door and listened to the sounds in the hallway outside our room. There were distinct steps coming nearer, slow and measured. And when the footsteps finally stopped in front of the door, I stepped back.
A key grated in the lock, and then the door swung open to reveal the abbot. He stood before me, tall and thin in his plain brown habit.
“Father Abbot,” I said, relief pouring through me and chasing away all my fears. I wanted to fall into his arms and let him caress the hair off my forehead as he often did. But at the sight of the two laborers behind him, I froze.
They were the same men who had followed James into the Great Hall. The men who’d captured Trudy and me.
“There you are, your ladyship,” the abbot spoke gently. “I’ve been waiting for you to awaken.”
“You have?”
He nodded and tucked his hands into his sleeves. “I hope you’ll forgive me for scaring you, and for the rough way in which my men brought you here. I shall have them disciplined, your ladyship.”
The laborer’s faces had gone pale, but they didn’t move, and it was only then that I noticed their wrists bound with chains, and that they were at the mercy of several guards.
I swallowed past new fear that had risen into my throat. “Why did they do such a thing?”
“It’s nothing to concern yourself with, your ladyship.” The abbot nodded curtly and one of the guards shoved the kidnappers down the hallway, forcing them away.
“Now that you’re here and safe,” the abbot continued, smiling at me, “I shall take you to the guesthouse, where you’ll live until the abbey is constructed. My servants have been busy unpacking your belongings and making it home.”
He nodded at me, indicating that I should exit the room ahead of him and enter the dimly lit hallway.
But I couldn’t move. My entire body protested the thought of seeing the guesthouse. My heart cried out to be back with Derrick. I wanted him more than anything else.
I knew then that I’d finally made my choice: I loved him. Without a doubt. And I wanted to marry him and spend my life with him.
I couldn’t enter the convent. In fact, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without him as a part of it.
“Father Abbot,” I said, reaching out a hand toward him. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
His expression remained placid. “I realize you don’t turn eighteen until tomorrow. But now that you’re here, we should get you situated, don’t you think?”
I shook my head. My heart squeezed painfully at the news I must give the abbot. I didn’t want to disappoint him. But I loved Derrick too much to throw away my chance at being with him. “I’m not going to enter the convent. I’ve decided I sh
all marry Derrick.”
If he’d have me. I suspected that he still didn’t think he was worthy, especially now with the convictions hanging over his head. But I’d assure him — until I was speechless, if necessary — that none of that mattered.
The abbot said nothing. But something about his eyes sharpened.
“I ask for your pardon.” I stepped toward him, hoping he wouldn’t be too angry with me. “I know you thought it would be best for me to come live here. But I’ve fallen in love with Derrick.”
Once I spoke the words, they filled the room and swelled within my heart. I couldn’t keep from smiling at the truth and beauty of them. “I love him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The abbot retreated into the hallway. “I thought once you were away from the temptation of that man, you’d see your future lies in serving God here.”
“But Derrick and I can serve God together,” I said, thinking of all our conversations about the changes we could make for the good of the people if we worked together.
“You belong here,” the abbot said without blinking, his tone boding no argument. “I’ve gone along with the duke’s scheming long enough. And now it’s time to put an end to it.”
I stared at the abbot, trying to make sense of him. “But didn’t you say you wanted me to see for myself if I found love —”
“I didn’t believe you’d be so foolish as to give yourself over to the lusts of the flesh.” His words had a sting to them that bit into my heart and left me aching. A part of me desired peace with the abbot, to listen to him, to give in to his advice as I always had in the past. But another, deeper part of me knew that I had to step into my role as a leader. I had to be more commanding and confident as the ruler I was destined to be.
“I never imagined that I’d have the chance to fall in love,” I said, keeping my voice as even and authoritative as I could. “Even when presented with the exception to the Ancient Vow, I still thought it unlikely. But despite all the odds, it’s happened. I’ve found the love of my life. And now, if he’ll have me, I’ll marry him. Today.”