The Du Lac Chronicles: Book 1

by Mary Yarde

  Alden turned to look at her; he could only just make out her face in the darkness. “He is gone to get help.”

  “Why don’t I feel reassured? Who is he?”

  “He is one of your father’s grooms and one of my spies.”

  “He did a really good job of informing you about my father’s advancing army. You must be very proud of him,” Annis said with bitter irony.

  “He may have a bit of a drinking problem.” Alden admitted.

  Annis sighed in frustration. “Really? I’m glad you pointed that out. I would never have guessed in a thousand years. What if he doesn’t come back?”

  “He’ll come back.” Alden answered.

  As the hours stretched on, Alden began to have his doubts that David would return.

  “I think we should get blindly drunk!” Annis announced in the darkness.

  Alden found himself laughing, something he thought he would never do again. He was learning quickly to expect the unexpected from Annis. “Have you ever been drunk?”

  “No, but I kind of hoped that if we are executed whilst drunk, it won’t be so bad,” Annis answered.

  “We are not going to be executed,” Alden reassured her. “He’ll be back; his wine is down here.”

  “You just keep clinging to that hope.”

  “Are you always this pessimistic?” Alden asked.

  “I can’t believe you are so optimistic,” she returned. “The man’s a drunk,” she hissed, “he is probably passed out somewhere thinking he imagined us.”

  Alden did not want to admit that she was probably right. “Then what do you suggest?”

  There was a scraping above and they both raised their heads as the trapdoor opened and David popped his head through the opening.

  “Told you,” Alden said between his teeth.

  “Good, you are still here.” David said, as if he was surprised that they were.

  “Did you speak to Bors?” Alden asked as David’s feet touched the floor.

  “Yep,” David answered.

  “And he has a plan?”

  “Yep,” David said. He glanced at his barrel. Content that his wine had not been touched, he waved them over. “We haven’t got much time.”

  Alden looked at the rope ladder; he had no idea how he was going to climb it. His pain was great and he felt as weak as a kitten. He suddenly realised that he could not remember the last time he had had anything to eat.

  “Lean on me.” David advised; at the same time he grabbed Alden’s arm and placed it over his shoulder. Alden gasped in pain as David inadvertently touched the wounds on his back. David was too drunk to notice. With difficulty he helped Alden up the rope ladder. Alden moaned in agony as he pulled himself through the trapdoor and collapsed on the straw-covered floor.

  Once Alden was through, Annis put her foot on the first rung of the ladder.

  “Not you,” David snapped, looking down at her from above. He shook the ladder hard so that Annis fell off, landing on the damp floor and bruising her knee. “You can stay here in the dark and keep the rats company. Or better still, go home to your father.”

  “No,” Annis begged, holding on to the ladder, “I can’t go back. Please, do not leave me here. Alden.” She yelled his name when she saw that the groom would not be moved to compassion by her plight.

  “You dishonour his name when it comes from your lips. Shut your mouth, you little slut, and go find a corner to curl up and die in; and then there will be one less Saxon for us to worry about and slave over.”

  “No,” Annis cried. “No, Alden, please, don’t leave me here.” She had never begged in her life before, but she did so now. “Please,” she cried again, “please don’t do this. Please.”

  “David.” She heard Alden’s tired voice and she began to desperately climb the swinging ladder. If only she could get through the trap door, talk to Alden, then she knew it would be all right, but David swung the trap door shut, not bothering to bring the ladder up, and she was engulfed in darkness. “No! NO! ALDEN.” She screamed his name, panic seizing her. She couldn’t breathe; she was suffocating in the darkness. She slipped from the ladder again and sank to the floor, although she clung to the rope as if someone were on the other end waiting to pull her to safety.

  She began to sob uncontrollably. She never thought she would die like this — missing, alone and lost.

  The trapdoor opened and light poured back into the cavern. Annis blinked and looked up, her hands still gripping the rope.

  “He says you are to come up,” David stated between clenched teeth.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” Annis said, quickly rising to her feet. She frantically began to climb the ladder before David changed his mind and disregarded Alden’s order.

  David did nothing to help her through the trapdoor; he just stood back with his arms folded, his body swaying, and watched her through narrowed eyes. Annis crawled from the trap door to where Alden lay. His eyes were closed and he was concentrating on his breathing, as a woman would do when she was in the final stages of labour. In the flickering torchlight of the large barn where her father kept his most prized horses, she could see the pain in his face. Shakily she reached for his hand, knowing that she needed his protection, and suddenly she realised the vulnerability of her situation. She had rescued a man who was so badly beaten that an executioner’s axe would be an act of mercy, and now he was all she had left in the world. She had chosen this path; no one had chosen it for her and she did not regret saving his life. But as she reached for his fingers, she found herself holding her breath, fearing he wasn’t as honourable as she had made him out to be in her head.

  Alden allowed her to entwine her fingers with his. She held his hand as intimately as a lover would; the only difference was that her hands shook with fear. She squeezed his hand and he opened his eyes and slowly, painfully, sat up. She held on to his hand, not relinquishing her grip, and she was staring at him, her doe-like eyes almost overflowing with unshed tears. A small tear escaped and he watched as it made a single track down her face. It bothered him, seeing her cry. With his other hand, he reached up and brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb.

  “She saved me from her father’s axe.” He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles and then he turned his attention to David. “She saved my life and now I must return the favour and save hers. We are running together, or we do not run at all.”

  “Bors won’t like it.”

  “I didn’t ask for his approval.”

  “Your funeral,” David stated with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

  “What is his plan?”

  “There’s another tunnel in the barracks. It is just about passable. It will take you out of the castle grounds.”

  “The barracks?” Alden couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Bors want to get them killed?

  “It will be fine; everyone is out looking for you.”

  “Everyone?” He didn’t believe it.

  “Yep. I should warn you, the tunnel is very long — that is what Bors says, anyway.” David looked at Alden pointedly. “You probably won’t make it.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.” Alden said, but the sarcasm was wasted on David.

  4

  His head was hurting. So it was no surprise that since entering this cursed tunnel the only sound that would accompany their desperate plight would be that of a cat yowling.

  “I am going to strangle the bloody thing,” Alden muttered under his breath.

  “You will not,” Annis stated. “The poor thing is probably lost down here and we both know what that feels like.”

  “A cat is never lost and contrary to popular belief; it is never stuck up a tree either. Tell me something — ouch, oh, sweet Jesus.” Alden doubled over in pain. A wave of sickness passed over him and he closed his eyes for a moment and held his bre
ath before he remembered that he had to breathe.

  “What can I do?” Annis asked feeling utterly hopeless, they both knew there was nothing she could do.

  “I just need to stop for a few moments.” Alden lifted his arm off Annis’s shoulder and leant against the wall. He was sweating profusely, the salt of his sweat stinging his wounds and his eyes. He honestly didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. At least David had been right about the soldier’s barracks. It was empty. There was no way he could have fought anyone feeling like he did now.

  He had always felt that he was fated to die young, but he had hoped he would at least make it to twenty — so much for hope.

  The acute pain passed, and he took a moment to watch Annis. He saw the way she rolled her shoulders, how she moved the heavy torch to her other hand. She must be exhausted, yet she didn’t complain. Her hair was damp and it had curled into soft ringlets. He reached forward and touched one of her wayward curls. The curl wound its way around his finger and he felt the softness of her hair. It was beautiful. The pain must be making him delirious, for he had the strongest urge to pull her closer, to learn the taste of her lips, to feel her body against his. He lowered his hand and closed his eyes, willing away the temptation.

  “Thank you for not leaving me behind,” Annis said, her voice coming out a little breathless. She had not dared to move as Alden played with her hair. She knew it was not the proper thing to allow a man to touch her, but she could not bring herself to stop him. In fact, she wanted more than a gentle fondling of her hair, although what her body yearned for she did not really understand. All she knew was that he made her feel flustered and hot, excited and nervous, all at the same time. Her knuckles still tingled where his lips had brushed against them earlier, and she wondered if they would ever feel the same again.

  “I will keep you safe.” He found himself promising the most ridiculous thing. He couldn’t defend himself at this moment in time, let alone her.

  “I just want you to live,” Annis answered. “Thank you for what happened with David. I don’t know what would have happened if I had been left down there.”

  “I wouldn’t have left you there and nor would have David. He would have worried that you would drink his wine,” Alden said solemnly.

  Annis smiled softly at his teasing. “I thought about it! How long have you known him?”

  “A long time.”

  “How long?”

  “Long enough.” Alden smiled.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you are infuriating?” Annis asked.

  Alden’s smile widened. “It has been mentioned.” Another wave of pain washed over him and he closed his eyes.

  “Keep breathing.”

  He had held his breath again; he hadn’t realised. He felt Annis’s hand on his arm and he breathed deeply of the stale, rodent-filled air. When the pain passed, she let go of his arm and stepped back.

  He watched her as she looked away from him. She raised the torch so she could see a little farther down the tunnel, which looked remarkably similar to what they had just walked down. They could be walking in circles for all they knew.

  For a moment neither said anything and then after a long awkward pause, Alden said, “David’s father was my father’s groom, here in Briton. David was only a boy when Arthur fell to your father’s sword. Cerdic slaughtered David’s mother and his two older brothers, but he enslaved David and his father. His father continued to spy for us and then when he died, David took over the role. That was also when David turned to drink. He didn’t handle his grief very well.”

  “My father has ruined so many lives.”

  “Well, he did one thing right,” Alden allowed.

  “What?”

  “He had you.”

  Annis blushed at his words and she couldn’t hold his gaze. “We should really try and keep walking,” she said, raising her face to catch his eyes before lowering her gaze again.

  He moved himself off the wall and put his arm around her shoulder. “It wasn’t luck that saved me. It was you. I asked you before, but you didn’t answer. Why did you do it?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she mumbled in embarrassment.

  “You would be surprised by what I can understand.” He tried to keep his voice conversational and light, for he saw the way her body had tensed.

  She turned slowly back around and looked at him. “I did not want to see you lose your head.” She quickly looked away from him, so that he would not see her face and she would not have to look into those all-knowing eyes. How could she possibly reveal what she felt for him?

  “And why would that matter to you if I did?” He challenged softly. “I am nothing to you, Annis, but another player in the dangerous game of kingship and power.”

  “I apologise for saving you,” Annis said, annoyed with him for questioning her about something she could not explain without humiliating herself.

  “I’m not implying I am ungrateful. I just want to know the truth. I’m having a little issue with trust at the moment.”

  She stopped and sighed heavily. She could tell him part of the truth; there would be no harm in that. “My father has arranged for me to be married,” she stated.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Alden asked, although it was, he realised. He didn’t know why he felt like that. It must be the pain, he told himself.

  “My intended is Natanleod of Sussex.” Annis spoke his name with disgust and she waited, holding her breath, for his reaction.

  “King Natanleod of Sussex?” Alden said the man’s full title, just to be sure they were talking about the same person.

  “Your late sister’s husband,” Annis confirmed. “He is old enough to be my father,” she added.

  “She should never have married him.” There was grief in his voice, and anger.

  “Why did she?”

  “She didn’t have a choice. I had just turned fifteen when I took the throne of Cerniw, and I looked to my brother for guidance. I was scared to think for myself in case I did something wrong — my first mistake. Rheda and I both suffered due to ill-thought-out marriage deals arranged by Budic. Though being a woman, she got the worst of it.” He laughed without humour. “The last time Sussex and I met, I was escorted off his lands in chains.”

  “I didn’t realise it was a common occurrence.”

  “What?” he asked, wondering what she was talking about now.

  “You being in chains!” she explained, her face showing no signs of amusement.

  He tried not to smile. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” Annis asked innocently.

  “Say the right things.”

  “I didn’t know I did.” Annis stated on a smile, pleased with the thought. “I was right to run from the proposal.” She would not have had the courage to run, if it hadn’t been for Alden — she kept that knowledge to herself.

  “You were right to run, although you were wrong to run with me. You should have left me to my fate.”

  “My father ordered your execution.”

  “I know.” Alden ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as the movement hurt his back. “We better keep walking or I am going to pass out in this wretched tunnel. We can talk later.”

  Thankfully it wasn’t long before the tunnel led to a smooth planed door, with a big black iron handle. Annis stopped.

  “We haven’t seen this door before,” she said as she stared at the dark panels.

  “No. No, no, we haven’t.” He took the torch from her hands.

  “Where do you think it leads?”

  “To a fate worse than death,” Alden replied.

  “Now who’s being a pessimist?” Annis asked, risking a glance.

  “Stand behind me,” Alden said, a smile hovering on his lips.

  “You are weak, you will fall,” she argued.
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  “Then I’ll fall on the enemy and crush them with my weight.”

  “Now I know why you were a king; you are so full of good ideas.” She said, standing behind him as he had told her to.

  He took a moment to balance himself, and then slowly, as if the door itself was a dangerous weapon, he reached for the handle.

  Slowly he opened the door. The warm air hit them welcomingly. Alden opened the door wider and cautiously walked in, leaning on the doorframe and then a long, rough-sawn table, as he made his way across the room. The room was small, suffocatingly so. The walls, like those of the tunnel, were of smooth panelled wood. There was a low straw pallet covered in a thick fur in the corner of the room and the table which he was leant upon was filled with covered baskets. There was a bundle of men’s clothes and a small, blackened cauldron filled with a thick gloop, which smelt strongly of leeks. A small, rough timber staircase led up to another trapdoor in the ceiling. There was a stone hearth, where a small, freshly lit fire filled the room with warmth.

  Annis followed Alden into the room. Above them, she could hear footsteps. Instead of fear, a great curiosity overcame her and she began to climb the staircase.

  “Annis.” Alden said her name in an urgent whisper. “Come down.” He pointed to the floor.

  “I am not a dog,” she whispered back. If her father waited at the top of the staircase, then so be it. She had not signed her own death warrant when she had decided to save Alden; her father had signed it for her when he had betrothed her to Natanleod, so what did it matter? She had been dead all her life, waiting for something — anything — to happen, and now it had. She had finally taken her destiny into her own hands and not many women could say that. She had Alden du Lac’s friendship. She would have liked more time, a chance to maybe win his love, but that didn’t matter. Right now, he was looking at her, beckoning her to come down, and she secretly smiled. Even if this was her last moment, she would die knowing that the man she loved was thinking about her. She stepped up on to the next step and it creaked dreadfully. The sound from above stopped, and then there was a lot of scraping and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.