Castle of Dreams

by Speer, Flora

  Branwen waited on the first step. Putting one finger on her lips, she began to climb, and Meredith followed her. At the top of the staircase were the lord’s private bedchamber, and the solar, built by the manor’s previous Norman owner. Both these rooms were empty. That left a third door, which was barred from the outside. Meredith slid the bar back as quietly as possible, and Branwen pushed open the door.

  This close-shuttered room was Lady Isabel’s wardrobe. Her spicy perfume filled the air. Chests of clothing lined the walls, shoes were piled in a heap in one corner. A pallet on the floor showed where the maid Alice slept.

  Meredith slipped inside the room and shut the door behind her while Branwen hurried across the cluttered space to a bundle of clothing on a second pallet. The bundle moved, and Thomas sat up as Branwen’s hand came across his mouth to stifle his cry of surprise.

  “Hush, Thomas, don’t make a sound.” Branwen whispered her caution. “We are here to rescue you. Brian is below. You must do exactly as we say.”

  Thomas nodded, and Branwen took her hand away from his mouth.

  “I’m mighty glad to see you,” Thomas said softly. “Sir Walter is going to kill me. Branwen, if you can’t rescue me, you must tell Uncle Guy never to give up Afoncaer to Walter. Never. Do you hear?”

  Meredith was nearly in tears. Even in the dim, late afternoon light sifting through the shutters, she could see how white and strained Thomas’s young face was. She knew he must be terrified of what Walter would do to him, and until a moment ago he had been completely alone with almost no hope, and yet he had managed those first, brave words.

  “Thomas,” Meredith breathed, “You are a true knight.”

  “Thank you, Lady Meredith. And thank you for coming to save me.”

  “We can’t waste any more time,” Branwen said, urgency in her softly spoken words. “We must go down to the great hall. Meredith and I will walk close together and you will walk between us and the outer wall. It’s very crowded and the acrobats are about to begin performing. We must hope everyone will be looking at them, and that anyone who does notice the three of us will think you are just one of the pages who is helping to serve dinner.”

  Thomas’s large, frightened eyes moved from Branwen’s face to Meredith’s.

  “If they catch you, you will be killed,” he said.

  “If we don’t do this, you will be killed,” Branwen replied. “It’s too late for worry now. We will walk through the great hall, out the passage at the lower end, and into the cellar. I’ll give you the rest of your instructions when we get there.”

  “But Branwen . . ,” Thomas’s whisper was interrupted by a man’s voice, deeper but no louder than Thomas’s own.

  “I have a better idea,” Geoffrey said, moving into the room. “I am sorry to startle you, my ladies. Last night Brian took me into his confidence and swore me to secrecy.”

  “He should not have done that,” Branwen began. Geoffrey held up one hand to silence her.

  “Sir Brian’s reasoning was,” he said, “that there might be fighting in which he could be killed or disabled, or Sir Walter might kill him by treachery, and he thought someone trustworthy should know your plan and be able to help you, should you need it. I think you need help now. Sir Walter’s men are not as drunk as they appear to be, and they have been ordered to keep a close watch on the men from Afoncaer. I managed to get out of the hall alone by pleading nature’s call, but I do not think you two can smuggle Master Thomas through the hall without being caught.”

  “We have no choice,” Meredith said. “We can’t leave him here.”

  “I said I had a better plan.” Geoffrey was calmly certain. He handed Thomas a cloak he had been carrying. “Put this on, lad. You and I will go down the stairs and out the back door at their foot. We will walk around the back side of the manor house, where there are no guards. Walter’s men are either in the great hall or standing watch along the outer palisade.”

  “And what shall we do?” Branwen asked, a little put out at having her plans rearranged by this unfamiliar male. “And how shall we get Thomas out of Tynant?”

  “You and Meredith will simply go back through the great hall, still pretending to be servants. Carry a platter or two back to the kitchen as you go. Thomas and I will come in by the kitchen door. Then, when no one is looking, Thomas will slip through the door to the cellar steps and meet you in the storeroom.”

  “There is a guard at the cellar door,” Meredith said. “His name is Roger.”

  “Thank you for the warning,” Geoffrey replied. “Perhaps I can coax a pretty servant to call him into the kitchen for a treat until Thomas goes through the door.”

  “I don’t like this,” Branwen said, scowling at Geoffrey. “Can we really trust you?”

  “Yes, we can,” Meredith declared, and at the same time Thomas spoke up.

  “Lady Branwen, Geoffrey would lay down his life for my Uncle Guy, or for me.”

  “That I would,” Geoffrey said.

  “All right,” Branwen agreed reluctantly, “but we had better not waste any more time. Someone could come into this room at any moment.”

  “Who should go first?” Meredith asked.

  “You two go,” Geoffrey directed. “You can warn us if anyone is coming. Stop at the bottom of the stairs until Thomas and I are safely out the back door.”

  “Thank you, Geoffrey,” Meredith said, putting a hand on his rough woolen sleeve.

  “It is my duty. I will return to the feast once Thomas is safely in the cellar, in case Sir Brian needs me. I will see you again when we are all safely out of this place.”

  Meredith did not ask what would happen to him and Brian and the other men from Afoncaer once it was discovered that Thomas was gone. Brian had not told her or Branwen what his plan was for that eventuality, but she could guess. If Brian could not somehow convince Walter he knew nothing about Thomas’s escape, or manage to trick Walter into letting him and his men go, they would have to fight, using whatever weapons they could find at hand. Overpowered by superior numbers, they would surely all be killed. She went to the door and looked out.

  “There is no one in sight,” she reported, and she and Branwen slipped out and went down the stairs to the first floor. Branwen stood guard, looking into the great hall, until Meredith touched her shoulder.

  “They are gone,” Meredith said. “It’s time for us now.” With that, she moved into the hall, took a platter and a bowl from the arms of a serving woman who was trying to balance a pile of dishes, smiled at the woman’s thanks, and headed for the kitchen.

  It was a long walk down the length of the hall, and her fear made it seem even longer. Meredith stayed to one side, near the wall, and tried not to look out into the roistering crowd. The acrobats were well into their performance, and as Branwen had predicted, most people seemed to be intent on watching them. Meredith saw Branwen pass in front of her holding a tray of empty dishes and walk around the screen, heading toward the kitchen. With one last quick glance backward at the feasters, Meredith followed – and stopped dead as she comprehended what she had not seen. Someone was missing.

  She looked at the head table again. Sir Walter was talking to Brian, Father Herbert was eating with his eyes on his food, but Lady Isabel was not there. Meredith started for the kitchen at a run.

  Isabel was standing in the door between the kitchen and the narrow screens passage, her gold brocade skirts held gracefully in one hand. She was giving instructions to one of the cooks. The guard posted at the cellar door was staring at Lady Isabel with open-mouthed admiration.

  There was nowhere to run. If Meredith went back into the great hall, she would be trapped among Walter’s men; if she remained where she was, Isabel would turn in a moment and recognize her. Meredith stood as if rooted, unable to think.

  Isabel turned. Her thinly-plucked eyebrows rose. She started to speak, turned toward the cook, then back to face Meredith again, and now Meredith saw full knowledge in Isabel’s deep blue eyes, for di
rectly behind the cook stood Geoffrey and Branwen, and between them, wrapped in the cloak Geoffrey had provided, was Thomas.

  “Where are you going, Meredith?”

  “I have a duty, my lady.” Meredith’s voice was a raspy whisper. “Please let me do it. Don’t let Thomas be harmed.” It was the longest moment of Meredith’s life, until Isabel spoke over her shoulder to the cook.

  “Go and do as I have ordered you,” she said, and the cook went back into the kitchen, pushing past Geoffrey, Thomas, and Branwen. Isabel saw Meredith looking at the guard by the cellar door, and called to him, “You, come with me.” The guard followed Isabel into the great hall. Meredith went limp with relief.

  “You must be quick.” Geoffrey was at the cellar door, pulling it open and pushing Thomas through it. “Lady Isabel may have second thoughts and tell her husband, and if she does not, the guard will surely report what he has seen, in hope of some reward from Sir Walter. I will go and warn Brian.” Geoffrey closed the door behind them.

  They stood uncertainly on the top step, letting their eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. Then they groped their way carefully down the stairs to the cellar passage and thence to the storeroom. There, while Meredith pulled flint and a little loose wool from the pouch at her waist and hastily struck the flint, setting fire to the wool, then lighting the candle from it. Branwen’s fingers searched along the panels until she found the planed-off corner and opened the door leading to the tunnel. Meredith’s candle was burning brightly. She extinguished the tiny flame in the wool and prepared to enter the passage. Thomas stopped, looking about doubtfully.

  “This is how we got into Tynant,” Meredith told him. “We go out the same way, my knight. Will you hold my hand?” She felt Thomas’s slim fingers in hers and heard Branwen bar the wooden door behind them.

  “Now we must hurry again,” Branwen said, “I am certain Sir Walter will send his men after us, and it won’t take them long to break down that door once they find it. Go on, Meredith, you lead the way. I’ll hold the candle.”

  They ran, crouching to avoid hitting the low roof timbers. It seemed no time at all before they heard pounding noises that told them the storeroom paneling was being tested, followed by the noise of a wooden door being battered down, then shouts from behind them, and the clash of steel on steel.

  “That’s Brian’s voice.” Branwen halted.

  “Aunt,” Meredith urged, “we dare not stop. Brian would want us to keep going.”

  They came to the place where the tunnel wall had collapsed. Meredith gave Thomas a little push and he scrambled over the tumbled dirt and rocks.

  “Be careful, Meredith, I think this post is loose,” Thomas said. “I touched it to keep my balance and it wiggled.” He stretched out a hand to help her through the rough area.

  “Run!” Branwen screamed. “Sir Walter’s men are here. No! Oh, no!”

  Chapter 30

  The candle Branwen held had fallen, but there was a sudden blaze of light coming down the tunnel from the manor house. Meredith saw her aunt stumbling and clutching at her side, while blood seeped through her fingers. She saw a grinning, bearded face close to Branwen, saw, just beyond the armed, bearded man, Brian, with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other.

  “Meredith,” Brian shouted, “take Thomas out of the tunnel. Get him to safety. I’ll bring Branwen with me.” His sword clashed against that held by the bearded man.

  Thomas stood frozen, staring at the crouching, sweating men as they circled each other seeking out room to maneuver in the cramped tunnel. Meredith put her arm around the boy, urging him onward.

  “It will be all right,” she assured him, not really believing it herself. She wanted with all her heart to turn around and go back to help Branwen. She reminded herself that her first duty just now was to Thomas. She had to get him safely back to Afoncaer. She would trust Brian to take care of her aunt.

  “I hear Geoffrey,” Thomas said through chattering teeth.

  “Good.” Meredith tried to sound cheerful. “He will help Brian.”

  Then they both stopped, transfixed by a shriek behind them, followed by a loud rumbling sound that shook the earth beneath their feet. There was a long moment’s silence, broken by Brian’s despairing cry.

  “Branwen! No!”

  Meredith forgot duty, forgot everything but Branwen, her aunt, mother, friend. She ran back to where Brian knelt on the tunnel floor. His torch, hastily stuck into the loose earth, shone brightly upon him while he brushed the last bits of mud off Branwen’s peaceful face. Meredith fell to her knees beside the knight.

  “She did it to save me,” Brian wept. “Walter’s man had wounded her in the side. You saw that, Meredith. That knave was about to kill me when Branwen dragged herself up and caught the post. It was loose, and she deliberately pulled it down with her as she fell. Walter’s man was crushed by the earthfall, but so was she. Oh, my love, my love.”

  Now Geoffrey was there too, tugging at the weeping man. Meredith saw blood dripping from a tear in Geoffrey’s sleeve, and he was breathing hard.

  “Sir Brian, please,” Geoffrey begged. “There is nothing we can do for Lady Branwen, but she may have saved us all. This earthfall will slow Sir Walter’s men a little, perhaps just enough for us to get away. Come with us. Come.”

  “I can’t leave her.”

  “Sir Brian,” Geoffrey admonished, “remember your duty to Lord Guy. We must get Thomas safely away from here.”

  “Meredith?” Thomas’s voice behind her was strangely small and childlike. There was no trace of the would-be grownup in him now. “Is Branwen dead?”

  Meredith could only nod, unable to speak for tears. She felt Geoffrey pulling her to her feet with his good arm. From the direction of the manor house cellar she heard men’s voices and saw lights.

  “More of them are coming,” Geoffrey said. “We must leave now.”

  “Go.” Brian flung out one arm in a wild gesture. “Take them to safety, Geoffrey. I’ll stay here to hold Walter’s men off as long as I can.”

  “But, Sir Brian…”

  “Go!” he commanded. “I will not leave Branwen. I will kill as many men as I can and then I will die by my love’s side. Do as I say, Geoffrey. That’s an order.”

  The sounds coming down the tunnel were louder now. Geoffrey, trained like all squires to obedience, did as he had been ordered. He pushed Thomas and Meredith before him, away from Brian.

  As they moved farther away from Brian’s torch the tunnel grew darker and darker, until they were feeling their way along the walls. Meredith tried to close her ears to the shouts and sounds of battle behind them. She knew Brian and Geoffrey were right. They had to get Thomas to Afoncaer, to Guy’s protection. If Walter caught them now, Thomas’s life would be forfeit. That she herself would not live much longer than Thomas did not disturb Meredith. She was too numbed by what had happened to think of her own safety, or indeed, to think much at all. She remembered only that she had a duty to carry out, and she would keep going until it was done or until she was dead.

  They emerged from the tunnel at last, into a night crowded with glittering stars. After the darkness underground Meredith found it easy to see where she was, even without a moon.

  “If you can tell me which way the manor house is, I can find the horses,” Geoffrey whispered in her ear.

  “There.” Meredith pointed, and Geoffrey, taking her hand, led her off through the trees in the opposite direction. She kept an arm around Thomas, who clung to her waist, not speaking a word. They found three good horses saddled and waiting, tied to a tree.

  “Now we must ride as fast as we can,” Geoffrey; said. “I hope Sir Walter thinks we are still in the tunnel, but once he knows for certain we have fled, he will probably send armed men out on the road to Afoncaer to find us and bring us back.”

  “Can you ride, Geoffrey, or shall I tend to your wound first?”

  “Later. I think the bleeding has stopped by itself. I’ll use my good arm to he
lp you mount.”

  They stopped only once along the way, when Meredith saw Thomas swaying in his saddle and called to Geoffrey to halt.

  “I’ll carry him,” Geoffrey said, catching the reins of Thomas’s horse.

  “You will not. Do you think I can’t see how hard it is for you to stay mounted? I’m not a very good rider, but I won’t drop him. Let’s not argue, Geoffrey. We must make what speed we can.” Meredith pulled Thomas off his horse and onto hers. She held him in front of her the rest of the way, uncertain whether he was sleeping or unconscious. There were no signs of pursuit from Sir Walter.

  It was still dark when they reached the outer gate of Afoncaer. They had to wait until the gate was opened and the drawbridge was lowered. They had no sooner ridden through the gatehouse than Meredith heard the bridge being raised again, and they were immediately surrounded by armed men. Torches flared and a shout went up.

  “It really is Geoffrey. He’s brought Master Thomas home.”

  By the time they got to the steep incline leading across the dry moat, both inner gate and drawbridge stood wide open for them, and more torches lighted their way across the inner bailey to the great hall. Geoffrey dismounted awkwardly and reached up to take Thomas from Meredith.

  “No, you are badly hurt,” Meredith said, noticing how he favored one arm. It seemed to her the dark stain on Geoffrey’s sleeve was much larger than it had been. “Let someone else do it.”

  “It is my right,” Geoffrey said, “to personally give Thomas back to his uncle. You heard Sir Brian. I am his deputy in this.”