by B. J. Scott
Lazarus, groaned and tried to lift his head. But his vision blurred, the room spun, and the pain radiating across his cheek made it difficult to speak. He dragged a shaky hand across his mouth, catching the blood dripping from his nose and lips.
“Haul the bastard to his feet,” Louis said to his companions.
Two of the men moved forward, grabbed Lazarus by his arms, and yanked him upward. Once he was standing and somewhat steady on his feet, they released him and stepped away.
“I learned many things while in the Holy Land. The Muslims are a fierce enemy, like no one you could ever imagine.” Lazarus gritted his teeth and hoped the glower of contempt he sent Louis relayed his message. “If you so much as go near, Sheena, I’ll find you, cut out your heart while you sleep, and feed it to the dogs.”
Louis tossed his head back and laughed. “You really are a bloody fool. You would have to be a wizard to get out of prison again. Think about what I’ve said. We’ll be back in a little while to talk with you some more.” He delivered another strike, his fist connecting with Lazarus’s jaw, then strode toward the door.
Lazarus crumpled, the back of his head striking the floor when he hit the ground. He groaned, then rolled to his side.
“Will we leave him some water and bring him some food?” one of the guards asked. “Even a condemned man is entitled to a last meal.”
“He is a stubborn fool, and I suspect he has a long way to go before he meets his creator. The prisoner is to have nothing until I say so.” Louis held his wineskin in the air so Lazarus could see it, then dumped the contents before he left the cell. The other guards followed.
Lazarus pressed his brow to the floor, the cool stones a welcome relief against his burning jaw. He’d aged since the last time he’d found himself on the receiving end of a beating. His previously fractured bones would break much easier than they had the first time, and there was no telling what other forms of torture Louis might come up with next.
Lazarus rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling of his cell. He could endure anything they dished out, once he knew Sheena and Quinn were out of harm’s way.
The sounds of people whispering as they approached his cell caught Lazarus’s attention. Was his imagination running rampant, or were the guards returning for another bout of torture? He’d suffered several brutal assaults in the days that followed Louis’s first visit and he had lost track of how much time had passed since his incarceration.
Lazarus tried to lift his head, but to no avail. He groaned, braced his fractured ribs with his arm, then tried to roll to his side. But pain and dizziness swamped him and he collapsed on the floor, praying that if Louis had returned, he’d kill him this time and be done with it.
The voices got louder and his breath caught when heard the door open, the rusty hinges squeaking.
“Och, they have beaten him so badly. Is he dead?” a woman whispered.
Lazarus recognized Sheena’s voice. While one of his eyes was swollen shut, he managed to pry open the other one halfway. As her angelic face came into focus, he wondered for a moment if she was a mirage, or if God had sent and angel in her likeness to bring him home.
Brother Simon squatted beside him. “He is badly injured, but he is still alive. Praise the Lord.” He rocked back on his heels, made the sign of the cross in the air, then quickly retrieved a wineskin from his belt. He gently lifted Lazarus’s head and brought the vessel to his lips.
Forgetting about his pain-ravaged body, Lazarus grasped the wineskin with both hands and drank greedily, ale spilling from his mouth and stinging his split lip.
“Take it slowly. I suspect they have not given you anything to drink in a while and guzzling too fast will cause it to come back up.” Simon eased Lazarus’s head to the floor, then wiped his mouth with a linen cloth.
Lazarus stared up at his friend. “What are you doing here? How did you get passed the guards, and why in the name of St. Stephen did you bring Sheena?”
“I wanted to come.” Sheena knelt beside him, stroking her fingers across his brow. “I had to see you. Please dinna be angry with me or with Simon. I insisted he bring me.”
“I could never be cross with you, Sheena. But coming here is very dangerous. If caught, I shudder to think what will happen to you,” Lazarus said, then tried to sit up.
Brother Simon quickly slid his arm around Lazarus’s back, offering his assistance. “We canna stay long. I need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
Lazarus shook his head. “Nay, so you must leave now and take Sheena with you.”
“You must try,” Sheena pleaded. “We willna leave you here.”
“You must.” Lazarus peered up at Simon. “How on earth did you get in?”
“The French are known for their love of wine, are they not?” Simon wiggled a brow. “And our abbey makes the finest in all of Scotland. It dinna take much coaxing to get them to partake in what I brought. A delicate merlot, laced with a little belladonna of course.”
“A clever plan,” Lazarus said then frowned. “But what happens when they wake up, or if Father Marquis decides to pay me a visit? You must leave while you can and promise me you willna come back.” He clutched Sheena’s hand. “Before you go, I must know if they have returned Quinn to you.”
She shook her head. “Nay, not yet, and I fear they willna let him go until you tell them what they want to know.”
Lazarus moaned, then covered his eyes with his forearm when a surge of nausea and dizziness rolled over him. “Even if I knew where the so-called treasure is, I wouldna betray my brethren.”
“They will kill you if you dinna tell them where it is,” Sheena said. “Please, I dinna want you to die. And I want Quinn returned to me unharmed.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Lie if necessary. But tell them something. If you do, they may see fit to spare you from any further torture. And hopefully they will free my brother.”
“You dinna know my captors. Emissaries of King Philip seldom keep their word, nor do they leave witnesses who can attest to their treachery. As long as I’m still breathing and they believe I have the information they seek, they willna harm Quinn. Once I’m dead, or they’ve carted me back to France, they’ll have no reason to hold him any longer, or to let him live.” Lazarus sucked in a slow, shallow breath through pursed lips before he continued.
“You were right when you said I should never have darkened your doorstep and befriended you and Quinn. It was a selfish act and I dinna blame you for hating me. I—”
She placed two fingers against his lips. “Please tell them what they want to know, Lazarus. I dinna mean the things I said to you before. I could never hate you. If anything, I have grown to care very deeply for you.” She lowered her gaze and nibbled on her bottom lip. “Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I foolishly hoped you felt the same way about me. You could have run and saved yourself, but instead you turned yourself in to save Quinn. A selfless sacrifice I willna forget.”
Lazarus raised a shaky hand, catching her tears as they slid down her cheeks. “It guts me to know I’m the cause of such sorrow. What we shared was very special, and I’ll cherish each moment we spent together until the day I draw my last breath. But I’m a condemned man and my future is bleak.”
“If what you claim is true, tell Father Marquis where the knights are hiding and where he can find the treasure,” she pleaded. “Then we can be together.”
He heaved a pain-laden sigh, then continued. “I know this might not make sense to you, but even if I did know where they were hiding, to betray my fellow knights would be the same as forsaking God. I swore an oath to both.”
Sheena caught his hand and clutched it to her breast. “Surely they would understand. This is your life we are talking about.”
“What kind of existence would it be, Sheena, if I canna face m
yself or anyone else, knowing I’m a traitor and a coward?”
“At least you’d be alive and free.” She brought his fist to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “We could go away, start anew in a place where no one knows either of us, and make a home for Quinn. You can change your name and no one need know about your past. Nothing can alter the man you are inside.”
Lazarus addressed Simon, who until now had remained silent. “Take her from this place and dinna bring her back. Send word to King Robert the Bruce, the Pope, or anyone else you might think of who can facilitate Quinn’s release. But swear you willna put her in harm’s way again.”
“I give you my word.” Simon rose and clutched Sheena’s elbow. “Come, lass. Lazarus is right, we must be away before the guards wake up, or someone else comes along.”
Sheena swatted his hand away. “I’m na leaving him like this. He needs a healer. You said we were going to help him escape. Have you turned coward?”
“In his weakened condition, he would never make it out of the abbey. Even if he could walk. His leg appears to be broken and there is no telling what other injuries he harbors.”
Sheena grasped Lazarus’s tunic by the shoulders and tugged. “We must try. Please, Lazarus, get up.”
Lazarus coughed, a sharp pain lancing through his chest as if he’d been run through with a hot blade. He clasped Sheena’s wrists and glared up at her. “Go with Simon,” he rasped. “I can face whatever my captors dish out as long as I know you’re safe.” He cupped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Do as I request, ma gaol. Please.”
Simon grasped Sheena’s upper arm and yanked her to her feet. “We must make haste.” He dragged her toward the door. “I know leaving him isna easy, but it is his request, and we must honor that wish.”
Sheena sniffled, scrubbed the back of her hand across her face, then gazed longingly at Lazarus. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Aye. Who will care for your brother if you’re caught? You must think of his welfare above all else. Go now and dinna return.” Lazarus turned his head, hoping when next he looked she’d be gone.
But instead, she raced back, knelt beside him, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here. I promise.”
Chapter 15
Once they were outside, Sheena dug in her heels and pulled free of Simon’s grasp. “How you could give up so easily? Lazarus doesna stand a chance if we dinna get him out of there.”
Simon reached for her hand. “Come, lass, we must leave before we are spotted.”
She swatted his hand away. “Nay. Lazarus needs our help. I thought you were his friend.”
“He is like a son to me.” Simon thumped his fist against his chest. “I love him as if he were my own bairn. However, if the guards find us here and realize we have seen Lazarus, they will arrest us. If we are gone when they awaken, they will hopefully remain silent. They wouldna dare admit to falling asleep when they were supposed to be keeping watch.”
Sheena glared at Simon. “I canna believe you can just leave him at the mercy of Father Marquis and his henchmen. He is so weak and will die without a healer.”
“We have no choice.” Simon hung his head. “I know you’re concerned, but we’ve gone over this several times already. Were it in my power to save Lazarus, I would.”
“He needs his wounds tended. There must be something we can do.”
“Unfortunately, we can do naught as long as he is in their custody. Father Marquis would never allow a healer near Lazarus. I’m sure as far as he is concerned, the fewer people who know about the atrocities being committed in that dungeon, the better. No one would condone such behavior from a priest.”
“Then perhaps if we announce publically what is going on, the people will demand Lazarus be released. There must be something we can do. Someone who holds more authority in the church than Marquis and could intervene.” Sheena began to pace.
Simon lowered his gaze and nervously wrung his hands. “I’m afraid Father Marquis is the highest authority in the area right now. But Lazarus was right. I should never have agreed to bring you here in the first place. Thinking we might be able to free him was a fool’s errand at best.” Simon grasped Sheena’s elbow. “I’m sorry I got your hopes up and let you down, but we must be away.”
She tugged free. “I would have come with or without your assistance,” Sheena snapped. “Someone has to help him.”
Simon slid his arm around Sheena’s shoulders, but she shoved him away. “Your concern for Lazarus is admirable, but if my sources are reliable, there will be a change of guard happening very soon.”
“I canna just leave, knowing they will continue to torture him.”
“And Father Marquis will not relinquish his hold until he gets what he wants. The treasure.”
“But Lazarus claims it doesna exist,” she said.
“That may be, but Father Marquis is convinced otherwise and as Lazarus said, he stands to get a large reward for his capture.”
“I canna desert him.” Sheena planted her hands on her hips and widened her stance. “Leave if you wish, but I am not going anywhere.”
“Dinna be daft, lass. What of Quinn? If you are arrested, who will care for him once he is released?” Simon asked. “He has already lost his parents and you’re all he has left. Will you condemn him to a life alone? I shudder to think what can happen to a seven-year-old lad living on the streets.”
“Of course I dinna want that for my brother. But there is always a chance that even if Lazarus tells them where the treasure is, they willna let Quinn go. Or what if Lazarus dies from his injuries. I . . .” She paused and crossed herself, then continued. “I couldna bear to think of my life without Quinn. Any more than I could live with myself if I dinna do everything in my power to see Lazarus freed.”
“What are you doing here?” a man bellowed as he stomped across the kirkyard, pinning her with a malevolent stare.
Sheena’s chest tightened, making it hard to breathe when she recognized him as one of the men who took Quinn. She squared her shoulders and faced him. “My name is Sheena MacLean and I have come to see Father Marquis. Perhaps you remember me.”
The man examining her from top to bottom before he answered. “I am Louis Renoir, personal guard to Father Marquis. I’d never forget a lovely mademoiselle like you.” He stroked his chin, then grinned. “Wait. I do remember you. You’re the whore who keeps company with one of our prisoners. The obstinate monk who is being shipped to France for execution.”
Sheena raised her chin, staring Louis in the eye. “I am not a whore, sir, and I dinna keep company with any man. Aye, we met when you invaded my home a few days ago and took my brother prisoner.”
“If you have come to beg for the brat’s release, you’re wasting your breath.” Louis offered a curt wave of his hand. “Be off with you. Now.”
Sheena shook her head and stood her ground. Her knees quivered and her hands trembled, but she’d not back down from this blackguard. “I heard Brother Lazarus turned himself in. Father Marquis promised that once you’d captured him, he’d set Quinn free. I want to know why he hasna done that yet,” Sheena demanded. “I ask that you take me to him so my brother can go home with me.”
Simon leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Please, come away with me now, Sheena. Your presence here can only make things worse for Quinn, and for Lazarus. If they realize we are responsible for drugging the guards then snuck into the cell below the abbey, there is no telling what Father Marquis’s recourse will be.”
Ignoring Simon’s plea, she glared up at Louis. “I want to see Father Marquis,” she repeated adamantly.
Louis inched closer. “You are a persistent wench. If Father Marquis is too busy to see you, I wouldn’t mind spending some time with you. Alone.” He wriggled a brow, then lift
ed a lock of her hair, brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. “If you know what I mean.”
“Leave her be.” Simon stepped between them.
Louis laughed. “What are you going to do, monk? You seem pretty taken with the whore for a man of the cloth. I thought you fellows were into lads not lasses.”
“I’m into neither, as you so crudely put it. And Sheena isna here to be harassed by the likes of you,” Simon replied. “She merely wishes to speak to Father Marquis on behalf of her brother. Surely you can understand her concern for the lad’s well-being.”
“I understand this.” Louis pointed to the scar on Sheena’s chin, then grabbed her forearm and hauled her against his chest. “You can watch if you like, even have a go with her when I’m done,” he said, an evil grin tugging at his lips.
“Unhand her at once.” Simon tried to intervene, but was easily tossed to the ground by Louis. When he tried to stand up, he was shoved face-first into the dirt.
“Stay down, or I’ll see that you dinna ever get up again.” Louis tightened his grip on Sheena’s arm, his nails digging into her flesh.
She winced at the pain, but showed no fear. Men like Louis thrived on the anguish of others. She refused to do anything that empowered him. “Do as he says, Simon, and dinna try to intervene.”
The last thing she wanted was for Simon to be injured, or worse, killed on her account. She’d dealt with Louis’s lecherous type before and had no intention of surrendering without a fight. She was so desperate to see Lazarus freed and Quinn returned to her, she even toyed with the idea of offering herself in exchange for their freedom. But Louis did not have the power or influence he boasted, and the idea of being with him on an intimate level made her skin crawl.