Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“Seriously! This is getting ridiculous.”

Anna stood, brushing the dust off her jeans. Another room. From the looks of it, this section of the tower had been used to house prisoners. So therefore there must be an exit, right?

There were six cells in the room. She went in, checked for another hidden door and moved on to the next. The last cell on the right had a small window. Perhaps she could figure out where she was. Anna pushed up on tiptoe, and her forehead reached the bottom of the window ledge.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Normally her lack of height didn’t bother her, but today it was proving to be a complete pain in the behind. She jumped, straining to see out, but only caught glimpses of a dark gray sky, fifty shades of storm. Lightning arced across the sky and she stepped back, swallowing hard. A gleam in the corner of the cell caught her eye.

The light on the phone illuminated the object. She bent down and picked it up, wiping the grime off on her jeans. They were dark blue so it shouldn’t show, and by this point she was already covered in dust and spider webs .

It was a locket. She turned the piece over in her hand; it felt heavy. She pried it open to see one side was empty and the other side contained an image. The grime rubbed away, she could make out a portrait. Or rather half a portrait of a man. He wore a black shirt over a muscular torso. If only she could see the face. Over and over, she ran her thumb over the ragged edge of the portrait where the top piece of the miniature had been ripped away.

She turned it over and rubbed the back. There was some type of inscription. Holding it close to the light, she tried to make it out, but it was mostly worn away. There seemed to be a word. She squinted, pushed the button on her phone, and groaned. No more battery. There might be enough light coming in from the window. Mesmerized by the locket, she tripped over an uneven section of the floor and went down hard on her knees, skinning her palms on the rough stone.

“Ouch.” There was blood on her hand and on the locket. Would it ruin what was left of the artwork? A loud ringing noise filled her head, and Anna pressed her palms over her ears, heedless of the blood. It sounded like she was in the middle of the storm. Thunder boomed around her and lightning flashed inside the small cell. Which should have been impossible, given she was inside the stone walls. But blue light arced all around her.

The noise reached a crescendo and Anna wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth in the corner, wishing it would stop. She closed her eyes tight and repeated over and over, “Please make it go away, please make it go away, please make it go away.”

It rained the entire bloody way to London. For a full fortnight. John swore he felt every rut in the path along the way. Several days into the journey, he managed to dispatch one of the guards and almost escape before he was clouted on the back of the head and fell unconscious.

When he woke, he found himself chained in the cage.

“Won’t be making the same mistake again,” the guard sneered.

After that, the men were much more wary around him. Truth be told, John was rather vexed. Had his reputation not preceded him? These men should be shaking in their boots to have captured the infamous bandit of the wood.

Movement woke him. The horses, sensing home, had picked up the pace. He rubbed his eyes. There in the distance stood the tower, the stone harsh against the clear blue sky. Given his circumstances, John thought it would have been more appropriate for it to be raining and thundering, with great clouds set against the forbidding structure, but instead it was a day to be outside enjoying life.

He was roughly hauled out of the cage, and John’s knees buckled. The cage hadn’t been tall enough for him to stand up straight.

“Get up with ye,” one of the guards snarled.

There were two guards in front of him, one on either side, and two behind him. This was more like it. He deserved to make his entrance in style.

“Bloody hell, the stench in could here fell a horse.”

“Aren’t we proud, my lord .”

Two of the guards snickered. As unbearable as the stench was, it was the screams and moaning of broken men that made him feel the first shiver of unease. Most highborn prisoners were provided decent cells. But John Thornton hadn’t been Lord Blackmoor in a very long time. And it seemed he wouldn’t be Lord Blackmoor again, if the new king had his way. Why did the king care what he had done? It wasn’t his mistress John had been caught with.

As they dragged him into the dark, dank bowels of the tower, he wondered if Blackmoor Castle still stood. Were any of his men still there, waiting? Mayhap one of his brothers had taken over his home. Pushing the vexing thoughts aside, John peered into the cells as they led him through the corridors.

If he were still considered high rank, he would be beheaded. As the bandit of the wood, likely he would be hanged, drawn, and quartered. He spent a moment surveying his chances of a quick death.

The constable of the tower stood waiting beside the entrance to the cell. The man held John’s pouch in his hand. The tingle of coins could be heard as he threw the pouch up in the air and caught it.

“This will likely do for a while. ’Tis ten pounds for the pleasure of staying here. The rest will cover your food and accommodations.”

“Who’s the bandit now?”

The constable chuckled, his belly jiggling over his hose. His tunic was stained and dirty, his whiskers unkempt. You would think for the exorbitant fees the man charged he would be better dressed.

“Throw ’em in.”

The guards shoved him into the cell, and John looked around his new accommodations.

Anger coursed through him as John realized this had been planned for a while. For there was already a bed with linens and blankets, table and bench, eating utensils and dishes, and a ewer and basin to wash. They had plenty of time to prepare for his arrival.

The anger dissipated as worry took its place. Had Archie also betrayed the location of their camp? The king’s soldiers would kill everyone under his care. It annoyed him to ask this man for anything, but he needs know.

“Will any of my men be joining me?”

The constable turned around, and the grin on his face made John clench his fists.

“Archie was verra talkative. By now the king’s men will have destroyed your wicked camp in the wood. Orders were clear. Kill them all.”

Eyes blazing, the rage in his belly warming him, John swore viciously. “I will see every one of them dead.”

The man sneered at him. “Nay, you’ll be dead. Seems you won’t be staying with us long. Lord Denby has the ear of the king, and you will die three days from now.”

John swore in every language he knew. He cared not for his own life, but with the knowledge he was responsible for so many deaths, he would never forgive himself.