Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

I t was nearing noon on a day that was showing the promise of warmer weather. A cloudless sky glistened overhead and Tevin found himself gazing from the lancet window, looking up to the sky and wondering how Cantia was faring. The solar of Rochester had a west-facing window and he leaned against the sill, watching the birds flock over the river, hearing the distant bells of the boats. It was lovely and serene, but it meant absolutely nothing to him without Cantia by his side.

He hadn't been away from her for more than twelve hours but, as he had predicted, he missed her more with each breath he took. It was a physical pain, manifesting itself in his chest until he could scarcely breathe. He turned away from the window, his thoughts moving from Cantia to Geoff and thankful for the fact that his cousin had drank himself into a stupor the night before and was still sleeping off the excess. The man hadn't given the effort of thought to the missing Lady Penden or to Val, and Tevin was grateful. The delay had given him time to think up a plausible reason for the missing. He was prepared.

So he went back to his map table, studying the area north of the Dartford crossing where two of Geoff's men, who had been in the area only yesterday, had come to Rochester with tales of an armed buildup. An army was gathering and Tevin was preparing to send more of his trusted men into the area as spies to see what more information they could gather.

He immediately thought of Simon and John for the duty, those two disobedient knights who had shrugged the escort duty to Dagan and Gavril. He hadn't seen the men since yesterday but he knew they were around, more than likely attempting to wait out their liege's displeasure. He smirked when he thought of sending the pair on a scout mission into dangerous territory. Perhaps running into an ambush or having arrows shot at their head would make them sorry they had disobeyed their liege on the relatively easy escort mission.

As he settled down to figure out a covert route for his men to take where they could make a quick escape, Myles appeared in the doorway.

"Tevin," his voice was low, swift. "You must come immediately."

Tevin didn't give thought to the fact that the man did not address him formally. He was more concerned with the tone of his voice.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

Myles' expression tightened. "No questions," he hissed. "You must come. Now ."

He ducked out of the doorway, heading for the keep entry. Tevin follow, more curious than concerned, as they made their way out of the keep and headed towards the knight's quarters. Myles was walking quickly, stiffly, all coiled up like a spring ready to pop as they crossed the ward and approached the thick stone building that housed the knights. Built against the perimeter wall of Rochester, it was a squat, imposing structure.

It was moderately dark inside due to the fact that the building had no windows except for big ventilation holes up by the roof line. The floor plan consisted of a large common room and six smaller sleeping chambers. It was dusty and dark at any given time. There were a few senior men-at-arms crowded into the common room, eyeing Tevin with some concern as he entered. Tevin didn't particularly notice the expressions, as he was more focused on Myles as the man led him into a tiny corridor and indicated the first room to the right.

Tevin stuck his head into the chamber, his gaze first envisioning a darkened room and nothing more. Then, he saw a big yellow dog lying next to the small bed and it took him a moment to realize it was George. George lifted his head when he saw Tevin, big sad doggy eyes gazing up at him as the tail thumped wearily against the floor. The last Tevin had seen of the dog, he had left with Cantia and the rest of the group. Startled to realize the dog had returned, his gaze moved to the bed.

Val lay upon the mattress, bruised and beaten. Lying on her right side, she had a massive compress of some kind against her head and neck. Tevin must have made some kind of noise because her eyes opened and she turned stiffly to look at him as he collapsed to his knees beside the bed. Tevin's face was white with terror.

"Val," he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

Val's eyes filled with tears and she grasped her brother's hand. Her lovely face was scraped from where she had fallen on it and the lump on the back of her head was causing her horrific pain. She clutched at Tevin.

"Oh, Tevin," she wept. "We… we were ambushed. They killed Dagan and Gavril, and took Cantia and the children."

Tevin felt as if he had been hit in the gut. He couldn't breathe and he could feel his face flushing hot, then cold again. He began to shake uncontrollably, holding on to Val's hand with a death grip.

"What happened?" he struggled with everything he possessed to remain calm. "Did you see who it was? Did they bear colors or anything else of note?"

Val was weeping in pain and sorrow. "Nay," she breathed. "I was knocked unconscious and when I woke up, Dagan and Gavril were dead and Cantia missing. I… my head… it was difficult to move so I do not know how long I lay in the grass before rising to my feet. It was nighttime when the attack happened and at least dawn when I awoke. I started to walk back to Rochester and found Dagan's charger a little way up the road. I was able to ride him back here so I could tell you what happened."

Tevin could see how badly she was injured. He stroked her head, gently, though his hand was trembling. "I can only imagine how much pain you are in," he murmured. "You were very brave, Val."

Val's eyes spilled over. "I am so sorry, Tevin," she whispered. "I never saw what hit me. I had no chance to defend Arabel or Cantia."

He shook his head, soothing her. "It is not your fault," he said, but his voice was tremulous. He tried to keep his head, asking questions that might help them make sense of it all. "You heard or saw nothing before you lost consciousness?"

"Nothing. All was peaceful."

Tevin could feel men next to him and behind him, listening to Val's story. He could feel their concern, their rage, waiting orders from Viscount Winterton on how to proceed. From the corner of his eye, Tevin caught sight of heavy, dirty boots. He knew those boots and fury surged through him as he turned in the direction of Simon. John was standing slightly behind him, both knights distressed with what they were hearing.

But their distress wasn't nearly what Tevin's was. Veins stood out on his forehead as he faced his insubordinate knights and struggled not to explode in all directions.

" You were supposed to escort them," he jabbed a big finger at the men. "By what right did you disobey my order and give the duty to Sutton and de Reigate?"

John took a step back from his furious liege but Simon stood his ground. "We reasoned that, as new knights, they were in need of earning your trust and escorting the ladies was an opportunity to do that," he said steadily. "Moreover, de Gael was expecting to gather a force against Matilda and we would serve you better in battle than as an escort."

Tevin was quickly veering out of control, looking for something, or someone, to focus his grief on. His body tensed as he took a menacing step in their direction.

"I will decide how you will better serve me," he snarled. "You were expected to ride escort and now see what has happened? Dagan and Gavril have been killed and Lady Cantia and my daughter are missing."

Tevin was as furious as anyone had ever seen him, Simon and John included. They had both served Tevin long enough to know that the only thing they could do was beg forgiveness. Otherwise, the situation would get violent. Du Reims was known to have a vicious temper when roused.

"Forgive, my lord," Simon dropped his head submissively. "Certainly we would have done all in our power to have prevented such a thing. We beg your forgiveness."

Tevin wasn't satisfied. If anything, the submissive gesture only infuriated him more and as he lifted a hand to grab Simon by the hair, Myles intervened.

"Nay, Tevin," he said calmly, turning the coiled man back towards his sister. "It was not their fault. Had they been there, they would more than likely have been killed as well. At the moment, we have more important things to deal with."

Tevin allowed Myles to refocus him on Val, mostly because he knew, at some level, the man was correct. Simon and John, disobedient as they had been, were not responsible. So he returned his attention to his sister, feeling the cracks in his composure grow deeper and more pronounced. He was shattering and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Somehow, he ended up back on his knees beside Val with Myles kneeling beside him.

"Val," Myles put his big hand on Val's head, tenderly. "How long were you riding before this happened?"

Val thought a moment. "About… about an hour. Not long."

Myles looked at Tevin. "That cannot be too far away," he said. "I will assemble a strike force immediately."

Tevin could only nod. He wasn't sure he was capable of much more, fighting against emotions on a level he had never before experienced. All he knew was that he wanted to collapse in sorrow, yet in the same breath, he wanted to kill like he'd never wanted to kill in his life. It was an odd combination.

As he was laboring against intense grief, he noticed Myles as the man kissed Val on the forehead and quit the room, but he didn't give the gesture a second thought. He could hear Myles snapping orders to the others as he went, clearing out the rooms and getting the men moving. Somewhere in the chaos, the voices of Simon and John could be heard, and a whole host of men-at-arms were being roused. The viscount's trusted men were in action once again, doing what they did best, but the viscount himself was unmoving. Tevin remained on his knees beside his sister, becoming more despondent by the moment.

Val watched her brother, seeing the turmoil in his eyes. "There was no blood that I could see," she told him. "Our baggage was missing as well. It was a robbery, I am sure, taking Cantia and the children simply because…."

"Because she is the most beautiful woman they have ever seen," his lower lip began to tremble as he closed his eyes tightly against the horrific mental images that were swamping him. The tears came and Val watched as her brother, the most powerful man she'd ever known, succumbed to bone-numbing grief. When his dark eyes opened, they were intense against his pale face.

"It is my fault," he hissed. "Had I not… I sent her away, I sent you all away, to escape Geoff and see how my plan has come to ruin. Had I only kept everyone here…."

Val grasped his wrist, squeezing. "You did what you had to do," she insisted softly. "You had no choice. You believed you were doing what was best for all of us."

He wasn't soothed. He wiped at his eyes, fighting off a sob. "And Arabel," he whispered miserably. "My Dear God, my daughter… what has happened to her?"

Val could see her brother was verging on a collapse and she struggled to sit up, to comfort him.

"Tevin, listen to me," she held on to his big hand. "You are impeccable in your judgment, always. We all trust you with our lives. What happened… it was not your fault and you must not blame yourself."

He dropped his chin to his chest, lowering his head until he fell face-first onto the mattress beside his sister. "I made the decision," he wept. "There is no one to blame but me. If Cantia and Arabel have come to ruin, I… I cannot live with the guilt. I will not live without them."

Seized with horror, Val grasped his face, forcing him to look at her. She was angry, exhausted, weak, tears brimming in her dark eyes.

"Listen to me," she hissed. "I have lost my mother and father and one brother. You are all I have left and I will not hear this, do you understand? I hate you for saying such things, Tevin. It was not your fault. None of this was. Take a stand and be the strong man that I know you are, for weakness and self-pity do not suit you. If Cantia and Arabel are still alive, you shame them with this behavior. They need your help and all you can think of is yourself."

Tevin looked at his sister, so pale and angry, hearing every word like a hammer in his brain. But as he gazed at her, her meaning began to set in and he realized she was right. If Cantia and Arabel were indeed alive, they were waiting for him to save them.

Tevin was a smart man. He knew his power and he knew what he was capable of. No matter who had taken Cantia and his daughter, he had the resources and the resolve to find them. And when he did, no matter if it was Lucifer himself, he could and would defeat them. No battle in his life would ever be more important than the one to come. Perhaps all other battles he had been involved in were simply practice for this one. It was the only one that mattered.

"I am sorry," he said after a moment, swallowing his tears and laboring to regain his composure. "You are right, you are entirely right. Forgive me my moment of weakness."

Val could see he meant it. She could see the light of sanity returning to his dark eyes and she sighed heavily, with great relief, lying back against the pillow.

"There is nothing to forgive, brother," she murmured. "We are all entitled to moments of temporary insanity. What matters now is what you intend to do. Myles is assembling your men in the bailey."

Tevin drew in a deep breath, wiping his face of any remaining moisture and squaring his enormous shoulders. He stood up, rather unsteadily at first, as he shook himself and regained his composure. As he calmed, his mind began to work in only the way Tevin's was capable. It was steely, deep, and far-reaching. He drew on those characteristics to pull him through the crisis.

"Geoff will see the men assembling in the bailey and he will want to know why," he said, hearing the muted sounds of men and horses. "I have no choice but to tell him the truth. There is no point in lying to the man. He will know that Cantia and Arabel have been taken and we must retrieve them."

Val watched him pace in the tiny room. "He may want to ride with you."

"Let him. But he will take orders from me."

She didn't say anything for a moment, watching as the great warlord made a strong return. This was the brother she knew, the deadly and cunning warrior that no man could best. She sought to help him as much as she could.

"As I told you, it took me about an hour to return to Rochester, and I am supposing Dagan and Gavril's corpses are still where I last saw them," she said quietly. "That will be your starting point. As I recall, it was a rather wooded area, so they could have traveled in any number of directions but it should not be difficult to find trampled paths through the foliage. The trees worked both for and against them. It shielded them from our party, but it will also leave a trail for you to follow."

Tevin nodded, his mind already moving to the ride south. He looked at his sister, seeing her wounded body as the result of the attack, and his focus shifted to her for the moment. "Has the surgeon already examined you?"

She nodded faintly. "Right before you came."

"What did he say?"

"That I have a crack on my skull and I am bruised, but that I should heal."

"Then I am grateful for small mercies this day." His dark eyes bore into her. "Have no doubt that I will return, and when I do, it will be with Cantia and Arabel."

Val smiled faintly. "Do not forget Hunt."

"Never."

Forcing a smile at his sister, Tevin moved to the doorway but paused before he left the room completely. "Val?"

"Aye?"

He gave her a rather reproachful look, as much as he could muster. "Do not believe for one minute that I did not see de Lohr kiss you," he said. "Take heed that I will deal with his bold actions upon my return."

Val started giggling. "You will not."

"I will."

"Leave him alone or you will face my wrath."

He scowled. "Are you saying that you… you approve of his actions? His forwardness? His slobbering lips against your flesh?"

"All that and more."

His scowl turned into an expression of outrage. "What more is there?"

Val's giggles turned into full-blown laughter, wincing because it hurt her head to laugh so much. She waved her brother on. "I will not tell you. Go now and find Cantia and Arabel."

He broke down into a smile. "I will."

"Do not come back without them."

His smile faded and a deadly gleam came to his eye. "I swear I will not. With God as my witness, I will not."

Val believed him implicitly.

*

It was morning . Lying on the same blanket that had covered her head for most of the night, Cantia could see the soft strains of early morning light infiltrating the shelter. It was cold but she had her arms around Arabel and Hunt, both children sleeping soundly in the early morning. But Cantia had never felt less like sleeping in her life.

She really wasn't sure where she was, and she had no idea how long they had traveled to get here. It felt like days. The men who had abducted her had hardly said a word between them, and they didn't speak to her at all until they reached their encampment. Then, their only words were directions to enter the shelter and stay there with the children. She did, mostly because Arabel was weeping hysterically and she wanted to soothe the young girl. She didn't even bother to speak to them or ask any questions, at least for the moment. All she wanted to do was make sure the children were well. She would deal with the rest later.

Now it was morning and she could hear the birds chirping, awaking to the new day. She lifted her head, looking around the tent, hearing sounds all around them. People were talking and there was the soft crunch of leaves as they moved through the forest. She smelled smoke. Feeling some bravery, as well as outrage and confusion, she got up and dared to step outside.

It was brisk and clear. Cantia glanced back at the shelter that had housed them through the night. It was made from leaves, rocks, pieces of wood, basically anything that would fit together and hold a shape. They were in an area that had some rolling hills to it and this particular shelter was backed up into the base of a rise so that the back end of it was pushed into the dirt. She stood by the door, looking around the area now that daylight had come, and she could see an entire camp spread out before her.

There was a surprising number of people milling about, collecting wood for the fire and water for cooking. A small stream ran over to her left, about a dozen yards away, and she could see both men and women drawing water. There also seemed to be a massive cooking fire off to the right, just outside of a hedge of trees, and she could see a few people gathering around it.

Increasingly puzzled, she stepped away from the door, growing more interested in her surroundings, when someone abruptly grabbed her by the wrist.

Startled, she shrieked as he yanked her away from the stone and wood shelter, pulling her with him as he walked towards the massive cooking fire in the near distance. The man who had her in his grasp wasn't particularly large, but he had a strong grip as he pulled her along. He looked at her and Cantia could see that he was older, with stringy dark hair and flashing dark eyes, and his body was lithe and wiry. Then he smiled at her, a rather insane gesture, and she was stabbed by fear.

"See who I have!" he bellowed to anyone who would listen. "Our prize has awoken!"

Some of the people began cheering and Cantia tried to pull away from him as he dragged her over to the cooking fire. He yelled some more, drawing a crowd, and people began to come out of their lean-tos and shacks to see what all of the commotion was about. By the time they reached the cooking fire, Cantia was nearly in full-blown panic, trying desperately to pull away from the man. As they came to a halt in a crowd of dirty, smelly, loud people, he slapped her across the face when she tried to kick him.

"That will be enough from you, woman," he growled, his mad-like grin vanished. "Behave yourself."

Cantia's hand flew to her stinging cheek. It hadn't been a hard slap, but it had been enough to smart. "Behave myself ?" she repeated, angry and afraid. "You abducted me and my son, and you have the gall to tell me to behave?"

The crowd snickered as the man just looked at her. Then, that crazy grin returned. "Ah," he said, almost sweetly. "Listen to her speak. She is a fine, fine lady with a noble background. Is that not correct, little chicken?"

Cantia glanced around at the crowd nervously. "Who are you? Tell me your name."

The man snorted. "Still, she makes demands. This is a woman used to having her way."

The crowd cheered and jeered and Cantia was struggling not to become completely terrified. "I was not making demands," she clarified, hoping she didn't sound arrogant. She didn't want to appear demanding in front of this rather rough group. "I was simply asking a question. Who are you and why did you abduct us?"

Without letting go of her wrist, the man bowed deeply. "M'lady," he said mockingly. "I was under the impression we were saving you."

Cantia's fight came to a halt, stumped by his statement. She looked at him, shocked. "What… what do you mean?"

The man mimicked her expression. "Were you not in danger? Were you not about to be abducted by that knight, perhaps even worse?"

Cantia was at a loss, suddenly not feeling so completely frightened. "You saw what happened?"

The man nodded confidently. "We had been trailing your party for some time," he said. "We saw the knight kill his two colleagues and set upon you. So we saved you and your children."

He seemed very proud of himself. Cantia was completely baffled. "You saved us?" she repeated. "What in the world is going on here? Why were you following us?"

The man shrugged. "Because you were there," he said simply. "To tell you the truth, we were going to rob you but when we saw the knight turn against you, we decided to act. Perhaps it was because of the children or perhaps it was because we still seek your riches. I do not know. Perhaps we may kill you after all."

Cantia was back to fear again. "Please do not kill us," she begged softly. "If it is money you seek, then I can promise you a handsome reward if you return us to Rochester Castle."

The man's careless and rather humorous posturing fled and he peered at her, clearly interested.

"Rochester Castle?" he said, somewhat incredulous. "Is that your home?"

She nodded eagerly. "Aye," she replied. "My… my husband is Viscount Winterton. He will pay you a great deal of money if you return the children and me unharmed."

The crowd rumbled restlessly and the man seemed to lose some of his confidence. In truth, he looked rather uncertain.

"Winterton," he repeated. "Is he not part of East Anglia?"

By his tone, Cantia wasn't so certain that was a good thing. She didn't like the way he said it. But she didn't back out, not after she'd already divulged the information.

"Aye," she said, eyeing him, eyeing the crowd. "Please return us to Rochester. I will make sure you receive a goodly reward."

The man let go of her wrist. He seemed to be oddly subdued, unusual for a man who had been so animated moments before. He looked around the fire, at the faces of the dirty and destitute people, seemingly lost in thought. Cantia watched with mounting apprehension as he seemed to ponder her offer.

"He will kill us," he finally said.

Cantia shook her head. "Nay, he will not," she insisted. "You did indeed save us from a rogue knight. My husband will greatly reward you, I promise."

The man's gaze lingered on her. "Winterton is a man without mercy. I should know. His army burned my village and destroyed my home. My family and I had to take refuge in the forest because we have nowhere else to go. Now we live here, with these fine people, and we take what we want."

With that, he grabbed her wrist again and yanked her roughly in the direction they had come. The crowd yelled and cheered as the man spouted all of the terrible things he planned to do to the prisoner.

Terrified, Cantia was back to fighting him again, scratching and kicking, until he tried to slap her again but missed. Then she threw herself to her knees, trying to stop the momentum, but he simply pulled her along, dragging her through the grass and dirt, collecting leaves against her knees as he pulled. By the time they reached the shelter where Hunt and Arabel were sleeping, she was verging on panicked tears.

"Please," she begged. "Do not hurt me. Please ."

He didn't reply other than to yell victoriously at the crowd in the distance and throw open the shelter door, tossing Cantia inside.

Cantia fell to the ground, nearly landing on Hunt. The boy had been awakened by all of the commotion and was sitting up, rubbing his eyes and crying when he saw his mother sprawled on the ground. His weeping woke up Arabel, who lay next to him but was too weak to sit up as he was doing. She just lay there, crying, with her hands over her face.

On the ground, Cantia cowered as the man entered the shelter behind her and slammed the door. She was horrified at what she was sure was about to happen, in front of her son and Arabel no less, and the tears began to come. Still, she didn't give up. As the man came close, she put up a booted foot to kick him away. She was going to fight him or die trying.

But instead of descending on her, an odd thing happened. The man veered over to the wall where Cantia's satchels sat, fairly intact. Cantia watched him, terrorized, and saw he was going for the bags. As she watched, he unfastened the leather ties and opened up the satchel. Then he began to rummage around.

"You have some fine things," he said, pulling out a luscious topaz-colored silk surcoat and holding it up to the muted light. "This is beautiful. Where did you get it?"

Cantia was still on the ground, confusion mingling with her terror. She slowly began to push herself up.

"I… uh, that is to say, I bought the material in London," she said hesitantly.

"Did you sew it?"

"I did."

The man looked at her over his shoulder and she saw a glimpse of that insane smile once more. "You have great skill," he said, turning back to the contents of the bag and pulling out a blue cotton surcoat. "If you are the viscount's wife, do you not have women to sew for you?"

Cantia eyed Hunt as the boy wiped tears from his face. "I do," she said. "But I enjoy sewing."

The man simply nodded, throwing the topaz silk over his shoulder as he continued to rummage around in the bag. "My mother used to sew, and sew very well," he told her. "I developed an eye for fine work. Based on your wardrobe alone, I believe that you are Winterton's wife. It takes money to purchase what you have."

Cantia didn't know what to say to that. She pushed herself to her knees and crawled over to the pallet where Hunt was sitting. She sat beside him, wrapping her arms around the boy to comfort him.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

The man finished with one satchel and began digging around in the other. Then he looked up at her, flashing that toothy grin. "Steal your clothing."

Cantia didn't say anything. She wasn't entirely sure what was happening, so she looked down at Hunt, kissed him on the forehead, and reached out a hand to hold on to Arabel, who was still lying there, weeping.

"Please," she said after a moment. "Can you not see that this child is very ill? We must return to Rochester."

The man glanced over his shoulder at the young girl still lying on the pallet. She was very tiny, very thin, and seemed to be unable to use her arms or legs very well. He shouldn't have cared about it but he was curious nonetheless. In that curiosity was a fraction of inherent pity.

"What is wrong with her?" he asked.

Cantia held Arabel's hand tightly. "She was born this way," she said softly. "She is crippled and I am sure the abduction last night has severely weakened her. She cannot take such excitement. Please… have mercy and return us."

The man's rummaging slowed to a halt. He looked at the trio on the pallet, seeing their scared and tired faces. For the first time that morning, he began to show signs of uncertainty and perhaps even remorse.

"My name is Gillywiss," he finally said. "These people, my people, live here because one way or another, we have been chased or scattered from our homes by men such as your husband. Why should I show mercy to you?"

Cantia wasn't without pity. She knew that those who did not live in castles were subject to terrible things. She knew that times were dark and desperate.

"Because the children and I have done nothing to harm you," she said softly. "We are innocent, just as you are innocent. Would you punish us for things beyond our control?"

"No one is innocent," he snapped softly. "Your husband is evil, lady."

"My husband is a good man," she replied, anger now joining the other emotions she was feeling. "He is kind and generous and sweet, and he cares very much for his family."

"He is a murderer!"

"He is commanded by those in power and does what he is told to do," she fired back. "He does not murder for the sake of murdering. He is part of this terrible war that is going on, brother against brother, where all men suffer. I have suffered. I have suffered great loss because of this foolish contention between Stephen and Matilda, so do not think to lecture me on the evils of battle, for I have lived them."

He was not convinced. "What have you possibly suffered?"

She looked away from him. "Death," she muttered. "The death of someone very close to me. Never imagine you are the only one who has suffered through death and loss."

"Who has died?"

Cantia looked at Hunt, her gaze soft and lingering. "His father," she replied. "He was killed in an ambush, more than likely by people such as yours. You think my husband a murderer? Perhaps you should see it from my perspective."

"Winterton is not his father?"

"Nay."

Gillywiss stared at her, surcoats in hand, preparing a sharp retort that simply died on his lips because she would not understand, anyway. But she had a point. He was an odd man, odder still because he stood up and pulled the surcoat over his head and tried to fit into it. Cantia watched, increasingly baffled, as the man tried to pull a substantially smaller garment onto his frame. When he caught Cantia and Hunt looking at him rather strangely, he flashed that crazy smile.

"Lady, you will scream now," he told her. "Scream until I tell you to stop."

Cantia still wasn't over their conversation, but he apparently was. Like someone had lit a flame, his demeanor change was instantaneous. When he waved his hands at her as if to encourage her to obey him, she took a deep breath and screamed, perhaps fearful of what would happen if she didn't.

"Again!" he commanded. "Scream as if I am violating you in every possible way. Do it!"

She let go of Hunt and moved away so she wouldn't be screaming in his ear. She howled and cried, on and on for several minutes as Gillywiss tried on her surcoats and fine things. Belts that wouldn't fit around his waist were put on his head, like a diadem, and he pulled the fine silk stockings onto his arms, smelling them. In fact, he smelled and touched everything, and when he came to a vial of expensive perfumed oil, he spread it liberally on his hands and inhaled the heady rose scent.

After many long minutes of screaming, Cantia was growing tired and her throat was beginning to hurt. When she thought perhaps Gillywiss had forgotten about her as he focused intently on her clothing, he finally waved a hand at her and she ceased.

"Well and good for you, my lady," he said. "You scream like a stuck pig."

Cantia rubbed her throat, eyeing the man who had at least two surcoats pulled over him, one belt around his head and another around his neck. He had found her small and precious glass hand mirror wrapped up in her satchel and was using it to look at himself. All the while, Cantia's eyes never left him. She had no idea what the man was doing or, furthermore, what he planned to do. She was on edge every single second, watching and waiting.

Finally, Gillywiss began to take everything off. He carefully rolled the surcoats, tucking them back where he found them. The belts were cautiously put back and the mirror was wrapped up in the heavy linen he had found it in. Everything went back as nicely and neatly as when he found it. When he was finished, he stood up and faced the three captives.

"You did not see me do this," he instructed.

Cantia understood he meant the entire episode with the clothes because he was pointing to her bags with a wagging finger.

"As… as you say, my lord," she said, somewhat confused.

Gillywiss put his hands on his hips and approached her, pensively. "And the screaming," he said. "If anyone asks, you will tell them I ravaged you thoroughly. Is that clear?"

Cantia nodded. "Aye, my lord."

Gillywiss' gaze lingered on her a moment before looking to Hunt and Arabel, both children gazing up at him with some puzzlement and fear. "You both," he pointed. "You will not tell what you saw here today. Do you understand? If you tell, very bad things will happen."

Hunt and Arabel nodded apprehensively but said nothing, and Gillywiss returned his attention to Cantia. It looked as if he wanted to say more but refrained. Suddenly appearing rather depressed, a far cry from the animated man of earlier, he turned for the door.

"I will send you food," he said.

He quit the hut, shutting the door behind him. Cantia stood there, staring at the panel, wondering what in the world had just happened. It was the strangest thing she had ever seen. Baffled, she sat down next to Hunt on the dirty pallet.

"Mam?" Hunt tugged on her arm. "What will we do?"

Cantia drew in a long breath as she looked at her son. "I do not know."

Hunt's little brow furrowed in thought. "We should esthcape," he said firmly. "We should run away."

Cantia had thought of that, too. She ran a hand over her son's blond head. "We cannot," she said softly, looking to Arabel, who was lying beside them. "We cannot leave Lady Arabel behind, and we cannot carry her with us, so we must stay here to protect her."

Arabel was gazing up at the pair. "Please," she said softly, "if you escape and run back to my father, you can bring help."

Cantia smiled faintly at the girl. "That is very brave, but I will not leave you," she said. "Until we can think of something else, we will all stay here together."

Arabel was coming to feel guilty, as if she were holding Cantia and Hunt back. "You cannot put yourself in such danger, my lady," she insisted. "They will not harm me, but I fear they will do terrible things to you. You must escape and you must take Hunt with you."

Cantia reached out and grasped the girl's hand, squeezing it. "I will not leave you," she said softly. "There is nothing more to discuss. Meanwhile, we must figure out how we can get word to your father."

Hunt had all manner of ideas on how to send word to Tevin, not the least of which was catching a bird and tying a note to its leg. Then he thought they could catch a fox and tell it to run to Rochester. As Cantia gently shot down every idea Hunt had, Arabel was making plans of her own. She may have been crippled, but she wasn't to be discounted in their quest for freedom.

She would get them out of there.