Was that fear he saw race across her face?
But if it was, she pushed it firmly away. Ariana nodded her agreement. “I understand,” she said levelly.
“Then follow me.”
He led her back down the winding stairs, conscious of the narrow stone treads and the steepness of the descent. But Ariana did not clutch her skirts and grasp for his assistance the way he had expected. Nay, she walked with a surety and composure he had rarely seen.
What a curious creature he had wedded.
The sweetness of the outside air was always a relief after the confines of the stairwell. From the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of castle guards stand sharply to attention. Good. They should not stand easy. Yesterday’s feast had brought merriment to Darkmoor after the bleakness of mourning, but he must ensure standards of vigilance remained high.
“This way,” he said.
They walked side by side, unspeaking, to the western edge of the outer courtyard, chickens scattering in their path. Their squawking and pecking unsettled him somehow, and the curious gaze of women from the washhouse increased his irritation. But he had offered to show the castle to Ariana. In the future, he would take care to be more specific.
An acrid, unwashed smell reached them, and he paused to offer her his handkerchief. “You may wish to cover your nose,” he advised.
“I have one of my own.” Her hand went to her side and then faltered. “Oh, I had forgotten…”
He gave a small bow, lips curling upwards at the memory. “You were kind enough to present it to me.” Her eyes lifted to his and once again he knew a strange jolt of recognition. “Take this,” he urged.
She held the handkerchief daintily to her nose as they reached the imposing granite overhang of the Darkmoor dungeons. The guard was ready for them.
“My lord, my lady.” He bowed to each of them in turn.
“How many prisoners have we?” Otto asked.
Surprise flickered across the guard’s face, but he answered readily enough. “No more than six, my lord.”
“Are they all men?”
He turned in surprise at Ariana’s question. “Of course,” he answered, before the guard could conjure a response.
Her cheeks colored pink. “What of the women prisoners?”
He frowned, genuinely perplexed. “Why should we have women prisoners?” The tolling of the noon-time bell alerted him to the passage of time and the urgency of the tasks still awaiting him. “Well, seeing as we are here, shall we continue?”
Ariana nodded her assent although he sensed her interest had waned. No doubt because of the smell, he thought, holding his breath as they passed beneath the overhang and into the dank confines of the dungeon. The ground beneath their feet was wet with moisture from the rocks. Torches affixed to the granite walls gave off little light, but his eyes adjusted quickly. He held out a hand to steady Ariana and was pleased when she took it.
“I hope you shall see that we treat our prisoners well,” he stated, leading her towards the cells. “As well as can be expected,” he amended. The wretch in the first cell was sitting on a wooden stool facing away from them. He turned when they approached, his eyes widening in surprise. “You see?” Otto gestured impatiently. “You are provided with food and water, are you not?” he demanded of the man.
The prisoner nodded.
Otto looked over at Ariana, but she was rooted to the spot, her eyes scanning the rocky corridor leading further into the dungeons.
“Do you wish to see more?” She shook her head, and he cursed his foolishness when tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. “Then let us go.”
He took her elbow and led her forcibly out into the freshness of the outer courtyard. Ariana gagged with his handkerchief pressed against her mouth.
“A terrible place,” she gasped. “No light, no air.”
“They are prisoners,” he observed, “not guests.”
“I see they are not held in chains, nor starved, nor flogged,” she permitted, straightening her back. She shook out his handkerchief, then folded it neatly. “What are their crimes?” The question was flung out carelessly, but he sensed her interest in the answer.
Otto folded his arms, reluctant to talk more on this subject. “Theft, mostly.”
“What of more serious crimes?” Her gaze met his.
