Brows pinched, Mary’s head lifted toward the door, the quick sliding of chairs followed by angry words a stark contrast to the quiet moments before.
“... a… you… senight…” the muffled voice of Timothy drifted through the closed door before their cell became filled with light, the all too familiar form of Ian made visible.
Eyes falling to Richard’s arms then hers, Mary’s blood turned cold.They were neither of them bound. Escape attempt or no, this would be enough to anger Ian; the scissors and saved bread would merely ensure it.
Marching down the stairs, Ian paused on the final step, his eyes burning in the low light as he viewed them. “Which of ya let ‘em out of their bonds? Surely,” he growled as he looked up the stairs, “even yous ain’t that stupid?”
Shaking his head violently, Timothy’s usual insolent tone turned reedy, “Not me. I’d never. John, now he might, but why would I let these ‘ave any comforts? No. Never…”
“Shut your gob!” Ian barked, his eyes flicking toward Mary and Richard. “Get the whip. The girl gets it first.”
Pulling back, Mary’s mind whirled wildly, the beating of her heart and the throbbing of her veins muddling any rational thought as the footfalls of Timothy began to fade.
Breathe,she reminded herself as her nails dug into her palms, the breath in her lungs easing her fears enough to at least think beyond herself.Ian would begin with her, but any lashing would not end there. Richard would suffer too. Then they would be watched every hour; Ian would see to that. Any opportunity for escape would be gone! They had to do something… but what?
Gulping, she turned toward Richard, his slitted gaze fixed on Ian, though his hand drifted toward his pocket.
Scanning the room for anything she might use as a weapon, Mary’s eyes stilled at a piece of splintered board in the corner–too far to get unnoticed, but once Richard acted?
Yes.
But was she brave enough?
Tilting her body in the direction of the plank, she knew her answer.
As Ian’s attention drifted up the stairs for one blessed moment, their unspoken plan took effect.
In an instant Richard drew the scissors and lunged at Ian, the man’s blasphemies mingled with a cry of pain as Mary rushed for the small plank, the splintery wood eating into her hand as she wrapped her fingers around it. Head turning as a rumble of footsteps echoed off the stone walls, Mary saw Richard race upthe stairs, while up above every man above hurried to cut off their escape.
A hand held to her chest as she stepped over Ian, Mary made her way up the stairs, the sound of a scuffle thunderous in its intensity directing her path. Leaving behind their stone prison, her eyes took in the sight before her with unease, her Richard enduring the punches of one man as he sought to stand, the unmoving form of another next to him.
Gripping the board tighter, Mary’s face pulled in a painful wince as she slammed it into the man’s skull, his form going slack as he fell to the floor.
Hands shaking as she looked between the wood, the man, and Richard, she flitted between fear and relief, the wide eyes of Richard a mixture of admiration and pity before turning fearsome, his hand whipping past her.
Pivoting, Mary gasped at the sight of Richard holding back the knife-laden hand of Timothy, the man thwarted in killing her, but no less a threat.
Gaze darting between them, Mary searched for any opportunity to help, yet, with the two in the throes of battle, she could do nothing without the risk of hitting Richard.
Throat tight as the knife drifted toward Richard’s chest, Mary lifted her plank, full prepared to take the risk, yet, in one swift motion, Richard’s leg wrapped behind Timothy’s, throwing the man to the floor as Richard stepped upon the man’s knife hand with no small amount of force.
“Run if you want,” Timothy moaned from his place on the floor, his eyes cutting to the only one of his men left standing–John. “He won’t give any trouble; Ian’s men will though,” he sneered, “they’ll be here soon, hunting you down. Colonel could makeit somewhere I’d reckon, but not with you along Missy, you’ll slow ‘em down and they’ll capture you both again, you mark my words!”
Placing a hand on her arm, Richard pointed toward a well-stocked larder, “There, you gather us enough food and I will tie up this lot. Ian’s injured, but still not to be trifled with.”
Timothy’s poisonous words echoing in her mind, Mary hesitated;What if she did truly slow him down?
“Mary,” Richard’s voice penetrated her fears, “it will be alright… but we must hurry.”
Stirring from her stupor, Mary moved past John who continued to stand motionless in the corner and on to the larder, an old sack quickly filled with whatever meat and bread might survive the journey before gathering flasks and filling them with water.
The hint of a silver flash drawing her attention, she turned toward a small table, a knife half out of its sheath causing her to pause her actions. Sliding the blade fully in, she secured it in her pocket before turning to a wall of cots. Grabbing up three blankets and one old coat, she hoped they would be enough, for she could hold no more.
“Here,” Richard said as he moved alongside her, his arms scooping up her supplies before depositing them on the table. “I must tie the lot of them downstairs before we leave, but by the door there is another bag; put as much into it as you can and I shall return in a minute.”
Completing her task as quick as she might, Mary tucked the last of their supplies into the second bag, save one flask and the coat which would not fit.
“You ought to take one of the flasks,” Richard suggested as he slid the coat onto her. “You will need more than you think before the day is over.”
