“Not that I am aware of.”
“Where are The Roden Twins?”
“Still at Hawkstone, as far as I know.”
So much of the situation was now ringing out as clear as a bell to both Caius and Maxton, a disgusting circumstance that was nothing more than greed from what they could see. Suddenly, Covington de Wrenville’s complaint about a neighbor was beginning to reveal some unsavory things about Covington himself.
“Christ,” Caius piped up. “William was very clear on how I was to handle this because he fears greatly for his niece. She is married to Covington de Wrenville now and The Marshal fears for her safety if the situation goes against de Wrenville.”
Edward snorted. “Why do you think I am coming with you?” he said. “It is not because I adore battle and conflict. It is because this entire situation smacks of Covey de Wrenville’s greed. He was always a troublemaker, but never more so than now. And I agree with The Marshal. The marriage itself was arranged so Covey could use William’s army to subdue Hawkstone once and for all.”
Caius didn’t like the sound of that. “If that is true, then therein lies the problem. I was told I could not use the army against de Wrenville.”
Edward glanced back at the three thousand men they had following them. Thousands of men, twelve provisions wagons, and six more wagons carrying tents and other items for a massive warrior encampment meant that there was going to be an entire army camped out at Winterhold Castle.
“You have a thousand Marshal men and a thousand de Lohr men,” he said quietly, returning his attention to Caius. “The rest are mine. I can send for more. If I choose to defend Rupert de Thorington, then I shall.”
Caius eyed him. “Against William Marshal’s army?”
“I will not let Covey de Wrenville use them.”
It was a tricky, nasty situation and Caius didn’t say anything more, but he and Maxton passed concerned glances. If this got out of hand, they could very well find themselves facing off against the de Wolfe army. Caius made the decision at that moment that if it came to that, he would stand down. He would not fight against the mighty Earl of Wolverhampton and he knew that The Marshal would back that decision.
At least, he hoped so.
With trepidation in his breast, Caius turned his head to see The Marshal knights behind him– Peter, Kevin, Gareth, and Morgan still riding with young William. He could hardly wait to tell them what Edward had elaborated on. They’d been part of the initial conversations with the earl when they’d first arrived to Warstone, but the discussions had been more about The Marshal and the situation with his niece rather than the speculation behind Covington’s aggression against Hawkstone.
Now, everything was out in the open.
Perhaps the stakes were higher than any of them could imagine.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was cold.
Beyond cold, in truth. The stone walls of Winterhold’s vault were moist and covered with moss, and the air itself was full of rot. To reach this hellish hole, and it was dug deep under the largest tower next to the keep, one had to traverse a ridiculously steep and treacherous staircase that had a rope banister so those traveling up and down, namely knights or guards, wouldn’t kill themselves. It was more like a slippery ladder than a staircase, leading down into a bottomless pit.
In fact, Emelisse was one of those who nearly ended her life ingloriously at the bottom of the staircase because she had been fighting Covington’s knight so much that she ended up falling onto her bum, sliding at least four or five stairs before he managed to grab her by the hair to stop her from plunging to the bottom. It had been a terrifying and painful dose of reality.
After that, she didn’t fight so much.
With a heavily bruised bum and right thigh, Emelisse permitted the knight to take her to the bottom of the steps without incident, where a heavy iron grate was built into the walls of the stairwell. There was a guard there, in the confinedspace, who unlocked the massive iron lock by the light of a smoking torch. Shoving the door open, the vault beyond was revealed.
Emelisse could barely see before her because it was so dark, but she could see enough to make out a single, circular room, lined with stone. It was literally one big chamber and there were already two prisoners in there, huddle over to one side of it. There weren’t individual cells, meaning Emelisse would go into the same holding cell as the rest of Winterhold’s prisoners.
And past prisoners.
There were at least two or three bodies in various states of decomposition that she could see, crammed over into a pile near the cell door. She could see bones and rotting flesh in the darkness, and she could certainly smell the death.
Shocked at the sight, she resisted somewhat when de Wrenville’s knight pulled her into the chamber. He finally yanked and she came through, darting away from the rotting bodies and the two prisoners huddled on the other side of the chamber. She looked to de Wrenville’s knight, all of the fight and anger drained from her face as the horror of the situation became apparent.
“I am to stayhere?” she gasped. “Have you no mercy, my lord? Why would you put me here?”
The knight met her gaze and Emelisse couldn’t tell if there was pity there. She didn’t sense complete hatred from him, and perhaps there was even some humanity in his expression, but it was impossible to tell in the darkness. All she could really see were his eyes glittering in the weak light.
“You are a prisoner, Lady Emelisse,” he said. “For now, I have nowhere else to put you, so you must stay here.”
Emelisse’s gaze traveled to the two live prisoners across the cell. She could only really see their outlines in the darkness andthe fear within her heart began to transform into disgust and frustration.
