If the guard saw the cat, she would be a cooked goose.
She edged down the stairs quickly, moving blindly away from the light into the dark depths of the tower stairwell. Her hands ran along the wall, feeling her way down as her feet edged uneasily onto each unfamiliar stair tread.
As she neared the bottom of the tower, there shone a dim spill of light from one of the nearby chambers, but she heardthere no voices. Before she passed the open chamber, she moved to the opposite wall, listening sharply for sounds, and when there were none, she hurried past, keeping against the wall
Four more chambers had their doors closed and then she was looking down into the hall, where pallets were scattered and men were sleeping lumps…except for two men talking quietly near the stairs. If there was a way past them, she could not see it.
The cat was back, and it made a plaintive meow. Quickly she stepped back, pressed again the wall, her heart beating in her throat.
Be quiet, cat.
There was a long, empty and quiet pause, then suddenly the beast was making enough noise to awaken the hall. She bent down to grab it and it shot away from her, plopped down and started all over again.
“Meow, meow, meow, meow, meoooooow…” The cat sounded as if it were a Gregorian monk on the feast day of Saint Columba.
Belowstairs someone cursed.
Please let there be a dozen cats in the castle.
“Meow, meow, meow, meow, meoooooow…”
Quickly Glenna searched for some way to escape and prayed the guard who knew the cat was locked in the tower was sleeping soundly.
“Someone drown that cat.” A gruff voice carried up from the hall.
“Here take my sword and cut its throat,” groaned another.
A loud and vicious curse came from inside the nearest chamber, and Glenna quickly ran into a dark corner as the door cracked opened and a boot flew at the cat, who screeched and disappeared down the steps.
Glenna held her breath as the door stayed open, and then slowly began to close. She dared not move until the door closed enough for her to sneak down.
From below came a familiar voice, “The cat’s out! ” cried the guard.
Her heart sank.
There was a roaring shout to find her. “Quick! Up to the tower.”
She closed her eyes and stayed into the corner as the clatter of weapons and running feet carried up the walls. Men came up the stairs and passed by in running shadows.
She had nowhere to go.
From the open room nearest the tower stairs came two men, armed, and followed by three others carrying swords and reed torches. Light flooded out into the darkened halls and the door next to her flew open and her captor came out, barefooted but strapping on his sword belt.
Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears.
“Meow!” The cat was back and moved straight for her. “Meow!”
Huchon de Hay paused, then turned. He was looking right at her. She was staring at his sword blade.
She covered her head with her arms and cowered, whimpering softly. “Do not kill me. I beg you, my lord. The guard did not bolt the door,” she lied and looked up at him from wide eyes filled with tears. “Can you blame me? Would you not have tried to escape, my lord?”
“She is here!” he called out to his men and continued to stare at her from eyes that told her nothing about what he was thinking. He lowered the sword and said to her, “Stand up, woman.”
The horrid guard cat stood near her feet, as men at arms began flanking de Hay.
“Take her back.”
Already her mind was working. How long should she wait before she tried to escape again?
