“Aye, sir, I have been indeed,” Anna said, then put her hand in his elbow.
“Then come to the board with me, I beg of you. We have fresh bread and fresh honey this morn.”
“How kind you are, sir. I thank you for your generosity.”
Royce chattered to her as they walked, his fingers stroking the back of her hand as if she were a pet. Anna set her teeth, kept her head down, and struggled to be polite.
The sooner they were away from this hall, the better, in her view.
*
Bartholomew had escorted Anna to the chapel and closed the door behind her. There was no one afoot in the bailey, though he could hear sounds of activity in the stables. Fergus laughed and Duncan grumbled, Hamish protested, and Timothy must be brushing Zephyr.
Gaultier, the Captain of the Guards, was walking the curtain wall, the other knights of the household following closely behind him as he inspected the ramparts. They were occupied, but only for a short time.
He had but moments to use the key.
Bartholomew sauntered across the bailey as if he had naught but time to spare and slipped into the hall. He quickened his pace then. The kitchens were busy, for he could hear preparations being made for the morning meal, and there were maids sweeping the rushes in the hall. No fires had been lit there as yet, and he stepped back as a maid hastened up the stairs with a bucket of steaming water.
For Marie? Or for Royce? Either of them might appear at any time.
Bartholomew hastened to the portal to the dungeon, looked up and down the corridor, then unlocked the door. He looked down into the darkness. “Percy?” he whispered.
“I will not go quietly to die!” the boy wailed.
“You will be quiet if you mean to live,” Bartholomew retorted. “Anna bids you heed me.”
“Anna?” Hope mingled with skepticism in the boy’s voice.
Bartholomew could discern the pale orb of the boy’s face in the darkness below.
“Anna.” Bartholomew tossed the rope ladder down the hole. “Climb quickly!”
The boy needed little encouragement to do as much and scrambled up to Bartholomew’s side. Bartholomew wrapped him quickly in his cloak, folding him against his chest beneath the wool. The boy had a fearsome smell, but there was little to be done about that. He closed the trap door and locked it, then stood and held his cloak about himself.
“Be still and be quiet,” he advised sternly and felt Percy nod.
Again he strolled into the bailey, moseying toward the stables. No one took any notice of him, until he stepped into the stables.
Fergus turned with a grimace. “Where have you been sleeping?” he demanded, then Bartholomew opened his cloak to reveal his burden. “The thief!”
Percy’s eyes rounded. “The party of knights!” He punched Bartholomew in the stomach and made to flee. “Anna never gave you a message for me!” Duncan shut the door and leaned against it, blocking the boy’s passage. Percy spun in place, eyeing the three knights as if he would fight them all.
“Anna is with us,” Bartholomew said. “We mean to see you returned to the forest, hale and whole.”
“Why?” Percy demanded, his suspicion clear.
“We needed Anna’s help to retrieve what we value, and her price was your rescue,” Bartholomew explained.
Instead of being reassured, the boy caught his breath in alarm. “She did not come into the keep, did she?”
Bartholomew wondered at his concern. “She did, in disguise, and I will thank you not to reveal her.”
“Not I!” declared Percy. His mouth took a grim line. “I would not put her in peril again.” He strode to Bartholomew and shook a fist at him. “And if you have done her injury, I shall see her avenged.”
“The lady has a champion,” Fergus said with amusement. The boy glared at him.
“They have endured much, I believe,” Bartholomew said. He crouched down before the boy. “We mean to garb you as a squire and hide you within our company. It is the best way to see you freed of this place, but the scheme will only succeed if you cooperate.”
