Still, it was more than sobering to realize that he might never see her again.
Would she learn of his fate? He did not believe that Fergus would abandon him readily, but was not certain how much the party would risk. Certainly, they would try to regain the prize of the reliquary for it was their mission to deliver it safely. But given the choice between relic and himself, Duncan knew there would be only one decision they could make.
They were sworn to the saint’s defense, after all.
He wondered whether he would ever see daylight again, when he heard a key turn in a lock. The trap door was flung open, emitting sudden light into the dungeon so that he squinted at its brightness.
“Sir Royce would speak with you,” said a man gruffly, then kicked the rope ladder down into the hole. “Hasten yourself, for if you cannot climb on your own, you will lose the chance to beg his mercy.”
Duncan had no intention of begging for Royce’s mercy. He suspected he would have little chance to speak. He feared he might be tortured or worse, executed. Still, there was no point in flinching from whatever would be. He seized the rope ladder and began to climb.
*
It seemed to Bartholomew that they walked for hours, though in truth, he knew it could not have been so long. Deprived of his sight, his other senses were more keen. He felt that they moved deeper into the forest and that the land changed shape. For a long time, their progress was over level ground, then they crossed a stream and it began to rise. He felt that the air moved more, as if they climbed a hill that stood in the wind.
Anna periodically paused to spin him around in place, undoubtedly hoping to muddle his sense of direction, but Bartholomew was not so easily disoriented as that. He also guessed that she would not take a circuitous path, because the baron’s men were hunting them. At intervals, he heard the thunder of passing hoof beats or the barking of dogs. When the baron’s men could be discerned, Anna pulled him low and froze in place until the sounds faded again. He could hear the footfalls of Father Ignatius on his other side and the sounds of Percy disguising their path behind him as they progressed.
There could be no doubting the tension in Anna, for her grip upon his elbow was tight and her breathing was quick. Bartholomew knew she was afraid of being caught, and he guessed that her fear was based upon a past incident that had not ended well.
Was Gaultier the French knight who had abused her? That would explain Percy’s decision to attack the Captain of the Guard, and perhaps even Gaultier’s seizing Anna.
Perhaps Gaultier had simply ordered the assault.
As they walked in silence, Bartholomew could not ask Anna. He would not have asked her in the presence of the priest and her brother, at any rate, and he reasoned she would not have answered no matter how or when he asked.
Still, he wanted to know.
Finally, they entered a clearing, and Bartholomew knew it because he felt the sunlight on his shoulders and head. Unless he missed his guess, it was midday for the heat came from overhead, which meant the sun was at zenith. He felt Percy leave them and race ahead, then heard the boy circle back through the undergrowth.
“Now you must climb,” Anna said, just as dogs began to bark at closer proximity. She caught her breath. “There!” she said to someone, probably Father Ignatius for that man left Bartholomew’s side.
The older man grunted as he endeavored to do some feat, the dogs barked more loudly, and Bartholomew had sufficient of the game. He pushed off the blindfold and shoved the piece of cloth into his belt.
“Nay!” Anna protested, but he ignored her and seized the end of the rope ladder that Father Ignatius was trying to climb. It hung from a nearby tree and swung so with the older man’s weight that he was having difficulties in ascending it. Bartholomew put his weight on the base of it, ensuring it was stable and vertical. The priest cast him a smile of gratitude and made better progress. Bartholomew could see that there was a platform built high in the tree’s boughs.
“You expected me to climb this while blindfolded?” he asked Anna. “Or maybe you meant to abandon me to the dogs?”
“I did not!” she retorted. “But you cannot see our haven.”
“I have no notion of where we are and could not find this place again. It is sufficient,” he assured her, although he was not nearly as lost as she might believe. Father Ignatius made the platform overhead, and Bartholomew beckoned to Percy. “Go.” The boy scampered up the ladder, then Anna came to his side with some wariness.
“You should go next,” she said.
“Ladies first.”
“You are not the lord of the forests,” she countered. “All follow my dictate in these woods.”
That was a marvel in itself, but Bartholomew did not budge. “Perhaps they follow the dictate of whoever carries the crossbow,” he suggested, just to see her lips thin in displeasure and her eyes snap. The crossbow in question was slung on his back. “Shall we discuss it for the remainder of the day, or do you mean to climb?”
“Vexing man,” she grumbled, then seized the ladder. She paused when they were eye to eye. “Do not look up my skirts,” she warned him.
“Aye, for that would be a fearsome fate.” He teased her, for he could do naught else. “Never mind Royce’s men or the dogs or the prospect of incarceration or execution. For me to see the sweet curve of your legs would be a most dire situation. Make no mistake: you offer your share of vexation, Anna.” He made a face and she swatted his shoulder. He held her gaze with intent, knowing why she insisted thus, and dropped his voice low. “Climb, Anna. I will not look.”
And though he might have savored the view, Bartholomew kept his word.
He was about to climb the ladder himself when he heard some beast running through the forest. He paused to look back, for it came from the same direction they had come, just as a large grey dog burst into the clearing. It had its nose to the ground, but looked up and headed directly for him.
Cenric!
