Struggling futilely against Torr’s firm hold, Elizabeth looked at Thayer. “You cannot do this to me. You cannot hold me like some common felon. Do you forget who I am?”
“Never, m’lady. You will stay at Riverfall until all of this is settled. If I return with my wife, we will return you safely to your family. If Gytha dies, I will have you hanged.” He smiled coldly when she went white, all color leaving her face. “If I do not survive to do it by my own hand, I doubt there will be any lack of others eager to tend to it.”
“You cannot. I am the mother of your son.”
“That will not save you if Gytha dies. And if she lives and your family is called to come and fetch you, I think it would be a good time to speak to them of Bek.”
“Tell them? You promised! No one was ever to know. Nay,” she cried when he signaled to Torr and the man began to drag her away. “You must listen to me.”
“Do I return here, m’lord?” Torr asked.
“Nay, wait for me at Riverfall.”
He turned his back on Lady Elizabeth, ignoring her screaming bids for his attention. Glancing around, he met Bek’s gaze. The boy looked sad but little else. It reminded Thayer, however, that it might not be as simple as he would like to extract even a just punishment from Lady Elizabeth. Inwardly shaking his head, he decided he would review the problem later. Now the only thing that mattered was Gytha and getting her back safely to Riverfall and to him.
“Here—drink this.” Roger placed a tankard of strong ale in Thayer’s hand.
After downing nearly half the drink, Thayer wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. “Do we wait for word or go after her?” he asked Roger and Merlion, who watched him carefully.
“He took her to bring you to him,” Roger answered. “He has to know you will seek to get her back.”
“Aye.” Thayer nodded slowly, accepting that reasoning. “He would expect me to come clamoring for her return.”
“So, do you do it or do you sit back and let him call for you?”
“I go, armed and ready for battle, although he seeks no fair fight.”
“That is certain, but is it wise to do as he wants you to?”
“What choice do I have? He holds my wife.”
“He means to wed her to Robert. That means he will not harm her. At least, not until he benefits from the marriage.”
“Can we be so sure of that now, Roger? In her womb rests my heir, and that could destroy all his plans. He gains only a little legitimacy to his claims through the marriage. That my heir could be born and live might seem too great a risk for him to take. There are three solutions to the problem that babe presents him with—he can wait until the child is born, then kill it. He can try to tear it from Gytha’s body, which could kill her as well. Or he could kill both mother and child at one stroke.”
Simply listing the possibilities he could not ignore had Thayer trembling inside. He took a long drink of ale but found little comfort there. His fear ran too deep. Pickney held all that was dear to him.
Reminding himself that he still had Bek helped little. He loved the boy. They had been through a lot together. Nothing could replace Bek in his heart. Neither could Bek fill the hole that would be left if he lost Gytha and their child.
“I believe,” Roger said, breaking the tense silence, “Pickney will go with the first of those grim choices.”
“Do you?” Thayer asked him. “Why?”
“Because he has shown that he is set on gain with little thought to anything else. To get the land and coin you hold has been his only prod. He disregards everything else, even the consequences that must come of his actions. Gytha can add to his gain. For that she will be worth something for a while. She is needed now to get you to come to him and to stop us from going to battle with him. If he kills you, as he intends, she will be his only shield, all he can hold before us to keep us from killing him.”
The sound reasoning behind Roger’s words gave Thayer a flicker of hope. It also gave him time, which could give him a chance to save Gytha and end Pickney’s threats forever. No immediate plan came to mind, but Thayer was not surprised. Still reeling from it all, he was in no state to come up with clever strategy.
“Come, we will return to Riverfall. For now we act as if we head to battle.” Thayer started towards the door of the inn, his people quickly falling in behind him. “If naught else, ’tis what that dog expects. So we will do as he wants. We will ride to Saitun Manor and clamor before the walls—in force and ready to tear the place down about his ears.”
“And our real plan?” Roger asked.
“Our real plan?” Thayer gave a short, bitter laugh. “That does not exist yet. I pray we can devise one ere we set up camp on the fields before Saitun Manor.”
The moment Thayer rode into the bailey of Riverfall, he knew Torr had forewarned the men. Curtly, he gave the order to arm that they all waited for. Without wasting another moment, he made his way to his chambers to prepare himself.
In the privacy of his chambers, he found no haven, no safe place to think clearly. Gytha was everywhere in spirit. Her special scent lingered in the air. He rushed to prepare himself for battle so that he could flee the room, escape the memories. They stirred the fears he sought to control.
Once ready, he hurried to Margaret’s chambers, not surprised to find Roger there. The two had become an accepted pair at Riverfall, everyone wondering when the marriage would take place. His interest was not in the couple completing the farewells all lovers indulged in when the man rode off to battle, but in Bek, whom Margaret had settled in her room. The boy was curled up in Margaret’s bed fast asleep.
