Thayer glared at the walls of Saitun Manor as his bellow lingered briefly in the air. By the time he had reached the manor, his fear was such that he had needed to be restrained from riding right up to the walls and hurling himself against the barred gate in some mad, futile gesture. When Pickney appeared on the wall encircling the manor, Thayer grasped the hilt of his sword. Never before had he so ached to kill a man.
“Aha, the great Red Devil himself clamors at my gates,” Pickney yelled, a heavy tone of ridicule in his voice.
“Mygates, you bastard. But ’tis not that theft I come about. Where is my wife?”
“Your wife? Now, why should I know the whereabouts of the little whore?”
“When I gain hold of that cur, I shall kill him slowly,” Thayer muttered to Roger and Merlion, who flanked him, then raised his voice again as he spoke to Pickney. “Your ally at the inn values her life more than loyalty to you. She told me all of it, Pickney, so cease these games.”
“Ah—that wife. Aye, I have her, but there is a price.”
“I discuss nothing until I can see that Gytha is alive and well.”
“Fair enough.”
Watching closely, Thayer saw Pickney wave, clearly signaling someone. The man then pointed towards the west tower. Looking that way, Thayer cursed. Gytha was precariously perched in the narrow window at the top of the tower. His fear for her was eased only slightly when he saw the hands encircling her upper arms. Someone was holding her, keeping her from falling. However, that same someone could also hurl her to her death.
“Gytha,” he yelled, not sure his voice would carry so far, “have you been hurt?” She only shook her head slightly, causing him to frown. Then he realized she was undoubtedly terrified. “All right, Pickney, I have seen her. Tell your man to pull her back inside.” He relaxed a little when Pickney signaled the man and Gytha was tugged back into the tower.
“So, Red Devil”—Pickney sneered the title—“you now see that I hold all the reins. You must bow to me.”
“That is yet to be seen. What do you want?”
“At the moment, I believe I have all I want. Ah, nay—there is one more thing.”
Clenching his teeth so tightly his jaws ached, Thayer took a moment to respond. He could not release the fury that boiled inside of him. Pickney held Gytha. He had to remember exactly what sort of man Pickney was. Thayer knew Pickney would not hesitate to cause Gytha pain. No matter how it tore at him, he had to placate the man, not goad him or anger him. He had to play the game.
“And what is that one more thing, Pickney?”
“You.”
“Me, is it? I am to walk into your hold, am I?”
“Aye, unarmed.”
“So you may kill me without risk to yourself.”
“Your life for the woman’s.”
“Nay,” Roger hissed, afraid Thayer would immediately ride into Pickney’s grasp. “Nay, Thayer. Not so quickly.”
“He may not give me any time, Roger.”
“I think he will, if only to allow himself to savor what he sees as his victory.”
“You do not think he has won?”
Roger sighed, then shook his head. “We have just arrived here, just ridden here hard and fast. Gain time for us to survey this place and really think. There must be some solution beside you walking to your death like some ancient sacrifice.”
Looking back at the walls, Thayer stared at Pickney. He caught a glimpse of Robert behind his uncle. “Pickney’s shadow,” he thought with an inner sneer. There would be no help for Gytha from that weak boy.
“It looks to me, Pickney, as if you wish me to give you all with no promise of return or benefit.”
“I see no choice for you, Red Devil. But if you feel you cannot meet my demands…”
“I did not say that, Pickney.”
“Nay. Well I am of a generous humor today. I will give you time, let you wriggle about in vain as you try to find a choice, an escape. You have until this time on the morrow to accept that you have lost.”
