Sharply turning his mount, Thayer rode back to where the rest of his men had made camp. He barely heard Roger and Merlion hurry after him. Pickney’s mocking laughter rang in his ears. Abruptly, he reined in, dismounted, and strode to the far end of the camp. He sat down heavily upon a rock and stared blindly off into the distance. For a while, thought was impossible as raging emotion swept over him. He was finally beginning to grasp at a few threads of calm when he heard someone approach. When a hand lightly clasped his shoulder, he knew it was Roger.
“It seems I have failed poor Gytha again, Roger,” he murmured.
“Failed her?” Roger sat on the ground in front of Thayer. “Nay.”
“Nay? She is captive within those walls and I cannot get her out—not even if I give Pickney my head on a spike. All that will do is keep her alive for a little while longer. You see no failure in that?”
“Nay, I see a well-laid plan. You cannot elude every trap. Pickney set a very secure one. That does not mean it will work.”
“You have come up with a way to slip free of it, have you?”
“Not yet, but we have time. As soon as it grows dark, men are ready to thoroughly search the land around Saitun Manor, and the walls of the manor, for some way in—be it a bolthole or a weakly guarded point upon the walls. If any such place exists, they will find it.”
Thayer nodded, knowing which men Roger would have chosen, as well as the strength of their skills. “Pickney does not mean to release Gytha, even if I do as he asks.”
“I know that. We all know it. ’Tis one reason why the men will search as hard as possible to find what we need. You would lose your life for naught, and they would not even be able to avenge your murder. I have said nothing, but the men also have the wit to know that your child’s life is at stake too. If they find no way in, then none exists. And that, I think, is an impossibility. There is always a way in.”
Running his hand through his hair, Thayer looked at the manor. “I pray you are right. If not, tomorrow I walk to my death unsure if it will help Gytha or not. ’Tis a poor way to die.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because I could not live with myself if I refused and Pickney killed her. At least I can gain some time for her.” He looked back at Roger. “Time in which you might yet free her. If I have to turn myself over to Pickney, I want you to swear to me that you will continue to try and get Gytha away from there.”
“I swear it. I also swear to you that, if he hurts her or, God forbid, she dies at his hand, I will not hesitate to kill him. Even if I must tear down the walls of Saitun Manor stone by stone to get at him.”
Briefly clasping Roger’s hand in gratitude, Thayer found a touch of comfort in that vow. If he had to meet his death on the morrow, he would at least face it knowing that Gytha would still have a protector—knowing that someone would see that Pickney paid for his crimes, no matter how long it might take. He prayed that, before the night was over, his men would give him the comfort he truly craved—that which would come with finding a way to get into Saitun Manor.
Gytha stared out of the window, watching the flicker of the fires from Thayer’s camp. She ached to be with him, to hold him and ease his torment.
A noise at the door tore her thoughts from the dark route they had taken. She watched with disinterest as Henry set some food on a small table while John stood by the door. When they both stared at her, she sighed and moved to sit on the rough stool before the table. A part of her was appalled when, as she stared at the food, her hunger stirred. It somehow felt disloyal to even consider eating when Thayer’s life hung in the balance.
“You must eat, m’lady,” Henry urged after a moment.
“Why?”
“For the child’s sake.”
“Ah, I am to fatten him up for the kill, am I?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw both men flinch.
“So he might have a chance to live.”
She gave a brief, scornful laugh even as she broke a piece off of the block of cheese on her tray and ate it. “Do not mouth lies. You know as well as I that Pickney will not let this babe live. If he even lets me bear the child, t’will only be so that he may smash its poor brains out ere it has drawn its first breath. I carry an heir to this place. You know well how Pickney deals with heirs.” She ate some more cheese, then spread a little honey on a thick chunk of bread.
“Mayhap you will have a girl.”
“And you think that will change the babe’s fate, Henry? Do not be such a fool.” She ignored his scowl as she continued to eat. “If the king discovers that his knight died leaving a legitimate girl child, he will take her in hand. ’Tis the king’s right to do so. He will settle her and all Thayer leaves behind upon the man of his choosing, some lackey he feels a need to reward. Pickney will never take the chance that the king will find out and be of a humor to press his claims.”
“Well, we have no part in it all,” protested John.
“Nay? Who brought me here? Who snatched me from the safety of Riverfall?”
“We did not know the whole of Pickney’s plans.”
“A plea of innocence. I see. Well, you are not ignorant now, are you?” She briefly looked at both men. “Nay, you know well the full evil of the man, yet you do nothing.” She returned to finishing her meal.
“We have no wish to die,” Henry snapped. “We are watched very closely. Pickney trusts no one.”
“So you will sit here and let yourselves be made part of murder after murder. Simply because you do not wield the sword will not keep your hands free of blood. Standing mutely by does not leave you free of guilt, sirs.”
