Robert stared at the two trussed-up guards as John rechecked the bindings on the men. He was making a stand against his uncle. The realization both terrified and exhilarated him. He almost laughed. He had hoped Gytha would give him the strength to break free of his uncle’s hold. She had done just that, but not in the way he had imagined.
John frowned at Robert, who stared blankly at the two unconscious guards. “Here, you thinking of running out on me?”
“Nay.” Robert shook himself free of his introspection. “I but realized that I am free.”
“What are you babbling about?”
“Pay no heed to me. We had best hurry. My uncle will do his best to get back to Gytha as quickly as he can.”
“Here, what of us? Do you mean to leave us here?”
Turning to look at the men Pickney had locked up, Robert fixed his gaze on the one who had spoken. He recognized him as one called Wee Tom. A huge bull of a man, Wee Tom clutched the iron bars, his homely face pressed hard against them.
“For now,” he said, and a murmur of protest began.
“We can fight Pickney.”
“Without swords, Wee Tom? Be patient. We will be back.” He started towards a small room to the right.
“Wait.” John grabbed the keys and went to open the door to the cell. “One of you. Only one of you,” he snapped when all the men pressed forward.
“What are you doing?” asked Robert. “What good is letting only one of them out?”
Even as he opened the door, tugged Wee Tom out, and quickly shut the door again, John answered, “He can make sure that anyone who wanders down here does not give out a cry of alarm.” After locking the door, he handed Wee Tom the keys. “Do you understand what I mean?”
“Aye. If anyone comes down here, I am to silence him.”
“And if you cannot, let the men out. The disturbance that will bring will buy us the time we need.”
“Time for what?” demanded Wee Tom.
“To bring back the Red Devil,” answered Robert as he grabbed John by the arm and hurried off into the small room he had started towards earlier. “Help me move these chests, John,” Robert ordered, even as he started to pull one of four heavy chests away from the wall.
Beneath the chests was a small door. Robert opened it, then crawled into the tunnel behind it, a grumbling John behind him. Rock-lined and damp, it was not quite high enough to walk in but wide enough to accommodate the largest of men. Gritting his teeth against the sound and feel of a multitude of small creatures, Robert groped his way along the tunnel in the dark. He was relieved when it abruptly turned upwards where metal rungs were driven into the rock to aid him to climb. John had to squeeze up next to him when the hatch proved difficult for him to open. The rush of fresh air when the door finally opened almost made up for the small cascade of dead leaves, sticks, and pebbles they had to endure. Robert scrambled out, helping John up after him. The reinforced inside of the huge, hollowed-out tree was cramped for two of them, so Robert quickly stepped out. He stared across the open field to the looming walls of Saitun Manor and prayed Henry’s ploy was working.
“Best we hurry,” mumbled John as he brushed himself off. “We can stay in the wood until we are near the Red Devil’s camp. That way neither side will see us or mistake us for the enemy.”
Nodding, Robert started off towards Thayer’s camp, John falling into step behind-him. They had gone barely ten yards when several men jumped them, getting a firm hold on them before they could even begin to fight. When one stepped close enough for Robert to recognize, Robert felt fear briefly douse his newfound sense of freedom. The cold smile Merlion gave him only added to that fear.
“I want to see Thayer,” Robert said, cursing the way fear made his voice shake.
“Oh, aye, you will see him,” Merlion drawled. “’Tis every man’s right to face his executioner.”
Chapter Fifteen
When Merlion abruptly entered the tent, Thayer leapt to his feet. There was a tense urgency about the man that raised Thayer’s hopes.
“Have you found something?” he asked, proud of the calm steadiness of his voice.
“Aye.” Merlion signaled to someone behind him, and two men were thrown into the tent, falling gracelessly to the ground. “I know not what game is being played now but”—Merlion ungently nudged Robert with his boot—“we found these two slinking through the wood.”
As the men slowly stood up, Thayer recognized his cousin and felt rage grip him tightly. It blinded him to everything but the need to make someone pay dearly for his loss. Growling softly, he lunged for Robert, who gave a high-pitched squeak of terror and tried to hide behind the men gathered at the entrance to the tent.
Roger quickly grabbed Thayer, glad when Merlion rushed to help. For a little while they stumbled around awkwardly as Thayer tried to get a murderous grip on Robert while Roger and Merlion struggled to hold him back. All the while Roger tried to talk to Thayer, pressing for calm. There had to be a reason for Robert to be outside of Saitun Manor, and he wanted Thayer to take the time to see that. He murmured a prayer of thanks when Thayer finally stilled, breathing heavily as he stood lax in their hold.
“I am calm. I will not kill the boy.” Thayer glared at Robert, who cowered behind the man who had been captured with him. “Not yet. First he will talk. Stop huddling behind that fellow like some terrified babe,” he yelled at Robert, then scowled at the other man. “Who are you?”
“John, sir.” John yanked Robert from behind him, forcing the younger man to stand at his side. “We are changing sides.”
