“Are you now. Sit.” He pointed to his cot, watching as John dragged a slowly calming Robert over to sit down. “Why should I believe you?” he asked and moved to pour himself a cup of wine, struggling to stay calm.
“Because why else would two men you have reason to kill come to face you—unarmed?” asked John.
Sipping his wine, Thayer studied both men for a moment. “I need no one to tell me why I should kill Robert.” He fixed his gaze upon John. “But why will I want to kill you?”
“I am one of those who brought your wife to Pickney.” He leaned back when Thayer took a step towards him. “Me and my friend were told we were just stealing a bride. We were led to believe it was just the usual game the gentry play of stealing land and all from each other. You lot are always killing each other off and taking each other’s women.”
“Not all of us. What changed your mind?”
“’Cause it is more—a lot more. You might not be of a mind to believe this, but me and my friend, Henry, do have some sense of what is right.”
“I might be persuaded to believe it. Go on.”
“Well, Pickney goes too far. He means to hurt women and babes. Me and Henry cannot hold with that. Never had a hand in that sort of thing and never will. We came to see he has no intent of letting your woman live long or the babe live at all.”
“And did you but just awaken to that too, Robert?” he demanded of his cousin.
“Aye.” Robert finally looked squarely at Thayer. “T’was wrong to let him strike at you and William.”
“He killed William?”
“I cannot say for sure, yet when he talks of it, he does not speak of it as an accident.” Robert frowned, then shook his head. “It matters little right now. ’Tis Gytha that brings me here. Coward that I am, I sat back while he plotted. I…I wanted Gytha, you see.”
“That is a confession you did not need to make. T’was clear to all.”
“He promised I could have Gytha, but he lied.”
“Get on with it, boy,” snapped John. “Henry cannot hold those bastards ’til dawn.”
“What is happening to Gytha?” Thayer had to struggle hard to restrain himself from vigorously shaking Robert.
“God help me, he means to have her. He and Bertrand and Thomas too. He wants to taunt you with it,” Robert replied, unable to stop the tears that streaked down his bruised cheeks.
“And you just left her there?” Thayer bellowed as he tossed his drink aside and strode towards Robert.
“Nay!” Robert stared up at his huge cousin. “That fellow Henry has drawn them away from her for now.”
“No need to be too hard on the boy,” John spoke up. “See them bruises?”
“He has always had bruises.” Thayer took several deep breaths to calm himself a little.
“Aye, no doubt, but he got those for showing a little backbone for once in his wretched life.”
Glaring at the man, Robert snapped, “Thank you kindly, sir.”
“No need for that. You did well and it ought to be said, even if you did get tossed out on your arse. Now we have to hurry. Like I said, old Henry cannot keep those curs busy for long. We have to get back and stop them from going back to her.”
“We have spent half the night looking for a secret way in,” Merlion said. “There is none.”
“And just how do you think we got out?”
Robert spoke up before Merlion and John began to squabble. “There is a way in. We came here to take you back through it.”
“To be murdered once inside?” asked Roger, unable to trust Robert.
Shaking his head, Robert replied, “Why bother with such a trick? On the morrow Pickney gets all he wants. Thayer will simply walk into his grasp. Please, trust me—for Gytha. Henry stopped them this time, but for how long? He cannot stop them a second time. My uncle means to rape her, Thayer, then hand her to Bertrand and Thomas. Do you really believe that even I, coward that I am, could stomach that? You say you could see how I felt about her.”
“Aye, I did.” Thayer began to buckle on his sword. “Lead on.”
