Brushing himself off as the others crawled out and filled the room, Thayer said, “We brought weapons for the men.”
“Good.” Wee Tom nodded and grabbed the keys from where they hung on his belt. “The men have been grumbling to get out.”
“Have you heard anything about Gytha?” Robert asked.
“Well, that Henry fellow come down. Nearly silenced him good before I knew he was with you.”
“Aye, the brute near snapped my neck,” Henry grumbled as he entered the room.
“Henry.” Robert grabbed the man by the arm. “How is she?”
“Well, I held Pickney as long as I could. Got a man a good whipping it did. They have just gone back to her. I think you had best hurry to free her.”
“Colin, Wee Tom,” ordered Thayer, “see to freeing the men down here and arming them. I will take my men to get Gytha. Where has he put her? I saw her in the west tower. There?”
“Aye,” answered Henry, “but be careful when you go in there.”
“I know,” Thayer snapped as he headed out of the room. “They hold her.”
Hurrying after him, Henry said, “Not yet. She has found a way to hold them back.”
Something in the man’s voice made Thayer pause to look at Henry. “What has she done?”
“She is standing in the window, m’lord, and claims she will hurl herself out of it if they touch her. I left but a moment ago, and they were trying to talk her out of that.”
“Jesu.” Thayer grabbed the man and pushed him ahead of him. “Show me to the room as fast as you can. She may mean it.”
Clutching the stone framing of the window, Gytha tried to keep her balance. She was terrified to be standing so unsteadily in the window, but not as terrified as she was of the three men in the room. Although the thought of hurling herself to the ground below, of committing the grave sin of suicide, was abhorrent to her, so was what Pickney and his cohorts planned. Either way, she thought sadly, her child would die.
“Get out of that window, woman,” Pickney snapped, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
“Nay. I stay here until you leave.”
“You will stain your soul for all eternity if you kill yourself.”
“Youare concerned for my soul? Better that than what you plan. Hell looks a heaven compared to that.”
“If you jump, you will also kill your child.”
“What you and that filth with you plan will also kill my child. You offer me no choice there.”
“All right, all right.” Pickney held his hands out, palms up in a conciliatory gesture. “Come down and I swear none of us will touch you. I give you my word. We will leave you be.”
“Your word? Ha! That is worth nothing. It has never meant anything. Only a fool would accept your word.”
A breeze tugged at her torn skirts, chilling her. It also buffeted her enough to make her wobble. She tightened her grip and tried to still her rapidly beating heart. There was still a large part of her that wanted to live, strongly wanted it. Yet, what would she have to live for if Pickney murdered Thayer and her child? She could not live if what was left of her life was to be spent beneath Pickney’s abusive fist.
“Think for a moment, wench,” Pickney yelled. “You are no use to me dead. I do not want you dead.”
“Not yet,” she snapped, then realized that none of the men was listening to her.
She frowned as she realized they were not paying any attention to her at all. Then she heard what they had. Someone—in truth a number of someones—was rapidly clamoring up to the room. Her astonishment was complete when the door was thrown open. There was no mistaking the figure that loomed there.
“Thayer!” Gytha could not believe her eyes.
“Get out of that window before you hurt yourself, you foolish woman,” he bellowed even as he prepared to fight Pickney.
“Aye, husband. As you wish.”
