"How long do we have until dawn?"
"Two hours at the most."
Sigimor put his hands on his hips and frowned at her. “Why did ye wait so long to come and free us?"
"I had to lock a few doors, tend to a few wounds inflicted by Harold, and help those who had kindly helped me to escape from Drumwich. Then I had to collect some supplies to take with us and gather up the things Harold's men took away from you. And, considering thatI, a small woman, put every fighting man at Drumwich to sleep with the aid of but two maids, I believe your implied criticism is uncalled for."
"It wasnae implied."
"Sigimor,” snapped Liam, before smiling at Jolene. “Ye did weel, lass."
"Thank you, kind sir,” Jolene responded, returning his smile.
Subtly, but firmly, Sigimor nudged Liam away from Jolene. He might not understand what drew him to this tiny, thin Englishwoman, but, until he cured himself of the affliction, he did not want any other fool trading smiles with her. Especially not Liam who already had half the women in Scotland swooning at his feet.
"How do ye plan to get us all out of here?” he asked her.
"We could march right out the front gates, if you wish,” Jolene replied. “I had thought we would leave as quietly and secretly as possible. If there are no obvious signs of our leavetaking, it may be a while ere your escape is discovered."
"Somehow I think Harold will find a castle full of men still asleep or just rousing immediately suspicious."
"Ah, of course. You are right. And, I suppose the missing horses and what I have done in the stables will also alert them."
It sounded as if she was gagging on those words, Sigimor thought with an inner grin. “Lead on then. I want to put as much distance as possible between us and Harold ere he awakens."
As she started out of the cell, the men falling into step behind her, Jolene said, “Aye. The sooner we reach Scotland, the sooner we will rid ourselves of Harold."
Sigimor doubted it would be that easy, but did not say so as he followed her along a dark, narrow passage heading away from the cells. Harold had already committed murder to steal Drumwich. Lady Jolene clearly feared for her life and her nephew's. If the screams in the night were anything to judge by, Harold was using brutal methods to try and find her and the boy. A man like that would not stop chasing her down simply because she had crossed the border into a country that was not particularly fond of Englishmen. Sigimor felt sure of that. Harold would mean trouble for them for quite a while yet. As he watched the gentle sway of her slim hips, Sigimor inwardly cursed. Harold would not be the only trouble he found in the days ahead.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Two
The sudden flood of light caused Sigimor to blink rapidly as he struggled to accustom his eyes to its sting and see where the little Englishwoman had led them. Until they were outside the walls of Drumwich and riding hard toward Scotland, he would be wise to remain cautious around her. He was not sure what could prove worse than being chained in a dark cell awaiting death, but he would take no chances. If nothing else, he owed the five men who had ridden with him all his strength, wit, and cunning to get them away from Drumwich free and safe.
A soft noise drew his gaze to a bed of blankets and furs upon the floor of the small chamber. He moved closer to stare down at the small boy lying there and staring back at him. Thick raven curls marked him as kin to Jolene, but those big eyes were a clear, bright blue. When the little boy smiled at him, Sigimor smiled back.
"How wondrous,” said Jolene as she picked up her nephew. “He is not frightened of you at all."
"Why should he be frightened of me?” demanded Sigimor, scowling at her.
"Oh, indeed, why? Mayhap because you are a stranger built like a mountain and smelling like a privy."
"I donotsmell like a privy.” He accepted his weapons from a grinning Liam. “Where are the supplies?"
Jolene pointed to the seven sacks she had carefully packed. “There. One each. Before he fled, Old Thomas readied the horses and the saddle packs are also packed with all you brought with you and whatever else we could fit into them. Wineskins, waterskins, and bedding are already secured to the saddles.” She gave Liam a brief smile of gratitude when he moved to help her secure Reynard in a blanket sling which settled the small boy close against her chest.
The moment they all had their cloaks on, Sigimor gave her a little nudge. “Lead on, lass."
She nodded, and, as Sigimor picked up the sack she had intended to carry along with his own, she grabbed a torch and started to lead them away from her small haven. One of the men behind her had obviously picked up a torch as well and she was glad of the added light. Despite the safety she had found in the passages beneath the keep, she hated them, hated the suffocating dark of them. Only in the little chamber had she dared light enough torches and candles to push back the dark. The only thing that had kept her lurking about in the chill bowels of the keep was her fear of Harold. Having six large men marching behind her did a lot to quell her fears of Harold and of the dark places she had sought refuge in.
When she reached a thick oak door set deep into the stone wall, she glanced back at Sigimor. “This door leads to a tunnel which will take us to the stables.” She frowned slightly. “Twill be a tight fit for men of your stature."
"Nay as tight as a noose,” Sigimor drawled and moved to open the door.
Jolene grimaced at the rush of stale air which escaped the passage as Sigimor pulled the heavy door open. Only once, shortly after Harold came to Drumwich, had she checked the passage to be certain it could be used if necessary. It was dark, damp, narrow, and quite low in places. It had also left her shaking and so terrified, she had not returned through it, but risked returning to the keep through the stables. She was not sure the presence of six big men would make the journey any easier. Straightening herself, she stiffened her spine and began to lead the men into the passageway. She shivered, however, when she heard the door shut behind the last man to enter.
The uneven ground made it impossible to hurry, and Jolene constantly fought the urge to run, to escape this place that chilled her to the bone. By the time she reached the door which led into the stables, she was trembling. She felt Sigimor move to open the door, but could not wait for his courteous aid. She shoved the door open and staggered into the rear of the stables, nearly falling into the bales of hay and collection of farm implements that hid the door from view. It took a moment to calm herself enough to realize she was not the only one standing there taking slow, deep breaths. When she saw that Sigimor was already striding toward the horses showing no sign that he had just emerged from a place that felt all too much like a tomb, she had the strong urge to kick him.
