His horrible words echoed in the dungeon long after he had walked away. It took Ilsabeth a moment to realize that she was panting with fear, her heart pounding so hard she felt faint. Staggering back to her wretched pallet, she tried to make herself believe it an empty threat, but she could not. This was a man who–barely into what some called youth and others called manhood–had slaughtered his brother’s dog and draped it over him as he slept. Three years later he had murdered his own father. She would be a fool not to take any threat he made very seriously indeed.
Ilsabeth looked around her cell and nearly screamed out her frustration and terror. Her weaknesses all lived at Simon’s house, the man Henry loathed and badly wanted dead. Henry knew about the children. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked slightly on the pallet. There was nothing she could do until someone came with the pitiful meal and sour water they delivered once a day. That was hours away yet and Henry was wandering freely around the very heart of the king’s home. He would find getting into Simon’s house and getting to the children no trouble at all.
And Simon, she thought, and shivered. He was after her Simon. He was also a weakness with her, but she suspected Henry would try to kill Simon simply because he wanted to.
Ilsabeth began to pray for Simon to come to her. She understood why he had not for there were many good reasons. He was trying to bring the real traitors to the king so that she would be free. He could have also been forbidden by the king to come to her. But, still she prayed, for he was the only hope she had to try and keep Henry from doing any of the things he threatened to do.
“Find a way, Simon. Please, please, find a way to come to me.”
Simon jerked awake and wondered why he felt so afraid. He was sleeping in the chair in his ledger room, which was uncomfortable but no cause for alarm. The children were in bed and he could hear the faint sounds of MacBean and Old Bega arguing about something just down the hall.
Probably him, he thought, and grimaced as he rubbed a hand over his face and listened to the rasp of his beard. There was a little time for him to clean up before he made his way to the court and tried yet again to get permission to speak to Ilsabeth.
He tensed as the dream that had yanked him out of his much needed sleep came rushing back into his mind. He could see Ilsabeth, huddled on a pallet, her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking slowly back and forth. She had been so clear to see in his dream that he had reached out to her.
Simon frowned, thinking hard and forcing more of the dream to come to mind before it faded into the mists of his memory. There was something important there that had forced him to wake alert and feeling as if he needed to get to her quickly. He could still feel the urgency thrumming inside him.
Deciding he would go to the court and press harder to get permission to see her if only for a few moments while heavily guarded, he leapt up and hurried to the door. He opened it to find Peter there with his hand raised to knock and nearly groaned. Duty called and Simon knew it was an important one. It would save the king’s life, but more importantly, it would save Ilsabeth’s.
“Come in then,” he said, and went back to his chair to sit down.
“I hope I dinnae look as ragged as ye do,” said Peter as he sat in the chair facing Simon.
Looking his friend over, Simon said, “Aye, I think ye do. Do ye have anything?”
“Weel, Henry is certainly in the town. ‘Tis proving difficult to track the mon, however. We lost a mon last night, name of Frazer. He was following Henry round the taverns and ended up dead in an alley near where Henry was last seen taking his pleasure with a tavern maid.”
“How was he killed?”
Peter grimaced. “Throat cut but I think he may have welcomed it by then. He was slowly mutilated, his mouth gagged so tightly I doubt anyone e’en heard him while he screamed. If he was tortured for information, they must have had to tug that gag off now and then to hear his answers.”
“Do ye think he talked?”
“I would have to say aye but I hate to demean his death. ‘Tis just that he had to have been in such agony he could have said anything and everything without truly kenning he was doing it.”
“Henry is verra good at that.”
“So ye think he did that to Frazer?”
“From what ye describe, aye. Thank ye for nay telling me all the ways my brother hurt the poor mon. I have seen it but that was years ago and I suspect he has perfected the skill by now. So what did Frazer have knowledge of?”
“Nay much at all. I still moved David to another place. He went verra willingly when I told him why I was doing it. He is terrified of your brother.”
“For a fool he can show surprising touches of a sharp wit.” Simon lightly drummed his fingers on the table. “I am thinking I need to move the children away from here.”
“Aye, I think that might be a good idea. I hate to think that any mon would hurt children just to get at a mon but your brother isnae like any mon I have e’er dealt with.” Peter shook his head. “I listened to your warnings, but I think I just put them aside, mayhap e’en thought they were the memories of a bullied child. But seeing what was done to poor Frazer made it all too easy to ken that Henry is a verra dangerous mon.”
“Send the children to Tormand and Morainn. Be verra sure no one is following ye and warn them of who may be hunting them. Tomorrow is soon enough.”
“Nay, Morainn says to get them to her tonight. Have MacBean and Old Bega come as weel,” said Tormand as he walked into the room.
“What has Morainn seen?” asked Simon.
“That the children need to be hidden away.” Tormand frowned. “She said they will become both a weapon and a tragedy if they stay here.”
“Does that make any sense?” asked Peter.
“In a way,” replied Simon. “I think she means they can be used to make someone do what they–or he–wants. Or someone wants to kill them or use them as bait. I suspicion they are to be bait. For me or for Ilsabeth. So, aye, we will take them to your place tonight.”
