But Jeanette’s husband had been shot, too, rendering his body useless from the waist down. Jeanette had been left with his care, along with full responsibility for providing for their family, including Marcellus.
The boy’s tender heart made him incapable of killing an animal, even if it meant he and his parents would starve to death. His simple mind and fumbling fingers wouldn’t allow him proficiency with a bow or knife anyway.
Those long-ago days when Brielle had attempted to teach him had helped her to hone her own skills, and ever since then, she’d been providing enough meat for both their families. At least Jeanette didn’t have that worry weighing on her sloped shoulders.
But now, what should Brielle say about the man lockedaway in their storage room? “I don’t know, Jeanette. But I’ll make sure he doesn’t go free until we’re certain of his intentions.” At least he didn’t have a means of escape, as his horse had broken free from the young man assigned to watch him. They had Evan’s packs, gun, and saddle still, but the animal had run far out of sight.
All the better. No matter what, she wouldn’t allow this dear friend, or anyone else in this village, to suffer more pain and hardship than they already had—especially not at the hands of an Englishman, not when she was in a position to stop it.
Jeanette nodded, her face relaxing. “I know you will, Brielle. I never worry when you’re involved.” She waved her off. “Go, do your duty. And make sure Audrey is bringing you and the prisoner meals. I’ll send some of this meat to her for that purpose.”
Brielle turned and strode across the open area, Jeanette’s words echoing in her mind.“I never worry when you’re involved.”
At least one of them didn’t.
She’d not made much progress in discovering the man’s purpose here. His answers had been so vague, but she was fairly certain he’d not attempted a falsehood. She might get more details from him during the course of simple conversation than direct questioning. Although he seemed careful with his words, even when chatting with Audrey. It was more likely he’d gather information from them than that he’d let details slip he didn’t want to share.
Not with her, though.
She’d always hated speaking just for the sake of filling the air with words, but she’d force herself if idle talk helped her learn the truth.
She stepped through the main door into the corridor and breathed in. Leaving the crisp outside air for the dark interior of the caves always sobered her spirit, but the dank richness of the tunnels held its own comfort. Papa told stories that had been handed down to him of villages not carved into a mountainside but made up of individual structures built of stacked trees and rocks. Surely they didn’t last as long as these caves had.
When she reached the entrance to the storage room, she tapped once on the door before removing the bar and stepping inside.
Philip sat on the far wall, hands propped on his knees, head resting against the stone behind him. He sat straighter when she entered but didn’t look like he’d been asleep before. Good man. He was one of the few she could trust on the night watch. Steady and solid. Did whatever necessary to ensure the job was done right.
Thankfully, he also didn’t mind the chore. She would take his place some nights, though. She would never ask any of her guards to do a job she wasn’t willing to handle herself.
She slid a glance at their prisoner. He lay flat on his pallet, hands resting atop his midsection. He didn’t sleep. Those intense eyes watched her.
She greeted them both with a nod, then turned her attention to Philip as she strode to him. “Thank you, my friend.” She spoke in Italian, since she didn’t believe they had used that language in front of the prisoner the day before.
The entire village made an effort to speak all three languages regularly so they could stay fluent. She didn’t have reason to hide her greeting from their captive, but this would keep him guessing if he’d understood their French words.
Philip lumbered to his feet and wiped his hands on his tunic as he responded in Italian. “He slept soundly. Didn’t talk much, just slept.”
She nodded. “You’ll come again at dark? I’ll take the next night.”
He shrugged. “Or I can do both. I have no difficulty sleeping through the day.”
Maybe she should allow him all the nights so he could keep a regular pattern with his sleeping. But it seemed a horrible punishment to deny a person sunlight, at least every few days. Her gaze slid to the prisoner. He wouldn’t be seeing the light of day, either. A twinge of guilt twisted her belly, but she pressed it away. She couldn’t risk the people’s safety until she knew more about him.
She refocused on Philip and smiled her thanks. “I’ll stay here tomorrow night. Take your Rona for a walk outside the walls while the children are occupied.”
His white teeth flashed, and he ducked his head as he turned toward the door. With a farewell wave to Evan, he closed the wood partition behind him, the slight clink of the bar sounding from the hall.
Brielle scanned the room. All seemed as she’d left it the night before. She let her gaze settle on the man. He still lay flat, his fingers playing a pattern on his stomach as he watched her.
Even lying prone like that, the man still exuded strength. Maybe it was the wide set of his shoulders or the rough leather of his tunic and leggings. Of course, the thick scruff covering his jaw only added to the look.
What all had he discovered in his travels? How much vast country had he uncovered? A surge of excitement slippedthrough her. What would it be like to ride on a horse for days ... weeks ...? What would it be like to live and travel in a land that didn’t dip and rise in an endless landscape of mountains?
It took everything within her not to settle herself beside him right now and beg to hear everything he’d seen. Maybe he would tell her, but she needed to maintain a bit of propriety in the asking.
She walked the few steps between them. Dried blood still covered his tunic. Audrey would likely bring him a shirt while she laundered his. “Your wound is better?”
Evan dipped his chin. “That poison makes for a decent sleeping potion. It’s about out of me now, I expect.” The corners of his mouth twitched in what he might have meant for a smile, but his eyes belied the expression.
