Turning to Audrey, he let a grin play at his mouth. “Is she always this pleasant and talkative?”
Audrey seemed to understand the jest, for her face lit in a matching smile as she slid a glance at her friend. “Brielle may be a warrior, but she’s not always as fierce as she appears. In fact, I’ve found her kindness and good will to be almost without end.”
A sound like a combination of ahumphand apshawissued from the lady warrior, and she threw up a hand. “I see I’m to be bested by you both.” She turned to her friend. “Perhaps you should focus on feeding your guest.”
Audrey offered a gentle smile, as though she knew a secret, then she raised another bite of stew to Evan’s mouth.
Brielle stood and carried her trencher back to her position at the wall, then placed it on the ground beside her. But she didn’t eat. Or even sit. Just stood with her arms crossed, staring at him as if the strength of her gaze could keep him pinned to the ground.
But it wasn’t fear that kept him in place. Nor the pain, if he were honest. As long as he was to be held prisoner here, having a captor like Brielle might be a pleasant diversion.
An hour later, that one thought proved more correct than Evan could have imagined. Not long after he’d filled the empty places in his belly with stew, the hatchet-wielding guard returned. Brielle exchanged a few words with the man, then shifted back into her fierce warrior personality as she picked up her bow and quiver and escorted Audrey out the door.
The room seemed to darken after the women left, and Evan forced himself to breathe steadily in order to keep the walls from closing in on him. The guard didn’t give him a second’s notice as he lumbered over to the position against the wall, where Brielle had kept her vigil.
“Will you untie my hands if I give my word not to move?” Evan raised his bound wrists, ignoring the rawness already burning his skin.
The man grunted, then heaved himself down to sit on the floor. “Brielle meets with the elders now. We’ll wait for their judgment.”
With that, the fellow propped his arms on his knees and fiddled with the leather strap wrapping the hilt of his knife. As he sat, the minutes crawled by like the breaths of a hibernating bear. In fact, this man reminded him of a big sluggish bear. His glassy gaze never wavered from that leather piece.
It wasn’t sharp and fierce like Brielle’s gaze. No wonder she’d earned a place as a leader among them. Not many women could shoot an arrow with her accuracy, nor command respect from a group of warriors as their leader.
In fact, he’d never met such a woman.
And now, what would she and the elders decide about his fate? The idea of his future being in another’s hands rankled. Only God held his life in hand, and the Almighty expected him to use his head to get out of this mess.
With an eye on the oaf guarding him, Evan tested the strength of the rope binding his wrists. His fingers had almost lost their feeling, and the tie certainly felt strong. If he could knock the man senseless, he could use one of the torches to burn through the rope and release his arms. Or maybe the guard would fall asleep.
The fellow appeared bored as he idly studied the knife, but he didn’t show any signs of weariness. Waiting for him to slumber would be an uncertain option and might take far too long.
Force would be necessary, then. Evan scanned the dark recesses of the room. If only he had one of those arrows dipped in the sleeping tonic.
And then the seed of an idea formed in his mind. A plan that just might work.
Turning to the guard, he made his voice as agreeable as possible. “Have you a chamber pot or privy I might use?”
4
Brielle strode through the dim hallway, turning toward the outer exit more by memory than sight. She pushed through the heavy wooden door into the bright glare of the sun. Without a moment’s slowing of her stride, she inhaled the nip in the air, soaking in the remnants of smoke from the cook fires. If only she could remain out here.
Maybe she should sprint through the hidden rock gateway and out into the forest—leave the English stranger and her jumble of emotions far behind.
But that escape couldn’t happen. Not yet.Give me strength, Lord.
Locking her jaw in place, she kept her march pointed toward the rock wall opposite her. More specifically, toward the cluster of at least a dozen men gathered at its base.
The council. A man from every single family in the village would be represented there, and none would miss this urgent meeting. The Englishman in their midst would cause quite a stir.
“Brielle.” A high-pitched male voice broke her focus, slowing her stride.
She forced herself to pause and turn to the kind face approaching. “Marcellus. I can’t speak now.” She allowed him to clasp her elbow in greeting. “The leaders are meeting. The chief has asked me to come.”
“Then I can meet him?” Marcellus’s boyish face looked so hopeful.
“The chief? My father?” Why would Marcellus think he needed to reserve time to see her father when he would sit beside the stewpot with them that very night? It was a wonder Marcellus hadn’t charged into the middle of the council meeting already. But maybe he had, and one of the elders sent him away.
The overgrown lad shook his head. “The visitor. Audrey said you might let me meet him.”
