She scanned the room for Walter. She knew that he was her best hope of getting clear of the inn, and though it would take some coaxing, she could tell that he was unsatisfied with his position and felt ill about everything that was happening. If anybody was going to help her, it would be him.
She glanced up at her assigned chaperone. His face was dark, brooding and dull, and in his eyes, she saw years of stale inns like the one they were in, years of camping out in the elements, and years of fighting whoever stood in his way.
“They’ll see off those rugged Scots soon enough,” Lord Hamilton laughed, coming in from the yard with Walter in tow.
“Of course, Milord,” Walter replied, his head sheepishly bowed.
“And a good amount of silver at least for my troubles,” Lord Hamilton went on. “It seems there is some justice in the world after all! Ha! Those rebels will at least do something useful before Simon destroys them. They are rebels, after all, and if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that rebels cannot be trusted. Not one bit!”
“Very wise, Milord,” Walter said. The pair were flanked by four soldiers that had stayed behind as Lord Hamilton’s personal guard.
Lord Hamilton came to a stop in the center of the room and looked toward Laila. She saw his eyes flash in the dim light as they swiveled, like a hawk atop a tree in a storm. He stared deeply at her for a moment, and she felt her stomach churning. He was a venomous being, and even his presence was threatening, but she tried to steel herself against his intimidating glare. She would not be cowed by this monster, no matter how hard he tried. Of that, she was sure.
“I’m going to lie down,” Lord Hamilton announced, finally breaking off his stare. “Wake me when Simon returns.”
“Of course, Milord,” Walter said, bowing his head once more. Lord Hamilton trudged off toward the stairs, his guard of four following dutifully, and he struggled up each step, hauling his gout-ridden leg along with him like a metal weight attached to his ankle. Laila smirked to see him work so hard, and eventually, he disappeared from view onto the second-floor balcony, making for his private room.
Laila heard the oak door creak shut, and once again the room was eerily still, the strange silence punctuated by the occasional pop of the mostly dead fires at either end of the inn and the shuffling of Walter’s feet as he went to one of the water barrels and took a drink.
“I’d like some water,” Laila said, breaking the silence. The soldier looked down at her with a blank expression, as if he had not heard her at all. “Water?” Laila said, sitting up a bit straighter against the stonework. “You know what that means?”
“Oh, give her some water,” Walter said from a few yards away, his face flustered and red. He scooped up a large ladle full of cold water from the barrel and slowly advanced toward them, trying not to spill a drop onto his feet or the floor. In her mind, Laila grinned, but her face remained a stone wall.
There was a boom of thunder from above, and the unmistakable sound of rain began surrounding them, visible through the half-closed doors that led out into the yard. The crack of noise made Walter jump, and he spilled the ladle all across his boots. Mumbling something to himself and glancing nervously up to where Lord Hamilton was last seen, he turned back to the barrel and pulled up another drink.
He waddled over to them, and the soldier standing guard gave him a stone-faced intimidating glare as he grew closer. Walter, already red in the face, huffed out:
“Are you really going to stop me from giving her a drink?” The wind howled outside as the storm worsened, and the front doors to the inn banged out against their hinges, sending loud booms echoing through the space. “Just go and shut the doors,” Walter said. “Go on!”
The soldier glanced up at the balcony, looking for some kind of contradiction or affirmation of Walter’s command, but receiving none from Lord Hamilton’s sealed door, he slowly and begrudgingly got to his feet and stomped over to the flapping inn doors.
Walter knelt down beside Laila and offered her the ladle. She drank from it, trying to adjust the way she was sitting to alleviate some of the strain on her bound hands. The soldier was shutting the doors and latching them with the crossbar, and she whispered:
“Walter, cut me free.” His face went white as he pulled the empty ladle away.
“I cannot,” he whispered back. “I, I simply cannot.”
“This is our chance,” she hissed. “Don’t you wish to be free of Lord Hamilton? You and I both could be free.”
“No, no,” Walter lamented in a hushed voice. “We would never make it.”
“There must be a few horses left in the yard,” Laila went on, speaking as low as she could. They heard the final crossbar fall into place with a heavy thud, and the sound of the whipping wind was dulled significantly. “We can ride away. Just cut me free. You don’t have to live as his slave, his whipping boy, come on, Walter!” she hissed. “We’re running out of time!” She saw an intense tear in his personage. On one hand, there was no denying his resentment of Lord Hamilton. On the other, he was terrified.
“What does he hold over you, Walter?” she asked, pleading. “It cannot be worth this.”
“It’s,” Walter squirmed, trying to avoid a straight answer. Laila could see the tearing in his soul as she looked into his eyes. He seemed to be caught between fear and morality, and it was up to her to sway him to the proper side.
“It’s my brother,” Walter finally said. “He’s just a boy. Lord Hamilton took him as a ward several years ago, just to toy with my family further after he had stripped us of our wealth. Now I cannot raise a finger against him for fear of his safety.” The confession seemed to bring a weight from his shoulders, and Laila saw the sadness peer through his fear. It was powerful, and it could be very motivating.
“Whatchu talkin’ about?” the gruff soldier asked, lumbering back over from the doors.
“Water,” Walter snipped, shooting the soldier a callous look. There was fire in him yet.
“I can help you,” Laila whispered in a final effort. “What if there is no more Lord Hamilton?” Walter’s eyes sparked once more at the suggestion as if he had never thought himself strong enough to conjure up that train of thought, but now that she had, it was rolling right ahead, and his strength seemed to be growing.
“Who’s that?” the soldier called out suddenly into the dark at the other end of the hall. “Back already?”
“Not exactly,” Jacob’s voice floated through the hollow hall, and Laila could not believe her ears. At first, she thought herself mad, losing her mind in the terrible conditions of her captivity, even if it was only for a short while. Was she dreaming this?
