“I never thought it would come to this.”
“Mother, what are you talking about?”
“Elspeth. She adored your father. Believed every word he ever spoke and like your Agnes, loved to hear him tell stories.”
William had never known his father by any other means than as a good kind man who worked hard for his family, their clan, and the crown.
“What stories?”
She drew in a deep breath. This was hard for her, whatever she had to confess, but he was more convinced by the moment it was significant.
“At first, they were mythical, about faeries and witches and ghosts. As your sister devoured them each night, your father became more comfortable in the telling. He loved every moment in delighting her and she became lost in them. I would hearher talking to herself about them and in some ways the stories overlapped. I was worried and voiced my concerns to your father. So he decided to change their topic. He told her of our histories, our clan, and of the king, and eventually the subject turned to the rebels. She was insatiable in her thirst for knowledge about them. She had to know why they believed in the old king and not the current.”
William’s guts lurched as he heard the words flow from his mother.
“He told her what he knew and which families were supporters and which were loyal to the crown. Then finally the dreaded question came.”
He knew it before his mother even spoke. Everything clicked into place. All the rejections from suitors William tried to arrange for her. There was nothing wrong with the gentlemen. It was the families from which they hailed. She’d been bent on marrying a rebel all along.
“But surely Father explained their actions were treasonous. That these were not people with whom we associated.”
His mother slumped in her chair and leaned her head back. Drawing another deep breath, she said, “Your father was so delighted in her interest, he embellished his acknowledgement of their cause. She seemed so very proud of him when he said he supported them, but could not tell another soul, not even you, lest he be discovered.”
He couldn’t believe his ears! How his own father could be so careless was unfathomable. But it all made sense. All the trouble Elspeth had caused.
“Surely Father could see in time the damage this falsehood had caused.”
“By the time he did, it was too late. She would hear no opposition from him and then he passed, taking his shame with him.”
And now she held his beloved Agnes captive, subjecting her to Christ only knew the level of torture. His need to find her increased tenfold. There would come a time when she would no longer be useful to them. And that only meant one thing. They would accept nothing less than the king off the throne, and once that happened, Agnes would serve no purpose.
Elspeth had to be behind much of this current plot. These rebels had been around for years with little damage ensuing save for a few riots here and there, but little harmed and nothing like this. Perhaps if she was the driving force, something else could be gleaned from the words she so cherished from their father.
“You must recount every story you are familiar with that father told Elspeth.”
“But what good would that do?”
“I believe if she hung off his every word, as you say, that something in the execution of this plot might be buried in those stories. She used the secret passageways after all, and I recall the night father told both of us about them. I remember her now sitting on the edge of her chair and insisting we take a torch and explore them right then and there.”
“You truly believe something in these stories might offer us a clue as to where she’s taken Agnes?”
“Aye, Mother. I am as certain as you and I are sitting here. There’s a clue in those stories. And now you must tell them to me. Leave out no detail.”
William reached for the trencher and goblet and settled into his chair. He waited for his mother to begin and then he listened intently. He would ferret out this detail even if it took them all night.
Chapter Twenty-One
Agnes had noidea how many days passed. She’d eaten so little and grew weaker by the moment. They offered her only some water, stale bread, and half-cooked potatoes, but she longed for a trencher of meat and cheese. Her mouth watered each time they ate, which seemed to know no limit by way of expense. Most days she huddled under her blanket with her back turned to them until Elspeth yanked off the blanket and shoved her toward the door to relieve herself. Twice a day she was allowed whether she needed to or not. And she was needing to less and less with such little sustenance.
They argued constantly about the path forward. The end goal, it appeared, was to unseat the king. Elspeth expressed more doubt as to how that would be possible as the days grew into a week, then two.
Outside this time, a wave of nausea overtook her. She retched until there was nothing left to come out of her. She had long given up trying to figure out where they’d taken her this time. Tall banks meant she couldn’t escape that way, and a long stream with water that appeared to run red gave her chills each time she looked at it. Once she was sure she saw a dark figure atop a rock that resembled a pulpit like the priests used in church. Either way, the entire area held a strange, unsettling air.
“You’ve been doing that more and more,” Elspeth said, drawing Agnes back to the present and as if attempting todisplay a wee smidge of empathy. “Perhaps I can get you some broth after we eat if there’s anything left.”
Agnes wasn’t naive enough to think the woman would aid in her escape, but she might make a slip up and Agnes would quietly listen for it. “Thank you,” Agnes whispered, hoping she would follow through, but not having any faith considering her treatment up to this point.
Back inside the cabin, John gave her an odd look then handed her a warm cup of mead. For a moment, Agnes stared at it not quite knowing if it was an offering in good faith or poison to be rid of her once and for all.
