The Crimson Castle (14 page)

He seemed to sense the slow transformation of her feelings and he
brushed a thumb along her cheek.

“Then what do you wish? Say it and I will make it so,” he murmured,
inching towards her.

As her chest tightened at his words, her gaze flicked to his lips and a
spark of hope lit in his eyes. A coarse hand cupped her cheek and her lids
fluttered closed at the warmth of the sensation. The sound of a sharp crack
caused them to fly open.

“Gabriel!” she called warningly and, as he turned to look at what had
caused such a reaction, she grabbed for his sword, taking a step forwards.

Gabriel tried to push her behind him but she held firm, his sword held
steadily in her hand, and he could not help but admire the look of
determination on her face. He carefully cast an eye over the figures of the
half dozen men scattered amongst the trees, hands upon swords, with a look of
amusement upon their battle worn faces. Their dark, rough clothing seemed to
merge them with the bark of the trees, their filthy faces adding to the image
of camouflage. Gabriel’s eyes locked onto the one face he did recognise.

“Lazarus,” he spat.

The man grinned in response. “Gabriel.”

He gave him a mocking bow, his greying tangled hair falling across a
face, aged by lack of nutrition and rough living. Though he was of similar age
to Gabriel, some thirty summers, he looked a goodly ten years older. He sported
a jagged scar across one cheek, tracing its way halfway down his neck, a
present from Gabriel many years ago. Lazarus was tall though not as broad as
Gabriel, with a strong physique and he knew from experience he was a gifted
fighter.

“What do you want with us, Lazarus?”

“We would like the company of your lovely lady friend here.”

“Not going to happen, Lazarus,” he bit out, emphasising each word.

“She is sorely wasted on you,
Merston
.”

Lazarus took a step towards her and she took a swipe at him with the
sword, jumping back with a squeal of fright. His sword was heavy and he could
see her arm strain with effort. Gabriel put a calming hand on her sword arm,
only just noticing two archers high in the trees, arrow tips pointed at the
pair. He gently pried her stiff fingers off the hilt and lowered the sword tip
to the ground, keeping it in his grasp.

“Gabriel, what are you doing?” she hissed at him before flinching as
she too noticed the arrows aimed at them.

“If you want to kill me, kill me but leave the lady out of it.”

Shaking his head Lazarus stepped forwards once more, “I would gladly
slay you, Gabriel of
Merston
, and you deserve no
less, but I need a messenger and it seems you are the only choice we have.” He
offered his arm to Evelyn as if escorting her to court rather than kidnapping
her.

“If you would be so good as to join me, Lady Evelyn?” he lowered his
voice and gave her a steely look. “I do not wish to kill Sir Gabriel but I will
if you do not co-operate.”

Her gaze flicked hesitantly between the two men, both glaring at each
other with burning hatred. Moving towards the outstretched hand, she placed
hers upon it and Lazarus beamed with triumph. Pride swelled within him with at
her look of courage but trepidation quickly sliced through it at the sight of
her fragile hand upon the sun beaten skin of the outlaws.

 “No!” Gabriel shouted, bringing his sword up, desperate to slice
the outlaw to ribbons but fully aware of the arrows still trained on Evelyn and
himself. She gave him a tight reassuring smile, her eyes fixed upon the arrow
aimed at his back.

“Do not worry, Gabriel.” Her countenance still reflected her bravery
but he could see the fright burning brightly in her gaze.

“Oh aye, do not worry, Sir Gabriel. We shall ensure Lady Evelyn is well
looked after.” He grinned disturbingly and Gabriel resisted the urge to tear
the smile from his face with his bare hands.

“Go to your lord and tell him we want five thousand marks for the safe
return of Lady Evelyn. Meet us tomorrow at noon in the clearing to the west.”

“And if he does not pay?” He drew in a deep breath of resignation,
recognising Evelyn’s best chance was to go quietly with the outlaws.

Lazarus pulled out a dagger, holding it in front of Evelyn who was unable
to take her eyes off the sharpened blade and before Gabriel could leap forwards
two men grabbed at his arms, pinning him on either side as he struggled in vain
against them. He watched in horror when she made a strangled sound of terror as
Lazarus brought the blade to her neck. With an expert flick he sliced through a
lock of hair and held it out to Gabriel as the two men released him.

“He will pay or his bride will be returned to him in pieces,” Lazarus
sneered stonily.

Gabriel snatched the soft lock, returning the icy glare, not oblivious
to Evelyn’s shudder of distress at these words. His jaw clenched, nostrils
flaring, he watched as they bound Evelyn’s hands tightly behind her back and
led her towards the forest.

“I will come for you, Evelyn,” he called to her firmly before she
turned away and he saw a flicker of hope in her fear laden expression, praying
she would be strong enough to withstand the coming hours.

He watched as they moved deeper into the foliage, sinking out of sight
into the gloom until it was just him and the eerie quietness of the
forest. 

Not willing to waste a minute, he ran back through the woods in much
the same manner he had entered but fuelled by a painful desperation. Using his
sword to hack a path through, he made his way back to his horse, ignoring
Evelyn’s horse patiently waiting for her mistress, as he bolted back to the
keep, his mind tormented by the ill fortuned prospects of her fate.

***

The bird, gliding high, barely a speck in the sky, was watched
carefully by its master. Raising his hand,
Tibald
watched as the hawk attained his position of supremacy, looking down on its
owner - probably the only creature in Warwickshire allowed such a privilege.
Tucking in its wings, it swooped down, returning to the gauntlet, as
Tibald
spied Gabriel making his way towards him, his steed
galloping up the hill with urgency.

Passing the hawk to the falconer, as Gabriel dismounted, approaching
him with haste;
Tibald
didn’t bother hiding his
displeasure at having his hunt interrupted.

“My lord,” Gabriel greeted him, his appearance dishevelled, a sense of
urgency about him.

“What news, Gabe?”

“
‘Tis
Lady Evelyn, my lord, she has been
taken.”

Tibald
felt his blood rising, boiling
underneath his skin, the heat surging up to his face. His barely tempered anger
always lay there, just beneath the surface, waiting the moment he could unleash
it. Somehow no matter how he released it, it would never abate. He enjoyed the
look of fear he was regarded with by so many, but he was smart enough to realise
that his rage very often controlled him and he despised being controlled by
anything, let alone his own emotions.

He spoke through gritted teeth, “Pray repeat yourself, Gabe, and speak
plainly, for your next words may be your last.”

Tibald
watched with dissatisfaction as
Gabriel’s expression remained constant. The one man unthreatened by him was
Gabe. For the most part, he liked having someone at his side that didn’t simper
and cower beneath him but a little humility would not go amiss.

“She was captured by Lazarus, my lord. He asks for five thousand marks
for her safe return.”

“Five thousand?!”
Tibald
spluttered. “Ha, he can keep her!”

Tibald
noted the flicker of panic in
Gabriel’s eyes with satisfaction. That woman certainly was to be admired, how she
had captured his pitiless man-at-arm’s attention was a puzzle to him, for he
was certain he had never felt sympathy for any other female’s plight. It would
be a shame for her to come to harm for he was sure she would make a powerful
ally once he had her under his control.

“My lord, he will surely kill her and you will be without a bride.”
Anxiety crept into Gabriel’s voice.

“Aye, but the
Beldersert
fief will be ripe
for the taking,” he growled.

“Pray, my lord, consider the consequences of leaving her at the hands
of such men.”

Crossing his arms over his chest,
Tibald
gave
a heaving sigh of annoyance.

“‘
Twould
be no more than she deserves, wilful
female that she is.”

“That may be, my lord, but gaining her lands will be far less painful with
her as your bride…”

“As if I care to spare pain!”
Tibald
was beginning to enjoy this game.

“…and you must admit she will make a handsome bride as well as provide
you with an heir.”

This cinched it,
Tibald’s
petulant expression
relenting, aware that he was still without a beneficiary. Except for a few
bastard children scattered around the shire, he thought bitterly, sons and
daughters to pathetic servants with little more than a few feminine wiles to
offer him.

“Very well,” he snapped reluctantly, “Gather a dozen men, I will pay
the ransom.”

“I thank you, my lord.” Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief and mounted
his horse, anxious to prepare quickly for fear of Lady Evelyn’s wellbeing in
the hands of Lazarus.

“And for God sakes, arrest someone! I want someone stripped of their
skin for this!”
Tibald
shouted after him as he
galloped back to the keep.

Motioning for the falconer to hand him back the bird, he stroked at the
hawk. The money was of no import really but he did not relish having to part
with so much for a bride who had not even accepted his hand yet. Still, she
would owe him now and would have no choice but to be wed to him. Determined as
she was, he knew when he had won and he could taste victory as surely as he
would taste the sweetness of her supple skin before long.

After her hands were bound tightly behind her back, Evelyn was led
further into the forest, the shade cooling the air, causing a chill to seep
through her clothes. She wished she had not left in such a hurry and had at least
worn a cloak as another shiver ran through her. Her already battered slippers
became cumbersome, snagging on the uneven terrain and she feared her arm would
be wrenched from its socket by the red headed, heavy set man who dragged her
along by her elbow, fingers pinching into the delicate skin. Each wrench forced
a cry from her but she strove to supress them, keeping her teeth bitten into
her bottom lip until she could taste bitter tang of blood.

When they had travelled for some time, they came to a stop and Lazarus
came towards her, a grim smile upon his marred face. Her pulse leapt and Evelyn
willed herself to keep calm as his shadow seemed to swallow her up.

“Sorry, my lady, we can’t have you knowing our whereabouts.”

She gave him a look of confusion and he pulled out a large scrap of
fabric, moving to place it over her eyes. Panic coursed through her, she could
not allow herself to be at the mercy of these men! At least with the use of her
sight, she had managed to maintain a careful hold of her nerves. Without it she
was sure she would succumb to the horror of her situation and the practical
side of her knew it would not make the rest of their journey any easier.

Thrashing and screaming, she tried to evade the blindfold, much to the
amusement of the man holding her captive. Pinning her head between his meaty
hands, she was forced still and the darkness consumed her along with a gnawing
throb of fear, deep in her stomach. Her head was released, as the blindfold was
tied painfully tight around her head, and she felt the hand back on her arm,
now more aware of the strength behind it.

Hot breath in her ear caused her to tremble and she feared her legs
would give way as Lazarus hissed at her, “I do not want to harm you, Lady
Evelyn, but if you continue to be difficult I will do whatever is necessary to
subdue you. Do you understand?”

She nodded quickly and sucked in a breath as his reeking stench faded
with the sound of crunching footsteps.

The rest of their journey seemed to take an eternity, though she was unsure
of how far they had actually come. Without the use of all her senses, it became
harder to stay upright on the rough ground and she tripped many times only to
be jerked back by the painful grasp of her captor. He let her fall once,
whether deliberately she was not sure, but it caused them all much amusement as
she scrabbled in the dirt to find her footing, her body throbbing in pain.

Their arrival was signalled by being callously thrown to the ground,
but exhaustion prevented her from complaining and she gratefully sank to the
ground, indifferent to the damp ground seeping through her gown. Around her,
footfalls sounded and the shouts of men greeting one another rang out, great
joviality in the air, presumably satisfied with their catch for the day.

Clumsy hands suddenly tugged at the blindfold, pulling at her hair,
forcing a squeal from her. Blinking dazedly as the fabric was removed; she
slowly took in her surroundings. Great trunks of legs strode past her through a
small clearing in an impenetrable part of the forest. From her position she saw
there had to be at least two dozen men in the encampment, but she saw no women
or children. Crude shelters had been fashioned out of woodland materials and
when she tilted her head towards the forest canopy she could see rudimentary
lookout platforms upon which archers kept guard.

It was clear to her now that they had been settled here for some time
without discovery and there was little hope of her ever being found if
Tibald
refused to pay the ransom. She was confident Gabriel
would do everything in his power to liberate her and she prayed she would have
the opportunity to see him again, even if it meant returning to
Tibald
. There was so much that needed to be said and she
found herself aching to be in his presence.