Dryden's Bride (20 page)

Knowing this would be her only chance, she pretended to trip on a step, and dropped the wooden tray she carried, letting it go flying down to the stone jetty. Turning quickly, she said, “Sorry, I’ll get it!”

Seeming to skip casually down the steps, Siân took a good look around as she picked up the tray, then ran back up, ignoring the nasty words that the jailer directed at her for her clumsiness.

“Go
on
,” Robby said in a rasping whisper, landing a punch on Siân’s shoulder. “I’d a never ’ave brought you if I’d a known you were gonna be so clumsy.”

“Sorry,” Siân said simply as they reached the upper door where the turnkey unlocked the door and let them out into the late afternoon sunshine. “Didn’t mean to,” she mumbled petulantly, hoping she sounded like one of the boy’s peers.

It was getting late, and would be dark soon. When would Wrexton act? Tomorrow, as the herb peddler had said? Or tonight? Siân had a feeling that time was of the essence. She had to get Hugh and his companion out of there, and quickly.

Hugh was in terrible condition. Siân didn’t know how she’d managed to keep from crying out at the sight of his new wounds, or throwing herself into his arms
in spite of the guards’s presence. Somehow, by sheer force of will, she’d maintained her composure.

The other prisoner was in even worse shape than Hugh. Siân did not know if he would be able to walk, or how she would get him out of the little prison.

Siân chewed her lip and considered the problems she faced. It was obvious that neither Hugh nor the other man would get far on foot. Even if they were able to walk or run, it was miles to Pwll. And Pwll was the first place Wrexton would look for them. Once Siân freed Hugh and his companion, they would have to travel in any direction but west.

She was going to need horses and weapons, too, but where would she find them and how would she steal them? The obstacles seemed insurmountable, but Siân refused to be foiled. She would need all of her wits, and every ounce of courage she could muster. Hugh’s life depended on it.

Siân nudged Robby and said, “Let’s get some of the other lads and go throw stones in the river.”

She spent the time examining the fortress as she asked questions of her guileless young companions and discovered the location of the tunnel’s entrance. There was no way to get to it without swimming, and that would be a challenge. She was an excellent swimmer, but the current was strong and the water icy cold. She would be lucky not to freeze to death crossing the wide, watery expanse.

Once she reached the tunnel, Siân would have to disable the guards, and hope there would not be more than the two who were there earlier. Then, she could get Hugh and the other man down the steps and into the boat, where they would float to safety beyond the
portcullis Robby mentioned, then on outside the castle walls, and across the river to the far bank.

An hour later Siân was alone in the stable, looking over the horses. She recognized Hugh’s warhorse, as well as several other huge destriers, but could not figure how to take his mare or any other horses out of their stalls and get them past the stableman.

“Go on with ye now!” that man said sharply, shooing her out of the long, low building that housed the horses.

She scooted away from the man before he could swat her, then ran around to the side of the building. Sliding down the wall to sit on the rough ground, Siân buried her face against her knees and tried to stop shaking.

Her pathetic tears would not help the situation, she thought, sniffling. What was she going to do? The first part of her plan was in place, but it would be no good if she couldn’t get the two men away from Wrexton once they crossed the river. There had to be a way to get some horses over to the far bank. Reaching into her pocket to move the uncomfortable bulk of an apple Robby had purloined from the pantry, she rubbed it absently on her tunic. She had to settle herself down and
think!

Absently, Siân took a bite of the apple, and gathered her thoughts. Hugh and the other knight needed mounts. They would not be able to stay in the little boat and float down the river because it flowed right past the gatehouse. They would be discovered before they had half a chance to get away.

She was stuck. She was right back where she started, with Hugh and his companion locked in that room, and her only access to the little prison was by way of the
river. And even that passage might be blocked if the portcullis was down.

Siân sighed heavily. She finished her apple and stood up, brushing off her bottom, then stepped over to a workhorse waiting to be unhitched from his cart. She palmed the apple core and fed it to him.

And a new plan suddenly came to her. Siân realized she’d need a diversion to be successful. Glancing around the bailey, Siân looked to see which of the lads were still hanging about, who could possibly become interested in another game of camp-ball before it became fully dark.

It was all Hugh could do to keep from leveling the jailer who’d laid his grimy hands on Siân to push her back. Only the lethal point of the arrow trained on his heart had kept him from grabbing her and hugging her close.

She’d told him to be ready. Hugh did not know for what, but he had no intention of being caught unprepared again. Though there was not much he could do, locked in this small room, there might be one thing.

He started moving barrels away from the wall to make a barrier just inside the doorway. The barrels were full, and most were heavy, but Hugh managed to roll or slide them into place.

“Marcus,” Hugh said, waking the man again, “you’ve got to move back here.”

De Grant looked up and saw what Hugh was doing, and hauled himself painfully to a standing position. “I can help,” he panted.

“I doubt that,” Hugh said, “but you’re welcome to try.”

Together, they formed a wall of barrels in front of
the door. When the guards came in again, Hugh and Marcus would be somewhat shielded, and might possibly be able to overpower the guards.

With high hopes, Hugh began to pound on the door and shout for the jailer to come.

“Look,” Marcus said from his position behind the barrels. Hugh came around and noticed a mound of white sand flowing from a crack in one of the barrels. He smelled it, then tasted it.

“Salt.”

“Won’t feel very good…in the eyes,” Marcus said as he gathered two handfuls of the common spice.

Hugh almost smiled as he went back to the door and began pounding again. He shouted everything he could think of that would get the guards to come, while Marcus flattened himself up against the wall next to the door.

The noise and distraction behind Hugh’s prison door was all Siân needed to pull herself up out of the water without notice. Thankfully, the portcullis had been up, and the little boat was still there. There was precious little light to work in—only just barely enough from the torches of the guards far above. She sat for a moment on the little jetty and caught her breath, fully aware that there was little time.

Soaked and shivering with the cold, Siân got up and quickly loosened the heavy knots that kept the boat tied to an iron loop on the quay. Then she retied it loosely, so she’d be able to pull away quickly once she had Hugh and the other fellow on board.

She took one of the paddles from inside the boat, and moved across the jetty to the stone steps that led to Hugh’s jail room, where someone inside was still making an awful racket.

“Quit yer caterwaulin’, ye shard-borne maggot feed!” the turnkey growled as he lumbered down the steps toward Hugh’s door. The archer walked behind, just as he had earlier, just as Siân hoped he would.

The jailer shoved the big key into the iron lock, turned it, then slammed the door wide open. At the same time, Siân ran quickly and silently up the steps, carrying an oar.

Confusion broke out. The burly jailer suddenly staggered backward. Siân took the opportunity to raise the paddle and strike the archer with it, hitting him square across the back of his shoulders, then jumping back as the man fell down the stone steps.

Hugh disabled the turnkey, and relieved him of his sword, while the other prisoner, wincing in pain, picked up the fallen torch and came out to look around. “Siân Tudor?” he asked as the slightest curve of a smile lit up his battered face.

Siân nodded, glad of the poor lighting in the passage. She’d left her tunic and hose on the on the other side of the river before swimming across, and wore only Madoc’s long, linen shirt. She felt naked. “We’ve got to hurry. Can you walk?”

“Out of here? Absolutely,” he said gravely. “I’m Marcus de Grant. Your timing could not have been better.”

Then Hugh stepped out. “Siân!”

With one breath, she was in his arms, and nothing else was important, not his ragged clothes, nor the coarse, dark stubble of beard. Only the beat of his heart mattered as it pressed against hers, the tingle of his breath near her ear, the strength of his arms around her, and the very real possibility that they were all going to escape.

“We’ve got to go,” Siân said reluctantly, looking up at Hugh, into the face of the man she loved. “Quickly.”

Hugh rubbed away the tears Siân did not know she’d shed, then drew her back and kissed her forehead. He put his hands on her waist and said, “Lead the way.”

And as he spoke, a pounding at the top of the outside stairway erupted, clearly illustrating that their time was limited.

T
hey flew down the steps as fast as their various injuries permitted, and Marcus climbed into the boat behind Siân. Hugh asked no questions, but tossed his stolen sword into the bottom of the small craft. Then he pulled the mooring rope free and eased himself into the boat with the others.

“When we get past the portcullis, you’ll have to put out the torch,” Siân said urgently to Marcus as she knelt up and manned one of the paddles. “We’ll be visible to anyone on the parapet or in the towers.”

“If they break through that door up there,” Hugh said, “then douse it sooner.”

Wrexton men would soon be upon them. They had to row hard and fast because there would be no doubt about where the prisoners had gone. It was obvious that the only passage out was by way of the river. “The current will take us past the gatehouse,” Siân said quietly, holding her body low in the little wooden boat. “We have to paddle against it, to get to the north side.”

“Marcus, keep down,” Hugh said. He took up the spare paddle and alternated strokes with Siân, letting
her steer, since she was the only one who knew where they were going.

They heard voices as they reached the outer edge of the tunnel, and Marcus disposed of the torch. They were abruptly drenched in darkness. “Just keep going straight,” Siân whispered. The boat was in the center of the channel, and there was no possibility of hitting a wall. Siân and Hugh continued to paddle, keeping the boat on course, while Marcus stretched out as well as he could, in the back.

Within seconds they were on the open river, with the curtain of Wrexton Castle rising high above them. Siân shivered not only with cold, but with the dread of capture. She had been lucky so far.
Too lucky
.

The alarm sounded.

In desperation, Siân increased her rowing speed, and Hugh followed her lead. She threw a glance back at the wall, terrified that archers would be able to see them in the open water.

“Just keep going, sweetheart,” Hugh said, though it took all his energy to keep moving. “They won’t see us in time.”

The current was strong, and they were drawn downstream. Siân had hoped they’d be able to control the boat better, but it was not possible. She had no experience with such things, and Hugh’s wounds prevented him from rowing with much strength. Every stroke was a struggle, and she heard him straining with the exertion. She wished she could tell him to sit back and rest, but that would spell certain disaster. As long as he was able, he had no choice but to row.

“Give me a go at it,” Marcus said from behind.

“No,” Hugh grunted. “We’re nearly out of arrow range. Can’t waste any time.”

Siân realized he was correct. Though the powers who commanded Wrexton still hadn’t put archers in place, they had to know the prisoners were headed for shore. Even if no one shot at them from the wall, there was certain to be a troop of soldiers out scouring the countryside for them.

They had to hurry.

When the little boat finally made it to the riverbank, Siân quickly climbed out and held it close to shore so that Hugh and Marcus could crawl out.

“Siân,” Hugh rasped as he lay supine on the grassy bank, “does the boat figure anywhere in the rest of your plans?”

“No,” she replied as she looked up and tried to get her bearings. She was exhausted and wished she could afford the time to lie down on the ground along with the two men. Unfortunately, that was not possible. “I have a horse and cart somewhere nearby.”

“Then shove the boat out, as far as you need to, so the current will catch it.”

“Good idea,” said Marcus, who was trying to garner enough strength for the next step of their escape.

Siân did what Hugh said, hoping that the Wrexton men would find the boat and assume they’d drowned. And if not, at least there would be no clear evidence of where they’d alighted on shore.

When Siân returned from setting the boat adrift into the current, Marcus was either asleep or unconscious, his breathing shallow.

Hugh was awake. Siân fell to her knees next to him, afraid to touch him, to hurt him any further, but desperate to be near him, if only for the moment, before they continued on.

“Sweet Siân,” he said as he raised his arm and
pulled her head down, desperate to taste her, in spite of his weakened condition.

Their lips met in a kiss that melted her resolve not to touch him. He pulled her closer, and Siân cupped his face, the only part of him that did not appear to be injured. She whimpered as he deepened the kiss, even though she knew they had to stop. They had to get away from there.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Hugh said, his voice husky and tight.

Siân would not dwell on the fact that she had already lost
him
. To Marguerite. “I—I thought I was lost, too,” she finally said, between fevered kisses. “On the ship…the storm…and later…But I got away…” If only they could crawl away somewhere together, she thought, away from life’s realities, away from Wrexton. But that was not to be, and Siân was well aware of it.
“Hugh!”

“I know, love,” he said as he dragged himself to a sitting position, “we have to move.”

“Will you see to Sir Marcus while I find the horse and cart?”

He nodded, then kissed her again before going over to de Grant. Siân stood and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold. Turning away from the river, she looked for the landmarks that would help her find where she’d left their only means of transportation.

Siân had planned as carefully as possible before making the swim to the castle. She’d taken off her outer clothes, knowing she would need a dry tunic and shoes if they got this far. Then, well aware that the men would not be capable of walking any distance, she’d left the cart downstream, knowing the river
would draw them that way in the little boat when they made their escape.

After securing the horse and cart in a secluded part of the woods, she’d walked quite a distance to start her swim from a point upstream so that she would not have to battle the current, letting it carry her downriver to the inlet under the castle wall.

So far, so good. But it was fully dark now, and difficult to see the stand of oaks where she’d tethered the horse. She turned and looked across the river at the castle and tried to get her bearings. Soon realizing that she would find the horse and cart a little ways upstream, Siân started to trot eastward.

And prayed she was not mistaken.

Her feet were raw by the time she came upon the little oak forest. Her teeth were chattering, and she was shivering nearly out of control. Her exhaustion had not abated, but Siân managed to continue on by the force of sheer nerves. She found the horse, sleeping right where she left him. Quickly, she discarded the wet linens she’d worn for her swim, and pulled on the dry tunic, hose and shoes. Instantly, she felt better.

She untied the horse, then got up onto the cart and rode back to get Hugh and Marcus.

As Siân climbed down from her perch to help them into the cart, she realized that Hugh was smiling. And so was Marcus.

It could not be
, she thought. Their situation was too precarious for humor, and she was certain Hugh would not see anything funny in their predicament. Then she heard a mirthful snort.

“It pains me when I laugh,” Marcus said, grinning wryly.

“There’s nothing to laugh at!” Siân cried. “We have little time, as well you know it!”

“It’s the irony, Siân,” Hugh explained as he climbed up behind her. “This wagon is the very same one we stole to get
into
Wrexton.”

“And now it will carry us out!” Marcus said weakly, but with enthusiasm.

Their laughter was Siân’s undoing. Torn between laughing and crying, she began to weep in earnest.

Hugh pulled himself up next to her on the seat and took her in his arms. “Hush, love,” he said, tucking her head possessively between his neck and shoulder. “You’ve done so much, worked so hard for us. No other woman in the kingdom could have done what you have. All will be well now….”

Siân sniffled and pulled away. “We m-must go now,” she said, embarrassed to have broken down at this juncture. She had been strong so far. Now was not the time to fall apart.

“Your turn to rest now, sweetheart,” Hugh said, taking the reins. “Lean on me, and I’ll try to get us out of here.”

He wrapped one arm around her and drove the horse slowly through the dark woods, trusting that the old workhorse would not step into a foxhole or run them into a tree.

Hugh could not fathom what Siân had gone through to get to him, other than the fact that she must have swum across the river to get to the little prison under the keep.

She was truly amazing.

“I never planned beyond this,” she said. “I didn’t know where we would go once I got you here—I just
concentrated on getting the wagon over here, and then getting
you
.”

“It’s all right, Siân,” Hugh said, hugging her fiercely to him. “At least now we have a chance. We’ll head north and look for shelter,” he said.

“You know this area?” Siân asked.

“Only what de Grant and I saw when we arrived,” he said. “Which was not much. We were anxious to get inside the castle to find you.”

“Oh, Hugh…I was never there!” she repined. “After Wrexton’s ship landed, I was tied up and put into the back of a wagon…We traveled for hours, but I managed to get away. In the dark. I heard…”

“What did you hear?”

“I—I heard
you!
” she said, fully aware of how fanciful she sounded. “You told me to keep going, keep running.”

Hugh gave a shake of his head. “Mayhap it
was
me you heard…For I never stopped thinking of you, Siân.” Then he kissed her lightly.

“I fell,” she said, “and that was the last thing I remembered until some Pwll men found me in the morning.” Siân described her homecoming to Hugh and how she’d learned that he was held captive at Wrexton. “I knew I had to come. I had to do what I could to get you out.”

“Siân,” Hugh said quietly, abruptly interrupting the flow of her narration. “Do you know how far this forest extends? Does it go on for miles or is it a shallow copse?”

“I d-don’t know, Hugh,” she said, quickly turning around to see what had Hugh concerned.

“There are patrols coming, love,” he said. “Wrexton had to know there were only two directions available
to us—along the riverbank, which would have left us in plain sight, or through the woods.”

“Abandon the wagon,” Marcus said from the rear. “Unhitch the horse and let him wander,” he added, “and we’ll have a better chance losing ourselves in the underbrush.”

“You may be right,” Hugh remarked as he jumped down to the ground. He turned to help Siân down, then freed the horse. Marcus managed to climb out without help, and he handed the stolen sword to Hugh.

“Which way?” Siân asked.

“Over here,” Hugh said, his voice an urgent hiss.

He led them deeper into the woods, helping Marcus as they walked. Siân took Marcus’s other side and gave what support he needed.

“Is that a ridge above us, to the east?” Hugh asked.

“I think so,” Siân replied, her vision being slightly better than Hugh’s. “Do you think we can climb up there?” she asked, fully realizing the advantage of getting above their pursuers. Wrexton’s knights were still quite a distance behind them. There was time.

“Let’s try,” Hugh said. “Marcus, can you do it?”

Breathless, Marcus did not waste his breath on speech, but he nodded.

“Let’s go, then.”

The climb was difficult. The grade of the hillside was fairly steep and laden with loose rock and soil. Many times they lost their footing or tripped over loose vines. Marcus fell once and Siân did not think he’d be able to get up and go on. She did not know how
she
was able to keep going, either. The muscles in her legs were shaky and burning. Her mouth was dry and her
feet were in agony. But somehow, they made it to the summit.

And when they finally climbed over the top of the ridge, they were met with a silent row of lethal, steel points belonging to a battalion of swordsmen.