Spectre of the Sword (42 page)

Elizabeau struggled to
swallow away her amazement.  “You would find me in prison,” she murmured
ironically. “And Rhys. We are in this hell together.  But why did you come? Did
the prince send you to save me?”

“He sent me, my lady,
but not with the purpose of saving you,” he replied. “I was sent to follow
Lawrence and David was sent to follow me.  We were looking for each other.”

It didn’t make much
sense, but the man’s accent was so heavy and his English so broken that it wasn’t
surprising.   Elizabeau looked questioningly at Rhys, who had gathered his
composure enough to shut his agape mouth and attempt to decipher what Geist was
saying.  His gaze moved between Elizabeau and the Teutonic knight as he
realized what the man was telling them.

“You were following
Lawrence?” he asked quietly.

Geist nodded. “Aye.  I
saw him ride to this place. Have you seen him?”

Rhys cocked an eyebrow.
“Why do you think I am here?” he rumbled. “He has been the betrayer in our
midst all along and told the fortress commander exactly why I was here.  The
man knows everything that de Lohr knows and now, I am sure, so does the king’s
men. I am slated for execution along with the lady at sunrise.”

“Where is Edward?”
Elizabeau asked Geist. “We have not seen him since we were discovered. Do you
know where he is?”

Geist was vaguely aware
of the English knight who had come to Lioncross and told them of the lady’s
predicament.  Again, he shook his head. “I have not seen him,” he said, looking
back to Rhys. “David does not know that I have found you but I will speak with
him when we are finished.  We are ready to aid your escape. Do you have a
plan?”

Rhys lifted both
eyebrows. “Not at the moment, but now I see that we must be quick about forming
one,” he was almost giddy with hope but reined himself in. He had to remain
collected if they were all going to survive. “Your life will depend upon it,
too.  Is there anyone else with you?”

“Just David.”

“He needs to stay out of
sight. Lawrence will recognize him, as he very well may recognize you.”

“I will be careful.”

Rhys eyed him. “You’ll
have to be,” he said ominously, then paused as he shifted his focus. He had to
think! “What weapons have you brought with you?”

“Two crossbows,” Geist
replied. “I also have a few daggers, as does David.  He also has a broadsword,
which I do not possess.  It would not look right on a priest.”

Rhys nodded, calmed to
the point that his mind started working as it usually did, clearly and
concisely.  He was able to detach his emotion for the moment and look at their
situation globally.  Although their liabilities heavily outweighed their
assets, a successful rescue could be accomplished.  But there was no margin for
error.  He looked at Geist, his eyes boring into the man as the seconds of his
life ticked away. More importantly, as the seconds of Elizabeau’s life ticked
away.  Even if he did not make it out of Ludlow, he had to insure that
Elizabeau would.

His heart began to
thump, his hands to sweat.  So very much was riding on his ability to formulate
a viable plan as varying situations and their results began to flow through his
mind. He weeded out the impossible and focused on the possible, all in a matter
of a few seconds. That was the speed with which his brain worked.  Things
became clearer as he suddenly crossed himself and knelt before Geist.  He knew
what he had to do.

“Forgive me, Father, for
I have sinned,” he muttered, nodding his head at Elizabeau for her to do the
same.  When she knelt beside him, her green eyes wide with hope and terror, he
lifted his face to Geist. “Will you hear my confession?”

Geist nodded slowly,
bending over the massive knight so that his confession would not be heard by
the jailors beyond the door.  To those looking it, it would indeed appear as a
simple confession by a condemned man.

It was the confession of
a plan.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

          Promptly at
dawn, Lewis appeared at the cell door and quietly had the sergeant open it. 
When the door shifted open, grating against the uneven stone floor, Lewis and
several guards moved into the cell.  The men were heavily armed, prepared for a
battle of epic proportions with the enormous knight.  They weren’t about to
take any chances. 

          But Rhys
wasn’t poised to strike as they entered the cell.  He sat against the far wall
of the cell with Elizabeau in his arms, who was sleeping quite peacefully. 
When Rhys saw Lewis and the soldiers entering the hall, his expression
flickered with pain but just as quickly stilled.   Lewis didn’t say a word; he
simply gazed at Rhys and finally at the sleeping lady.  Rhys saw where the
man’s attention moved and he, too, gazed down at Elizabeau.  He knew what the
silent implication was.  It was time to go. With a faint sigh, one of defeat,
he kissed her forehead and gently shook her.

          “Angel,” he
murmured. “Wake up.”

          She stirred
and he shook her again, watching her dark green eyes flutter open.  She focused
on him, smilingly sleepily until she realized that someone else was in the cell
with them. She could hear the mail grating.  With a start, she sat up and
bashed Rhys on the chin in the process.

          He didn’t
flinch as he steadied her, but Elizabeau’s eyes were wide on the men in the
cell.  They were loaded for battle, breathing death with every gasp. Beyond the
door, she could see a hint of morning glow and her eyes widened.

          “Nay,” she
breathed, then a pathetic moan welled up in her throat as she turned to Rhys.
“Nay, it cannot be time. It must not be time yet.”

          He didn’t
reply; in truth, there was nothing he could say. He rose to his feet and took
her with him. But she would not stand on her own. She threw her arms around his
neck in terror.

          “This cannot
be,” she was very quickly rising to hysteria. “I do not want to die. I do not
want you to die. Please, no!”

          Rhys remained
stoic as he scooped her up into his arms and held her close to comfort her in
their last minutes of life.   Lewis, watching the scene, seemed moderately
sober as he spoke.

          “Put her on
her feet,” he instructed quietly. “She will walk to her destination.”

          Rhys eyed the man,
sighing heavily. “Let me take her out of here and put her to stand once we
reach the bailey. Surely it will not harm anything to allow me to hold her one
last time.”

          Lewis didn’t
want to get into a big tussle, not now when the end was so near.  The lady was
distraught but du Bois was remarkably holding himself together.  Lewis was
content so long as the big knight was calm, so he nodded curtly and turned to
lead them out of the cell.

          A dozen
heavily armed soldiers escorted Rhys and Elizabeau from the vault to the bailey
beyond.  The feel of doom was everywhere, filling the very air they breathed. 
With every step it grew heavier and heavier. Even the soldiers seemed subdued
and quiet.  As they reached the bailey, Rhys finally set Elizabeau on her feet
but she collapsed into the dust.

“Nay,” she wept
pitifully. “I do not want to die. I do not want to!”

Rhys reached down to
pick her up again but half a dozen swords were suddenly in his face.  As he put
his hands up in surrender, two soldiers took Elizabeau by the arms and hauled
her to her feet.

“Rhys!” she screamed,
begging for him to save her.

But he could not.  The
expression on his face was indescribable as he focused on her; a world of pain
and longing filling the brilliant blue eyes even though his overall manner
continued to remain stoic.

“Elizabeau,” he said in
a strong, yet strangely tight voice. “Calm yourself, angel. I do not want my
last memory of you to be of screams and tears. Do you hear me? Be a good girl
and stop crying.”

Elizabeau was
struggling; that much was evident.  She was trying so very hard to be brave but
could not seem to master it.  She focused on Rhys, his handsome face, and
labored to stop the tears.

“I… I am trying,” she
swallowed hard, summoning courage. “I will try.”

He smiled faintly. “My
sweet angel. That’s a good girl.”

He watched her face as
two soldiers suddenly pulled his hands behind his back and tied off his
wrists.  He knew what that meant; he would be the first one to the block.  But
as he stood there, mentally preparing himself, he watched Lewis move to
Elizabeau and take her by the arm. It wasn’t a harsh move, nor was it gentle;
it was simply a task.

“I will not tie your
hands if you give me your word that you will not resist,” he said to her. “I
should not like to have to restrain you. It’s simply not proper.”

She swallowed again, her
hysteria fading, as she looked into the man’s pale face. “I… I will not
resist,” she murmured. “But… but I should like to kiss Rhys one last time, if I
may.  I promise that I shall go quietly if you will simply allow me this last
mercy.”

Lewis almost refused
her. But he could look into the deep green eyes and see a lady of beauty and
wisdom and strength. He’d seen that from the beginning of their association
those months ago. In truth, he was rather disgruntled by this entire event but
he was following orders.  He was doing his duty, distasteful though it might
be.

He saw no harm in her
request and took her gently by the arm to lead her over to Rhys, several feet
away.   He stood back as Elizabeau, now calm, focused on the massive knight.

There were a million
unspoken words in the air as Elizabeau gazed deeply into the brilliant blue
eyes, feeling the familiar emotion wash over her.  He was such a wonderful man,
so wise and honest.  She was more smitten with him now than she was the first
time she realized she felt something for him. Time had only increased those
feelings.  Although she knew their lives hung in the balance and she knew that
this day could easily see one of them leaving the other in death, all that
seemed to matter was this moment in time where they were lost in each other’s
eyes.  She could see, feel or hear nothing else but him.

“I will only love you
more beyond this life,” she put her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to
his lips.  She kissed him with painful tenderness, trembling, a lingering kiss
that for all intents and purposes was to be their last. “There is only
happiness for us, my darling. No pain, no sorrow. Only happiness.”

He responded to her
kiss, feeling tears sting his eyes.  When her lips brushed his cheeks, he
thought he might lose his carefully held composure. But he had to remain strong
for what was to come, the hazardous undertaking they were about to follow.  All
he cared about was her safety.  But at this moment, all he wanted to do was
wallow in the deep love and devotion that was flowing between them.  He could
literally inhale it and feed off of it. It gave him strength.

“I love you,” he
murmured, his lips against hers once more. “With all that I am, I love only you
in this life or any other.”

She pulled back, smiling
bravely at him and he nearly came undone. But he fought it.
This is not the
end
, he told himself.
This is not the end!

“Until we meet again,
then,” she kissed him one last time, touched his cheek, and moved back to where
Lewis was standing.  She was trying so hard to be brave but it was difficult.
Resolutely, she squared her shoulders. “Do what must be done.”

Lewis’ gaze lingered on
her and if one looked closely, there was some sorrow there.  The red-haired
knight nodded faintly to the men surrounding Rhys, who suddenly grabbed him and
kicked out the back of his knees, forcing him to kneel.  Someone threw a rope
around his neck to restrain him.  As Elizabeau watched with concern, Lewis
suddenly took her by the arm.

“This way, my lady,” he
said quietly.

It was then that they
both realized that Elizabeau would be the first one to go to the block.  She
was startled at first but admirably steeled herself. She didn’t dare look back
at Rhys, terrified of what she would see in his eyes.  She didn’t want to see
him come undone.  She had to stay strong.

“I am ready.”

The block they had built
was about a dozen yards away, lodged in the shadow of the great keep that was
now soaring into the cold light of dawn.  Elizabeau walked towards it with her
back straight, somewhat in a daze of what was actually happening but knowing
that somewhere, somehow, David and Geist were going to save her life.  It gave
her strength knowing that intervention was about to happen.  But she was still
rightly petrified, especially when she saw a familiar face lingering near the
block.

Lawrence was waiting for
her. A man who had once sworn to protect her now looked at her emotionlessly,
as if she meant nothing. Even as she laid her head upon the great oak block
that had seen more than one execution, she expected a miracle. She prayed for
it. But God, Geist, David and the miracle would have to hurry.