The Silken Cord (19 page)

“You’re right.” Wulfgar relented. “Revenge
clouds my mind. It’ll be as you say.”

Ariana caught the anguish in Wulfgar’s eyes.
She thought of all he’d built with his own hands, only to have it
taken away. He’d been shamed and banished, stripped of his titles
and lands, then sold into slavery. If he were innocent as she
believed, it would be much too harsh a punishment.

Wulfgar’s eyes blazed with fury. “First, we
will free Dafydd. Then, I will find Carlinham and kill him.”

Turning, Wulfgar led the way up the
stairwell. Ariana followed, with Jenkin bringing up the rear. As
they reached the top, she trembled with anticipation.

Please, God. Let Dafydd be inside.
Please.

They met a door. Though it was dark on the
landing, Wulfgar seemed to know the way. He reached out a hand and
tried the handle. A hollow click sounded. Wulfgar gave a gentle
push and the sturdy panel swung inward.

Ariana tried to brush past, but Wulfgar held
out a solid arm to stop her. Shaking his head, he proceeded first,
followed by Jenkin. It was dark inside, with a slitted window
sitting high in the far wall where light from the moon streamed
down onto the stone floor. Thick carpets were spread on the floor
beside a canopied bed.

A sleeping form lay curled beneath the warm
covers.

“Dafydd!” Ariana rushed to push the heavy
canopy aside and embrace her brother.

The form rolled and sat up. Ariana stopped,
stunned to her very toes. It was not Dafydd, but a boy of
approximately fourteen years. His blond hair was cropped short in
the Norman fashion, so golden white it glimmered in the darkened
room. Dressed in a long nightshirt, his ashen face was smooth as
marble and gleamed in the shadows. Pale eyes stared back at her,
shining bright as they widened when he saw intruders in his
room.

The boy threw back the covers and bolted
toward the other side of the room. He grabbed for a knife lying on
a table top. Wulfgar moved with a flash of speed, placing the point
of his sword at the boy’s throat. The boy froze, his eyes wide.
Jenkin stood before the door, blocking escape.

The lad’s mouth dropped open and he raised
his hands, stepping back.

“D…don’t kill me,” he stuttered. “What do
you w…want?”

Ariana’s heart clenched. He was so
frightened he could hardly speak.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. “We mean
you no harm.”

“Wh…who are you?” he asked, his gaze
uncertain as it slid over her.

Jenkin pushed the door so it was barely open
and peered out onto the landing, listening for intruders. While he
kept watch, Wulfgar approached the young man. “We seek Prince
Dafydd. Where is he?”

The boy’s bare feet peeked out from beneath
his sleeping gown, his toes curling against the cold stone floor.
“H…he’s not here. I think they’re keeping him in the
d…dungeon.”

The dungeon? But they had just been there.
Perhaps he was kept in another cell.

A lance of fear speared Ariana’s heart. She
remembered Vachel and the dismal conditions he’d suffered. An image
of Dafydd filled her mind. Starved, freezing, half naked and
tortured. Would Edwin do such a thing to a young royal?

“Wulfgar, he’s not here. Where would Edwin
be keeping him?” she asked.

Wulfgar stepped near, lifting an arm as if
he wished to comfort her. “He must be in a chamber above the
guardroom. I doubt Edwin would keep the boy in a dungeon cell where
he might sicken and die.”

“Aye, he’s in a r…room above the gatehouse,”
the young man supplied.

The boy had an obvious stutter, but was it
because he was scared or was his stammer a normal thing?

Hope filled Ariana’s heart. “He’s not in a
cell?”

“I d…don’t think so,” the young man said.
“Your brother should be quite comfortable, unless….”

“Unless?” Horrifying images filled her mind
of Dafydd suffering ghastly depravities. They’d been so close,
having just left the gatehouse. Now, they must go back and Ariana
turned toward the door, eager to find Dafydd with haste.

“Are you his sister? He s…said you’d come
for him.” The boy squinted his eyes with suspicion.

Ariana stopped and looked at him hard. “Who
are you?”

Casting a nervous glance at Wulfgar, the
young man licked his lips. “I’m M…Markus, son of Edwin of
Carlinham, the Earl of Glyndwr.”

“Oh.” Ariana’s mouth rounded and she placed
a hand against her cheek.

Edwin’s son.

A sinister smile curved Wulfgar’s lips and
he peered at the lad. “You’re Carlinham’s son? I can see the
resemblance, but you have your mother’s eyes and hair.”

“My mother is d…dead,” the boy
stuttered.

Wulfgar frowned. “Is she? I’m sorry to hear
it. She was the only good thing about your father.”

Markus narrowed his eyes and his gaze rested
on Wulfgar’s face. “You seem f…familiar to me. How do you know my
m…mother?”

Wulfgar showed a tolerant smile. “My name
isn’t important.”

Turning to Ariana, Wulfgar grinned with
pleasure. The flash of his smile looked white in the dark room.
“Princess, we have just secured your brother.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Edwin will no doubt exchange Dafydd for his
own son.” Stepping toward Markus, Wulfgar hardened his jaw. “You’ll
come with us. Once your father returns Prince Dafydd, you’ll go
free.”

Markus stared at Wulfgar with fear. Though
his thin body trembled, he lifted his chin. As he spoke, his mouth
moved slowly while he tried to speak clearly. “My father will not
exchange Prince Dafydd for me. I s…stutter and he doesn’t care if I
live or d…die.”

Ariana’s stomach tightened. No doubt Edwin
had little tolerance for a son who stammered when he spoke. With
patience and encouragement, she thought Markus could overcome his
problem. Somehow, she couldn’t envision Edwin providing that kind
of support to anyone.

Wulfgar clenched his jaw. “Do you expect me
to believe Edwin would forfeit his only heir?”

“He plans to have another s…son, once he
remarries.” Markus shrugged, holding his head high. Though he met
Wulfgar’s gaze and answered in a matter-of-fact tone, Ariana sensed
deep pain and resentment in the boy. No doubt Edwin’s careless
neglect was the cause.

“You’ll come with us anyway. Get dressed.”
Wulfgar jerked his head toward a large chest sitting at the foot of
the bed and spoke to Ariana. “Will you find him something to wear?
Make sure there are no weapons.”

She padded across the floor to the large
chest and lifted the heavy lid. Rummaging around, she pulled out
clothing and tossed it to Markus. Then she turned her back while he
dressed.

“Let’s go,” Wulfgar said after a few
moments.

Ariana turned and saw Markus now dressed in
plain woolen hose, a tunic, and leather shoes. She went to stand
beside Wulfgar. “What do you think we should do?”

His expression was grim. “We’ll search for
your brother in the gatehouse and open the sally port so our men
can enter the castle. Then, I will fight while you and Dafydd
flee.”

But what if Dafydd wasn’t in the gatehouse?
Stepping back, she refused to panic.

Wulfgar lifted his sword and placed the
steel point against Markus’s throat. The boy’s breath froze and his
eyes bulged.

“If you make a sound, I’ll kill you,”
Wulfgar warned.

Markus nodded, his eyes round as moons. He
didn’t speak as they stepped out onto the dark landing, with Jenkin
leading the way.

Quietly, they stole down the stairs and
regained the main hall. Ariana moved close to Wulfgar as they
crossed the spacious room, silently praying no one noticed them. A
loud snore came from the back room and Markus turned his head. His
eyes crinkled and he held still when Wulfgar placed the point of
his sword against his throat.

A dog lifted its head and growled but
remained curled by the fire.

Jenkin brought up the rear, prodding the
young man with his sword. Markus threw him a sullen glare as they
crossed the bailey.

They entered the stairway leading to the
guardroom. Jenkin glanced at Markus. “Which way?”

The lad pointed up but Wulfgar had already
moved to mount the stairs. He knew where to go.

A guard came out of a side chamber and
entered the stairway. Ariana sucked back a startled breath.

The guard’s head was bent down. As he took a
step, he stumbled and reached out a hand to catch himself, seeming
groggy with sleep.

In that moment, Jenkin covered Markus with
his sword and Wulfgar stepped in front of Ariana, a protective
gesture. The guard looked up and saw them. Then he reached for a
sword that wasn’t there.

“To arms. To arms,” he shouted.

Wulfgar sprang at him, clouting the unarmed
man over the head with the hilt of his sword. The man dropped like
a stone, his body thumping on the steps.

Ariana froze, listening. Had the other
guards heard the man’s call?

“Fulcher? What’s amiss?” Another guard
called from below.

Ariana’s heart plummeted.

“They’re warned,” Jenkin spoke in a hissing
whisper.

Within moments, the dungeon would be
swarming with guards and they’d be discovered.

“Go up.” Wulfgar jerked his head toward more
stairs. “Find the prince. I’ll draw their attention away from you
and open the sally port to admit our men.”

Jenkin nodded and pushed Markus ahead of him
as he and Ariana scurried up the stairs. Wulfgar disappeared
through the door outside. It happened so fast, she couldn’t even
call him back.

What if he were killed? She might never see
him again. Her heart clenched, but there was no time to say
farewell. As her feet hurried up the stairs, knots of anxiety
tightened in her stomach.

Jenkin pulled Ariana and Markus back into
the shadows at the top of the stairs. They huddled there for
several moments, listening, waiting. Her body went cold and she
wriggled her toes to get the blood flowing again.

She heard a loud cry and then sounds of
running feet. The fallen guard had been discovered.

Jenkin’s eyes narrowed on Markus, his
expression harsh. Markus looked away and Ariana prayed the boy
remained calm and silent. She feared Jenkin would kill the boy if
Markus gave him cause.

Shouts and a loud clatter filled the air as
guards pounded up the stairs and ran outside.

“Search the hall and stables,” one of them
ordered. “Alert Lord Carlinham of the intrusion.”

Wulfgar had no one to defend his back. What
if he couldn’t reach the sally port and their men didn’t arrive in
time?

“I think they’re gone,” Jenkin said.

Moving out of the shadows, he paused before
a solid door on the landing. Taking the key from a peg on the wall,
he inserted it in the lock and swung the door wide.

Despite Jenkin’s efforts to hold her back,
Ariana crowded past, her gaze taking in the pleasant surroundings,
the warm tapestries of red and green, the comfortable pallet to
sleep upon, and the table laden with meat, bread, and a basket of
red apples. A cheery fire burned in a brazier, warming the room.
Candles flickered in holders on the table. She cried out with joy
when she saw Dafydd sitting up on a thick sleeping pallet. Rubbing
his eyes, he peered at them, blinking.

“Ariana!” Throwing back the covers, he raced
into her open arms.

“Dafydd! Oh, Dafydd!” she held him tight as
tears filled her eyes.

She relished his warmth and the familiar
smell of him. Elation radiated throughout her body. How grateful
she was to find him.

She had Wulfgar to thank. But they weren’t
safe, yet.

After a few moments, she drew back and
glanced at Jenkin, who had pushed the door so it stood slightly
ajar. He had pressed Markus into a chair by the bed and now watched
her with a satisfied gaze. In his eyes, she saw such devotion she
could hardly fathom his loyalty.

How could she have ever doubted him?

“Do you think we should remain here?” she
asked Jenkin.

“For the time being. We’re not yet
discovered. If need be, I’ll take you to the dungeon and we’ll
escape through the secret passage.”

Ariana didn’t like that option. She’d had
trouble holding her breath and didn’t want to endanger Dafydd’s
life.

“Ariana, why are you here?” Dafydd
asked.

“To take you home, silly.” Her voice
trembled and she ruffled his hair.

“But it’s dangerous. Lord Edwin wants you,
not me. If he finds you here….” His brows lowered in a troubled
frown.

“We’ll just have to make certain he doesn’t
find me, then. I’m relieved he’s treated you so well.”

She looked about the comfortable
chamber.

Dafydd pursed his lips with disgust. “My
comfort wasn’t Lord Edwin’s doing. He wanted to give me very little
food. John, my guard, felt sorry for me.”

“Then I’m grateful to John. Hurry and get
dressed. We must be ready to leave the moment we have the chance.”
She pulled his nightshirt over his head and replaced it with a
tunic. In a matter of moments, the boy was clothed and she pressed
the hilt of one of her daggers into his hand. “If anyone tries to
harm you, use this. Remember, there’re times when a king must be
fierce.”

Dafydd’s eyes rounded but he nodded
obediently. Even a boy of seven years could defend himself, if he
used his wits. Dafydd had always been a thoughtful, intelligent
boy. But now, he must fight for his life.

Oh, please let him remember the lessons
father taught him.

Gripping Dafydd’s hand firmly in her own,
Ariana pulled him toward the door. Jenkin moved back, his gaze
centered on her. He had little time to react when Ariana screamed a
warning.

“Jenkin, look out.”

A guard rushed the door, throwing it open
and stabbing Jenkin’s back with a slim knife.