Wildewood Revenge (36 page)

“We must rescue Miles and Angus and any others who may still be alive,” Grace said simply. “We just need to think of a plan.”

“If they are held in the dungeons then we have no chance. I know of no one who has come out of
Ahlborett
alive.”

Grace looked at the man who’d spoken. He was one of the brothers who’d been the first to volunteer their support. She was disappointed. She’d assumed she could rely on him.

“What of Walter de
Sweethope
?” asked Jack Forester “Was he not imprisoned and released on the king’s word, would he not be able to assist with a plan of the layout?”

“And who will travel to him and bring the plan back?” said another. “The woods will be crawling with Sir Gerard’s men waiting to pick us off.”

Grace despaired. If Miles were here he would rally them, encourage them. She had nothing to offer. She was a silly girl from another time who would get them all killed given half a chance.

“I have knowledge of Sir Gerard’s dungeon system,” said Mayflower calmly. “In fact, I was given a guided tour quite recently.”

Grace turned to him. “Could you draw us a plan?”

“I fear I am no artist,” replied Mayflower, “But I understand you have a certain skill in that area. Perhaps together we can create
something useful.”

Grace could have hugged him. “So, we will have a map to follow once we are in the castle.”

“How do you propose we gain entry to
Ahlborett
?” asked Robert Forester. “We are a
ragtaggle
band of peasants. The men at arms will laugh at us before they cut us down.”

“We’re a force of twenty, and have horses for us all. Surely, twenty, galloping towards them will cause some reaction other than laughter?”

John shook his head wearily and Grace saw the defeat on his face.

She could not give up. It was not in her nature and knew if the situation was reversed Miles would not abandon her.

“We have a plan of the dungeons, so we know where they are within the castle. We need to get someone inside to locate the prisoners and be ready to let us in when we get there. Who is allowed in the dungeons, Mayflower? Who did you see when you were given your tour?”

Mayflower paused, “My lady, I confess, I was less concerned with those incarcerated, and more concerned about leaving. I regret I took little notice of anyone other than guards.”

“How many?”

“There were two at the entrance to the dungeons.”

“Anyone else?
Are they allowed visitors? How do they get their food?”

“The food is taken in by the relatives of the captives,” said Martha. “They receive no food unless they are fed by their own, but anyone who enters will be searched, I expect.”

“Would they search a boy?” asked Edmund. All eyes turned to him, the scrawny twelve year-old who looked younger than his years.

“No, Edmund, I won’t allow you to put yourself at risk, it’s far too
dangerous.” Grace couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Edmund. Miles would never forgive her.  She would never forgive herself.

“The boy could do it,” said John. “No one would suspect him.”

“And what if he should bump into Guy?”

“Guy has a broken leg, he will not be abroad.”

“I am not afraid.” Edmund looked at Grace. “It would be an honour to help. I can do it.”

“Not alone, Edmund, never alone,” replied Grace.

“I will go with him,” said a voice from beyond the gathering at the table. Belle stepped forward from the shadows. She glanced at Edmund and smiled nervously. “I’ll distract the guards, while Edmund locates Sir Miles and the others. “We can do it together.”

Distract the guards? Grace didn’t like the sound of that. Belle was a child with the body of a woman, and she too would be in danger. Despite her foreboding, she nodded reluctantly. They were both children, but here in this place, they were all she had.

Jack Forester spoke up again. “So, the youngsters get into the dungeon, smuggle in a knife or two, manage against all odds to release the men; what then? We are still an untrained band of peasants with no weapons to speak of and no armour to protect us from Sir Gerard’s wrath. Do you think he will run from us when he sees our army advance upon his castle?”

Grace looked to John, catching his eye. He gave an imperceptible nod and she smiled. Turning back to the gathering, she rose to her feet and with all eyes upon her she declared.

“We will have armour and weapons and Sir Gerard will think the army of the damned has come a calling.”

Chapter Thirty Seven

Miles woke sprawled in the straw on the floor of the dungeon. He lay face down where he had been thrown by the guards, his cheek flattened against the filth. Dragging reluctant eyes open he viewed the cell from his horizontal position. He’d found himself in far worse and more dangerous places in his time and learned from experience it did not pay to move too quickly when regaining ones senses, you never knew who might be watching and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

The smell from the rancid litter was foul and the straw moved with vermin and lice. It was no good, he could not lie amid the piss and shit of other men, nor could he stand anymore of the stink. He groaned and raised his head. The room swam and he paused until he regained his equilibrium. Spitting blades of straw from his mouth he rose up on hands and knees.

“Ah
wouldnae
stay
lang
in that
position, if ah were
ye,” said a gravelly Scottish voice. “Some o’ these men
hivn’t
had a woman in years an’ they’re no choosy.”

Miles swung his head and the grinning face of Angus Baird came in to view. He grimaced and sat himself up with his back against the support of the cold damp wall.  The cell was not large and it contained at least a dozen men. The low ceiling made the space feel smaller. One wall was barred with iron work beyond which was a passage which led to the guard room. Torches lit the cell dimly, but there were no windows and no circulation of fresh air to relieve the stench.

They were well below ground level and Miles could only guess at the thickness of the walls which enclosed them. He glanced around at his fellow captives and recognised three of Angus’s men, their faces
showed evidence of battle but they were alive and watching him with interest. The others were a collection of men unknown to him. Some looked as if they had been there for some time. They were undernourished and their skin carried signs of disease and poor diet.

“What happened?” asked Miles as he attempted to brush the fetid straw from his clothes.

“
Yer
brother happened,” replied Angus.

“Gerard?”

“Aye.
Gerard and a dozen men at arms.
They knew
we
wir
there. Caught us
nappin
’
ah’m
afeared
, but they were armed an armoured tae the hilt.”

“I don’t remember a thing,” admitted Miles.

“Ye did try tae rescue us,” grimaced Angus and his men grinned, “Unsuccessfully as it happens. Ah caught sight of ye
gallopin
’
tae
me through the mess o’ men; how ye survived in the Holy Land is a mystery
tae
me, not a bloody thought as tae who was at
yer
flank. You’re lucky tae be alive.”

Miles shrugged. He’d never said he was a skilled fighter, but he’d never been short on determination. “How many did you lose?”

“Three, one o’ them was
ma
nephew.”

“I’m sorry,” said Miles.

“Tis Gerard
whae’ll
be sorry, “replied Angus with a grimace.

“Do we have a plan?” Miles enquired.

“Nah,”

“Does Gerard?”

“Ah expect he plans tae see us all swing.”

Miles considered this. “Well, he won’t do that until the king has returned to London, so we have a few days grace.” He held his head in
his hands. He was getting too old for all this fighting. He’d come home to
Wildewood
for some peace and quiet after the rigours of the crusade but it seemed since he’d returned he’d had nothing but grief. First from the girl, then Guy, and now Gerard, it was beginning to get a little repetitious.

“Is ye head still
botherin
’
yer
lad?” asked Angus. “Ye took an almighty blow; if it had been the blade you’d have lost
yer
head for sure. We thought
yer
were dead.”

Miles smiled, “I’ve felt worse with the drink.”

“Then ah suggest we maintain a state o’ readiness. When the guards come tae take us
tae
the scaffold we’ll make
oor
move.”

Miles nodded and yawned. “Wake me when they get here.”

He was kicked awake a short while later by the guards who dragged him to his feet and hauled him from the cell. He shot a warning glance at Angus; this was not the time to make a move.

He tried to take note of where he was being taken but his head was forced down by the guards and when he struggled to right himself he received a blow to the belly for his trouble. Pushed forward, he stumbled when down a flight of stones steps leading further into the bowels of the earth. He tried to resist the pressure of the soldiers at his back as a sense of alarm crept through him. He’d been singled out for some purpose and he could only assume Guy was at the root of it. He took a steadying breath. Guy was a madman, he could not be anticipated in the way a normal man could. He wished, yet again, that he’d run him through when he had the chance.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked the soldiers.

“To hell,” replied one. The other laughed humourlessly.

“I can show you hell, right here if you release me.”

The men merely grinned. “Save your bravado for Sir Guy, you’re going to need it.”

Miles exhaled slowly. He was familiar with torture. He had been captured and suffered at the hands of the Saracens who were masters at the art, but despite that, or perhaps because of it, he felt the beginnings of fear curling deep inside. The trick he knew was in hiding it. Torture was a game played out on a knife edge, a balance between courage and fear. He could not afford to allow his
self belief
to falter.

“You are mistaken in your allegiance with Guy de
Marchant
, he is a madman and soon the King will know of it. Do you want to be tried for treason?”

It was worth a try, but he doubted the guards would act against Guy. If he, an experienced knight could be rattled by the thought of an encounter with the man, then the guards would definitely be fearful of his displeasure. They exchanged a nervous glance.

“Keep your mouth shut, bastard.”

The first guard jammed his elbow into Miles’ ribs with such force Miles dropped to the ground and tumbled down the remainder of the stone steps reopening the wound above his eye and splitting his lip on the unforgiving stone. Dragged upright by the guards, he spat the coppery taste of blood from his mouth. He stifled a groan as one of the guards slammed him hard against the stone wall at the foot of the stairs, opened a heavy wooden door and flung him into a room flooded with light. Temporarily blinded and immediately at a disadvantage, he sucked in a ragged breath, slowly opened his eyes and relaxed his clenched fists.

His nemesis was not immediately visible. The glare from the many torches caused Miles to narrow his eyes as he scanned the space. This
was indeed a torture chamber. His heart quickened. He’d seen many of the devices before and been the victim of one or two in his time. Hideous memories re-emerged unbidden from the depths of his mind.

He steeled his expression, heard movement and turned to look squarely at Guy. He was seated, with his foot propped on a wooden stool. He wore an amused expression.

Finally, thought Miles, he has me exactly where he wants me and I have no one to blame but myself.

“We meet again, Miles,” said Guy, “and after our last meeting I’ve been so looking forward to this.” He gestured to his splinted foot. “I would have come a calling, would love to have met your good lady once more, but unfortunately I’m a trifle incapacitated.”

“Likewise,” replied Miles. “We have unfinished business, do we not?”

The guards held his arms loosely. Perhaps they thought as there was no escape, he would be resigned to his fate. They were incorrect. If there was a way out of this place he would find it. He had no wish to end his days being pulled apart by a madman. Miles scanned the room for something to assist him. There were many tools of the torture trade that could be turned upon the torturer. If he were free to utilise them. He bided his time.

“You made a mistake, Miles. Finally, after all this time, you let a woman get under your skin and weaken you. You’re slipping. You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Guy.” He wished he had, didn’t really know why he hadn’t, other than the fact that Grace had seen enough brutality for one day.

“They say the time brings its reward, Miles, and I have waited some
time for this, so you must excuse me if I make the moment last.” He gestured with an open hand to the array of despicable contraptions. “Where would you like me to start?
The rack?
The hot iron?
Or perhaps the thought of rats gnawing at your belly appeals?”
He gave a sly grin and the soldiers winced at his obvious sadistic enjoyment.

Miles glared back and shook his head. “Do you really think you’ll get away with this? Do you think the king will not hold you to account for murder?”

“Miles, you have an inflated opinion of yourself. The king cares not for what happens to a bastard such as you.”

“Perhaps, but I wager he will question what has happened to the many other knights you have seen fit to dispatch. Knights, who rode under the king’s banner and defended his
realm
. Your crimes are about to be revealed, Guy. The king will have your head.”

“Another mistake, Miles, once again you’ve played your hand too soon. Who is going to inform the king when I have you here?”

“Others know of your perversion, and they’ll do what is honourable, regardless of whether I live or not.” He thought of Mayflower, would he have the guts to carry out the plan without him being there to cajole him? He doubted it, but John may have the presence of mind to persuade him.

“If you refer to your whore, then I would not rely too heavily on her. You forget, Miles, while you are here as my guest,
Wildewood
remains unguarded and the girl unprotected. I have no doubt in her naïveté she will seek to find you and I will take great pleasure in assisting her, we too have unfinished business.”

Miles seethed with rage. The thought of the man getting anywhere near Grace made his stomach churn. He silently counted to ten and forced himself to relax his bunched up muscles. Guy was baiting him
and he refused to give him the reward of a reaction.

“What is she like, Miles? Do you think she will warm to my particular style?”

“I believe she is far cleverer than you, Guy. She will run rings around any attempt you may care to make.”

She was clever but she was also headstrong. Guy was correct, she may well try to find him and believe herself capable of interceding on the outcome, but any attempt she may make was doomed to failure. She had no concept of Guy’s capacity for evil.