Avery turned, and lunged forward, at about the same time, yelling, “Damn your whole family to hell.”
Unable to quickly alter the direction of the heavy weapon, Brant’s sword plunged deep into Avery’s chest, and he froze in mid motion. His sword dropped to the ground, and Avery slowly sank to his knees, before finally falling sideways, to lay prostrate on the cobbles. Seeing his enemy collapse, Brant moved to his side.
“Who took Esme?” Brant demanded. "Who betrayed you and took Esme? Who?"
But the only sound was the child still screaming “mama.” Avery was dead.
Realizing his enemy would not be answering, Brant rose, wiping the blood from his sword, before sheathing it. He turned to where one of his men, was restraining the screaming child, with one arm around her waist.
“Robert, take a couple of men out, to get the man who was with the horses,” Brant said, offhandedly. Then, he picked up the child, and walked to the hall, consoling her with, “I am Esme’s brother, Brant. She has told me a lot about you. Esme likes to visit you, very much. Do you know that, Hannah?”
By the time Robert entered the hall, Hannah was curled up in Brant's arms, sniffling weakly. The serf who normally helped care for the little girl, could not be found. She, like most of the other serfs, were either hiding, or had slept through, the horrific events of the night. An old woman, who was filling tankards of ale, for the knights who had entered the hall, seemed to be the only one about.
Robert informed Brant, "The one in the woods, is just a youth, and they knocked him out cold."
Within minutes, several men entered, carrying the unconscious young man. He was laid on the stone floor, before a bucket of water was dumped on him, to revive him. However, that proved to be a fruitless effort.
As he came to, the youth sat up quickly, coughing on water he had inhaled. His eyes widened in fright, as he looked at the strange men who surrounded him.
Brant said, “We know you came here with Avery. He is dead. If you do not want to meet a similar fate, you would be wise to tell me where Esme is.”
“I do not know,” the youth said, trembling in fear. “Avery said someone took the girl from ‘im. He was coming ‘ere to see what some Lady knew. He said ‘er name was Peggy.”
“I know Avery kidnapped Esme. She has not been seen since,” Brant said. “I know he had her. Do not lie to me.”
“I swear Yer Lordship, Avery was real mad cause someone ‘e thought was helping him, double-crossed ‘im,” the youth replied. “Then, when the Lady sent ‘im a message, he was not sure what to think. Avery was told the girl was sent home to ‘er brother. So Avery came ‘ere, trying to figure out what was going on. If the girl was not home, he thought mayhap ‘e could go ahead with ‘is plan, even if he did not have ‘er. He figured if the girl was home, Peggy would be in trouble, and could not contact ‘im.”
Knowing he had hit another dead end, Brant suggested that everyone try to get some sleep. In the morning, they would have to bury the dead, before traveling back to his Castle. Then, he asked the serf to show him to a room, where he could get some rest. As Brant followed her up the stairs, he told the serf, he would be taking the child, Hannah, who was now sleeping restlessly in his arms, home with him.
Chapter 9
Isabel sat on the window seat, of the tower room, that had been pretty much her prison, since her arrival here, over five months ago. Not that they made her stay in this room. It was just that the moment she left her bedchamber, the serf, Hester was at her side. Isabel and Rosamund could not even have a private conversation, outside of this room. The woman was obviously, one of Brant's trusted spies, carefully monitoring everything Isabel did. Although, if Hester’s intent was to spy, she apparently was not reporting back to him, or Isabel would have seen Brant by now.
She felt the babe kick. The child appeared to be growing strong, and healthy. Now in her seventh month, the babe's movements were getting uncomfortable. It was the end of January, and would likely be another six or eight weeks, early in March, when he, Isabel hoped, was born.
Isabel thought back to the day, she had waited to speak to Brant, after he was released from her dungeon. Instead, he had sent his men to escort, or confine, her here. She had left with them, feeling both a sense of relief, and despair. That had turned mostly to despair, when she saw their destination. From her tower window, she had a direct view of the gate towers, in the high stone wall. There were actually, two wooden gates. One on the inside, and one on the outside, of the gate towers. The passage through it, was lined with slots, to allow archers to defend against anyone, who got past the outer gate.
Outside the stone curtain wall, was the outer bailey. That area appeared to be used for gardens, and possibly grazing some livestock. It was surrounded on three sides, by an earthen wall, any attackers would need to climb over, exposing themselves to the archers. The fourth side, was on a rock cliff, Isabel had been told. Clearly, the Castle had been constructed to carefully control, who got in, and who got out.
She had assured Richard, that Brant would not harm her, but she had not really been confident that he would not, in anger, do some harm to the babe. Regardless, she felt he needed to know the truth. Isabel recalled asking, for weeks, if Brant would be coming here, before they told her. His instructions were to see she was safe, and see that he did not hear anything about her. So, while Harold and Hester were keeping close tabs on her every movement, they were not telling him anything.
Isabel knew that if Brant had been told of her condition, he would have been here for an explanation. She recalled his declaration, on their wedding night, "I'll not bed the child". However, Isabel knew that she needed an heir. Her only sibling, a brother, had died in childhood, and her father was an only child. Without an heir, her father's holdings, now hers, would pass to Avery, a distant relative. If Brant were honest, he needed an heir, too. Although, right now she was so big, and awkward, she prayed that her husband would continue to stay away, a while longer. Actually, if her husband’s people honored his orders to them, mayhap, it would be better, if he never knew about the babe.
It was Merchant's Day, the day when the merchants from the village, came to the Castle, to hawk their wares. Isabel did not care what her shadow Hester had to say, she and Rosamund, would be going down to see the gypsy fortune teller. That was why she was sitting here in the window, waiting for the gypsy to arrive.
When the time came, Isabel and Rosamund exited the bedchamber. In the passageway, they were immediately joined by Hester. Her jailor questioned the safety of her going out, in her condition, on a cold winter day.
Isabel sweetly responded, "I really feel that I need to get a little fresh air, and exercise. Sitting around indoors all of the time, has me feeling like a prisoner. Besides, I want to see the gypsy fortune teller. It is always such a lark, to see if I am going to meet a dark, mysterious man."
Isabel laughed happily, at the frowning serf, as she continued on about her way. Once in the courtyard, the women walked among the seller’s carts. Isabel stopped occasionally, to examine this item, or that, until she reached the gypsy.
"Would ye like yer fortune today, Me Lady?" the gypsy asked.
"Aye," Isabel answered.
She held out her hand, and the woman grasped it. She ran a finger across Isabel's palm.
"Yer babe will travel to join the other child," the gypsy said. "Seek the angel, who will carry yer prayers to the Lord. Would ye like to buy a lucky charm, Me Lady?"
Isabel shook her head no, then took a coin from her fur muff, and placed it in the gypsy's outstretched hand.