When they reached the village, her escorts suggested that they turn back toward the Castle, as they always suggested. Escorting the Ladies to go riding, it appeared, was not on their list of likeable duties. However, Esme was in the habit of riding on. The short distance from the Castle to the village, was not much of a diversion. Most of her days here, were spent on her sewing. Ann did sometimes, provide her with instruction on everything involved in running a Castle. Which was information that Esme would need, since she had inherited a portion of her father’s holdings. Although, the bulk of Eric’s lands, had of course, passed to Brant.
Ann or Isabel, sometimes, worked with Esme to help her improve her reading, and writing, something that few women were taught. Still, she found it really boring here, most of the time. The only thing that had broken up the monotony, recently, was the overnight stay of Lord Reginald, and Lady Muriel, over a week ago. Esme thought they seemed familiar to her, for some reason, but they gave no indication of recognizing her. Mayhap, the older couple, just reminded her of some friends of her father. The couple was definitely not, anyone who had visited her home, in recent years.
Some distance beyond the village, the three riders reached a path that circled back toward the Castle, through the woods. It passed the village on the side opposite the road. Esme lead the way off the road, into the wooded area, that blocked them from view of the village. They had gone only a few hundred feet, when half a dozen riders blocked their path back to the road. Her escorts, recognizing trouble, ordered her to ride to the village. Esme slapped her horse into a gallop, quickly jumping out ahead of her companions. Then, other riders emerged from the trees, separating the girl from the two knights. One lone rider pursued the now very frightened girl, maneuvering up beside her. He grabbed her mount’s reigns, and Esme began to scream.
“Esme, it is alright,” the man yelled.
He grasped her around the waist, lifting her onto his mount. Recognizing her brother’s voice, she quieted.
“Brant?” Esme questioned softly, trying to turn to look at him.
Then, yelling his name, she threw her arms around him. He, on the other hand, was struggling to hold on to her, while trying to bring her fleeing mount to a stop. In short order, that task was accomplished.
Esme drew back saying, “You are alright. They said you were, but I was not sure, since you did not come to see me. They would not tell me anything else.”
She hugged him again.
“I did not know what had happened to you, or where you were. Avery said someone had betrayed him and taken you, before he died, but would not say who,” Brant said, returning her hug.
With both horses now under control, he turned his destry back toward where her companions were surrounded. Realizing the girl was not in any mortal danger, and being outnumbered badly, those two, saw the logic in surrendering their weapons.
“We need to get out of here, before they come to investigate your screams,” Brant said. “Are you calm enough to ride?”
Esme nodded in the affirmative, and Brant lifted her back onto Matilda. Then the group, with their two hostages, located a narrow path. They took the path leading through the woods, away from the village, to make their escape. When the path came to a road, the group followed the road for a while, before once more taking a path into the woods. Esme was surprised when the path ended in a large clearing, where a substantial army waited. Here Brant dismounted, and lifted his sister off her horse.
“Make our guests comfortable, and see that they do not depart our hospitality,” Brant ordered.
Then, he grasped Esme’s arm to lead her into his tent, where he hugged the girl, again.
“I was afraid, I would never see you again,” she said.
“Nor I, you,” he responded.
The girl began telling him what had happened, and how Richard’s men, had turned on Avery’s, rescuing Ann, and herself. During her accounting, Brant realized she did not know that Avery had killed Peggy, so he had to tell her. Although Esme was saddened by the news of her mother’s death, her main concern was for her little sister. Brant assured her that Hannah was quite safe, and doing pretty well at his Castle. Later, Brant got confirmation that Isabel was still inside Ann’s Castle walls.
Hearing the sound of a large group of riders approaching, Brant went to look out of the tent. He waited there, watching Robert ride in with his men. Dismounting, Robert greeted Brant as he walked to the tent, and stepped inside.
“Esme! Thank God you are safe,” Robert exclaimed, as he went to hug the girl.
Brant said “Aye. We arrived yesterday, and have been watching the Castle ever since. This morning, when she came out for a ride, with only minimal escort, it seemed a perfect opportunity, to get her out of harms way.”
“I see you are not wasting any time. So now what is the plan? Is Isabel still here?” Robert asked.
“Esme says she is in the Castle. So I am hoping, I will shortly have my hands on that treacherous witch, and I can wring her neck,” Brant said, angrily.
“What?” Esme asked, in shocked surprise. “Isabel is your wife, is she not? Nathaniel is certainly your son, he looks just like you.”
“You would be the second person, to tell me Nathaniel looks just like me,” Brant gritted out. Leaving no doubt of his anger toward Isabel. “And, aye, the devious bit of fluff, is unfortunately, my wife.”
“Why are you so angry with her?” Esme demanded. “She seemed really sweet to me...”
Brant interrupted, yelling, “Do not defend that witch to me. I assure you, she deserves my ire. You do not know what her, and her supporters, have done to me.”
He turned away visibly upset.
Esme yelled back, “What, has Alisa done to you?”
Brant spun back to face his sister, assuming a carefully controlled tone.
“Alisa?” Brant asked.
Esme calmer now, clarified, “Lady Isabel. Her mother calls her Alisa, sometimes. She…”
Esme stopped speaking, as Brant yelled, “Damn that woman! Good God...”
Shaking his head as the truth sank in, he turned in a black rage, and stomped out of the tent. The girl started to follow her brother, but Robert grabbed her arm, stopping her.
He had stood by silently, listening to the siblings argue. Robert thought about his friend's anger, toward Isabel. Brant said he was fond of Alisa, whom he believed to be a serf. He had even looked for the girl, after he had been released from the dungeon. If Isabel was Alisa, she had played her husband, badly. Robert laughed heartily, as he decided that things were about to get very interesting.
Brant had stalked to the edge of the clearing, in dumbfounded amazement, at that witch’s audacity. His mind raced over all the times, he had wondered if she had tricked, or drugged him, to get him to sire the child. He had been greatly worried, that she might have had her way with him, and he did not remember. Now he knew, she had not. No. Isabel had dressed herself as a young serf, given him a pet name, and let him, have his way with her. Oh, and he, had his way with her. Over and over, he had had his way with her. While she, was holding him prisoner, in her dungeon.