Candle in the Window (36 page)

Charles lay under the pile of brush and groaned. He
was alive, but barely. Moss drooped into his mouth when he breathed
and he wished he could move his hands to brush it away. They had
wrenched his arms out of their sockets when they’d bound him,
and he wished with all his heart he hadn’t stopped at that
wretched little alehouse for a drink. He thought of what William
would say about his stupidity and groaned again.

Channing had objected with respect, and then with
vigor, but Charles thought a wee drop couldn’t hurt and
he’d yelled the man into silence. William’s sullen
troops had milled around the inn, waiting impatiently, while his
own less disciplined troops had joined their master. Thus it was
when they left three hours later, they’d been easily
overcome.

How could there be any doubt? It had been
Nicholas’s men who attacked them, a large force of heavily
armed men. William’s men had fought with valor; his own men
had fled, and now he found himself face down in a ditch, wishing
he’d been killed. ’Twould have been an easy death
compared to what William would do to him.

He groaned again.

“What blocks us?” William
asked, squeezing next to Saura and feeling around the wall.

“A boulder. A huge boulder. I couldn’t
budge it.”

He grunted, finding the outlines of the rock.

“But God didn’t place it. Whoever built
the dungeon shoved it there, and I know it could be shoved
away.”

“By God, perhaps.” His initial euphoria
faded. “Is there aught in the cave? Perhaps a board I could
use as a lever?”

“Nay,” she said doubtfully.
“There’s nothing I found, nothing I can think of.
Can’t we both push?”

“Of course, my puny dearling, we can both
push. Come and put your shoulder to it.”

Eager to help, she wiggled up against him.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” he said.
“But I think it would be more effective if you faced the same
way I do.”

Obediently, she eased away, twisted around and
backed into him.

“This is nice, too,” he teased.

“But ’tis no place to be
trapped,” she said severely. “So push.”

The amorous husband dropped his banter and became
Lord William. “On my word. One, two….”

At last she slid down the boulder, panting.
“We roll it a bit and it rolls right back into place. We need
help.”

“’Tis on an incline. Go back out into
the cave and see if you can find—”

“A lever,” she finished. “Aye,
sir.”

As she crawled through the kink in the tunnel, she
heard someone calling. She turned her head back, but it
didn’t come from William; she turned her head forward and
wondered who could be in the cave. And why. And whether Nicholas
had been unable to wait to kill them. She prayed. As the walls
began to fall back and give way to the main room, she paused and
listened.

“M’lady?”

She would always recognize that mournful, worried
voice. “Bronnie?”

“M’lady? Where have ye been? I’ve
been hollerin’ and hollerin’.”

“What do you need?”

“I brought food an’ wine.”

Suspecting the truth, she said, “Lord
Nicholas is very kind.”

“Ah, Lord Nicholas, he doesn’t exactly
know.”

“You’re a good man, and if I
weren’t so thirsty I’d make you take it all back. Toss
it down.” She ran to pick up the packages he slung down, and
then asked, “Is there a bench we could have?”

“A bench, m’lady?”

“To sit on.” Her voice trembled with
melodramatic an
guish. “The rats come
right up and try to nibble on my fingers and I hoped for a
bench.”

“Migawd. At once, m’lady. There’s
a bench right here in th’ wine casks where cook comes
t’ sit an’ sip a bit of th’ grape.” He left
and returned at once. “How can I get it down t’
ye?”

“Drop it,” she answered cheerfully.

“’Twill break! Let me lower
it.”

“Nay, the dust is up to my ankles.
It’ll not break. Just drop it.”

“Awright.” He sounded doubtful, but
obedient. Saura stepped out of the way and the bench came flying
down to land with a splinter of wood. Bronnie heard it,
complaining, “M’lady, ye said—”

“It must be farther to the ground than
I’d realized,” she explained blithely. Scurrying into
the swirling cloud, she scavenged the pieces of bench and thanked
God for opportunities. The long board that had been the seat seemed
thick enough to move a boulder. It was still connected to one leg,
but she knew that William could separate the pieces.

Above her, she heard a thump, like a branch falling
on a hollow log, and suddenly the floor beside her exploded in a
flurry of dust. Flabbergasted, she stood with the boards in her
hands and wondered which way to run. “So I will deal with all
who assist you, Lady Saura.” Nicholas’s voice chilled
her with its intent, and then the door above closed gently and she
dropped the lumber.

“Bronnie?” She scrambled and found his
body, twisted in a distorted shape. “Bronnie?” Her
fingers found a break almost right away. His collarbone had
snapped, his arm twisted below him. Her hands skimmed over him. She
found a swelling on his shoulder, put there by his angry lord. She
found another lump, a bigger one, on his forehead.

From the tunnel she heard a cursing and grumbling,
and then William demanded, “What in the name of Saint Wilfred
was that? Are you hurt?”

“Nay, but I would have been if Bronnie had
landed on me.”

“Bronnie’s down here? Oh, splendid, now
we have to get him out, too.”

“Not at the moment, we don’t.
He’s senseless. Our friend upstairs caught him providing us
with a meal and clobbered him, and knocked him in.”

“God’s teeth,” William said
blankly. “Will he live?”

“Aye, he landed in thick dust. But I’ll
need your help setting this collarbone and making him
comfortable.”

“In a prison we’re going to make him
comfortable? All we can do is bind his shoulder; there’s
nothing to splint with.”

“We’ll use the leg of the bench Bronnie
dropped for me.”

“A bench?” His voice rose in
excitement. “How did you get him to give us a
bench?”

“I lied,” she admitted.
“There’s a good long piece to lever that boulder with,
but first you have to help me with Bronnie.” Sitting back on
her heels, she sighed, “I never expected Bronnie to look like
this.”

“Like what?” William asked
cautiously.

“Beautiful. At first, I thought he’d be
a graybeard with eyebrows that met over his nose and hair that grew
out of his ears. Then, when he hefted me around upstairs, I knew he
must be a younger man, but still pictured him with long arms and
knock-knees. My fingers don’t lie, though. This boy is a
god.”

“Humph.”

She sat forward to work on him, but William brushed
her hands aside. “I’ll do it.”

“But I’m used to working without
light,” she objected.

“
I’ll
do
it.”

Bronnie was bandaged with an efficiency that would
have amazed him, had he been awake. As William finished, he assured
her, “He’ll be fine. Listen to him.” Bronnie had
slipped from unconsciousness to sleep with nary a pause between.
His snores serenaded them as they squeezed into the tunnel, pushing
the lumber ahead, pulling the food and drink behind.

William surveyed the boulder that blocked them with
renewed hope. It was still too big, but with the lever Saura had
obtained, they would do the job. First they had to move the stone
enough to put the board beneath it, and so he commanded, “Put
your shoulder against the rock, dearling, and we’ll get this
pebble moved.”

“And then can we eat?” Saura braced
herself between the boulder and the wall, he reached one arm
beneath it, and together they heaved. It rolled just enough for him
to shove the board under the boulder.

“We’ll eat when we’re out.
’Twill be incentive.”

She scooted around to help him lean on the lever,
but he pushed her gently aside. “I can do this. You’re
too delicate.”

“But, William….”

“This will take more muscle than you have.
Trust me, Saura.”

Silently, she crawled to the side and laid one hand
against the boulder.

He leaned on the lever. The board made ominous
cracking noises, but nothing moved. He stopped, got his breath, and
tackled it again. He shoved, he struggled, he panted, all with no
success. He groaned with the effort he used against their obstacle,
but the stone hardly budged.

She let him try until she couldn’t stand it
any more before
she said, “I can’t
believe it wouldn’t be easier if I pushed, too.”

“Would you like to take over this
operation?” he asked between his teeth.

“Nay. You’re doing fine.”

He leaned on the lever again.

“I just think—”

He roared, and it echoed around the tiny cavern.
“Help me, then, Mistress Saucebox.”

She flounced as she moved into place and
couldn’t resist asking, “Are you always this grumpy
when someone comes up with a better idea?”

“Aye.”

She decided to drop the subject with a murmured,
“Oh.”

She pushed and he heaved, and the boulder moved up
a bit. Forgetting his pique, he shouted, “Hold it
there!” and thrust the board deeper. In painfully small
increments, the stone rolled out of its resting place until
suddenly Saura lay flat on the ground and the boulder rolled away.
Pebbles from the ceiling showered on her and William crawled
forward after the rock as if he were afraid it would return.
Surveying the scene outside the tunnel, he announced,
“’Tis out. The rest of the cave slopes down.”
Cramped from his kneeling, he raised himself to his feet and picked
her up like a rag doll, hugging her in mighty pleasure. “We
did it!”

She hugged him back, agreeing, “We did
it.”

William looked at her as she lifted her face to his
and laughed and groaned. “Do you know what you look
like?”

That was not at all what she expected, and she
blurted, “Is it important?”

“Nicholas will never spot you in the
scenery.” He blew on her face, set her down and brushed at
her clothes. “You’re
white,”
he pronounced. “And likely to stay that way until we find you
a bath.”

“Are you any cleaner?”

“Nay. Perhaps when I come for my vengeance,
he’ll think I’m a ghost haunting him.”

“A very healthy ghost.” She scoffed at
his fancy and demanded her reward. “May we eat
now?”

“My gluttonous wife,” he sighed,
reaching into the tunnel and dragging out the food and wine.
“Come out toward the front of the cave. The sunshine will
feel good.”

“What about Bronnie?”

“One insurmountable problem at a time,
wife,” he reminded her.

She took his hand and let him lead her. She let him
seat her and open the cloth bundle wrapped around their food. She
let him tear off a chunk of bread and put it in her hand. She let
him open the animal skin bag filled with wine and she let him
dribble it into her mouth. Leaning her back against the wall, she
sighed. “I’m tired.”

“Such an indomitable warrior has the right to
be tired,” he soothed.

“Nay, ’twasn’t being a warrior
that wore me out. ’Twas
waiting
to be a warrior. I didn’t sleep well last night. Not that
I’m afraid of rats, you understand, but I don’t like to
think they’re nestling with me. I was worried Nicholas would
realize why I wanted you in the cave with me, and I worried
he’d change his mind and take me to his bed.” Her words
drifted along, the spaces between them became longer and longer,
and her head nodded and dropped.

William rescued the chunk of bread in her hand
before it could dip in the dirt and carefully laid her down on her
side. With a sigh, he stared at his wife. Blotted with chalk,
unconscious with weariness, she was still an inspiration to him. If
not for her calm good sense, he’d never
have escaped the fear that held his mind prisoner. If not for her
quick thinking, they’d never have escaped the prison where
Nicholas had them confined.

Now it was up to William. He would arrange for them
to escape this cave, this prison that was even more dangerous, even
more confining than the dungeon within. If Nicholas found them
here, he’d be furious they’d outwitted him so well. If
he found them here, their bodies would never even wash up in the
tide. Nicholas’s men would toss them into the surf and
they’d be carried away, to become simply another mysterious
disappearance in this time of trouble.

They had to get up on the top of the cliff. But
how? He walked to the ocean side of the cave and looked down. Waves
battered the bottom of the cliff, foaming against the toothy rocks.
He looked up. Far above him a sheer cliff loomed, an unbroken
expanse of white. He looked to the left, he looked to the right. No
steps, no handholds.

No way out.

The sun shone directly overhead when William lifted
Saura into his arms. “Come, dearling, we have to
go.”

She moaned and snuggled into his chest, and he
stroked her hair. How he wished he didn’t have to wake her.
Exhaustion had claimed her, and her upper lip had quivered with the
heavy breath that sighed between her teeth. She’d never
turned over, never moved the whole time she’d lain there.

“Come, sweet, ’tis time to become
heroes again,” he crooned.

“William,” she complained, never
waking.

He hugged her and thought,
Just a few minutes more
.

He glanced around the narrow cave. Defined by its
high ceilings and walls hung close together, it was nothing more
than a slot over the ocean. During the time she slept, he’d
busied himself with preparations. He’d broken off jagged bits
of board and tucked them in his belt. Sharp enough to scratch and
pick, they’d be his only hand tools on their climb to the top
of the cliff. The boulder he’d rolled back into its snug
niche at the mouth of the prison. It was easier to move the second
time, he’d discovered. It functioned as nothing more than a
plug, but time counted, and the rock would slow Nicholas and his
men. He’d hung far out over the ocean and studied their route
up the cliff. It was just as far to the top—farther, perhaps,
than he’d realized the first time he’d looked—but
his second observation had yielded a few rays of hope. Scraggly
bushes hung here and there, defying the salt spray to sink their
hardy roots into the soil. Here and there, a tougher stone hung out
to provide a toehold, here and there were indentions in the smooth
expanse.

A difficult climb for him, but not impossible.

For Saura? He winced. The thought of directing her,
step by painful step, up the smooth, upright surface made his hands
shake. Clasping her closer, and closer still, he placed his mouth
on the top of her head and prayed with all his might.

“William?” She still rested against
him, and for a brief moment her arms encircled his waist to hug
him. “William?” She tugged free and sat up. “Are
you going to sleep all day? Hadn’t we better go?”