At the corner of Castle Gate, they halted.
"They could be anywhere,
"
said Annabelle. "And in this crush, we would never find them. Pray that they haven
'
t gone to the riverbank. But that
'
s where we
'
ll look for them, just in case.
"
They pressed on. As they approached the lights of the
Maiden
'
s Head at the edge of the town, they could hear the strains of fiddles and the boisterous clapping and stamping of the patrons. Annabelle paused to catch her breath, trying to ignore the painful stitch in her side. Without warning, she was caught from behind by strong hands and dragged over the inn
'
s threshold.
More incensed than alarmed, she turned on her captors. There were two of them, and though they were masked, like herself, she recognized them as the bucks who had been making sheep
'
s eyes at her in The Bull
'
s courtyard. She could tell at a glance that they were no gentlemen, but of a lower order, aping the modes of the upper class. Though their garments were fashionable, they were ill fitting, and of too garish a hue for Annabelle
'
s taste. She judged them to be in their mid-twenties. She did not like the lascivious smirks they bestowed on her.
"Let me pass, gentlemen,
"
she said, coldly polite. "You have no business to detain me.
"
She looked down the length of her imperious little nose and gave
them one of her'*touch-me-and-
you
'
re-dead
"
looks.
"Take care of the other one,
"
said the one Annabelle had guessed was the leader of the pair. "Chase her off. Anything. But make it quick.
"
Though his accents were not uncultured, Annabelle was far from reassured. Surreptitiously, she began to edge her way toward the door to the taproom. Her captor laughed and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Cold bitch,
"
he said. "I
'
ve got just the thing to heat you up,
"
and he thrust his hips at her. "You
'
ve been panting for it all night.
"
Annabelle
'
s scream was smothered by his hot lips. Through the folds of her cloak, his hands molded her breasts. She struggled wildly to free herself.
She heard the other man return.
"Quick, gag her.
"
A scarf was thrust into her mouth, but not before she had managed a piercing scream. It availed her nothing. The clientele of the Maiden
'
s Head was very different from that of the more salubrious Bull. A coarse jest and a roar of laughter
were the only response her cry elicited.
"Any more of that and we
'
ll have to share you with the whole damn lot of rutting bastards in there,
"
said one.
Their intent was unmistakable: they meant to ravish her. With mindless, superhuman strength, Annabelle lashed out at them.
A fist caught her a glancing blow on the jaw, momentarily stunning her. Dazed, she allowed herself to be dragged out of the inn. She did not know where they had taken her until she heard the gentle lap of the water as it rippled over rocks and fallen trees. They were on the banks of the Ouse.
She was thrown roughly down and was dimly conscious that she had fallen against a haystack. Some farmer
'
s field evidently stopped right at the river
'
s edge.
In a moment she had freed herself of the gag. "Are you mad?
"
she shrieked. "You
'
ll be hanged if you so much as lay a finger on me. There are dozens of willing females in town especially imported for what you have on your mind.
"
She stared up at them, trying to gauge what effect her words had, but she could discern little in the dim light of the lantern that one of the men held high. A movement caught her eye, and she froze. The men were removing their masks. A paralyzing fear overwhelmed her. Wordlessly, she watched as the leader of the two unfastened the waistband of his pantaloons.
"Be quick about it,
"
his companion told him. "If ever
he
finds out…
"
"Shut your mouth!
"
"Why? She won
'
t tell anybody.
"
It was the cruel laugh which galvanized Annabelle into action. Without conscious thought, she fumbled in her cloak pocket and withdrew the antiquated pistol her brother-in-law had loaned her to complete her costume. It was a museum piece, and, of course, unprimed, but they weren
'
t to know that.
"Hands up! Higher! Higher!
"
she croaked out, and dragged herself to her feet. Her voice quavered almost as much as the pistol she held with both hands.
They stood, hands held high, staring dumbly at her.
"She hasn
'
t cocked it,
"
said one.
What does that mean?
thought Annabelle.
They lunged for her. Annabelle felt a pair of hands on her arms. Panic-stricken, she deftly wriggled out of her pelisse and made a dash for the other side of the haystack.
"I
'
m warning you! I
'
m warning you!
"
she yelled, and waved the pistol threateningly under their noses as they advanced upon her. Her back was to the river. But swimming was one of the things she had tried once and had never tried again. In that moment, she swore to God that horses and dogs would be her constant companions, and she would persevere with every blessed accomplishment she had ever forsworn. If only, o
h, if only…
"Put the damn light down and hold her for me,
"
said the leader. "I don
'
t want any scratches showing on my face. He might get the right idea.
"
"No,
"
said Annabelle hoarsely. She could not believe that this was happening to her.
The younger man took a step toward her, and Annabelle threw her pistol at him. He let out a howl of pain.
"Bitch! When we
'
re done with you, we
'
ll dump your body in the river.
"
Sobbing with terror, she fought their hands off. Only when they had wrestled her to the ground did she use up precious energy in screaming for help.
"Annabelle!
"
For a moment, she thought she had heard the roar of a wounded lion.
"Annabelle!
"
And then she recognized the voice.
"David! Oh God, David! Over here!
"
The two men released her and rose quickly to their feet.
"He
'
s alone,
"
she heard one of them say.
Then all hell broke loose. Dalmar charged into the circle of light and one of the men, the leader, grunted and went down. His companion was on the Earl in an instant.
Unsteadily, Annabelle rose to her feet.
"Get out of here! Now!
"
commanded Dalmar.
But Annabelle could not be so heartless as to leave him to his fate. Though he had winded the man who was beneath him, the man on his back had a stranglehold which he ruthlessly tightened. In fear and trembling, Annabelle approached the
struggling men.
"Annabelle!
"
She disregarded Dalmar
'
s choked imperative. Meaning only to drag the man from his back, she caught hold of his coattails and pulled with all her strength. He released one arm from Dalmar
'
s neck and tried to swipe her. Dalmar made good use of the opportunity he had been given. Straining, he broke the other
'
s stranglehold, and in the next moment Annabelle found herself hanging for dear life to the coattails of a ferocious, spitting madman.
"Bitch! I
'
ll kill you for this.
"
She dared not let go. It was, she thought rather hysterically, like having a tiger by the tail. Avoiding his vicious blows, she threw the full press of her weight on her heels and began to swing him in a circle. Instinct took over. She increased her pace and spun wildly. Round and round they went at a furious rate. She judged the exact moment when to let go. Like one of Congreve
'
s rockets, the man went spinning and landed in the river. His yell of surprise and pain was very satisfying to Annabelle
'
s ears. She saw him strike out for the opposite bank.
"You have a horrid laugh,
"
she said, and wiped the feel of him from her hands.
When she turned back, the sight that met her eyes made her suck in her breath. Both men, their coats discarded, were on their feet and circling each other. But while her abductor clutched a wicked-looking knife in one hand, Dalmar was unarmed. Seeing at once that she could do nothing for fear of distracting the Earl, she sank to her haunches to watch and wait the outcome.
"I
'
m going to kill you for what you did to her,
"
Annabelle heard Dalmar say in a voice that brought goosebumps to her flesh. She did not doubt that he meant it.
The other man laughed, but the sound was hollow, mere bravado. "When I kill you,
"
he said, "I
'
ll take her on your corpse. Then I
'
ll kill her too.
"
And he lunged for Dalmar.
The Earl leaped back, but the blow glanced along his arm, and a dark stain appeared on his shirtsleeve. Annabelle did not dare leave to go for help. If there was any chance that she might be of some use to Dalmar, she wanted to be there.
She could hear the strident breathing of the two men as they circled, and her own breathing increased to match their tempo.
The younger man lunged again. Dalmar fell back. His assailant charged, too late to stop himself when he realized that it was a feint. Dalmar
'
s powerful hands grasped the other
'
s outstretched arm. He brought his knee up, and at the same time drove down the hand that held the knife. Bone ground against bone with a sickening thud. The young man gasped, and the knife dropped from his nerveless fingers. He fell to his knees, his arm hanging loosely at his side.
"It was only a bit of fun,
"
he whined. "I didn
'
t do a thing to her.
"
Dalmar picked up the knife and stood, feet braced, towering over the beaten man. "Is he telling the truth?
"
he asked Annabelle.
"Yes,
"
she whispered. She had never seen Dalmar so dispassionate. It frightened her.
"Annabelle, leave us.
"
Dalmar
'
s voice was soft, but she detected an edge of implacability.
She straightened. "We should take him to the constable,
"
she said.
"Don
'
t argue. Just do as I say.
"
Slowly she shook her head. She was trembling and could not seem to stop herself.
In three strides Dalmar was at her side. Her arm was taken in a bruising grasp, and she was shaken roughly. "Go and wait for me,
"
he said. "There
'
s a path beyond the trees. I
'
ll meet you at the gate.
"
Tears welled in her eyes, and she threw herself into his arms. "Don
'
t do it,
"
she begged. "Oh please, David, don
'
t do it. Just because he
'
s an animal…
"
Over Dalmar
'
s shoulder she saw the man rise to his feet. He took a faltering step toward the river, his broken arm clutched tightly to his chest. In the same instant Dalmar turned.
"No!
"
cried Annabelle, and clung to him.
He cursed and tried to shake free of her.
"Run!
"
screamed Annabelle. "He means to kill you!
"
But her abductor had already figured that out for himself. He needed no persuasion to propel himself into the icy waters
of the Ouse. Dalmar threw Annabelle from him and ran to the edge of the bank in time to see the young man strike out for the other side. He did not even make the halfway mark before he sank from sight.