While Angels Slept (27 page)

With that, he
grabbed her wrist again and yanked her roughly in the direction they had come. 
The crowd yelled and cheered as the man spouted all of the terrible things he
planned to do to the prisoner.

Terrified,
Cantia was back to fighting him again, scratching and kicking, until he tried
to slap her again but missed.  Then she threw herself to her knees, trying to
stop the momentum, but he simply pulled her along, dragging her through the
grass and dirt, collecting leaves against her knees as he pulled.  By the time
they reached the shelter where Hunt and Arabel were sleeping, she was verging
on panicked tears.

“Please,” she
begged. “Do not hurt me.
Please
.”

He didn’t reply
other than to yell victoriously at the crowd in the distance and throw open the
shelter door, tossing Cantia inside. 

Cantia fell to
the ground, nearly landing on Hunt.  The boy had been awakened by all of the
commotion and was sitting up, rubbing his eyes and crying when he saw his
mother sprawled on the ground.  His weeping woke up Arabel, who lay next to him
but was too weak to sit up as he was doing.  She just lay there, crying, with
her hands over her face.

On the ground,
Cantia cowered as the man entered the shelter behind her and slammed the door. 
She was horrified at what she was sure was about to happen, in front of her son
and Arabel no less, and the tears began to come. Still, she didn’t give up; as
the man came close, she put up a booted foot to kick him away. She was going to
fight him or die trying.

But instead of
descending on her, an odd thing happened; the man veered over to the wall where
Cantia’s satchels sat, fairly intact.  Cantia watched him, terrorized, and saw
he was going for the bags.  As she watched, he unfastened the leather ties and
opened up the satchel.  Then he began to rummage around.

“You have some
fine things,” he said, pulling out a luscious topaz-colored silk surcoat and
holding it up to the muted light. “This is beautiful. Where did you get it?”

Cantia was still
on the ground, confusion mingling with her terror. She slowly began to push
herself up.

“I... uh, that
is to say, I bought the material in London,” she said hesitantly.

“Did you sew
it?”

“I did.”

The man looked
at her over his shoulder and she saw a glimpse of that insane smile once more.
“You have great skill,” he said, turning back to the contents of the bag and
pulling out a blue cotton. “If you are the viscount’s wife, do you not have
women to sew for you?”

Cantia eyed Hunt
as the boy wiped tears from his face. “I do,” she said. “But I enjoy sewing.”

The man simply
nodded, throwing the topaz silk over his shoulder as he continued to rummage
around in the bag. “My mother used to sew, and sew very well,” he told her. “I
developed an eye for fine work. Based on your wardrobe alone, I believe that
you are Winterton’s wife. It takes money to purchase what you have.”

Cantia didn’t know
what to say to that. She pushed herself to her knees and crawled over to the
pallet where Hunt was sitting.  She sat beside him, wrapping her arms around
the boy to comfort him.

“What are you
going to do?” she asked.

The man finished
with one satchel and began digging around in the other.   Then he looked up at
her, flashing that toothy grin. “Steal your clothing.”

Cantia didn’t
say anything. She wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, so she looked down
at Hunt, kissed him on the forehead, and reached out a hand to hold on to
Arabel, who was still lying there, weeping.

“Please,” she
said after a moment. “Can you not see that this child is very ill? We must
return to Rochester.”

The man glanced
over his shoulder at the young girl still lying on the pallet.  She was very
tiny, very thin, and seemed to be unable to use her arms or legs very well.  He
shouldn’t have cared about it but he was curious nonetheless.  In that
curiosity was a fraction of inherent pity.

“What is wrong
with her?” he asked.

Cantia held
Arabel’s hand tightly. “She was born this way,” she said softly. “She is
crippled and I am sure the abduction last night has severely weakened her. She
cannot take such excitement. Please... have mercy and return us.”

The man’s
rummaging slowed to a halt. He looked at the trio on the pallet, seeing their
scared and tired faces.  For the first time that morning, he began to show
signs of uncertainty and perhaps even remorse.

“My name is
Gillywiss,” he finally said. “These people,
my
people, live here because
one way or the other, we have been chased or scattered from our homes by men
such as your husband. Why should I show mercy to you?”

Cantia wasn’t
without pity. She knew that those who did not live in castles were subject to
terrible things. She knew that times were dark and desperate.

“Because the
children and I have done nothing to harm you,” she said softly. “We are
innocent, just as you are innocent. Would you punish us for things beyond our
control?”

“No one is
innocent,” he snapped softly. “Your husband is evil, lady.”

“My husband is a
good man,” she replied, anger now joining the other emotions she was feeling.
“He is kind and generous and sweet, and he cares very much for his family.”

“He is a
murderer!”

“He is commanded
by those in power and does what he is told to do,” she fired back. “He does not
murder for the sake of murdering. He is part of this terrible war that is going
on, brother against brother, where all men suffer.
I
have suffered. I
have suffered great loss because of this foolish contention between Stephen and
Matilda, so do not think to lecture me on the evils of battle, for I have lived
them.”

He was not
convinced. “What have you possibly suffered?”

She looked away
from him. “Death,” she muttered. “The death of someone very close to me. Never
imagine you are the only one who has suffered through death and loss.”

“Who has died?”

Cantia looked at
Hunt, her gaze soft and lingering. “His father,” she replied. “He was killed in
an ambush, more than likely by people such as yours. You think my husband a
murderer? Perhaps you should see it from my perspective.”

“Winterton is
not his father?”

“Nay.”

Gillywiss stared
at her, surcoats in hand, preparing a sharp retort that simply died on his lips
because she would not understand, anyway. But she had a point. He was an odd
man, odder still because he stood up and pulled the surcoat over his head and
tried to fit into it. Cantia watched, increasingly baffled, as the man tried to
pull a substantially smaller garment onto his frame.   When he caught Cantia
and Hunt looking at him rather strangely, he flashed that crazy smile.

“Lady, you will
scream now,” he told her. “Scream until I tell you to stop.”

Cantia still
wasn’t over their conversation, but he apparently was. Like someone had lit a
flame, his demeanor change was instantaneous. When he waved his hands at her as
if to encourage her to obey him, she took a deep breath and screamed, perhaps
fearful of what would happen if she didn’t.

“Again!” he
commanded. “Scream as if I am violating you in every possible way. Do it!”

She let go of
Hunt and moved away so she wouldn’t be screaming in his ear.  She howled and
cried, on and on for several minutes as Gillywiss tried on her surcoats and
fine things.  Belts that wouldn’t fit around his waist were put on his head,
like a diadem, and he pulled the fine silk stockings on to his arms, smelling
them.  In fact, he smelled and touched everything, and when he came to a vial
of expensive perfumed oil, he spread it liberally on his hands and inhaled the
heady rose scent.

After many long
minutes of screaming, Cantia was growing tired and her throat was beginning to
hurt.  When she thought perhaps Gillywiss had forgotten about her as he focused
intently on her clothing, he finally waved a hand at her and ceased.  

“Well and good
for you, my lady,” he said. “You scream like a stuck pig.”

Cantia rubbed
her throat, eyeing the man who had at least two surcoats pulled over him, one
belt around his head and another around his neck.   He had found her small and
precious glass hand mirror wrapped up in her satchel and was using it to look
at himself.  All the while, Cantia’s eyes never left him.  She had no idea what
the man was doing or, furthermore, what he planned to do.  She was on edge
every single second, watching and waiting.

Finally,
Gillywiss began to take everything off.  He carefully rolled the surcoats,
tucking them back in where he found them.  The belts were cautiously put back
and the mirror was wrapped up in the heavy linen he had found it in. 
Everything went back as nicely and neatly as when he found it.  When he was
finished, he stood up and faced the three captives.

“You did not see
me do this,” he instructed.

Cantia
understood he meant the entire episode with the clothes because he was pointing
to her bags with a wagging finger.

“As… as you say,
my lord,” she said, somewhat confused.

Gillywiss put
his hands on his hips and approached her, pensively. “And the screaming,” he
said. “If anyone asks, you will tell them I ravaged you thoroughly. Is that
clear?”

Cantia nodded. 
“Aye, my lord.”

Gillywiss’ gaze
lingered on her a moment before looking to Hunt and Arabel, both children
gazing up at him with some puzzlement and fear. “You both,” he pointed. “You
will not tell what you saw here today.  Do you understand? If you tell, very
bad things will happen.”

Hunt and Arabel
nodded apprehensively but said nothing, and Gillywiss returned his attention to
Cantia.  It looked as if he wanted to say more but refrained.  Suddenly
appearing rather depressed, a far cry from the animated man of earlier, he
turned for the door.

“I will send you
food,” he said.

He quit the hut,
shutting the door behind him.  Cantia stood there, staring at the panel,
wondering what in the world had just happened. It was the strangest thing she
had ever seen.  Baffled, she sat down next to Hunt on the dirty pallet.

“Mam?” Hunt
tugged on her arm. “What will we do?”

Cantia drew in a
long breath as she looked at her son. “I do not know.”

Hunt’s little
brow furrowed in thought. “We should esthcape,” he said firmly. “We should run
away.”

Cantia had
thought of that, too.  She ran a hand over her son’s blond head. “We cannot,”
she said softly, looking to Arabel, who was lying beside them. “We cannot leave
Lady Arabel behind, and we cannot carry her with us, so we must stay here to
protect her.”

Arabel was
gazing up at the pair. “Please,” she said softly, “if you escape and run back
to my father, you can bring help.”

Cantia smiled
faintly at the girl.  “That is very brave, but I will not leave you,” she said.
“Until we can think of something else, we will all say here together.”

Arabel was
coming to feel guilty, as if she was holding Cantia and Hunt back. “You cannot
put yourself in such danger, my lady,” she insisted. “They will not harm me,
but I fear they will do terrible things to you.  You must escape and you must
take Hunt with you.”

Cantia reached
out and grasped the girl’s hand, squeezing it. “I will not leave you,” she said
softly. “There is nothing more to discuss. Meanwhile, we must figure out how we
can get word to your father.”

Hunt had all
manner of ideas on how to send word to Tevin, not the least of which was
catching a bird and tying a note to its leg.   Then he thought they could catch
a fox and tell it to run to Rochester.  As Cantia gently shot down every idea
Hunt had, Arabel was making plans of her own.  She may have been crippled, but
she wasn’t to be discounted in their quest for freedom. 

She would get
them out of there.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“And I told you
that I forbid you to go search for them at this time,” Geoff snarled at Tevin.
“It is your fault they were abducted in the first place so I will not allow you
to use my resources to hunt down a woman who is nothing more to you than a
possession.  I have had an entire patrol of men wiped out near the Dartford
Crossing and have commanded you to drive back those who have now commandeered
the bridge. I want it back.”

Tevin was close
to striking Geoff as he had ever been in his life.  Had de Lohr not been
standing between him and Geoff, he more than likely would have ripped the man’s
head off.  Instead, he took a step back when Myles gave him a gentle shove on
the chest, pushing him back and away from the confrontation.  In the solar of
Rochester, tempers were running high as precious time was wasted with Geoff’s
delays.

If Geoff
knows of your feelings for Cantia, he will see this as a game
. Val’s words
were rolling over and over in Tevin’s mind and he struggled to keep his mouth
shut about anything with regard to Cantia.  Geoff could not know she meant more
to him than anything on earth.  In fact, Tevin did not use Cantia as the focus
at all.  He used someone else.

“It is not
Cantia I am after,” he rumbled. “I have explained this to you. My daughter is
missing, Geoff, and I will find her.  I am going in search of my child and you
cannot stop me.”

“I can!”

“Then you shall
have to kill me. Shall we retreat outside and face off against one another?”

Geoff backed
down, but only slightly. He was still red about the face, twitching with fury.   He
had been pulled out of a dead sleep to face a problem he should not have to be
facing, and he was very angry at his cousin for creating the situation.  High
and mighty Tevin always thought he knew best.  Geoff was both thrilled and
angry that his arrogant cousin had made a mistake.