Page 18 of Halloween Knight (A Knights Through Time Romance #17)
Margery awoke before dawn, the scent of smoke in her hair, and the smell of bread filling her nose. She’d fallen asleep in the kitchens last night after staying up late talking to two sisters who’d traveled to St. John’s Well to take the waters in hopes of staying young.
Whilst Margery thought perhaps God did not have time to worry over such vanity, she kept her thoughts to herself.
The monks were busy going about their day in silence as she made her way down the quiet stone corridors of Beverley Priory.
When she entered Lady Blackford’s chamber, she found her lady had already risen, dressed herself and was likely wandering the gardens. As she’d said she liked how the monks had planted the kitchen herb garden.
But when she went to find her lady, to ask if she had broken her fast yet, the gardens were empty.
Everywhere she looked, she saw monks, and a few travelers, but her lady was nowhere to be found.
The one place she had not looked was the chapel.
She would wait in case Lady Blackford was at prayer after her visit to the well.
As Margery went about her day, a nagging sense of unease gnawed at her when she still did not see her lady. Sometimes Lady Blackford liked to find a window seat and work on her scarves, but there was no sign of her anywhere. Their room was empty and untouched.
Frowning, Margery glanced around the chamber. Perhaps her lady had gone for a walk after prayer and had not yet returned as the grounds were extensive. She was known to walk when she could not sleep.
The long tables were empty after the mid-day meal, save for a few brothers silently eating at one end.
Where could she be? Asking a passing brother if he had seen Lady Blackford that morning yielded only a shake of his head.
Truly concerned now, Margery hurried outside to speak with Sir Thomas, the captain of the guard. Something didn’t feel right.
He listened grimly as Margery told him she could not find their lady. His stubbled face creased into a frown. “Let us search the grounds thoroughly before we assume anything is amiss,” he said.
“Mayhap our lady rose early and got lost as she walked.” A small smile flickered across his face. “She easily loses her way.”
But after speaking with the stable boys, scouring every inch of the Priory, cloister gardens, and the grounds, no trace of their lady could be found. She was simply gone.
Thomas sent two of the men to search the surrounding countryside.
Margery twisted her hands anxiously as she spoke to Thomas.
“Do you think...could the bandits have taken her after all?” The thought made her feel ill.
“I know not. Go and pack while I take one of the men to search the chapel, now that it is empty.”
Margery’s hands shook. “I will come with you to the chapel to search, and then I will pack.”
As they searched, Margery saw a door that was partway open. When she pushed open the door, a glint of green on the floor in the corner caught her eye. Bending down, she retrieved her lady’s emerald ring, the gold band and large stone unmistakable.
Dread curdled in Margery’s stomach. Something was very wrong.
“Thomas,” she called out. “I found my lady’s ring.”
One of the men held up a familiar jeweled dagger. “This was found behind a curtain.”
Margery paled at the sight of Lucy’s dagger. Thomas’s hands tightened on the bejeweled hilt. “She is nowhere to be found. Our lady is gone without a trace.”
Urgently, he turned to Margery. “Pack quickly. We leave within the hour.”
Mouth dry with fear for her mistress’s safety, Margery swiftly packed up their belongings. All the while, her mind spun with questions. Who could have done this? And where had they taken their lady?
By the time they were ready to leave, the men Thomas had sent out had returned, telling him there was no sign of her and the road was too well-traveled to make out any tracks.
Thomas and the knights assembled in the courtyard, mood grim as tension crackled in the air. Margery hurried out to join them, bags packed and Lucy’s ring tucked securely in her own small satchel.
Thomas, his face pale, patted his horse. “Winston. Ride for London, find our lord, and tell him what has happened.” He looked each man in the eye. “We will find her.”
As he swung up on his horse, Thomas squared his shoulders. This was his fault, and he would suffer the consequences when Lord Blackford found out what had happened.
“We meet tonight at the Boar’s Head Inn.”
Dividing his men, Thomas sent groups of two along the roads in all directions, seeking any travelers who might have seen their lady.
He took two men and Margery with him as they rode to the nearest village. If it was bandits, Thomas thought they would ride at night or early in the morn, likely staying in the woods when possible.
For hours they rode, questioning any peasants or travelers they encountered. Most had seen nothing, but finally they came across an old man who stroked his chin.
“Aye, there were odd happenings.” He leaned on his cane, scratching his head. “’Twas deep in the night when the dogs started barking. When I looked out, I glimpsed men in hoods, but they were not monks, not with all that steel. Had hard looks about them, likely French,” he sniffed.
“One had a woman tossed over his horse.” He scratched his chin. “Knew it was a woman when I saw the long hair and heard her curse.” He grinned. “She curses like a sailor.”
“Aye, she does.” Hope bloomed in Thomas’ chest.
Then the old man frowned. “It was most peculiar. She yelled something about a rack and a shine on the moon?”
It was his lady. When she was vexed, she liked to say, ‘You are more bonkers than a raccoon swimming in moonshine’. Then she had to explain what she meant. Thomas had heard one of the stable boys using the expression of late, making him laugh.
“Which direction did they go?”
The farmer bobbed his head toward a narrow track that cut through the trees. “They were riding hard for the old forest road.”
Coins changed hands in gratitude for the information before Thomas spurred his mount down the rutted trail as the men and Margery followed.
They stopped beside a stream to rest the horses. Thomas was drinking from the stream when Margery came running, holding her skirts in one hand, and something fluttering in the wind in the other.
“Look what I found,” she exclaimed. “It is her hair ribbon.” Margery held out the ribbon as Thomas took it from her.
“See?” Margery touched the crooked embroidery that looked like a child had made it.
“Her stitches are getting better. See where she embroidered the L+W?”
Thomas knew the ladies laughed that his lady did not know all the womanly skills, but he thought she knew how to handle a dagger and that was more important, though he guessed she could always stab her attackers with the embroidery needle if needs be.
“She left this on purpose.” Thomas handed the ribbon back to Margery. “Keep this with our lady’s ring. We will find her.”
The fading light forced them to ride to the inn to meet up with the rest of the men. In the morn, they would all continue together, find Lady Blackford, and kill those who had dared to take her.
Several monotonous days blended together until Lucy had forgotten what day it was. The bland meals, the surly men guarding her, and the Scottish prisoner in the cell across from hers.
The day after she’d tried to whisper to him, the guards took him away, and he still had not returned.
A shiver ran through her as Lucy hoped they had not made good on their threats to hang the man.
She’d heard them talking of how the man had stolen a horse and gold from their lord and would hang for the offenses, no matter that the lord was now dead.
It was awful to think, but Lucy hoped they all caught smallpox and died.
From what she knew of Agnes, her late husband, Roland something or other, had probably been just as awful as she was, and deserved to have his horse stolen, she thought sourly.
The guards kept a close eye on her, refusing to speak to her, except the one time she’d asked the Scotsman’s name, and one of the guards threatened to give her a matching black eye if she asked any more questions.
Not one to do as she was told. The next morning, as she broke her fast with porridge and ale, Lucy tried speaking with the timid maid who’d been tasked with bringing her meals.
“Where is the Scot?”
The girl shivered, but did not answer.
“Please, can you tell me where I am?”
The girl avoided meeting Lucy’s gaze as she stepped out of the cell.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, miss, but I cannot say. I do as my lady commands.”
Before Lucy could ask again, the servant hurried out, casting a fearful look at the guards as she fled the stone building that Lucy had come to think of as a jail, leaving her alone in the gloom once more.
It seemed Agnes had threatened the servants against speaking to her, so she would just have to wait until Agnes deigned to return.
Were Thomas and the rest of her guard still searching for her? Would they get a message to William in time?
With her husband away on the king’s business, he wouldn’t have any idea of the disaster that had befallen her in his absence. Thank goodness her children were safe at Blackford, with the thick castle walls and armed guards to protect her boys. No one could get to them, not even Agnes.
Two endless days later, Agnes swept in, two armed men at her back. Lucy’s stomach clenched, but she shakily rose to her feet, refusing to cower before the young woman.
Never had she felt so alone and afraid. As the days passed, even her hope felt tenuous, a flickering candle that could be easily extinguished.
Agnes studied her coldly for a moment before speaking.
“I have news I think shall please you. I have sent my men to intercept William as he travels from court to Blackford. Your husband will die on the road, a lord taken unawares by bandits, but before he dies, he will know that you too will die and he will be unable to save you.”
She touched a finger to her chin.