Page 21 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

B linding light streamed through the window as Alais awoke, sharpening the severe headache that throbbed behind her squinting eyes. She slowly became aware of her body, bound, and tied to a bed, her hands bound above her head to one bedpost and her feet bound to the diagonal opposite bedpost. Her hands were numb and tingling as she moved her fingers to bring back circulation.

She looked around the room, searching for some clue as to where she was. It was made of stone, with stone walls and a stone floor. It was sparsely furnished and bare of any adornment or personal items that might give her some hint. A thick layer of dust lay over everything. The room clearly hadn’t been used in a long time. There was no fire, and she ached with cold. She heard a seagull outside, so she knew she was near the ocean, but how far from Guestling? And how did she get here?

“Help,” she yelled as loudly as she could. No one came. She yelled again. Nothing.

She was freezing. Her whole body was trembling with the cold she was aware of now that she was conscious. She tried to find a way to escape her bonds, but they only pulled tighter. She wasn’t sure how long she went on like this, alternating between struggling with her bonds and yelling. Just when she was starting to lose her voice, she heard shuffling footsteps outside the door.

“Help me, please,” she croaked. A timid young housemaid peered around the door, saw Alais, and ran away without a word.

She groaned in frustration. She could only hope that the girl brought back help, though she suspected she would bring the opposite. Closing her eyes, she prayed.

Several minutes later, she heard footsteps again. The maid came back along with another servant, a man this time. “Stay still, my lady. If you promise not to run, I’ll untie you,” the man said. She nodded her agreement, too hoarse to speak. “His lordship said to see to it you were well tended to until he can return. You’re not to leave, but we’ll make your stay as comfortable as we can. I’ll bring up some food.”

As the man untied her bonds, blood rushed into her hands and feet, and they throbbed and prickled.

“Where am I?” she whispered, shivering violently. She grabbed the dusty bed cover and pulled it around herself.

“Our master said not to tell you anything, but that you’ll be safe here as long as you don’t try to leave.”

She had to get away, but it was no use running without a plan. First, she needed to observe her prison to decide how best to escape.

“I’ll cooperate,” she whispered, nodding meekly.

The man nodded. “I’ll be back shortly with some refreshment. The garderobe is to the right at the end of the hall, should you need it.”

She did and was grateful for the opportunity to relieve herself and to get a better look at her surroundings.

The hallway looked as unused as the bedroom where she’d been imprisoned. Everything was dusty and bare. Nothing adorned the walls. She noted that her room was the middle of three and that there were three doors on the opposite side of the hall as well.

There was nothing notable about the garderobe other than the small round window at the top, open to allow air to circulate to relieve the smell. In this private moment, she took stock of her body. There was a bump on her head and bruises all over. Her wrists and ankles had angry red welts where she’d been tightly bound, but there was no sign of anything else. At least Robert had stopped short of compromising her virtue while she was unconscious. At the thought of him, a shiver ran through her. How could two men so closely related be so different?

She returned to her room. A tray of food had been placed there—some bread and cheese, an apple, and mulled wine. While there was no sign of the servant that brought the food, it seemed too much to hope that she wasn’t being watched. After taking several bites to stave off hunger, she went to the window and looked out. There was a modest walled courtyard below with a small kitchen garden on one side. Another building of similar size was directly across, but what caught her eye and gave her hope was at a somewhat greater distance.

From her vantage point, she could see the unmistakable outline of Countess Helisende’s castle, which meant Sir Robert must have taken her from Guestling to Hastings. If she could get out of the house, she could flee to Countess Helisende easily enough, even if it was a case of jumping out of the pot and into the hot cauldron. The countess was hardly trustworthy, but she was unlikely to do anything too terrible now that Alais was married to her nephew. Hopefully, the countess would contact Guestling, and she could return to Lord Giles.

Another hopeful thought occurred to her. Victor must be on his way to rescue her. She suspected he would cut down an entire army to find her, but he likely had no idea where she was. She had no idea where she was, aside from Hastings. She was clearly in Robert’s house but knowing that didn’t help her much. Her familiarity with the city was limited.

It didn’t appear possible to sneak out via the window. She was too high up. The lower floors were likely well-guarded. If she had an opportunity, she would assess the situation, but she thought it unlikely she would be allowed out of this vacant third-floor space.

If sneaking out wouldn’t work, was there a way to get a message out? Perhaps to Lady Helisende? She could say she was expected at the castle and needed to make her excuses or else risk the possibility of search parties looking for her. Sir Robert was unlikely to want to risk Lady Helisende’s wrath. As he’d told her, he didn’t have the advantage of being her nephew, being a cousin on Victor’s father’s side rather than his mother’s.

Alais decided she had best fill her stomach. Whatever was ahead, she needed her strength and her wits. Eating her fill of the simple meal, she continued to mull over her plan. Despite her thirst, she drank sparingly from the wine, knowing she needed all her mental resources to orchestrate her flight.

Half an hour later, the male servant she met before came up to take the tray.

“Pardon me, good man,” she said. “Might it be possible for me to have parchment and a quill brought to me? I need to send a letter to Countess Helisende to let her know my visit is delayed. Victor and I were supposed to pay our respects after our marriage two days ago. If I don’t reassure her, she’ll surely send out her guard to search for me. She might even search house to house if she learns I’ve been abducted. For your own good, I beg you to let me write. You can read my letter yourself to make sure I don’t say anything I shouldn’t.”

The man narrowed his eyes.

“You wouldn’t want trouble with the countess, would you?” she added for good measure.

“I will discuss it.” With that, he took the tray and left.

Who was the man consulting? Was Robert here in the house? If so, she could only pray he didn’t see right through her ruse.

A short time later, he returned. “We don’t want any trouble with the countess, but we can’t risk your sending any secret messages. We’ll send a messenger on your behalf and see to it that no mention is made of your current whereabouts.”

“But—”

“You are here as a guest as long as you behave as a guest. Should you attempt to escape, your circumstances would change. Do you understand?”

She bowed her head in defeat. “Yes.”

The note might help, even if she didn’t write it herself. Lady Helisende might suspect something. Victor and his father both knew she’d been taken and by whom. Surely it was only a matter of time before one of them came to the rescue and searched Robert’s house with Lady Helisende’s guard at their back.

As soon as the man was gone, she ventured out to further explore her surroundings. She tried the doors on the other side of the hall, hoping to get a view into the street. Two of the doors she couldn’t open, but one gave at her push. The room was empty of any furnishings. There were cobwebs in the corners.

She hurried over to the narrow, arched window—too narrow for a person to climb through but big enough for her to see the street below. It was a quiet, narrow street with stone houses exactly like this one crowded along either side of it. A dairy cart was making deliveries below. Otherwise, the street was empty.

Weighing her options, she decided not to call out. Yet. The dairyman was unlikely to come to her rescue, and it would only bring on the ire of her captors. She needed a better plan.

Turning back to the hallway, she tried the door at the end that presumably led to the stairs. Locked. She would need to get through that door to escape. If she surprised whoever came through the door next and knocked them out, maybe she could get down and escape.

What she needed was some form of weapon, something small and heavy she could hit with. She returned to her room and examined its contents. It was sparsely furnished—only a bed, a small table, and a chair. Perhaps she could pry off a chair leg, but it would be better if she could find something smaller, like a rock. She looked at the stone walls long and hard, testing the stones to see if any were loose. At last, she found what she was looking for. A stone the size of an orange shifted loose at her touch.

She took it in her hand and waited by the door to the stairs. Hours passed, but she didn’t dare move for fear of missing her opportunity.

At long last, she heard footsteps coming upstairs. This was her chance. She said a silent prayer as the door creaked open. Then crack, she hit the servant over the head, and he crumpled to the floor.

As she stepped over him, she took in a shaky breath. It was the first time she’d hit anyone, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit. But there was no time for regrets. She tiptoed down the stairs to the ground floor, every sense alert. Voices pierced her awareness. They were coming toward her. Desperately, she looked around for a place to hide. With moments to spare, she ran and hid behind a door.

The voices passed.

She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

So far, they suspected nothing. Thank God.

Opening the door ever so slightly, she peered out. The coast was clear.

She tiptoed out and made for the front door only to find it guarded by a disheveled but muscular man sitting on a barrel. She froze just out of his line of sight.

You can do this, Alais. He’s all that stands between you and freedom.

The rock was still in her hand. If she could sneak up on the man unawares, maybe, just maybe she could escape. This was her chance. She would not get another. As silently as she could, she snuck up behind the beefy guard.

Cold sweat trickled down her back, and her heart thudded loudly in her ears.

Just as she raised the rock, his head jerked around. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Holy Mother of God, she was caught. She thought her knees would give way, but this was no time to succumb to weakness.

The man lumbered to his feet and made a grab at her. Summoning all the courage she possessed, she ducked, then swung and whacked him over the head as hard as she could.

“Ow,” the man said, still conscious, but momentarily distracted by the pain. It was the best chance she was going to get. She raced through the door, ran down the street, and ducked into an alleyway. Immediately, she heard pursuers. She slunk deeper into the shadows, hiding behind some broken barrels.

It wasn’t a good hiding spot. Surely, they would find her.

Her whole body trembled as she tried to calm her breathing and her racing heart.

Footsteps approached, then passed her by, missing her, just barely.

Hardly able to believe her luck, she slipped out from her hiding spot and slunk away, praying no one found her before she reached Lady Helisende.