Page 38 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

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 onto 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 she 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 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 stay here together.”

Arabel was coming to feel guilty, as if she were 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.