Part VI
Copyright 2003 by Elizabeth Delayne
Gallidin was opulence unparalleled. It was graced by the presence of kings and princes, of nobility and priest. Its balls were known even on the continent, and the food rivaled even that of King Edward himself.
Yet, a dark side hid within the beautiful grounds of the fine greenery and flags of Asian silk. Percy remembered Arthur's words.
"There are rumors in the keep that she remains at Gallidin. He keeps her locked in the tower room like a prisoner. When he's there, she cries out in fear and when he's gone, she weeps
However, I do have information that Lady Sara is doing quite well and has accompanied my Lord on excursions. The same information details the trips he has made in the last week
She and Sara could turn you over to William. Make your decision wisely."
The night was dark, moonless, hidden by the light drizzle. The castle grounds quiet but for the occasional howl of a lone dog.
Percy followed Maribell, not through the front gates, but through the back servant's entrance. Even that, he noted, was adorned with the finest of the iron and stone craftsmanship.
They crept slowly, quietly, listening to the silence that surrounded. The stone hallways were dark, lit only by a torch somewhere far away, it's light flickering so that the shadows danced. Maribell bid him to follow her into a room and she pushed the door to, holding up a hand for silence. Moments later he heard sword scrapping against stone as a guard passed.
Percy found the hilt of his dagger and closed his fingers around it. Then he lifted his chin and waited--prayed he would not use it. It was a wonder the guard had not heard the sound of his heart pounding against his chest. Percy closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and mentally prayed the Latin words from Psalm 3 his priest had given him, then repeated them in English.
"Multi dicunt animae meae non est salus huic in Deo semper
But you are a shield around me, O LORD; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head."
When all was silent, Maribell stepped out into the hall. When they reached the tower, she went ahead up the stone steps leaving Percy to follow. Percy watched and stayed back.
"She and Sara could turn you over to William. Make your decision wisely."
The door was at the top. Maribell stopped, lifted the iron latch that kept the door locked, and stepped back. The sound of iron sliding over iron echoed down the stone stairs.
"Remember your promise," she whispered and Percy looked at her, really looked, one more time. Her eyes were blue, rimmed with age.
"Pray we make it."
She disappeared then, leaving Percy alone in the quiet.
"She and Sara could turn you over to William. Make your decision wisely."
The door had been latched. The tower was one to the rear of the castle, not a room for a guest.
Percy put his hand to the door and pulled it outward. It was dark inside as well.
He stood for a moment and let his eyes adjust to the dark. The room sported a pallet, not bed or fine linens or canopy. A simple shabby blanet was crumbed over it. The floor was stone, barren of rugs. The windows were small, five of them lined in a row, hardly large enough for a bird to creep through.
And he spotted her.
The lone figure in the dark, huddled in the corner.
"Sara."
He spoke softly as he would have spoken to a wounded horse, wild with fear. He approached slowly, with caution. His father had loved to bring home wounded creatures, nursing them back to health. She lifted her head, her eyes still shadowed by long strands of hair.
He stopped. Eyes were windows to the heart, he believed.
"She
could turn you over to William. Make your decision wisely."
This was not a vicious woman. Trapped, abused, lost
but not vicious. He thought again of his father's animals.
"Sara," he said again, and held out a hand.
She shifted, seemingly trying to burrow into the stone.
"You are safe," he whispered. "But we must hurry."
"Who are you?"
"Percy of Wentworth. We grew up together, at court. My father served with your father."
"With William."
He ignored the accusation, and found comfort in the contempt he heard. "I am friend to Alex of Edinburough. He bids me to retrieve you from this place."
"Lila's Alex?" she asked, the words trembled from her lips, desperate. "Then she's safe?"
"Neh, my lady, but we seek to find her. Come, we must hurry."
She stepped forward then, the move hesitant. Then took another step.
Feeling the urgency in the passage of time, Percy moved forward, holding out his hand. As he came closer he noted her dress nothing more than a sleeping gown, ragged and torn.
"A cloak?"
She shook her head and looked hopelessly around the room. It was bare.
He took off his cape and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders. She fumbled with the ties and stepped away, tying it herself with trembling hands. It was dark, and would hide the glow of her gown and protect her from the night chill and drizzle, but it billowed around her slight frame.
"I thank you, sir," she said without looking at him.
"Don't thank me yet. Come, Sara. We must hurry."
He took her arm, felt her flinch, but pulled her nonetheless toward the door. She ran with him, without shoes, holding her gown and the cape.
They made it from the tower. Percy stopped, as Maribell had, and listened for the sound of the guard.
He walked with Sara behind him, holding her arm in a firm grasp.
He heard the scrape and looked around for a door. Seeing none, he hurried forward, clutching the dagger his father had given him.
The guard carried a torch. Percy watched the light dance across the stone.
Finding a doorway, he ducked inside and pulled Sara in. She cried out, muffling the sound in the robes of his cape. He tugged her close and wrapped his arms around her, holding his hand over her mouth to muffle her ragged breathing.
She was in pain, he realized, and wondered again with anguish at what William had put her through.
Outside the guard stopped. Percy held his breath and pulled Sara a little bit closer to keep their form away from the light.
Alex stood in the woods, the shadows of the trees shifting across his face, and listened to the peaceful sound of the soft rain. In trickled softly through the trees and plopped against the leaves on the ground.
Alex's company huddled beneath the branches of trees to ward off the worst of the rain, with their hoods drawn over their faces. Some slept, for ambush during rain was doubtful. Some were awake, staring into the darkened forest, resting nonetheless.
They were riding hard, fear at their backs; sorrow, they anticipated before them. They had seen towns pillaged by those once loyal to the king. Men and women were buried beneath soft soil. Children cried in the night, tucked into rooms with other families, sometimes strangers.
His heart ached. For the children, for Lila.
Fowler was not a man who looked for salvation.
And in the darkest night, Alex turned to his Savior in grief and in anger.
Why take her? Why allow this madness to continue? You spoke in your Holy book about peace and love and forgiveness and let pain continue.
"Why?"
The last word bit into the silence. A few around him looked to him, but most burrowed deeper into their cloaks, wondering the same thing.
"Are you allowing your fear to overcome your faith?"
Alex turned, surprised, and faced the dark eyes of Onecie.
He was somewhat surprised at the old man's sudden appearance, but Onecie was one to slip in and out of divisions almost like a spirit.
"I had not heard you'd arrived."
"Just recently. Billingdor sends news."
"Of Lila?"
"Of the Dark Dragon-" Onecie held up a crooked hand, "We shall talk in private with your trusted, not where ears are open to news."
Alex nodded, but turned from him.
"He's taken my heart."
"She is still in your heart. Fowler cannot take what is most precious from you," Onecie murmured. "Neither has God has taken her from you. Ah-I see that is what you meant. God has not taken evil from the world. It is not yet time."
"She's done nothing to deserve this."
"As have you?" Onecie chucked and shook his head, drawing his cloak tighter around himself. "I know some of your exploits of your youth Alex. I suppose it makes you think you know what people deserve."
Alex stared at the man, the man who trained him.
"I know nothing," he said at last.
"Pray, Alexander of Edinburough, that your hate and fear does not undo your courage. Look instead to the light."
The guard moved on. Percy counted the steps, listened to the echo grow weak.
He still held Sara close, her breath warm against his hand, the sound shallow. She was so small, he thought, so thin. He wanted to keep his arms around her, protect her.
He remembered the little girl at court, her brilliant smile, her elegant giggle. Her mother would make her practice her turn and courtsey and Sara would complete it each time, over and over, with such grace and then look up with a brilliant smile.
Percy released her quickly and grabbed her arm, taking a moment to look at her. She seemed steady, though guarded. He gave her a small smile for assurance.
It will be fine he wanted to tell her.
He motioned with his head toward the door. She nodded, the move barely perceptible.
They moved, as quickly as possible, out of the hall, through the servants area and out into the night.
Percy stopped, looked around and saying another prayer, drew Sarah out into the open.
The sound of guards on the move made Percy stop, look around. Limbs from the trees hung low. Shadows shifted. Rain danced against leaves, spattered to the ground.
He dashed into an open storehouse. Sara stumbled over the cloak, falling on one of the tables.
Percy reached out, steadied her. She jerked away and spun around.
Her eyes were wild, like an animal. Fear.
No one had ever been afraid of him before.
He took a small step back and drew his arms out, away from her.
"Are you hurt?" he asked softly.
The look dimmed as her guard went up. She turned around slowly, her hands holding onto a table. Slowly, she shook her head.
Percy leaned against the door, peered out. Rain was falling down fast, no longer a quiet drizzle.
He wasn't sure how much time they had. Maribell had told him that no one checked on Sara but William himself besides those that brought meals. If William were absent, as she thought, then no one would miss her until the breaking of the fast.
But there were still guards and a castle to protect.
He peered out, studied the guards as they walked past in the rain; two large men, speaking in a foreign term.
Germanic.
Percy frowned.
He felt Sarah's light touch on his arm, and he turned, watched as she nodded to the back. There was another door.
She was smart, he thought, and still thinking. He nodded, and crept low across the stone floor, past the large stone table. He peered out and reached back, taking her arm again.
They took off into night, disappearing into the dark woods. He veered north to where Lucas of Lotz waited with his horse.
Fowler marched his troops all night. They were confident, tough, and amazingly agile.
Lila was pulled along, her wrists bound with course rope. She stumbled and caught herself, the large meaty hand of Fowler's underling snatched her back.
She bit back the cry of pain and concentrated on the sounds, the night, the trickery march forward through the dark.
She smelled of nature, the filth of animals, the stench of sweat. Her had had fallen around her face. She had not the energy in the last two long days to put it back up. It tangled in twigs, leaves and ensnared itself in the low branches of trees.
And yet they move on, leaving lengths of hair behind.
She was tired, so very tired.
She stumbled again, caught herself and wrenched from the hand that had reached out to catch her. Her arm was bruised from his fingers. If ever she were able to return to her Uncle's castle, she would have more compassion on the animals.
The familiar clop of a horse told her Fowler was riding up from behind.
She squared her shoulders, lifted her head, and met his gaze with her own.
Let me not look weak, Father. Let me live beyond this hour. Give me strength. I cannot live without You.
"Tired, Princess?" Fowler mocked. "If you live, Billingdor will know how brave you marched, even as his king falls before me."
Lila bit her lip and looked away, still careful of where she walked.
He'd killed her parents, changed her world. Did he think he could intimidate her now?
Fowler laughed suddenly, causing Lila to stumble again. This time she fell.
She landed hard on her knee and cried out. Tears stung her tired eyes. Her eyes were too dry to cry.
He only laughed again as his soldier lifted her by bruised soldier.
"Be brave, Lila or Arlington. To die with honor is so much more painful."
Day broke, sending rays of light through the woods. Percy pulled the reins of his horse to a halt and lowered himself to the ground.
He'd taken the long way around London and was now at the rear of his family's townhouse.
He lifted Sarah to the ground.
"Where almost home."
She looked up at him, through tangled tresses, uncertain, lost and afraid.
"Sara-" he murmured, feeling off balance. His father had raised him in different and sometimes difficult circumstances. He had handled the odd, the silly, and more recently, the frightening.
But how did one handle a tiny woman, wounded and frightened?
Caught in uncertainty, he almost missed the change in her eyes.
He stumbled back when she drew a knife from the folds of the cape.
"Stay back!" She ordered.
Percy retreated, holding his hands out away from his body as he had before. He kept eye contact.
Not malice, he thought.
She
could turn you over to William. Make your decision wisely.
Her breath was ragged, her eyes wild.
Fear.
She was shaking.
"Sara, I won't harm you. You don't need a knife."
"He said he loved me," she cried, and touched her throat with her other hand, her breath ragged. "He went after Lila
he hurt me."
"I'm taking you from that."
"The law binds me to him."
"The law will not protect William. Sara," Percy, ever patient, stepped forward, saw the flash of uncertainty in her eyes.
Father, I do not want to hurt her.
She waved the knife again, stepping back. Trembling.
"Let me help you."
"Stay away!"
This time her voice quivered and the words came out on a sob. She looked to him, then to the knife and then to him.
"Sara!"
When she came at him, wild and weeping, he was ready.
As the knife thrust, he lashed out with the dagger from his side.
The iron clashed. The knife flew.
Sara's eyes widened with panic.
"Sara-" he cried out softly as she turned and ran.
She would harm herself, left alone in the woods, wearing nothing more than a ragged sleeping gown and men's cape.
He chased her, hesitant, as she stumbled through, barefoot, and tripped over the long cape.
He was at her side immediately.
She didn't struggle, but lay on the ground and slowly tugged herself into a ball. The breath she drew in was on the heels of a sob.
"I will never be
will never be again."
Percy shook his head, and carefully, gently, he reached out and drew her close. She would never be able to go home, never be able to join society without the whispers and stares. Not as things were.
But William had made an oath with dark dragon, and therefore stood on the line leading to his own death.
"You are Sarah of Feue. You are a woman of beauty and love. Your sweet spirit is needed."
"Lila
he got her
he got to her. I-"
"She's alive," he pressed his lips to her wet hair, and felt her trembling. "We must believe that she's alive. You have done nothing wrong."
"Percy
"
She was cold, he realized as he drew her closer, trembling from it.
"My family's estate is secure. My mother will care for you. You will be safe. Let me take you there."
"No... he'll hurt them. You don't know." She shook her head against his cloak. Her voice barely a whisper. "He'll come after them and hurt them. They won't be safe."
Had she run from him to keep him safe?
"No one's safe in England at this time. No one at all."
Morning rose hot. Fowler led his troops on.
Weakened, tired
Lila stumbled and fell.
She felt the pain, tasted dirt.
"You are my only bright and shinning star, though millions dance at night in the sky. Lila, beautiful Lila
"
"Alex-"
She couldn't go on.
"I love you."
