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then tipped her face up to the kiss of the afternoon sun. Both of nature s blessings were energizing after
the hours she had spent in what she now saw had been a tapestry. Within moments her aches and pains
began to ease, and she was able to concentrate on the problem at hand.
She was being held captive in a tower by people who wished to see her husband dead. And her child
dead as well, if she were indeed carrying one.
Moving a hand to her stomach, Emma probed it gently. There was no pain or tenderness. Surely there
would be both if she were with child and the ride had knocked it loose? And surely that ride had been
enough to knock the most determined baby loose? Mayhap she was not with child after all. She grasped
at that possibility eagerly, then shook her head. She could not be sure either way just now. Looking
back, she saw that she had had a couple of the symptoms, but they might have simply been due to stress.
She could not discount the possibility that she might be however, and that if she was, she had put that
child in grave jeopardy by her words to Bertrand. His mother now wished to see her miscarry.
She had to get out of here, Emma thought grimly, focusing her gaze on the landscape outside the
window. It was an old keep. Much smaller than Eberhart. The window of the tower she was in looked
out of the side of the keep.
Leaning out and turning her head to the right, she could see the side of the wall that surrounded the
bailey and one of the watchtowers that stood on either side of the drawbridge. The watchtower was
manned by two men. She eased her head back inside lest they spot her peering about, then turned to
glance at the ground below her window.
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It was a long way down. A great long way. There was one thin ribbon of dirt in front of the wall, then a
moat that presumably surrounded the whole keep. Beyond that was a clearing that stretched for a good
hundred feet before the trees began. She would not escape this way, she decided grimly. She could not
fly.
Sighing, she turned and peered about her prison. Dull stone walls, bare stone floor, the cot, and the
door. It seemed the door and the window were the only two exits. If she could not leave through the
window, then she must escape through the door. Only, she already knew the door was locked. She had
heard Bertrand bar it on leaving.
Then she must get him to unbar it, she thought determinedly. Mayhap she could even get him to take her
below stairs. She would have to gain his trust first, of course. The easiest way to do that was to convince
him that she would prefer marriage to him over marriage to Amaury. It would not be a difficult task, she
thought.
Bertrand, from what she could tell, seemed to have a rather high opinion of himself. She had witnessed it
both at her wedding to Fulk and at court this last day or so. Aye, he would be easily convinced. If she
could stomach the convincing.
 You shall have to, she told herself firmly.  Else they kill your husband and the child you may be
carrying.
Amaury slowed his horse, then stopped and turned to peer at Blake and the king as they reined in their
animals beside his.  They cannot be headed for their keep. Bertrand s horse is carrying two people. He
could not possibly outrun our animals. Were he heading home, we should have overtaken them hours
ago.
The king was silent for a moment, his gaze moving over the forest ahead of them before he turned to
peer at the path they had already traversed. Squinting slightly, he could just make out a long red stream
flowing over a small hill some distance back. It was his men. With the speed Amaury had been traveling,
the army he had sent for had not been able to catch up to them yet. From this distance, they looked like
one long body. A bright red caterpillar creeping over a bump in the lane.  Mayhap he knows of a
shortcut that saves time, Richard said.
 Think you  tis possible? Amaury frowned at the idea.
King Richard shrugged.  As I recall on the map, his demesne is closer as the crow flies, but a deep river
causes a detour of several hours.
Blake nodded at that.  Aye. I recall a sharp turn to the path when we reached the river. Twas several
hours back.
Richard turned to Amaury now.  There may be a spot near there that can be forged during some parts
of the year. If so, only someone who traveled this way often would know of it.
Amaury s face creased with worry.  But what if  tis no such spot? What if he simply did not go this way,
but headed somewhere else?
The king frowned impatiently at him. He had ridden into battle with this man several times, and had never
known him to be so indecisive and uncertain. What the hell was the matter with the man?  His keep is [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]