Page 39 of Knight of Darkness
Arthur’s brow rose. “Norwood claimed he did but if it makes you feel any better, he also refused for his man Grancourt to accompany him.”
A growl of frustration burst from his lips. “Please tell me that fool did not go there alone.”
“He took only a small contingent of men. As I mentioned, he would not listen to anyone’s council much to our dismay. No one could talk any sense to him. He felt ’twas better to deal with the situation with a small group, although why he thought he would be able to negotiate with Ratcliff was beyond our comprehension.”
“The fool!” Ceridwen fumed. “Where is my saddle bag? I need to change from this infernal gown. I have the feeling we are going on a rescue mission.”
Arthur followed behind and motioned for Symond and Thomas to join them whilst Ceridwen gathered her belongings. The men stood guard whilst she went behind some shrubbery and began to change. Once attired in tunic and hose once more, she shoved her gown into her bag and turned to voice her plans. Richard had joined them.
“He was an idiot to leave behind such a number of reinforcements who could have watched his back,” she said to Richard, who nodded.
“Aye. I said much of the same thing, not that he would listen. I fear the worst since they have not returned.”
“How will we know where they have taken him, my lady, if he has been captured?” asked Symond.
Ceridwen strapped the belt around her waist and placed her sword within the scabbard. “Ratcliff and Norwood have history. If apprehended, I have no doubt the minute Norwood was brought before the new…lord…” she said with disgust and held back a smirk when Thomas spat on the ground, “he will be taken into custody. That is if they have not already killed him.”
Richard stepped forward. “If ’tis any consolation, his head is not sitting on a pike outside the gate to add to the others,” he said, and Ceridwen blanched at the thought. “My apologies, my lady.”
Ceridwen gulped but waved him off. “No, you are right. ’Tis something to keep in mind. Ratcliff is the biggest arse in all of Christendom, but he will also want his ego stroked, knowing he has seized his biggest rival. If he killed him, he would have posted his head where everyone could see it. But… I think it very likely that Norwood is still alive. Ratcliff will want the opportunity to gloat over the fact that he has imprisoned Norwood,” she reasoned, whilst fingering the hilt of her sword. “Aye… he will keep him alive if only to torture him further. Knowing this, Ratcliff shall place Norwood in the dungeons beneath the keep.”
“Then how are we to get him out?” exclaimed a small voice coming from behind the trees.
Thomas went and grabbed a handful of Turbert’s tunic and brought him forward into the group. “I see we have a spy amongst us, Lady Ceridwen,” he proclaimed.
“I want to help,” Turbert said crossing his arms over his chest. “Lord Wymar is my master, after all. ’Tis my job to watch over him.”
Symond tsked disapprovingly. “Off with you, boy, before you get yourself killed.”
Ceridwen stepped forward. “Let him stay. He may be of some use.” She watched as the young lad puffed up his chest. She turned back to the men.
“We have the advantage of knowing the castle and its layout better than Ratcliff ever could. He may know the basics of where the kitchens, halls and bedchambers are located but he has no knowledge of the underground passage that leads to the bowels of the castle.”
Arthur nodded. “Aye, she speaks the truth. Only those in the family, and their most trusted friends, are ever told of the escape method to avoid capture by the enemy.”
“Why, then, did Lord Hamon not make use of it?” Thomas asked with a frown of displeasure.
Ceridwen sighed. “I can only assume that something kept him from making his way there. Mayhap the way was barred, or he was attempting to protect the remainder of his people. I may never know for certain. As much as I may wish my sire was still among the living, I cannot dwell on what I cannot change. We must needs concentrate on rescuing Norwood without further casualties.”
“What do you have in mind?” Richard asked.
“First, I will create a diversion at the front gates,” Ceridwen began while Arthur fiercely scowled in her direction. Her captain was about to voice his displeasure until she held up her hand to silence any protest that was about to spew from his mouth. She continued to explain to the men her idea to rescue Wymar. She would not lose him too!
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wymar held hisbreath as the leather straps of a whip slashed across his already abused back. He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him break his resistance. He silently vowed to remain level headed no matter how much they tortured him. But while he would not cry out, he could not deny the toll on his body. His arms had gone numb after being stretched above his head for the past several days… or was it a se’nnight? Time seemed to have no meaning when you were being held a prisoner in a place where there was no daylight.
He had been a fool to think he could march up the gates of the castle once a parlay was agreed upon and bargain with a man who hated him. Of course, he had not known who had taken over Norwich at the time. Perhaps if he had, he would have been more cautious. His only thought had been to somehow manage to regain control of Ceridwen’s home no matter what he had to do to obtain it for her. He should have listened to Richard and taken more of his men with him but at the time he had thought this would only lead to another siege and more loss of life. Norwich could not afford to lose any more of its people. So instead, he took a small group with him.
It had been a plan doomed to fail from the start. He had barely entered the great hall before he realized, moments too late, that it had been a trap all along. The parlay they agreed upon was nothing but a ruse to get Wymar and his men into the keep as they began fighting for their very lives. Guards swiftly overtook them and Wymar witnessed several of his men fall to their doom. His nose was surely broken. His sword had been wrenched from his hand but at least Wymar had the satisfaction of having killed several of Stephen’s men before he was overtaken. Even his dagger hidden in his boot was found and confiscated. He had no knowledge what had become of his men who had survived the initial conflict. Wymar had the notion they had already met their untimely demise.
His face a bloody mess, he was thrown on the floor to kneel before the very man who had ordered the killing of Ceridwen’s father. Or perhaps he had committed the act himself. Wymar would not be surprised to learn he could be that cruel. Ratcliff offered him a wicked smirk but with a wave of his hand, Wymar found himself knocked unconscious. He awoke to his worst nightmare. A plaything for a vengeful man bent to break another’s will to live.
Another slash across his back brought him back to the reality of what his life had become. He could feel the blood trickling down his bruised back. He had lost count of how many lashes he had received. Five? Ten? If this continued, Wymar had no doubt he would indeed break. There was only so much a man could take before he would beg for death.
“Hold!” a voice in the dimly lit dungeon called out even as Wymar raised his head in defiance. He would prove to his tormentors that he could still rise above the pain they inflicted on his battered body. “Cut him down.”
His legs gave out when the ropes that were connected to a metal loop in the ceiling were cut. Falling to the floor, blood rushed to his arms whilst he attempted to catch his breath.
