“He hasn’t!” Liana said, then bit her tongue.
“You do know something.” Jeanne grabbed Liana’s shoulders. “Help me save your life. It’s only a matter of time before Oliver’s men search this cellar. I cannot save you if you’re found.”
Liana refused to speak. Rogan had made her swear not to trust Jeanne, and she was going to keep her word.
“All right,” Jeanne said tiredly. “Have it your way. I’ll do the best I can to get you out of here as soon as possible. Can you swim?”
“No,” Liana answered.
Jeanne sighed. “I will do my best,” she whispered, then slipped out the door.
Liana spent a restless night on the bags of grain. She could not tell Jeanne that Rogan was within the grounds and that he would help her escape. If she told Jeanne of Rogan’s disguise, Jeanne could tell Oliver.
On the other hand, what if Jeanne were telling the truth? It was indeed only a matter of time until she was found. And if they took her, would Rogan stand aside in his beggar’s dress and silently watch her be put to death? No, Rogan would not remain silent and Oliver Howard would take both of them.
In the morning, Liana heard noise coming through the arrow slit high in the wall. It took her a long while, but she managed to drag the one-hundred-pound bags of grain around until she formed a pyramid that she could climb on. Climbing up, she was able to see out the bottom of the long slit.
The castle grounds were alive with activity, men and women running and shouting, doors being thrown open, horses taken out of the stables, carts filled with goods being unloaded. She knew they were searching for her.
As she strained up on her toes to see out, far across the grounds she saw an old, crippled beggar man, a hump on his back, one leg dragging behind him. “Rogan,” Liana whispered, and stared at the man with all her might, urging him to come to her. As if he sensed her message, he came slowly toward her.
Her heart was pounding in her throat as he drew near. The window wasn’t far above the outside ground level, and if he came close enough, she’d be able to call out to him. As he came nearer, she held her breath. She opened her mouth to call to him.
“Here! You!” a Howard knight shouted at Rogan. “You have two good arms. Drive this wagon out of here.”
Tears came to Liana’s eyes as she saw Rogan awkwardly pull himself up to the wagon seat and drive the horses away. She sat down on the grain sacks and began to cry. What Jeanne had told her was true. Oliver Howard was tearing the place apart to search for her, and if not today, tomorrow he would find her.
A voice inside her head said she had to trust Jeanne, that her only chance for living was to tell Jeanne that Rogan was near and that he had a plan for escape. If she did not trust Jeanne, she was sure to die. If she did trust her, there was a possibility both she and Rogan might live.
By the time Jeanne came that night, Liana’s head was pounding from her agony of indecision.
“I have arranged something,” Jeanne said. “It is the best I could do, but I do not know if it will work. I have not dared trust any of my husband’s men. I fear that one of my ladies is telling my husband everything. Come with me now. There is no time to lose.”
“Rogan is here,” Liana blurted.
“Here? In this room?” Jeanne’s voice was full of fear.
“No. He is in the ward. He came to me in the tower room. He said he had a plan and meant to take me away the night you brought me here.”
“Where is he? Quick! People are waiting to help you, and we desperately need your husband’s help.”
Liana dug her fingers into Jeanne’s arm. “If you betray us, I swear before God that I will haunt all the days of your life.”
Jeanne crossed herself. “If you are caught, it will be because you have used valuable time threatening me. Where is he?”
Liana described how Rogan was disguised.
“I have seen him. He must care for you to risk coming here alone. Wait, I will return for you.”
Liana sat down with a thud on a pile of grain bags. Now was when she’d know if she’d made the right decision. If her decision was wrong, she was as good as dead.
Chapter
Nineteen
Jeanne barged into the Great Hall, two silk-clad ladies behind her, in a fury of temper. The floors were covered with straw pallets where men and dogs were sleeping. Other people tossed dice in a corner; one man fondled a maid in another.
“The drains in my garderobe are clogged