Velvet Angel (Montgomery/Taggert 5)

“The door to the rooms where the prisoners are kept is guarded but another stair branches up to the roof.” Judith slipped a clean shift over her head. “There are windows in the rooms and if we could go down from the roof…”

Only Bronwyn was aware of the tight white lines forming at the corners of Judith’s mouth. At times Judith seemed fearless, but she had an absolute terror of high places. Bronwyn touched Judith’s arm. “You stay and dance to Alyx’s music. Elizabeth and I will lower ourselves and…”

Judith put up her hand. “I could as likely dance as I could make the horses fly. Alyx would be singing, I’d never be able to keep the rhythm and I’d start looking at the tables and thinking of how many storage bins were needed for that much food. I’d probably forget to dance and start ordering the servants about.”

All three women unsuccessfully tried to suppress giggles, both at Judith’s accuracy and her forlorn expression.

Judith rolled her eyes at them. “I’m strong and I’m small and I can most easily go down a rope and slip inside a window.”

No amount of talking could persuade Judith of any other course and soon they sat down to rest, each with her own thoughts of the dangers to come. Elizabeth never spoke of her fear of the men touching her and Judith’s terror of high places wasn’t mentioned again.

As dusk approached, Judith sank to her knees and began to pray and soon the other three women joined her.

Chapter 20

ALYX WAS THE ONE WHO SURPRISED THE WOMEN THE most. For the last few days she’d had the least to say, had followed her outspoken, beautiful sisters-in-law without a suggestion or complaint. But as soon as Alyx had a musical instrument in her hands and was told to perform, she far outstripped her sisters in flamboyance.

Judith and Bronwyn, dressed in filthy, concealing rags, blended into the procession that followed Alyx and Elizabeth. Elizabeth, strutting, already drawing attention to her well-endowed body, wore cheap cloth of garish, outlandish colors that would have attracted attention on their own.

As soon as Alyx entered the Great Hall of the old castle, she let out a note that made everyone pause. Bronwyn and Judith had never heard the full volume of Alyx’s voice and they halted for a moment, listening with some awe.

“I’ll give you a rhythm,” Alyx whispered to Elizabeth. “Follow it with your body.”

Every eye was on Alyx and the beautiful woman beside her. Abruptly Alyx let her voice drop and once again the audience began to breathe, and with a mixture of laughter and applause, they began to move about. “Now!” Judith hissed at Bronwyn and the two women disappeared into a darkened hole in the wall.

With their very heavy skirts flung over their arms, they tore up the old stone stairs, up two flights, three flights, and as they neared the top, a noise made them flatten themselves against the wall. Listening with every pore, they waited for the guard to pass the opening.

Judith pointed to a crack of blackness on the left, away from the vigilant guard. They slipped into the opening with a whisper of sound. Rats squealed in protest and Bronwyn kicked one of the nasty things back down the stairs.

At the top of the stairs was an overhead door—a locked door.

“Damn!” Judith whispered. “We need a key.”

But before she even spoke, Bronwyn went to the narrow trapdoor and began to run her hands along the edges. As she reached the far edge, she turned and gave Judith a triumphant smile, her teeth and eyes showing white in the darkness. Bronwyn threw an iron bolt and the door swung up easily. One loud squeak made them stop but they heard no sound of footsteps on the stairs. They squeezed through the opening and were on the roof.

For a moment they paused and breathed deeply of the clean night air. As Bronwyn turned to Judith, she saw the little woman was looking at the battlements with fear in her eyes.

“Let me go,” Bronwyn said.

“No.” Judith shook her head. “If something happened and I had to pull you up, I couldn’t do it. But you can lift me.”

Bronwyn nodded as she saw the sense in Judith’s words. With no more sound, they removed their outer, coarse woolen skirts and began uncoiling heavy rope from the underside. Judith had paid four women to spend the afternoon sewing these skirts. Now the moonlight shone on their skirts of plaid, blue and green for Bronwyn, golds and browns for Judith.

As soon as Bronwyn’s rope lay in a coiled heap, she went around the roof of the round tower to peer down from the crenelated battlements. “There are four windows,” she informed Judith. “Which one holds Miles?”

“Let me think,” Judith said, rope on her forearm. “That window is over the stairs, the opposite one facing the sta

irs, so the cell must be one of those two.” She pointed to her right and left.

Neither of them had to mention that if Judith appeared in the wrong window it could mean her death.

“Come on, let’s go,” Judith said as if she were on her way to her own execution.

Bronwyn had used ropes all her life and, easily, she knotted a sort of seat for Judith. The full tartan skirt was pulled between her legs and fastened into the wide leather belt. Her heart already racing, Judith stepped into the rope sling, part around her waist, some between her legs.

As she stood on the battlement, Bronwyn smiled at her. “Concentrate on your job and don’t think about where you are.”

Judith only nodded since fear had already closed her throat.