Bronwyn wrapped one end of the rope around a stone crenelation and used that to lower Judith slowly.
Judith repeated psalms to herself, swearing her trust in God, as she looked for toe holds. Three times pieces of wall crumbled away under her feet and each time her heart jumped to her throat as she paused, expecting any moment to have a guard above her cut the rope that held her life.
After long, slow moments, she reached the window and as her foot caught the stone sill, a hand grabbed her ankle.
“Quiet!” a voice commanded as Judith gave a sharp gasp of terror.
Strong hands caught her calves, then her hips, and pulled her inside the window. Judith, so very glad to once again be on firm ground, clutched the inside of the sill so hard she threatened to break her fingers.
“Aren’t you the one that’s terrified of high places?”
Judith turned to look into Roger Chatworth’s calm face. His shirt hung in rags on his strong body. “Where’s Miles?” she said in a half-gasp, half-croak.
A sound from outside the cell made Roger grab her protectively.
“Talkin’ to yourself, Chatworth?” the guard called out but didn’t bother to walk toward the cell.
“No one better,” Roger called back, holding Judith’s trembling body.
“Who is above?” Roger said into her ear.
“Bronwyn.”
Judith’s answer was rewarded by an under-breath curse from Roger. She wanted to pull away from him but at the moment any comfort felt good. Roger drew her, still attached to the rope, to a far corner of the little room. “Miles is in the opposite cell,” he whispered. “He’s been wounded and I’m not sure he has the strength to climb your rope. The guard will sleep soon and we’ll get out. I’ll go first and then pull you up. But you cannot stay in this room alone. You must sit on the sill and if the guard looks in, you must jump off. Do you understand? As soon as I reach the top I’ll pull you up,” he repeated.
Judith let his words sink in. This was her family’s enemy, had been the cause of Mary Montgomery’s death. Perhaps he meant to kill Bronwyn and cut the rope holding her. “No…” she began.
“You have to trust me, Montgomery! Bronwyn can’t pull you up and you couldn’t possibly climb the rope. Damn women! Why didn’t you send some men?”
That did it. Her eyes blazed. “You ungrateful—”
He put his hand over her mouth. “Good girl! Whatever I don’t like about the Montgomerys, I like their women. Now let’s waste no more time.” With that, he led, half pulled, Judith to the window, picked her up and set her on the sill. “Put your hands here”—he indicated the ledge of the sill—“and hold on. When I start to pull you up, use your hands and feet to keep from hitting the wall.” He gave her a little shake since Judith was staring glassily at the ground far, far below her. “Think about your husband’s anger when he finds out you rescued a Chatworth before his brother.”
Judith almost smiled at that—almost. She did lift her head and visualized Gavin and imagined being in his safe arms. She swore she’d never again do anything so stupid as try to rescue a man again. Unless of course Gavin needed her. Or his brothers. Or one of her sisters-in-law. Or perhaps, too, her mother. And her children by all means. And—
The tug on the rope as Roger grabbed it above her head nearly sent her flying. “Mind on your work, woman!” he commanded.
She ducked his feet as he swung above her and, her senses once again alert, she tilted her head back and watched him climb the rope, hand over hand.
Bronwyn greeted Roger at the top with a knife aimed at his throat and held him there, suspended over the wall, hands supporting his body weight.
“What have you done with Judith?” Bronwyn growled.
“She waits below for me to pull her up and every minute you delay comes closer to costing her her life.”
At that moment, several things happened. One, Judith, either in fear or necessity, swung away from the windowsill and the momentum almost made Roger lose his grip.
“Guards!” came a shout from below.
“The door!” Roger said, fighting to stay on the wall. “Lock the door!”
Bronwyn reacted at once, but by the time she reached the door, a guard was already through it. She didn’t hesitate as she slipped her knife between his ribs. He fell atop the door and Bronwyn had to push him aside to shove the bolt home.
She ran back to where Roger was pulling on Judith’s rope, and leaned between the crenelations to help. “What happened?” Bronwyn asked before Judith was even over the roof.
“Alyx and Elizabeth were tossed in the cell with Miles. I stayed and listened as long as I could but when the guard looked for Chatworth, he called out. What happened to him?”
Bronwyn assisted Judith onto the roof. “There,” she nodded toward the dead man not far away.