The Taming (Peregrine 1)

Jeanne stepped into the room, her eyes on the bed, then, startled, she saw Liana. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“What’s wrong?” Liana whispered.

“I don’t know. Oliver is very angry and he’s been drinking. I overheard…” She looked at Liana. She didn’t want to say what she’d overheard. In all areas except one her husband was a sensible man, but when it came to the Peregrines, he lost all sense of proportion, of honesty, of sensibility. Today she’d overheard Oliver saying he meant to kill Liana and deliver her body to Rogan. “You must come with me,” Jeanne said. “I have to hide you.”

“I cannot,” Liana said. “I must wait here for—”

“Wait for what?” Jeanne asked. “Or do you wait for someone?”

“No one,” Liana said quickly. “No one knows I’m here, do they? How could I be waiting for someone? I was just sitting here, that’s all.” She closed her mouth. She couldn’t tell Jeanne that Rogan was coming for her. Jeanne could tell Oliver. But if she moved, how would Rogan find her? “This room is so nice,” Liana said. “I’d rather stay here than move to another. I don’t think I could bear a cold room.”

“Now is no time to think of luxury. I am concerned for your life. If you wish yourself and your child to live, come with me now.”

Liana knew she had no choice. With a heavy heart she followed Jeanne down the torch-lit stairs. She followed her out of the tower, across the dark inner ward, and at last down steep stone steps into the cellar of one of the gate towers. Here were huge bags of grain, in places piled almost to the ceiling. It was a dank, dark, moldy-smelling place, the only window an arrow slit high above her head.

“You cannot mean for me to stay here,” Liana whispered.

“It’s the only place I could find where no one will look. This grain won’t be needed until spring, so no one will come in here. I have put wool blankets there, and there’s a chamber pot in the corner.”

“Who will empty it?” Liana asked. “The old man who comes to my room seems stupid enough to be safe.”

“Not this time. I will come tomorrow night. I trust no one but myself.” She feared that when Oliver found Liana gone, he’d offer a reward for her, and if he did, anyone was likely to turn her in. “I am sorry. This is a hideous place, but it’s the only safe place. Try to sleep. I will come tomorrow.”

When Jeanne left and bolted the door behind her, the sound echoed in the round stone room with its vaulted ceiling. It was absolutely dark and cold as only stone that had never been heated could be. Liana struggled forward, stumbling over bags of grain to

find the blankets Jeanne had left. When she found them, she tried to make a bed on the lumpy bags, but there was no way to make them comfortable.

At last, settled with the hard, dusty bags under her and two inadequate blankets over her, she began to cry. Somewhere outside, her beloved Rogan was risking his life to find her. She prayed that he would not do something foolish when he found she was gone. But even if he kept silent, he would never find her in this cellar, for no guards or servants knew where she was now. Only Jeanne Howard knew where Liana was.

Jeanne did not come the next day. Liana had no food, no water, no light, no warmth. And as the day grew into night, she had no hope. Rogan had been right about Jeanne: She could not be trusted. Liana began to remember that it was Jeanne who had told her of Rogan’s not caring that she was held prisoner. It was Jeanne who had made her believe in Rogan’s treachery.

Jeanne came on the night of the second day. Quietly, she opened the door and stepped into the cold, dark cellar. “Liana,” she called.

Liana was too weary and full of anger to answer.

Stumbling over grain bags, Jeanne began to feel her way about the room, gasping when she touched Liana. “I have brought you food and water and another blanket.” She lifted her skirt and began untying bundles. She held a gourd of water to Liana’s lips, and she drank greedily, then Jeanne handed Liana cold beef, bread, and cheese.

“I could not come yesterday. Oliver suspects that I have had something to do with your escape. He has set everyone to spying on everyone else. I’m afraid of even my own ladies. I had to plead illness and have my food brought to me in my room in order to get you something to eat.”

“I am to believe you gave up your own meal for me?” Liana asked, her mouth full.

It was dark and she couldn’t see Jeanne’s face, but there was a pause before she spoke. “Something has happened,” Jeanne said. “What is it?”

“I have no idea what you mean. I have been here alone in this freezing place. No one has come or gone for two days.”

“And it has no doubt saved your life,” Jeanne snapped. “You are the wife of my husband’s enemy, and I have risked much to keep you healthy and safe.”

“What risk? Your lies?” Liana wished she hadn’t spoken.

“What lies? Liana, what has happened? What have you heard? How have you heard anything?”

“Nothing,” Liana said. “I have been held in close confinement. I could not have heard anything.”

Jeanne walked away from her. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the blackness and she could see shadows of the grain bags and the darker outline of Liana. She took a deep breath and looked at Liana. “I have decided to tell you the truth, all of the truth. My husband means to kill you. That’s what I overheard when I took you from the tower room. He has no use for you. He never meant to take you, you just appeared, so to speak, and he took you on impulse. He hoped to force Rogan to surrender Moray Castle to him. What he actually wants is to take every blade of grass the Peregrines own.” There was bitterness in her voice.

Jeanne continued. “I don’t know what to do with you now. I can trust no one. Oliver has issued a death threat to anyone seen helping you. He knows you’re still in the castle, because since he took you, he has had the guards look at the face of every peasant who enters or leaves the walls. His men are even now combing the woods outside the walls.”

Jeanne paused. “Damn that Rogan! Why hasn’t he tried for your return? I never thought he’d be content to let one of his own rot.”