Enchantress (Medieval Trilogy 1)

Closing her eyes, Clare made the sign of the cross and stiffened her spine. “Hold on, Strahan,” she yelled hoarsely. “You may enter.” She signaled the guard at the gate, and the chains of the portcullis began to rumble and clank. Clare’s sad eyes met Glyn’s frightened gaze. “You’d best go pray,” she said, “because we will need all of God’s help.”

“But Garrick will be back soon,” Glyn whispered, ever hopeful.

“Aye, that he will,” Clare whispered, knowing that Garrick was riding to meet his death. He had to be warned … but how? Holy Father, please deliver us!

She watched in silent horror as Ware was prodded upon his steed and Cadell, bleeding from the earlobe, was pushed onto a waiting horse. Strahan’s band of dirty soldiers began moving forward, holding the reins to Ware and Cadell’s horses and leading them like prisoners of war inside the thick walls of Abergwynn.

Please God, warn Garrick, she silently prayed, then handed a small knife to Glyn.

”I don’t want—”

Clare pressed the knife into Glyn’s palm. “You may need it.”

“Strahan would not harm me—”

Clare slapped her quickly. Her palm smacked hard against Glyn’s face. “You saw what Strahan did to your brother. Do you doubt that he would have killed him?”

“Nay, but—”

“What of his soldiers? Do you not think they will be anxious to lie with a woman? Mayhap a lady?”

Tears starred Glyn’s eyes. She rubbed the side of her face. Her voice trembled piteously. “But they would not dare approach me—”

“There will be no asking,” Clare told her. “They will just take.”

“But not me! Surely not me. I am a virgin and—”

Clare’s fingers curled over Glyn’s hand, forcing her to hold on the small weapon. “I know. But you will not be spared. The knife gives you a choice. If you decide to endure what the soldiers do to you, then you will not need it. That might be best: suffer the humiliation and spare your life.”

“Oh, dear God in heaven—”

“But if you can’t lie with them … well, you could easily press the blade into the heart of a naked man.”

“I couldn’t kill—”

“You’ll be surprised at what you can endure and what you will do,” Clare replied, her own eyes dark, as if with painful memories. “But if the pain is too great, the humiliation too much for you to bear, the knife will offer you a way to end it all for yourself as well.”

“’Tis a sin—”

Clare closed her eyes as the first horse entered the outer bailey. “I know, but take the knife, Glyn.”

Glyn gulped, but as Clare removed her hand, Glyn’s fingers stayed wrapped around the knife’s carved hilt.

Chapter Twenty Two

“I’ll not die a prisoner to the likes of Strahan of Hazelwood,” Cadell sneered. His ear was crusted with blood and his body bruised as he lay in his new prison in the lowest level of Abergwynn. Dug deep into the earth, these rooms, barred and smelling of dampness, were seldom used. The hay on the floor was filthy and rotting. No one had set foot in here for years, except when the keep was being searched for Logan.

“How are we to break free?” Ware asked. He, too, wanted to escape, though he’d been told by Strahan that should he find a way to flee from the castle walls, the other hostages would pay. Clare and Glyn would surely come to no good.

“I am not afraid to die,” Cadell whispered.

“Then you are foolish. For Strahan will make your death painful.”

“I think not.” Cadell offered a smile that was barely visible in the half-light. He glanced at the one small barred window high over their heads where daylight dared to filter in and pierce the darkness. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said in a voice so low it could barely be heard.

“What is that?’ Ware was in no mood for Cadell’s childish fantasies. He, too, was working on a plan of escape but as yet had come up with naught.

“Morgana is not the only grandchild of Enit who can see the future.”