The only good thing was that Claybrook was drinking heavily, and had been all day. Perhaps he would make himself so drunk he would pass out and she could escape. She wouldn’t count on it, though.
Margaretha’s sisters kept looking at her with tears in their eyes. She winked at them when Claybrook wasn’t looking. All would be well. She didn’t want them to think otherwise. Her little brothers also looked frightened for her, desperation and anger flitting over their faces. They wanted to defend her, which proved her little brothers did love her, even though they teased her.
Margaretha refused to look at Lord Claybrook throughout the feast. There was little entertainment — only one troubadour and a juggler. No one seemed in a particularly festive mood. Even the few knights of higher rank who had been allowed to join the feast as guests were subdued.
Finally, when Claybrook was well and truly drunk, he yelled at the guards standing by to take Margaretha’s family to their chambers and lock their doors. Then he motioned to three guards to come with him. “Come and escort me and my new bride to our wedding chambers.” He chortled drunkenly.
Margaretha walked slowly, and, surprisingly, the guards and Claybrook followed suit and walked slowly as well. I can surely fight off a man as drunk as Claybrook. But she preferred to delay the moment of confrontation as long as possible.
They began to climb the stone stairs to Claybrook’s bedchamber when Claybrook began to moan. He continued to climb, but he moved even slower. When they reached the top of the steps, Claybrook coughed, then bent over and vomited on the floor.
Two of the guards took hold of Margaretha’s arms while the third asked Claybrook if he needed help.
Claybrook ordered, “Take her to her own chamber until I send for her.” He leaned over and retched some more.
Margaretha shuddered. She did not envy the poor servant who would be forced to clean that up. But . . . Thank you, God, for the reprieve!
The two guards compelled her to start walking down the corridor to her chamber. When they had rounded the bend, they stopped.
They were looking at each other. Perhaps this was her opportunity!
“Men, if you will help me escape,” Margaretha whispered, “I will make it worth your while. My father, Duke Wilhelm, will reward you well — ”
One of the guards interrupted her. “We will help you escape, if you have a plan.”
“You will? But why?”
“We have our reasons.”
“Tell us,” the other one said.
“You must take me to the dungeon.”
“To the dungeon? My lady — ”
“To the dungeon. Pretend you are bringing me there on Lord Claybrook’s orders, to clamp me in irons. I will tell you the rest when we get there.”
They crept forward and peeked down the corridor. No one was in sight. Then they heard Claybrook retching again farther down the corridor.
The two men compelled her forward. Once at the top of the stairs, they maneuvered around the mess on the floor and hurried down the steps, with Margaretha in the lead.
“We should move more slowly,” one guard whispered, “so as not to create suspicion should the other guards see us.”
Margaretha nodded and slowed her pace, allowing the guards to take her by each arm again, as though they were holding her captive.
“Why do you want to help me?” Margaretha whispered. Could she really trust them? She was desperate for a way out, so she had little choice.
She stopped and faced them, and they stopped as well, halting in the corner at the top of the stairs that led to the dungeon.
The two men were burly, one with dark reddish hair and the other with light brown. They met her eyes openly. “We thought we could better our status by coming with Claybrook here, but we didn’t know what a brutal, unjust man he was.”
The one with light brown hair and a crooked nose added, “And we regret being forced to kill innocent men. He promised that if we came with him, he would give us our own estates in exchange for helping him foist a usurper from his family’s lands.”
“And then we discovered he had lied to us. We don’t like the man.” The redhead shook his head. “Also, we heard from the kitchen servants that the men of Hagenheim are sneaking out of the town, being lowered down the wall to go and join Duke Wilhelm. They say he is raising an army to fight Claybrook.”
“Not only that, but we believe the kitchen servants poisoned Claybrook’s wine.”
“So that is why he is sick!” Margaretha’s heart leapt at the news.
“I heard them say that the last carafe of wine was only for Claybrook and his knights.”
“I believe you are trustworthy,” Margaretha announced. “But you must tell me your names.”
“I am Thomas Stephenson,” the red-haired one said.
“Thaddeus Lee,” the other said.
“Now I shall tell you a secret that you must not tell another soul.” Margaretha cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered in the red-haired man’s ear and told him about the tunnel in the dungeon that led outside the wall of the town. Then she told the brown-haired man, as he leaned down and offered her his ear.