“I told you what I would do if you did not prove your loyalty to me,” he rumbled. “You have always been foolish, Chrystobel. I tried to discipline you, to mold you, but you were stubborn. Too stubborn. Now see what it will cost you.”
Chrystobel was barely conscious, struggling to shake off the buzzing in her head, but she could hear him, somewhat. She was full of fear and sorrow.
“Nay,” she breathed, struggling to lift her head. “Gryffyn, you… you must not. Please do not.”
Gryffyn gazed unemotionally at the woman he had grown up with. She was his sister, that was true, but only by blood. She meant nothing to him, no more than the dogs in the great hall did. She was a possession and little else. He felt absolutely nothing as he listened to her plead for her life. In fact, he liked to hear her plead. It excited him.
“After I kill you, Izlyn is next,” he said, looking at the bloodied dirk in his hand. “She is a defective creature. She should have been drowned at birth.”
Chrystobel was in tears as she turned onto her belly and began clawing at the floor, dragging herself along as she tried to get away from him. The world was spinning and the floor rocking unsteadily, but she could not give up. She had to fight.
“God help me,” she gasped, clutching at the floor and breaking her nails down to the nub. “God help me!”
Gryffyn heard the pleas as she cried into the darkness, but her prayers were meaningless to him. All that mattered was that he accomplish his task and return to hiding, waiting for the opportunity to kill again. He watched his sister drag herself across the floor, passing through part of the bloody puddle as she went. It created dark streaks across the wood, dragged along by her heavy robe.
“That is Father’s blood, you know,” he said casually. “I told you I would kill him if you betrayed me and I did. How does it feel, Chrystobel, knowing that you killed your father? It is your fault I had to do it. If you had only killed de Poyer like I told you to, none of this would have happened.”
Chrystobel was sobbing openly now, grieved for their father and terrified that her life was coming to an end. There was so much she had yet to do and see. Her world had been relatively small, as she’d told Keller when she’d first met him. He had promised to take her to Paris and now that would never happen. Perhaps someday they might even grow fond of one another, or even have children, and now she wouldn’t know the joy of either event. She was so very crushed, knowing any dreams she ever had were about to come to an end.
Behind her, she could hear Gryffyn’s boot falls approaching. He was coming to kill her and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. The room was still swaying and she was struggling to get to her feet without success. But there was one thing she could do. She could scream as loud as she could and pray someone heard her. Pray someone heard her before Gryffyn slit her throat and she could scream no more.
The boot falls were coming closer. Death was coming closer. Chrystobel began screaming at the top of her lungs.
*
“Your wife is near the great hall,” William sounded breathless as he spoke. “She is looking for her father, Keller.”
Keller had been just inside the doorway of Tower Night, speaking with George and Aimery about the state of Nether’s armory, when William found him. He’d only meant to speak to the twins about the security of the fortress with Gryffyn on the loose but he had been distracted by the Welsh weaponry. It was rather impressive. But with William’s appearance, he was jolted back to the reality at hand and immediately craned his neck out of the doorway in search of Chrystobel. It was a bright day and he squinted in the light, searching for signs of his wife. But she was nowhere to be found and looked to William, puzzled.
“Where did you leave her?” he asked. “I do not see her.”
William, too, began searching the area for any sign of the petite woman with the long blond hair. “I told her to wait by the great hall,” he said, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. “I told her I would bring you to her.”
Keller came out of the tower, heading in the direction of the great hall. “You said that she asked for her father?” he asked William. “By God’s Bloody Rood… what a damnable mess this is. What did you tell her?”
William was marching along beside him. “She wanted to know if I had seen him,” he replied. “I was not going to tell her the truth. I told her to remain by the hall entry and that I would bring you to her. You can do the telling.”
Keller was still looking around even as he made his way to the great hall’s entry, a massive oak panel that was braced with a great iron cage for stability and protection. He was increasingly concerned that he couldn’t seem to locate her in the big expanse of the bailey.
“Do you suppose she went looking for Trevyn?” he wondered, turning to look at William. “You had him removed from the hall, didn’t you?”
William nodded. “I had some soldiers take him away,” he replied. “They said they would take him to the storage area near the stables until we could decide what to do with him.”
Keller sighed sharply. “I do not want her stumbling upon anyone who can tell her what happened,” he muttered. Then he hissed a curse. “I should have gone directly to her chamber when I left the hall but I paused to speak with George and Aimery. Then we started discussing the inventory in the armory. I sincerely hope my foolish delay does not cost me more than just the time spent.”
William was looking over to the keep, straining for a glimpse of a blond head. “She could not have gone far,” he said. “Do you suppose she went back to her chamber?”
Keller pointed in the direction of the keep. “Go and see,” he instructed. “I will see if she is in the hall. In fact….”
He was cut off by the faint sound of a scream. It was muted, and vague, and he came to an abrupt halt, looking around the bailey as if to discover the source.
“Did you hear that?” he asked William, curiously.
Wellesbourne nodded. He, too, was looking around the bailey for the origins of the distant scream. “I did,” he said. “It sounded like a woman.”
Keller was on edge. “Where did it come from?” he demanded. Then, he pushed William in the direction of the keep. “See if it came from the keep. Run.”
William was off, racing across the mucky bailey, as Keller turned in the direction of Tower Night. George and Aimery were still standing in the doorway and he motioned to them.
“Kidds!” he bellowed. “To me!”
The twins came running, their youthful energy cracking in the early morning air, the feisty young men looking for excitement. Keller opened his mouth to speak when another scream, this one very loud and frightening, pierced the air.