Chrystobel nodded, locking gazes with the massive warrior. “Indeed,” she said. “Good day to you, Sir Gart.”
Gart nodded his head but remained silent. There was something extraordinarily intimidating about the man but she didn’t sense evil. She sensed a man who was simply no-nonsense and serious, a very big man with very big weapons. He was English to the core, much like her husband, men she had been taught to hate. Odd thing was, given her experiences with Gryffyn and Keller over the past couple of days, she was coming to see the English as far less dangerous than the Welsh. Still, Gart was a bit scary. She returned her attention to George.
“My husband has gone into town to make arrangements for my father’s funeral,” she said.
George nodded. “I am aware, Lady de Poyer,” he replied. “Before he left, Sir Keller asked me to come to you to seek what manner of coffin you wish for your father. He wants to know if there are any craftsmen at the castle who can make one.”
Chrystobel cocked her head in thought, coming off the stairs as she thought on her answer. As she moved towards George, Izlyn, who had been standing behind her on the stairs, also came off the steps. Instead of following her sister, however, she seemed very interested in Gart. As the big knight stood politely just inside the doorway, Izlyn walked up to him and inspected him with great interest.
“We have a carpenter who works in the stables,” Chrystobel said as Izlyn scrutinized Gart. “He repairs or builds things as needed. Shall I take you to him?”
George shook his head. “I would not want to trouble you, my lady.”
Chrystobel waved him off. “No trouble at all,” she said. Then she wriggled her eyebrows ironically. “Besides, the man does not speak any English, so I will have to translate unless you speak Welsh.”
George shook his head. “I do not, my lady.”
Gathering her skirts, Chrystobel preceded the two knights out of the keep, taking the stairs down to the bailey. The smell of rain was heavier in the air now and the wind was brisk. As she began walking across the ward towards the stables, George caught up to her.
“Your father has been stored in the stables, my lady,” he told her. “Mayhap… mayhap you should not enter the stalls. What is the name of this man so that I might seek him out?”
Chrystobel turned to look at him. “Wentzy” she said. “He is not difficult to locate. He is missing one eye.”
George’s eyebrows lifted curiously. “And he is a carpenter?”
“A very good carpenter.”
As George and Chrystobel discussed the skill of the one-eyed carpenter, Gart trailed several feet behind them, his hawk-like gaze roving the castle grounds. It was a big place with lots of places to hide, he thought. But as he perused the grounds, he couldn’t help notice that Lady de Poyer’s sister was walking beside him. He tried not to look at her. He hoped that she would go away if he just ignored her. If he spoke to her, surely it would be like feeding a stray animal and he would never be rid of her. Moreover, he had no idea what to say to the girl. He wasn’t very good with children. Therefore, Gart did what Gart did best – he ignored.
As they drew near the stables, however, he couldn’t help but notice that the girl was moving closer to him. In fact, she was nearly bumping into his right arm as they walked. He could feel her arm brushing against his, so he discreetly moved over to his left to put some distance between them. A few seconds later, he could feel the brushing again as Izlyn moved next to him again. Therefore, he slowed down. She slowed down. He sped up, she sped up. Finally, he stopped completely and folded his big arms over his chest, pretending to inspect something in the distance. He could see in his peripheral vision that the young girl had come to a halt, too. She was just standing there, hovering, like a gnat. He wanted to swat her.
Irritated and struggling not to show it, he turned to look at her. The moment he did, she smiled brightly at him and, like an idiot, he immediately folded. She was a cute little thing. He smiled back, patted her on the head, and continued towards the stables. He hoped that would satisfy her curiosity. But the girl scampered to catch up with him. Gart sighed heavily and shook his head. He’d managed to attract an admirer and he wasn’t too happy about it.
As Gart struggled not to become frustrated with his follower, Izlyn was completely and utterly entranced with the massive bald knight. She had seen him the night before in the great hall as he’d feasted with Sir Keller. In fact, she’d watched him quite a lot. He was very handsome, she thought, and she knew he was kind. She could tell by looking at him. The entire time she’d watched him, he’d never hit anyone like her brother often did, so she knew that meant he must be very nice.
Therefore, like moth to the flame, she was drawn to the enormous English knight with the brooding presence. She decided that she liked him very much. She might even marry him, but she had not decided on that yet. Still, she knew she liked him. As the big knight followed her sister and Sir George towards the stables, Izlyn happily skipped after them.
Little did she know that, from the shadows, her worst nightmare was watching.
*
He’d managed to slip in through the secret tunnel that led from the Gorge of the Dead up to the kitchen, which was built against the northern wall. It was meant to be a secret escape route if the castle was ever overtaken, but Gryffyn used it to gain entrance. The opening in the gorge was hidden by a few strategic rocks, concealed unless one knew where to look. The stairs, carved into the bedrock, were tiny and slippery, and he fell twice as he made his way up the passage and into the kitchen. When the cook saw him, he had strangled her and dragged her body into the passageway so no one would find it. Now, he had full access to the castle and he intended to use it.
He intended to find his sisters.
Knowing Nether as well as he did, he was able to dodge servants as they went about their duties by hiding in alcoves or in niches, away from those who would recognize him. He also had a rough woolen cloak, one he’d borrowed from Colvyn, so he was less recognizable to those who would know his fine dress. He was worried about his boots, however, because they were of the finest leather, so he made sure to dirty them up before proceeding into the castle. He hoped that all of these measures would prevent him from being noticed before he could accomplish his task.