A Knight in Central Park

chapterTwenty

Seeing is believing, but feeling’s the truth.

—Thomas Fuller

Squirming and kicking, Alexandra tried to spit the gag from her mouth. ’Twas useless. Her hands were bound and her gag well placed. She looked about, her loathing for the two men welling into bile within.

And where was Sir Joe? Probably off to have his back scrubbed since ’twas against his nature to use force to garner their release. She could only pray he would see the girls safely back to the village.

Sir Joe had been right about her interfering. She should have remained calm, thought things through before confronting the king’s men. But her anger at seeing Garrett bound and gagged without a word to his guardian had been too much for her to bear. These men were not guardians of the king; they were barbarians. True, her brother had the mouth of a serpent, but Garrett would never steal. Of that she was sure and naught could convince her otherwise.

She had no wish to ride with her back against the man’s protruding belly. He was foul-smelling. His dirty hands brushed against her leg every time he added to his saddlebags, making her cringe. Alexandra stole a peek at her brother, catching him unaware. His eyes had taken on a hunted look. Her brother was scared. Garrett was only twelve, and he was small for his age. When his attention moved to the entrance of the inn, she followed his gaze, surprised to see Sebastiano bearing a tray of wine cups.

“The innkeeper insisted the king’s men be well refreshed before they ride off to do the king’s bidding.” Sebastiano’s eyes sparkled. “And I do believe,” he said close to George’s ear, “that the woman has taken a fancy to you both, for she asked me to bring you food for your journey home.” He handed George the bag of scones.

“Before you go, we must make a toast,” Sebastiano said.

When neither man went to take a wine cup, Sebastiano added, “You wouldn’t want to be hurting the innkeeper’s feelings, now would you?”

George took a cup. The other man let out a sigh as he, too, came forward to take hold of a goblet, leaving one cup left for Sebastiano.

Sebastiano set the tray on the ground and held his cup high. “To a safe ride home.”

All three of them took drinks.

Alexandra noticed Sir Joe standing in the shadow of the inn. Her chest ached at the idea of him doing naught to stop these men from taking her and Garrett. And yet, this scene taking place with Sebastiano seemed odd. Where was Susan and why hadn’t she run out to say goodbye as Alexandra was sure she would do? Something was amiss.

The two men had hardly sipped their wine and were about to set their cups down when Sebastiano raised his cup again. “For protecting the king’s people,” he cried, “we are eternally grateful.” With that said, Sebastiano drank in big gulps, until red wine ran down his chin.





Joe could see Alexandra from where he stood. Her face had paled and her shoulders slunk in despair. It sickened him to think that even for a moment she would believe he would casually hand her over to these men. But he could see it in her eyes and there was nothing he could do about it. If he ran out there now, there would be no one left to help Alexandra and her brother. He had to keep a level head, form a plan, then wait until the time was right.

One man was about to pour his wine out when George raised his glass to the air and said, “To women and their rambling tongues, spiteful tempers, and sweet tasting lips.”

“Here, here,” Sebastiano said, taking a long gulp from his cup, both men following suit.

Susan ran outside with more wine, filled Sebastiano’s cup and said loudly, “And to men! And to St. Valentine, first kisses, and true love.” Her cheeks turned a crimson hue and both men laughed, but George drank to her ridiculous toast. Sebastiano took another gulp, then smiled at Susan before placing his arm around her shoulder.

Alexandra, Joe noticed, was ready to hogtie the lot of them. Clearly she had no idea what they were up to. The man in charge had yet to finish his drink. Unlike George, he was not a pleasant sort. He was more than perturbed by the interruption, especially when Sebastiano staggered forth and shouted, “Wait! One more toast. The most important one of all!”

The angry man pulled his sword from its holding and put it to Sebastiano’s chest. “Why do you wish to detain us? Are you up to no good?”

Joe could see the sharpness of the blade cutting through the boy’s shirt. His heart pounded as he moved closer to the door, ready to intercede.

“Of course not,” Sebastiano answered calmly, “but I have heard if the cup is not empty of every drop after the toasts are made, then bad luck will come to thee whose cup is not fully drained.”

“For the love of God,” the man said before he put his cup to his lips and finished it in one gulp. “There, ’Tis done.” He turned the cup upside down to show that it was empty, then threw it to the ground.

George too finished his cup, tossing it aside when he was done.

Joe wondered how long before the pills would take effect. He’d put half a bottle of sleeping pills into their cups for God’s sake. He glanced over his shoulder. Rebecca stood near the hearth and stared at him with wide, frightful eyes. His gut wrenched, and then again as he watched the men set off, taking Alexandra and Garrett hostage. Alexandra looked back toward the inn, giving him one last look of mute appeal.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, praying he was doing the right thing. “I won’t let you down.”

Sebastiano stumbled back inside, thoroughly intoxicated by one drink.

“Sebastiano,” Joe said, shaking the young man’s shoulders. “Which cup did you drink from?”

Sebastiano shrugged, his eyelids half shut.

Joe looked at Susan. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

A loud thunk confirmed his suspicions. Sebastiano fell to the ground. He was out cold.

“Looks like our friend drank from the wrong cup.” Joe bent down and picked Sebastiano up. After Susan prepared a straw bed by the hearth, Joe laid him there.

“He’s going to need a few hours to sleep it off. But right now it looks like I’m going to need your help again.”

“What can I do?” Susan asked.

“I need my cloak. Do you know where Alexandra might have packed it?”

“’Tis with the rest of the blankets in the stable with the horses. I’ll return shortly.”

While Susan ran off, Joe grabbed a cloth from the kitchen. Making quick use of his pocketknife, he poked two holes in the rag, and then tied it about his face. Rebecca had followed him, and she cocked her head as she looked at him.

“With more time and a good seamstress we could do better. But under the circumstances I do believe this will have to do.”

Rebecca gave him a tentative smile, and he found himself thinking what a brave girl she was for one so young. Her mother was killed before her eyes, her father left without a word, and here she was, only six, following her siblings through unfamiliar territory.

Joe knelt down on bended knee and took the mask off. “Everything’s going to be all right, do you know that?”

She nodded.

“Well good. You’re a very brave young girl.”

By the time Susan returned with his cape, he and Rebecca had returned to the main room. Joe spotted a fine looking sword hanging to the right of the hearth, above a detailed tapestry of men during a hunt. He went to the kitchens where the innkeeper was soaking sheets and tablecloths in a wooden trough filled with ashes and caustic soda. Joe followed her to an iron cauldron in the kitchen. “That sword in the other room that hangs near the hearth...would you be interested in selling it?”

“Nay,” she said without looking at him, “’Twas a gift from a kindly nobleman who has long since passed away. I could not possibly part with such a fine weapon.”

From where he stood, Joe watched as Susan reached into Sebastiano’s sack. With excitement on her face, she came quickly to his side and offered the innkeeper four copper shillings for the sword.

“Double that,” the woman said, “and the sword is yours for the keeping.”

Susan happily obliged, handing the woman a pile of coins before making her way back to the hearth.

Joe followed her. “Where do you suppose Sebastiano got all of those coins?”

“If I had to guess,” she said matter-of-factly as she placed the cape about Joe’s shoulders, “I’d say those coins had something to do with his eagerness to help us.”

“Sebastiano is the thief?”

“Aye, but a thief with integrity.”

“The tie is broken,” she said as if it didn’t bother her overly much that her brother and sister had been carted off in Sebastiano’s place. “But my mother’s broach should do well to hold your cloak in place.”

Joe leaned low so that she could pin the cape in place. “So tell me how one can be a thief with integrity?”

She pinned the cape, then watched him take the sword from the wall. He stepped back so Susan could take a look at him.

“Sebastiano only steals from the thieves themselves. And do you know what he plans to do with the money?”

Joe shook his head.

“He will return every copper shilling to the people from whom it was stolen.”

“How do you know this?” Joe asked.

“He told me.”

Joe raised a brow.

She shrugged and then examined his attire. “’Tis perfect. You best be off.” She ushered him toward the door. “Are you certain you won’t be needing my help?”

“No. Stay here with Rebecca. Keep her safe.”

Sebastiano stirred in his sleep. Joe eyed him, suddenly worried about leaving Susan alone with the boy. “Susan,” he said, turning to her.

“Do not fret,” she said as if she were thirty instead of sixteen. “We will be fine until you return. You will return, will you not?”

It pained him to hear her ask such a question, but he didn’t blame her. He’d done nothing but grumble since he’d arrived in this world, and Susan had been trying hard to keep her and her siblings from becoming a burden. “The innkeeper has promised to let you and Rebecca stay on until I return with your sister...both of your sisters.”

She grinned.

“I will return for you and Rebecca. I promise you that.”