An Uncertain Choice

From the flares of torchlight, I could see Bartholomew struggle to avoid the blade of the sword that his prisoner was swinging wildly backward in an effort to free himself from the deadly hold around his neck. But due to the length of the sword, the guard was having little success.

I knew I didn’t have time to spare. If Bartholomew lost his grip on the guard, the job of freeing us would grow slightly more complicated. With a swift yank, I brought my captive’s head back and banged it against the bars hard enough to knock him unconscious. As the guard slid down to the floor, I pried the keys from the man’s fingers before they fell out of reach.

I made quick work of unlocking my cell, and then, before Bartholomew’s prisoner could react, I leveled another sharp kick into the man’s stomach and then into the arm holding the sword. The pain of the attack forced the guard to release his weapon, and it fell to the ground with a clank.

In the moment of the man’s weakness, Bartholomew yanked the cord around the guard’s neck tighter. At the same instant, I rammed my fist into the side of the guard’s head. The man crumpled, and I rescued the torch as it fell from the man’s limp hand.

Without wasting a single second, I unlocked Bartholomew’s cell and dragged one of the unconscious guards behind the bars.

“Good work, sir,” Bartholomew said breathlessly as he stooped to help.

Once the men were safely locked away, I unwound my tunic and slipped it back on. Then I armed myself with the weapons of both guards.

I turned to Bartholomew. “I need you to find my weapons, especially my halberd, and then show me a way out of the castle that will cause the least detection.”

“You need to tend your wound.” Bartholomew stared pointedly at the blood seeping into my leggings.

I grabbed the old guard’s tunic. With a burst of renewed determination, I ripped a shred from the edge and wrapped it around my leg, tying it tightly to stem the flow of blood. My mind was filled with only one goal: find Rosemarie.

I’d fight to the death to find her.

“There. It’s tended.” I stepped toward the door. “Now, are you willing to show me a way out? Or am I going to have to fight my way out of this castle with my bare hands?”

Bartholomew peered up at me, his wizened face creased with worry. “You can’t ride out to the convent alone, sir. The abbot has more armed guards.”

“Point the way,” I demanded.

Bartholomew hesitated for a moment. Then, with a glint of admiration in his old eyes, he shuffled forward. “Follow me.”

I prayed fervently I’d be able to reach Rosemarie in time. Before the abbot could force her to do anything she’d live to regret.




Screams of horror threatened me with each breath I took. The sight of dear Trudy with the rusted iron cage fixed around her head made me nauseous. Her mouth had been forced open unnaturally wide by two jagged pieces of metal and the horrific sharp point of the torture instrument that had been thrust into her mouth.

Already, Trudy’s lips were cracked and bleeding from the contraption. Her eyes rolled in her head, frantic with pain. Every time she gagged, the sharp point of the instrument cut her tongue.

“Please,” I begged. “Please, start the ceremony with all haste.”

The abbot stood in front of the altar methodically swinging a ball of incense. “I appreciate your cooperation, your ladyship.”

A guard had positioned Trudy near enough that I was forced to see her, but far enough away that I couldn’t do anything to relieve my nursemaid’s condition. They’d bound my hands in front of me. So there was nothing I could do but kneel on the prayer cushion.

The abbot finally turned. “I’m sorry it’s come to this.” His serenity only stirred a new longing inside me — ?a wish to slip the torture apparatus over his head and let him experience a dose of his cruelty.

“I don’t believe you’re sorry, Father Abbot.” My voice quavered with the effort it took to keep myself calm.

“Of course I am.” He lifted the ball and swung the incense above my head. “But don’t worry. I shall keep your nursemaid alive. She’s not valuable to me dead.”

He nodded at the guard who stood next to Trudy. The guard tightened the strap that wrapped around Trudy’s head. The sharp point pressed farther into Trudy’s mouth.

My nursemaid gave a strangled cry.

“No!” I screamed, and swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Please just take that off Trudy’s head. Please.”

The abbot smiled. “Ah, yes. That works nicely. I figured it might, especially after evaluating your reaction to the tortures I staged in town recently.”

What did he mean staged?

Seeing my unasked question, the abbot’s smile became more calculated. “I needed to see for myself if you still held an aversion to torture. I knew such knowledge might become useful to me in helping to control you should you develop any willful, disobedient tendencies — ?as you are now.”

My body shook at the sense of betrayal. “So the sheriff was just obeying your orders?”

“As he should. As you will too.”

“This is my land. I’m the rightful heir and ruler.”