Yes, Father would send a search party to rescue us. But if he didn’t immediately get word of our capture, he’d be delayed in coming after us. In the meantime, I’d need to do all I could to escape from Lord Pitt’s clutches. Surely, at some point, I’d find a weakness among Sir Aldric’s men and their ability to keep watch, and when I did, I’d take full advantage of it.
What I hadn’t yet figured out was why Lord Pitt wanted Izzy and me. From the moment his army had surrounded Ludlow, I’d suspected this had something to do with an offense my father had committed. He was a powerful man in the kingdom and had developed many enemies. There were even some who accused him of having secret alliances with the Welsh. Of course, all the baron magnates who lived in the Marcher borderlands came under suspicion of forming bonds with the neighboring Welsh, especially those like Father who were critical of the king from time to time.
Even so, I couldn’t decide what charges Lord Pitt planned to level against my father and why he’d taken Izzy and me as his prisoners. If I’d had time to speak further with Sir Aldric, I would have interrogated him for the information.
My sights strayed to his rigid back, his broad shoulders, and the mail hood that now replaced the plate armor. Without his helmet, I’d briefly glimpsed his profile and had been surprised to see how young he was. I’d expected someone much older and seasoned from years of battle, not a handsome warrior.
Somehow knowing he was young and tough made the loss of my battle with him earlier sting a little less. If he’d been older with slower reflexes, perhaps I could have overpowered him. Whatever the case, I took satisfaction in the fact that I’d surprised him with my identity. I’d fought well enough under the circumstances that he hadn’t realized I was a woman until Izzy had made mention of it.
Shouts drew my attention forward, and I soon discovered we were making camp for the night. A narrow gorge ahead contained a creek, which would provide refreshment not only for us but for our horses. As we came upon the gorge, I was pleased to see that tall grass and tangled brush bordered it. While not woodland or rock outcroppings, the brush would give Izzy and me some shelter during our getaway.
All the while we ate our simple dinner of roasted lamb and barley bread, I used the remaining daylight to plot our escape route. When darkness finally fell, and we retired for the night, I was grateful for the small tent one of the knights erected for us.
I wasn’t sure what treatment prisoners usually received, but I suspected most weren’t given the deference of a warm meal, much less a tent of their own. Sir Aldric had indicated that Lord Pitt wanted us alive, possibly unharmed. But that didn’t mean the captain was required to be polite and kind. I’d heard enough stories over the years to know that captured women and children were often considered dispensable—nothing more than spoils of war to be used up and cast aside.
Yet the knights under Sir Aldric’s command hadn’t so much as looked at us, had in fact treated us with the utmost courtesy.
I unrolled the blanket the guard had given us and spread it over the dry grass. Izzy brushed her hair in silence, likely mulling over my whispered instructions regarding our escape plans.
“Lady Olivia,” came Sir Aldric’s voice from outside the tent.
I stood as best I could under the low canopy ceiling. “You may enter,” I replied as I smoothed my skirt, wrinkled and dusty from the day.
The tent flap opened and the captain ducked inside. The fire pit outside our tent provided the only light, but it was enough for me to see that he’d discarded his mail hood. His hair was overlong and pulled back into a leather strap. It was dark in color to match the shadows on his jaw and cheeks, the unshaven scruff, the remnants of the past week of living on the battlefield.
When he straightened, I was caught off guard at how handsome he was in a rugged, almost dangerous way. His features were strong like granite, his jaw and chin chiseled, his nose perfectly balanced. Most remarkable were his eyes—deep blue, unfathomable, and haunted.
Even in the faint light, those eyes drew me in, beckoning me to soothe whatever hurts he’d experienced.
“How do you fare?” he asked. “Have you need of anything?”
His questions should have surprised me. But after the civility he’d already shown, his continued kindness was strangely calming. I was having a difficult time holding on to my disdain for him. I quickly reminded myself he’d commanded the troops that had surrounded and invaded my home. He’d wreaked destruction against my people, servants, and knights. He’d fought against Cecil and me in my chambers and would have killed us if not for discovering I was a woman. He was forcibly taking me away as a prisoner.
He was the enemy.
“We are faring as well as can be under the circumstances.” I tried to stay hardened and aloof.
He glanced around the tent, taking in every detail from our small chest to the silver brush that lay idle in Izzy’s hands to the blanket I’d spread. Even in the dim lighting, he didn’t seem to miss a detail. As his attention shifted back to our chest, I held my breath.
I could sense his desire to search our belongings again. His knights had already done so once before loading our chest into the back of a wagon. His keenness to check again showed him for the wise and capable commander he was.
And yet, he retreated a step out the open tent flap, too respectful and noble to rummage through our clothing and personal items. Little did he know that his kindness would be his downfall.
“I’ll send a guard to awaken you before first light,” he said, bowing his head. “We will depart at break of dawn.”
“Very well.” I kept my tone cool, hoping my detached mask was firmly in place. If this man caught a whiff of any anxiety or duplicity, he’d surely be on high alert. But if he believed I was angry with him for my captivity, then he’d leave me alone with no thought to my plotting.
With a final glance at me, he ducked out and let the flap fall into place.
When he was gone, I expelled a long breath.
Once Izzy and I finally lay down, she curled against me. Although the heat of the day had dissipated with the set of darkness, I knew Izzy wasn’t seeking warmth from me. Rather she needed my comfort.
With her smaller, more delicate hand in mine, I squeezed. “We shall be fine, Izzy. Now sleep for a little while.”
She expelled a trusting breath and was quiet for so long a moment I almost believed she’d fallen asleep.
“What does Lord Pitt intend to do to us?” Her whisper was wobbly and followed by a sniffle.
“Nothing,” I replied. “We shall never see him.”
“But what if we cannot get away?”
“We shall.”
“Does he intend to make us his servants? Or perhaps force us to marry his knights? Or maybe sell us to foreign rulers?”
“No.” I closed my mind against such possibilities, although none of them were without merit. Lord Pitt had gained a reputation for having a strong alliance with the king. If my father had done something to displease the king, there was no telling what Lord Pitt might do with us.
All the more reason to make our getaway once the camp was quiet and settled for the night.
“Lord Pitt likely has a grievance against Father,” I whispered. “He will retain us only until Father makes amends.”
Holding prisoners of war for ransom was a common practice, especially among the nobility. Again, the tales of woe from such practices were far more plentiful than the tales that ended well. Usually the noblemen held for ransom sat in dungeons for months while families scrambled to come up with enough to free them. Sometimes the noblemen were killed out of impatience. Other times, they died from cold and starvation.
“I cannot keep my fear at bay,” Izzy whispered.
I bent toward my sister and kissed her head. “I shall ensure your safety, Izzy. Now go to sleep.”