She tried to draw in a breath, but the dusty bag clung to her mouth, and the stale air inside it choked her. She could not draw in enough air to scream. Instead, she concentrated on just breathing in enough air so she would not faint.
Several people had hold of her. Was no one looking when these people grabbed her? Were these Lord Shiveley’s men? Was she being taken back to Berkhamsted Castle?
She kicked and writhed and fought, but it availed her nothing. They only walked faster, holding her waist so tight it hurt. Someone else must have had hold of her feet inside a narrow bag, preventing her from kicking out very far.
“What you got there?” A muffled voice came to her from somewhere nearby.
“A sow and her piglets,” said the gruff voice without slowing down.
Evangeline’s arms were burning and she could barely breathe. She felt herself fading, losing consciousness. She was being carried down some stone steps, then lowered to the ground. Someone snatched the bag off her head, ran up the steps, and slammed a heavy door shut.
Evangeline gulped in air, pushing herself up off the cold stone floor. It was quite dark, but there was just enough light for her to see buckets, two stools, and a few butter churns in the small open room. She was in the dairy, where they stored the milk and where she and Nicola had churned butter.
She rubbed her wrists, finding they were not tied together as she had assumed. Someone must have been holding them while they carried her.
She sat up and wriggled out of the rough hemp bag, pushing it off her legs and feet. She wiped her face with her hands, trying to get off the dust from the bag that still clung to her skin.
Why had Shiveley’s men thrown her in here? Why had they not slung her over a horse and rode her out of Glynval as quickly as possible?
She got to her feet. Her knees wobbled, but she ran up the stone steps, stumbling a bit as she reached the top. She grabbed the door handle, but it would not budge. She jerked and tugged, but it still would not open.
Evangeline stood on the tips of her toes to reach the tiny open space at the top of the heavy wooden door, the only source of light in the room. With her unusual height, she was just tall enough to see out. Some men were walking away, and one of them was John Underhill.
Was he planning to hurt Westley? Why had he attacked her? Perhaps because he knew she was a witness to what he had done to Westley, but it was strange that he had not hurt her. Would he come back and kill her? And was he now on his way to kill Westley?
Westley! She had to get to him, had to warn him.
“Hey, Eva, can you hear me?” Sabina’s taunting voice came from outside.
“Sabina, let me out of here.”
“How did you find yourself in there?” Sabina giggled.
“Some men threw me in here. Can you please let me out?”
“Oh, I don’t think I will.”
Evangeline’s stomach sank and her face burned. Her mind raced as Sabina continued to speak.
“I thought I wanted to marry Westley le Wyse. Everyone knew I wanted to marry him.”
Sabina must have been standing off to the side because Evangeline could not see her through the tiny window.
“And I always get what I want. But when you came and Westley looked at you the way I wanted him to look at me, I could not let him make a fool of me.”
Evangeline leaned against the door. What was it Reeve Folsham had taught her? She stared hard at the bottom of the steps, looking for something she could use as a weapon. Sabina continued talking, but Evangeline hardly heard her as she ran down the steps and found a heavy pottery churn. She took out the paddle and the lid and threw them on the floor, then carried the heavy churn up the steps.
“Westley is not so saintly as everyone thinks. John Underhill told me how he always speaks ill of his father, Hugh Underhill. He blames Westley’s father for his father’s death. But either way, John is the one who has what I want—the will to gain the most wealth, the most land, and the most power.”
Evangeline raised the heavy churn over her head, then brought it down as hard as she could on the handle of the door. The churn fell to the stone step and broke into several pieces, but the handle also broke off and lay among the broken pottery pieces.
She pushed the door open, still holding on to the largest piece of the broken churn, and thrust it into Sabina’s face.
Sabina’s eyes widened and she screamed. Evangeline charged at her with the giant piece of broken pottery and used it to shove her to the ground, the broken edge near her throat. Sabina screamed again.
Evangeline fell to the ground beside Sabina and used her knee to press down on the pottery and Sabina’s chest. She grabbed Sabina’s hands and pinned them down on either side of her head. The pressure on Sabina’s throat halted her screaming.
“Where are they? Where were they taking Westley?”
Sabina’s face was turning red and her mouth and eyes were wide open. Evangeline eased up on the pressure to her chest. Sabina sucked in a gulp of air.
“Tell me now or I’ll—”
“They were taking him to the woods”—she gasped for air again—“behind the meadow.”
“If you’re lying to me . . .”