He swam under the surface, hopefully in the direction of the bridge. He’d drawn in as much air as he could before he went under. He even managed to keep hold of the sword in his hand as he swam.
His lungs were near bursting by the time he reached the darker water that he believed was shaded by the bridge. He took the risk of raising his head and bumped it against something hard.
Wooden planks. It must be the bridge.
He lay on his back. His mouth and nose were only three or four inches from the underside of the wooden bridge, but it was enough room for him to breathe.
Soon he heard horses’ hooves clomping on the wooden planks above him. Evangeline screamed, then the sound was suddenly muffled.
“Shut her up,” Lord Shiveley said. “Tie something around her mouth.”
“Who goes there?” A voice came from the other end of the bridge.
“The Earl of Shiveley,” another voice answered him.
Several horses crossed the bridge into the castle bailey. Was anyone looking for him? They didn’t seem to be. He waited until no more hooves sounded on the bridge. When he was sure no one was looking for him in the murky waters of the moat, he took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface.
Evangeline used her hands, tied together in front of her, to check to see that she still had the extra knife strapped to her thigh underneath her tunic. It was growing quite dark as they moved across the bailey toward the castle. Strangely, no one was around to see her, Lord le Wyse, and Frederick with their hands bound and gags in their mouths.
Lord Shiveley quietly ordered his prisoners to dismount. They did so, and he whispered to Evangeline, so near her face that she couldn’t help but smell his breath, “If you tell King Richard anything, I shall immediately kill Lord le Wyse and your beloved Muriel before the king can intervene. Then I will tell him you are delusional and will force you to marry me anyway. So I suggest you cooperate.”
He kept hold of her arm as they entered the castle and skirted around the rooms used by guests. They started up the stairs only used by the servants. Shiveley stopped her. “Remember, not a word, not a sound from you, or Muriel and Lord le Wyse will die.” He untied the gag from her mouth.
“God will punish you for this.”
He slapped her cheek. Hard. The sharp sound resounded through the narrow stone stairway. The stinging in her cheek brought tears to her eyes as she covered her burning face with her hand.
“That is only a small taste of what you will get if you do not obey me.”
She refused to look at him, and he started up the stairs, pulling her after him. No one had ever slapped her before. She burned with the humiliation of being struck in the face.
“If you will be a good girl, I shall bring Muriel to you. But if you try to escape or talk to King Richard, I shall have my men snap her neck like a twig.”
Her stomach boiled. She could possibly break free from his grasp by punching him in the throat or kneeing him in the groin, but three of Shiveley’s men followed closely behind them. She could never get away from so many.
God, save Westley from the moat and from Shiveley’s men. She could not bear the thought that he had drowned. Perhaps he had been able to get out of the moat under cover of darkness. After all, he was not unconscious this time when he fell into the water. Please don’t let him die. And rain down Your fire and brimstone on the head of Shiveley and all his evil men. Repay him evil for evil.
When she reached her room, Shiveley left her inside, closed the door, and locked it. She tried to open it, just in case, but she was well and truly locked in.
She went and found her handheld looking glass. Her left cheek showed the bright-red outline of four fingers, and her lip was swollen and bleeding from a cut at the corner. “God, please keep Westley and Lord le Wyse safe from these evil men.”
She wiped away her tears and dabbed at the spot of blood on her lip.
The door opened again and Muriel stumbled in. Her skin was pale, she seemed thinner, and her lip was swollen. Her dress was also dirty. And Muriel’s dress was never dirty.
Afraid her embrace would not be welcome, Evangeline approached her slowly. “Muriel, are you well?”
“I’m so sorry they found you, Evangeline. I prayed Westley and Lord le Wyse would keep you safe in Glynval. I tried not to tell them, I tried to be strong . . .” Her eyes were large and strangely vacant.
“It is all right. It is my fault they found me so quickly, actually.” If she had stayed in Glynval like Westley had asked her to . . . they still would have found her eventually.
Evangeline noted a bruise on Muriel’s cheekbone. “I’m only sorry they hurt you. Because of me.”
“Truly, it could have been much worse.” Tears welled in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled.