Medieval Master Swordsmen(108)
“Perhaps,” he said. “It might be your only hope.”
“But I plead for both our causes,” she insisted. “I will not save my own life only to watch you sacrifice yours.”
He just looked at her. Then, he stood up, placing her gently on her feet as he did so. As Elizabeau watched, he went to the cell door and began bellowing through the grate for the guards. When she realized what he was doing, she rushed to him.
“Nay, Rhys,” she pleaded, pulling at his big arm. “Do not call them. I will not…”
He gently ignored her, collecting both of her hands into his big palm as he continued to call for the guards. There was a host of suspicious faces looking back at him but no one came forward. Eventually, an older man, more than likely a sergeant from the way the other men responded to him, came to the grate.
The man was without his helm, his face dirty and scarred. His muddy gaze fixed on Rhys. “What do you want?” he demanded.
Rhys was equally demanding. “The lady demands to see a priest. It is her right. You will bring one immediately.”
The sergeant sighed impatiently. “We don’t have a priest,” he snapped, but one of the other soldiers on guard muttered something to him and the sergeant caught himself. He spoke to the soldier. “Are you sure?”
The soldier nodded and the sergeant pursed his lips. “I’d forgotten,” he mumbled. “Do we know he is truly a priest?”
The soldier shrugged. “That is what he said.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He went to the stables, more than likely. At least I saw him heading that way.”
Rhys didn’t know what they were talking about but he would not be ignored. They weren’t loud enough for him to hear the actual words.
“The lady has every right to the blessing of the church before she is put to death,” he interrupted their conversation strongly. “You will grant her that courtesy. Go find a priest.”
He was giving orders and the sergeant didn’t like it. He cast Rhys a menacing glare and walked away from him, pulling the guards with him. Rhys could see what they were doing; they were preparing to ignore his demand.
“Send the lady a priest or I swear I will make your job as miserable as possible,” he snarled. “I may go to the block but I swear I will take as many of you as I can with me. I have nothing to lose for my life is already forfeit; do you truly want an angry, condemned knight on your hands? You will have a battle on your hands, the ferocity of which you could never conceive of.”
The sergeant was several feet away, standing with a few of his men. He was still shooting daggers at Rhys with his gaze. He was determined to prove he could not be intimidated but the truth was, it had taken almost a dozen of them to subdue him enough to get him to the guardhouse and he did not look forward to another battle like that. The man was as powerful as he was immense. Moreover, the lady was indeed due a priest. They both were and God forbid that the sergeant find himself in trouble if his denial of religious blessing was discovered. Better to find that traveling fool his man had reminded him of than waste any time going into the village to hunt down the parish priest.
With Rhys still snapping threats, the sergeant turned to the man next to him.
“Go find that priest who sought shelter here,” he muttered. “Maybe that will shut him up.”
Two men went on the hunt. They found Geist huddled in the cold night air near the steps to the keep, gazing at the block they were preparing. Not strangely, he seemed most eager to delivery absolution to the prisoners.
***
“Of all the stupid nonsense,” Christopher growled to no one in particular. “David knew better than to take off like that on the eve of battle. All he had to do was ask the prince why he had sent his man out and he would have had his answer.”
It was snowing heavily a couple of hours before dawn as de Lohr’s mighty army made their way north. Over a thousand men and war wagons churned their way northward towards the fortress of Ludlow, although Christopher was minus two of his most powerful knights. David was gone and so was Lawrence, contributing to Christopher’s foul mood. He knew why David had gone; what he was still having trouble figuring out was Lawrence’s disappearance.
Conrad and his men rode silently with Christopher’s men, their mood almost apologetic. When told of his brother’s disappearance and why, Christopher had confronted the young prince and had been told that Geist had been sent out to follow de Beckett. Over the course of the conversation, Christopher began to deduce that something was terribly wrong because he knew that he had not sent Lawrence out on an errand. Whatever Lawrence was doing, Christopher had no knowledge of it. So now Lawrence, Geist and David were all missing, and Christopher was heading into battle. It was a troubling time.