Rhys nodded, calmed to the point that his mind started working as it usually did, clearly and concisely. He was able to detach his emotion for the moment and look at their situation globally. Although their liabilities heavily outweighed their assets, a successful rescue could be accomplished. But there was no margin for error. He looked at Geist, his eyes boring into the man as the seconds of his life ticked away. More importantly, as the seconds of Elizabeau’s life ticked away. Even if he did not make it out of Ludlow, he had to insure that Elizabeau would.
His heart began to thump, his hands to sweat. So very much was riding on his ability to formulate a viable plan as varying situations and their results began to flow through his mind. He weeded out the impossible and focused on the possible, all in a matter of a few seconds. That was the speed with which his brain worked. Things became clearer as he suddenly crossed himself and knelt before Geist. He knew what he had to do.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he muttered, nodding his head at Elizabeau for her to do the same. When she knelt beside him, her green eyes wide with hope and terror, he lifted his face to Geist. “Will you hear my confession?”
Geist nodded slowly, bending over the massive knight so that his confession would not be heard by the jailors beyond the door. To those looking it, it would indeed appear as a simple confession by a condemned man.
It was the confession of a plan.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Promptly at dawn, Lewis appeared at the cell door and quietly had the sergeant open it. When the door shifted open, grating against the uneven stone floor, Lewis and several guards moved into the cell. The men were heavily armed, prepared for a battle of epic proportions with the enormous knight. They weren’t about to take any chances.
But Rhys wasn’t poised to strike as they entered the cell. He sat against the far wall of the cell with Elizabeau in his arms, who was sleeping quite peacefully. When Rhys saw Lewis and the soldiers entering the hall, his expression flickered with pain but just as quickly stilled. Lewis didn’t say a word; he simply gazed at Rhys and finally at the sleeping lady. Rhys saw where the man’s attention moved and he, too, gazed down at Elizabeau. He knew what the silent implication was. It was time to go. With a faint sigh, one of defeat, he kissed her forehead and gently shook her.
“Angel,” he murmured. “Wake up.”
She stirred and he shook her again, watching her dark green eyes flutter open. She focused on him, smilingly sleepily until she realized that someone else was in the cell with them. She could hear the mail grating. With a start, she sat up and bashed Rhys on the chin in the process.
He didn’t flinch as he steadied her, but Elizabeau’s eyes were wide on the men in the cell. They were loaded for battle, breathing death with every gasp. Beyond the door, she could see a hint of morning glow and her eyes widened.
“Nay,” she breathed, then a pathetic moan welled up in her throat as she turned to Rhys. “Nay, it cannot be time. It must not be time yet.”
He didn’t reply; in truth, there was nothing he could say. He rose to his feet and took her with him. But she would not stand on her own. She threw her arms around his neck in terror.
“This cannot be,” she was very quickly rising to hysteria. “I do not want to die. I do not want you to die. Please, no!”
Rhys remained stoic as he scooped her up into his arms and held her close to comfort her in their last minutes of life. Lewis, watching the scene, seemed moderately sober as he spoke.
“Put her on her feet,” he instructed quietly. “She will walk to her destination.”
Rhys eyed the man, sighing heavily. “Let me take her out of here and put her to stand once we reach the bailey. Surely it will not harm anything to allow me to hold her one last time.”
Lewis didn’t want to get into a big tussle, not now when the end was so near. The lady was distraught but du Bois was remarkably holding himself together. Lewis was content so long as the big knight was calm, so he nodded curtly and turned to lead them out of the cell.
A dozen heavily armed soldiers escorted Rhys and Elizabeau from the vault to the bailey beyond. The feel of doom was everywhere, filling the very air they breathed. With every step it grew heavier and heavier. Even the soldiers seemed subdued and quiet. As they reached the bailey, Rhys finally set Elizabeau on her feet but she collapsed into the dust.
“Nay,” she wept pitifully. “I do not want to die. I do not want to!”
Rhys reached down to pick her up again but half a dozen swords were suddenly in his face. As he put his hands up in surrender, two soldiers took Elizabeau by the arms and hauled her to her feet.