Captives
Authors: Emily Murdoch
Captives
Emily Murdoch
© Emily Murdoch 2014
Emily Murdoch has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published by Endeavour Press Ltd. in 2014
Table of Contents
To my husband, Joshua Perkins.
No one could ever ask for a better man in their life.
The
prisoner
had
not
spoken
for
weeks
.
None
had
expected
it
to
last
this
long
.
The
journey
over
the
wide
sea
,
back
to
Normandy
,
had
been
a
troubled
crossing
.
Of
the
five
ships
that
had
left
England’s
shore
,
only
three
had
arrived
safely
,
and
even
those
had
lost
men
to
fear
and
sickness
.
Those
that
had
not
died
or
fled
muttered
underneath
their
breath
.
The
prisoner
had
not
complained
.
Dressed
in
clothes
that
had
seen
better
days
,
the
prisoner
had
been
forced
upon
a
horse
,
despite
its
protestations
that
it
was
not
strong
enough
to
ride
.
The
cloak
had
become
torn
and
stained
over
the
fortnight
-
long
ride
to
the
castle
of
Geffrei
,
and
the
hood
was
pulled
across
the
prisoner’s
face
,
obscuring
the
night
.
Despite
the
cold
,
the
prisoner
was
not
offered
a
warmer
cloak
,
or
a
kind
word
.
The
prisoner
had
barely
noticed
.
As
the
sound
of
the
horses’
hooves
slowed
,
the
prisoner
looked
up
.
Through
bleary
eyes
,
only
a
vague
impression
of
the
place
at
which
the
company
had
arrived
could
be
seen
,
but
it
was
imposing
even
in
its
vagueness
.
A
stone
building
with
several
floors
,
and
no
light
emitting
from
the
few
windows
to
pierce
the
darkness
of
the
evening
.
No
flags
hung
from
the
walls
,
and
the
door
outside
which
they
stood
was
bare
,
save
for
one
small
handle
.
The
prisoner
closed
both
eyes
.
“
You
awake
?”
The
prisoner
was
dragged
down
from
the
horse
,
and
made
to
stand
,
although
every
bone
cried
out
for
rest
.
The
brim
of
the
hood
fell
down
over
its
eyes
.
The
murmur
that
the
prisoner
attempted
made
no
sense
.
“
Walk
,
if
you
know
what’s
good
for
you
!”
There
were
almost
a
dozen
knights
that
had
ridden
with
the
prisoner
,
but
one
was
more
splendidly
dressed
than
the
others
.
His
cloak
was
lined
,
offering
warmth
against
the
bitter
autumnal
breeze
,
and
it
was
only
he
who
had
been
fed
thoroughly
during
the
journey
.
“
My
lord
Geffrei
!”
The
man
with
the
lined
cloak
turned
to
face
one
of
his
men
.
The
others
were
lowering
themselves
from
their
horses
,
and
pulling
up
their
belts
over
their
empty
stomachs
.
“
Yes
?”
he
replied
bluntly
.
“
Food
is
required
,”
said
the
man
,
pointing
at
the
prisoner
. “
If
you
do
not
want
it
to
die
.”
The
prisoner
fell
.
“
Up
!”
shouted
Geffrei
,
pacing
towards
the
prisoner
lying
on
the
ground
. “
You’ll
walk
,
not
crawl
,
into
my
home
,
you
dirty
animal
!”
A
hand
reached
up
,
cracked
and
sore
,
from
the
figure
lying
on
the
ground
,
but
no
hand
went
down
to
meet
it
.
Eventually
,
the
prisoner
raised
itself
up
from
the
ground
,
and
hung
its
head
.
“
Now
,”
breathed
Geffrei
with
malice
in
every
tone
, “
on
you
go
.
You’re
the
guest
of
honour
.”
Cruel
laughs
rang
out
as
the
prisoner
stumbled
forwards
against
the
door
,
clutching
at
the
handle
.
It
turned
.
The
prisoner
leaned
,
exhausted
,
against
the
door
.
The
room
that
the
prisoner
fell
into
was
the
Great
Hall
.
A
small
brazier
glinted
at
the
far
side
of
the
room
,
and
a
medley
of
dogs
unravelled
themselves
to
meet
their
guests
.
Feet
sounded
around
the
prisoner
as
the
men
strode
in
,
desperate
for
warmth
.
Geffrei
threw
himself
by
the
fire
into
the
only
chair
in
the
room
.
He
turned
his
eyes
to
the
prisoner
,
who
had
pulled
itself
up
to
stare
into
his
face
.
“
Well
,”
he
said
with
a
smirk
. “
Here
we
are
.
We
have
finally
arrived
.
What
do
you
think
of
your
new
home
?”