The Crimson Castle (15 page)

The owner of the hands turned out to be that same red haired man who
had hauled her unsympathetically through the forest and he pulled her to her
feet with no more sympathy than previously. She remained silent as he led her
to a small hut, pulling aside a flap of fabric and ushering her inside. Little
light filtered in and Evelyn tamped down on the dread that filled her, thinking
morbidly that this could be the setting for her last night alive. Crouched
double, he motioned for her to sit down and she dropped gracelessly to the
ground, on the verge of collapse.

He squatted next to her, holding out some rope to bind her legs with.
She made no effort to struggle as he reached for her leg, fatigue casting a
heavy fog over her body. His fingers settled upon her ankle and brushed gently
up her calf, a depraved look in his dark eyes.  She kicked out at him
instinctively, catching him in the gut and he cursed, lifting a hand to strike
her.

Evelyn was almost grateful when Lazarus stepped into her prison, his
shoulders practically brushing the sides, stooping low to fit his form in the
small space.  The man, upon seeing his leader, hurriedly tied her ankles
and hulked away.

Determined not to be intimidated, she met Lazarus’ burning gaze,
regretting it upon viewing the coldness within his pale eyes. His grating voice
jarred her ears and she wondered if the scar upon his neck had also affected
his voice or whether years of rough living had been the cause.

“Welcome to our humble home, Lady Evelyn. Let it be known, if you
behave yourself, you shall find us quite hospitable.”

She laughed at this, feeling her spirit renewed as her lethargy eased.
“You obviously know not how to look after guests for I have never before been
treated thus!”

“I doubt it not. Consider it a lesson in humility, my lady. I will not
warn you twice, any ill behaviour, any attempts to escape, will be punished.”

She gulped but held his gaze refusing to give him the pleasure of
seeing her cower. “You would not dare, if I am harmed Sir Gabriel will hunt you
to the death.”

His eyes glittered at the mention of Gabriel’s name. “Sir Gabriel will
hunt me? How very interesting. And what of your betrothed -”

“He is not my betrothed!” she protested and he lifted his hand in a
warning movement, silencing her.

“Would Lord
Tibald
not have a vested interest
in your welfare? Mayhap I have ransomed you to the wrong man.”

Closing her eyes briefly, realising her mistake, she opened them,
hoping to cover her blunder. “I merely meant that Sir Gabriel will hunt you
down on the lord’s behalf. No doubt, you will have angered him gravely.”

Lazarus grinned at her, yellowed crooked teeth flashing in the
gloominess. “I am sure your female powers of persuasion have worked well on Sir
Gabriel, but he always was a fool. You will not deceive me so. I thank you for
the information, my lady, it shall be most valuable. Now I suggest you watch
your tongue from now on and I will have you brought some food.”

Narrowing her eyes at him as her heart sank with anxiety; she looked at
him dismissively, summoning every ounce of courage. “I want naught from you. I
would not let one morsel of your ill-gotten gains pass my lips.”

His smile quickly disappeared at her haughty guise.  “Very well,
starve yourself. You will hurt no-one but yourself. I will let it be known that
the Lady Evelyn will not demean herself to break bread with us.” He went to
leave but turned once more. “We poor men are used to rumbling stomachs but you,
I suspect, will be begging for our scraps by morning.”

“Never!” she cried at him as he stormed out.

Tears burned in her eyes as she sat alone in her damp hut but she
refused to let them fall, the thought of seeing Gabriel again filling her with
determination. She had not realised until now how important it was that he knew
she had not meant her harsh words.  Upon reflection she could see she had
judged him unfairly and, although she was still bitterly hurt by all that
occurred, her anger was now rightly directed towards
Tibald
.
If only she could see him just once more, she would take back the hurt she had
caused and have him look at her with admiration again.

The night was long with only the sounds of life in the camp to keep her
company. The raucous laughter and heavy pacing feet kept her on edge and the
spitting warmth of the fire was visible through thin openings in the wood but
she received none of its comfort. Unable to stay warm, she shivered until
fatigue overcame her and she drifted into a light slumber, resting her aching
back against the wooden wall of the hut, unable to find a more comfortable
position with her hands still bound behind her back. She had tried to free them
but all she achieved for her efforts was an excruciating burning around her
wrists which grated with her every move.

By morning, Evelyn was dispirited, her weary body draining her hope as
the light of dawn streaked through the walls. Her stomach groaned in hunger and
she could smell food cooking on the fire, increasing her discomfort. As if
sensing her loss of courage, Lazarus entered the dwelling, a cruel smirk on his
face.

“Good morrow, my lady, I trust you slept well.”

Evelyn maintained a silence, fearing she would give away her weakness
if she spoke.

“Mayhap I could interest you in some breakfast? You must be hungry and
Cookie has outdone himself this morning.”

Turning her head quickly from him, she kept her mouth firmly shut but
not before her stomach growled, betraying her hunger and releasing a low
chuckle from Lazarus causing her cheeks to flame. Unbinding her ankles, he
hauled her to her feet and dragged her outside, the meagre light filtering
through the forest canopy hurting her eyes after her imprisonment in the
darkness.

It seemed to Evelyn there were unkempt men in every corner of the woods,
emerging from the trees, and every now and then her eyes would pick up yet
another body hidden amongst the thickets. She prayed Gabriel would be
accompanied by plenty of guards, for even with all his brutal strength, he
would be no match for such numbers.

As they enthusiastically tucked into breakfast, sat around a large
fire, Evelyn was deposited on a rough log in lieu of a chair. The wood pricked
through her ripped skirts but the pain seemed of little significance compared
to the burning agony in her shoulders and around her wrists. No-one restrained
her now, most likely believing she would make no efforts to run, having seen
their strength of numbers.

Lazarus stood up and gave one of the men a hearty slap on the back as
the rest looked up from their meal as their leader spoke.

“This day shall be a grand day. With our new wealth we will start o’er
and, with the blood of our enemies, we will have our revenge.”

The men cheered and Evelyn’s ears pricked at his words, a fresh rush of
alarm coursing through her. What did he mean ‘the blood of our enemies’?

He grinned towards her, noticing her look of alarm.

“Oh aye, Lady Evelyn, I mean to spill the blood of your Sir Gabriel.”

She stood sharply, her waning strength barely able to hold her up. “I
will not allow it!”

A rumble of laughter sounded and Lazarus stepped towards her.

“Pray tell me, my lady, how you intend to stop us?” He smirked.

Frantically looking around, distress threatening to overcome her, she squared
her shoulders as best she could. “You will not use me against him. I would
rather die first!”

Evelyn knew with a sudden startling clarity that it was true. She could
not let him die for her and having nearly lost him to the unforgiving depths of
the mere, she knew she could not lose him this time either. She had prayed for
the chance to tell him how she felt before and she prayed again, hoping her own
thoughtlessness would not be the end for them.

“Aye, that can be arranged.” Another pace brought him closer, towering
above her and, panicking, she turned and ran.

She barely made it two steps before his hands closed over her waist,
violently whirling her around. Yanking her towards him, a hand moved up to her
throat closing in around it, his huge hand easily spanning the fragile breadth
of her neck. Her terrified scream was cut off as he squeezed mercilessly, pure
hatred burning in his eyes. Her head pounded as she struggled helplessly in his
grasp, unable to even claw at his powerful grip with her hands still bound.

Dots jumped in front of her eyes, the pounding pain unbearable, and she
knew she was on the verge of oblivion. Her last thought was of Gabriel as the
blackness closed in upon her.

***

They entered the clearing in the forest on horseback, Gabriel leading
the troupe. The trees surrounded them, like old men bent double, leaving little
natural light fluttering through the leaves. On the far edge of the clearing a
beast of a man stood. Lazarus.

The rest of the ragtag group of outlaws fanned out behind him all with
weapons drawn. Gabriel noted several archers amongst them, arrows aimed at
their smaller group.  Gabriel cursed
Tibald
- if
only he had let him bring more men. There were far more of them now and they
would be lucky to get out of this alive. Dismounting his horse, his men
followed suit and they moved cautiously towards the ragged bunch of outlaws.

“You have the money?” Lazarus snarled.

“Show us the woman first.”

 
“Very well.”

He stepped to one side revealing Evelyn, hands bound behind her back,
in a make-shift noose. She hung from a tree, the only thing preventing her from
strangulation was a log placed precariously beneath her feet. Gabriel’s heart
jumped at the sight, as she hang limply, hands bound, propped up by the
sickening touch of a flame haired outlaw. Her eyes were closed and, for one
heart breaking moment, Gabriel thought he was too late and they had already
killed her.

Relief swamped him when her eyes fluttered open. A rag was tied tightly
across her mouth but she cried out when she saw Gabriel, the sound muffled.

Gabriel rushed forward at the sound, it seeming to startle him into
action and Lazarus stepped in front of her once more, sword pointed menacingly
at him.

“Try aught and she’ll be dead before you know it. Bring the money!”

Gabriel calmed himself and stepped back, signalling for the money to be
brought forward. One of the men advanced with a chest, placing it next to
Gabriel’s feet.

“Open it!” Lazarus barked.

Gabriel opened it cautiously, his eyes flicking between Evelyn and the
point of Lazarus’ sword. Gabriel had no qualms about being able to best him in
hand to hand combat but Lazarus was devious, as the scar on his side proved and
he knew he wouldn’t think twice about killing Evelyn in an attempt to divert
his attention.

Lazarus glanced down at the money, a crooked smile across his face. “It
looks like your master is more generous than I thought him to be. I had rather
hoped he would refuse the ransom and we could have a little fun with the lady.”
He chuckled and his men sniggered behind him. “Tom! Ed!” he bellowed. “Take the
money.”

Two of the men stepped forward and grabbed the chest, quickly dividing
its contents between several saddle bags before dumping the chest on the
ground.

Lazarus moved towards Evelyn. “My lady, it has been a pleasure.” He
stroked her cheek with a finger and she shuddered under his touch.

Gabriel seethed at the sight and swore to himself that one day he would
take great pleasure in chopping every one of Lazarus’ putrid fingers off.

As Lazarus made to set off, he took one last glance at Gabriel and
nodded to his men in a signal that he assumed meant for them to leave. He saw a
flash of movement to the side of the clearing and a searing pain hit him in the
shoulder, knocking him to the ground. As he lay stunned in the dirt, agony
shooting down his arm, he was aware of several other shouts of pain and, to
Gabriel’s horror, a muted scream from Evelyn. Pulling himself up, he saw
Lazarus kick the log out from under Evelyn.

Lazarus jumped on his horse and with one last jaunty wave to Gabriel,
galloped off, following his men who were already escaping through the forest.
Gabriel shouted at his men to follow as he ripped the arrow from his shoulder
and ran to where Evelyn was hanging.

The uninjured men took off in pursuit as Gabriel grabbed Evelyn from
behind, attempting to take some of the weight as he struggled to loosen the
cord. He roared with frustration as his shaking hands failed to release her
neck from the noose and he could hear her whimpers of pain.

“
‘Tis
alright,
Evie
,”
he whispered hoarsely. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

His fear riddled mind finally remembered his dagger and he pulled it
out, cutting the rope from the tree whilst keeping her supported with one arm.

They fell down in a heap as the rope gave way. Gabriel quickly cut
through her bonds, releasing her trembling hands and pulled the rope from
around her neck, revealing raw welts encircling it. Evelyn pulled at the filthy
rag across her mouth, finally loosening it and flinging it away. She gasped for
breath as Gabriel took in the state of affairs. Several of his men were
incapacitated by arrow wounds but it looked as though there were no
fatalities.  Gabriel’s blood boiled at his own stupidity.

He had dealt with that piece of filth many times before and should have
known it would not be that easy. He had known with no uncertainty that Lazarus
would not think twice about killing Evelyn but he was obviously banking on
Gabriel’s distraction to buy them time to get away. Lazarus was not stupid
enough to think they would have just handed over the money and let them be on
their merry way.

Evelyn, feeling faint, rested her head back against him as he shouted
commands at the men. Two of them arrived back from the pursuit, dragging an
unfortunate outlaw behind them