Castle of Dreams (41 page)

Meredith picked up the platter, which
contained a mound of chopped meat and vegetables, and followed
Branwen, who carried a wide wooden bowl of steaming cabbage, back
through the screens passage, past the guard Roger, and into the
great hall.

“Turn your face away from the high table, you
don’t want to be recognized,” Branwen hissed over her shoulder.
“After you put down the platter, follow me.”

Meredith stole a quick look at the dais at
the far end of the room. Sir Walter sat there at the head table
with Brian at his right hand and Lady Isabel, resplendent in
expensive gold brocade from Byzantium, on his left. Next to Isabel
was Father Herbert. They all had silver plates and spoons.

Below the dais Meredith saw Geoffrey sitting
at one of the lower tables. She bent her head to keep her face
hidden and concentrated on spooning the stew she carried onto the
hollowed-out slices of four-day-old bread that the common folk used
for plates. When the serving platter was empty she gave it to a
page who was returning to the kitchen with his own empty platter,
and then she looked for Branwen.

She saw her aunt moving casually along
between one of the banqueting tables and the wall, heading toward
that end of the room where the dais was. Meredith knew, from
Branwen’s description of the house and the information they had
just learned on Thomas’s whereabouts, that they would have to get
past the high table and behind it in order to reach the short
staircase leading to the lord’s private quarters. Once there they
would have to find Thomas, free him, and, assuming he could travel,
somehow get him to the cellars and thence to the secret tunnel.

Only now, in the midst of their enterprise,
did Meredith realize just how mad it was. How could they have
imagined they could smuggle Thomas out through the great hall
filled with banqueters, most of whom were Sir Walter’s armed
guards? She looked around at all the eating, drinking, laughing
men, and knew she and Branwen would never succeed. She gasped as
her eyes met Geoffrey’s startled glance, and then she saw Brian
looking straight at her. He looked away at once and said something
to Sir Walter and Lady Isabel that drew their attention to himself.
Meredith, recognizing through her mounting panic that Brian was
giving her an opportunity to reach her destination unnoticed,
hurried along the side wall of the hall, past the dais and into the
tiny antechamber behind it. There was no guard here. Everyone was
either eating or watching Sir Brian’s men, who were all in the
great hall.

Branwen waited on the first step. Putting one
finger on her lips, she began to climb, and Meredith followed her.
At the top of the staircase were the lord’s private bedchamber, and
the solar, built by the manor’s previous Norman owner. Both these
rooms were empty. That left a third door, which was barred from the
outside. Meredith slid the bar back as quietly as possible, and
Branwen pushed open the door.

This close-shuttered room was Lady Isabel’s
wardrobe. Her spicy perfume filled the air. Chests of clothing
lined the walls, shoes were piled in a heap in one corner. A pallet
on the floor showed where the maid Alice slept.

Meredith slipped inside the room and shut the
door behind her while Branwen hurried across the cluttered space to
a bundle of clothing on a second pallet. The bundle moved, and
Thomas sat up as Branwen’s hand came across his mouth to stifle his
cry of surprise.

“Hush, Thomas, don’t make a sound.” Branwen
whispered her caution. “We are here to rescue you. Brian is below.
You must do exactly as we say.”

Thomas nodded, and Branwen took her hand away
from his mouth.

“I’m mighty glad to see you,” Thomas said
softly. “Sir Walter is going to kill me. Branwen, if you can’t
rescue me, you must tell Uncle Guy never to give up Afoncaer to
Walter. Never. Do you hear?”

Meredith was nearly in tears. Even in the
dim, late afternoon light sifting through the shutters, she could
see how white and strained Thomas’s young face was. She knew he
must be terrified of what Walter would do to him, and until a
moment ago he had been completely alone with almost no hope, and
yet he had managed those first, brave words.

“Thomas,” Meredith breathed, “You are a true
knight.”

“Thank you, Lady Meredith. And thank you for
coming to save me.”

“We can’t waste any more time,” Branwen said,
urgency in her softly spoken words. “We must go down to the great
hall. Meredith and I will walk close together and you will walk
between us and the outer wall. It’s very crowded and the acrobats
are about to begin performing. We must hope everyone will be
looking at them, and that anyone who does notice the three of us
will think you are just one of the pages who is helping to serve
dinner.”

Thomas’s large, frightened eyes moved from
Branwen’s face to Meredith’s.

“If they catch you, you will be killed,” he
said.

“If we don’t do this, you will be killed,”
Branwen replied. “It’s too late for worry now. We will walk through
the great hall, out the passage at the lower end, and into the
cellar. I’ll give you the rest of your instructions when we get
there.”

“But Branwen . . ,” Thomas’s whisper was
interrupted by a man’s voice, deeper but no louder than Thomas’s
own.

“I have a better idea,” Geoffrey said, moving
into the room. “I am sorry to startle you, my ladies. Last night
Brian took me into his confidence and swore me to secrecy.”

“He should not have done that,” Branwen
began. Geoffrey held up one hand to silence her.

“Sir Brian’s reasoning was,” he said, “that
there might be fighting in which he could be killed or disabled, or
Sir Walter might kill him by treachery, and he thought someone
trustworthy should know your plan and be able to help you, should
you need it. I think you need help now. Sir Walter’s men are not as
drunk as they appear to be, and they have been ordered to keep a
close watch on the men from Afoncaer. I managed to get out of the
hall alone by pleading nature’s call, but I do not think you two
can smuggle Master Thomas through the hall without being
caught.”

“We have no choice,” Meredith said. “We can’t
leave him here.”

“I said I had a better plan.” Geoffrey was
calmly certain. He handed Thomas a cloak he had been carrying. “Put
this on, lad. You and I will go down the stairs and out the back
door at their foot. We will walk around the back side of the manor
house, where there are no guards. Walter’s men are either in the
great hall or standing watch along the outer palisade.”

“And what shall we do?” Branwen asked, a
little put out at having her plans rearranged by this unfamiliar
male. “And how shall we get Thomas out of Tynant?”

“You and Meredith will simply go back through
the great hall, still pretending to be servants. Carry a platter or
two back to the kitchen as you go. Thomas and I will come in by the
kitchen door. Then, when no one is looking, Thomas will slip
through the door to the cellar steps and meet you in the
storeroom.”

“There is a guard at the cellar door,”
Meredith said. “His name is Roger.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Geoffrey
replied. “Perhaps I can coax a pretty servant to call him into the
kitchen for a treat until Thomas goes through the door.”

“I don’t like this,” Branwen said, scowling
at Geoffrey. “Can we really trust you?”

“Yes, we can,” Meredith declared, and at the
same time Thomas spoke up.

“Lady Branwen, Geoffrey would lay down his
life for my Uncle Guy, or for me.”

“That I would,” Geoffrey said.

“All right,” Branwen agreed reluctantly, “but
we had better not waste any more time. Someone could come into this
room at any moment.”

“Who should go first?” Meredith asked.

“You two go,” Geoffrey directed. “You can
warn us if anyone is coming. Stop at the bottom of the stairs until
Thomas and I are safely out the back door.”

“Thank you, Geoffrey,” Meredith said, putting
a hand on his rough woolen sleeve.

“It is my duty. I will return to the feast
once Thomas is safely in the cellar, in case Sir Brian needs me. I
will see you again when we are all safely out of this place.”

Meredith did not ask what would happen to him
and Brian and the other men from Afoncaer once it was discovered
that Thomas was gone. Brian had not told her or Branwen what his
plan was for that eventuality, but she could guess. If Brian could
not somehow convince Walter he knew nothing about Thomas’s escape,
or manage to trick Walter into letting him and his men go, they
would have to fight, using whatever weapons they could find at
hand. Overpowered by superior numbers, they would surely all be
killed. She went to the door and looked out.

“There is no one in sight,” she reported, and
she and Branwen slipped out and went down the stairs to the first
floor. Branwen stood guard, looking into the great hall, until
Meredith touched her shoulder.

“They are gone,” Meredith said. “It’s time
for us now.” With that, she moved into the hall, took a platter and
a bowl from the arms of a serving woman who was trying to balance a
pile of dishes, smiled at the woman’s thanks, and headed for the
kitchen.

It was a long walk down the length of the
hall, and her fear made it seem even longer. Meredith stayed to one
side, near the wall, and tried not to look out into the roistering
crowd. The acrobats were well into their performance, and as
Branwen had predicted, most people seemed to be intent on watching
them. Meredith saw Branwen pass in front of her holding a tray of
empty dishes and walk around the screen, heading toward the
kitchen. With one last quick glance backward at the feasters,
Meredith followed – and stopped dead as she comprehended what she
had not seen. Someone was missing.

She looked at the head table again. Sir
Walter was talking to Brian, Father Herbert was eating with his
eyes on his food, but Lady Isabel was not there. Meredith started
for the kitchen at a run.

Isabel was standing in the door between the
kitchen and the narrow screens passage, her gold brocade skirts
held gracefully in one hand. She was giving instructions to one of
the cooks. The guard posted at the cellar door was staring at Lady
Isabel with open-mouthed admiration.

There was nowhere to run. If Meredith went
back into the great hall, she would be trapped among Walter’s men;
if she remained where she was, Isabel would turn in a moment and
recognize her. Meredith stood as if rooted, unable to think.

Isabel turned. Her thinly-plucked eyebrows
rose. She started to speak, turned toward the cook, then back to
face Meredith again, and now Meredith saw full knowledge in
Isabel’s deep blue eyes, for directly behind the cook stood
Geoffrey and Branwen, and between them, wrapped in the cloak
Geoffrey had provided, was Thomas.

“Where are you going, Meredith?”

“I have a duty, my lady.” Meredith’s voice
was a raspy whisper. “Please let me do it. Don’t let Thomas be
harmed.” It was the longest moment of Meredith’s life, until Isabel
spoke over her shoulder to the cook.

“Go and do as I have ordered you,” she said,
and the cook went back into the kitchen, pushing past Geoffrey,
Thomas, and Branwen. Isabel saw Meredith looking at the guard by
the cellar door, and called to him, “You, come with me.” The guard
followed Isabel into the great hall. Meredith went limp with
relief.

“You must be quick.” Geoffrey was at the
cellar door, pulling it open and pushing Thomas through it. “Lady
Isabel may have second thoughts and tell her husband, and if she
does not, the guard will surely report what he has seen, in hope of
some reward from Sir Walter. I will go and warn Brian.” Geoffrey
closed the door behind them.

They stood uncertainly on the top step,
letting their eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. Then they groped
their way carefully down the stairs to the cellar passage and
thence to the storeroom. There, while Meredith pulled flint and a
little loose wool from the pouch at her waist and hastily struck
the flint, setting fire to the wool, then lighting the candle from
it. Branwen’s fingers searched along the panels until she found the
planed-off corner and opened the door leading to the tunnel.
Meredith’s candle was burning brightly. She extinguished the tiny
flame in the wool and prepared to enter the passage. Thomas
stopped, looking about doubtfully.

“This is how we got into Tynant,” Meredith
told him. “We go out the same way, my knight. Will you hold my
hand?” She felt Thomas’s slim fingers in hers and heard Branwen bar
the wooden door behind them.

“Now we must hurry again,” Branwen said, “I
am certain Sir Walter will send his men after us, and it won’t take
them long to break down that door once they find it. Go on,
Meredith, you lead the way. I’ll hold the candle.”

They ran, crouching to avoid hitting the low
roof timbers. It seemed no time at all before they heard pounding
noises that told them the storeroom paneling was being tested,
followed by the noise of a wooden door being battered down, then
shouts from behind them, and the clash of steel on steel.

“That’s Brian’s voice.” Branwen halted.

“Aunt,” Meredith urged, “we dare not stop.
Brian would want us to keep going.”

They came to the place where the tunnel wall
had collapsed. Meredith gave Thomas a little push and he scrambled
over the tumbled dirt and rocks.

“Be careful, Meredith, I think this post is
loose,” Thomas said. “I touched it to keep my balance and it
wiggled.” He stretched out a hand to help her through the rough
area.

“Run!” Branwen screamed. “Sir Walter’s men
are here. No! Oh, no!”

The candle Branwen held had fallen, but there
was a sudden blaze of light coming down the tunnel from the manor
house. Meredith saw her aunt stumbling and clutching at her side,
while blood seeped through her fingers. She saw a grinning, bearded
face close to Branwen, saw, just beyond the armed, bearded man,
Brian, with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other.