Connie Mason (25 page)

A knight embraces the concept of good conquering evil
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Drake crept up the staircase and snatched the torchlight from its holder. He quickly retraced his steps to the dungeon and made his way to the stone blocking the tunnel entrance. He studied the stone door from every angle. When he was a lad he had found the strength to push the stone aside. He hoped he was not too weakened to open it now. He delved into his memory and recalled that when he had shoved the stone a certain way it had pivoted inward. Desperate to remove Raven and himself from Waldo’s clutches, Drake set his shoulder to the stone and pushed with all his strength.

Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as he strained and pushed, but he made little headway. The stone pivoted inward a few inches, but the opening was still too small to let him pass through. Driven by determination, Drake took a deep breath and put his shoulder to the stone. Miraculously the door pivoted another few inches. Would it be enough?

Sucking in a breath, Drake angled his body into the opening. He squeezed through to the other side with only a few bloody scrapes. Drake paused, aware that if his escape was to succeed, he had to close the stone door from the inside, making it look as if he had disappeared into thin air. Should the entrance be left open for Waldo to discover, his brother would be hard on his heels. Holding the torchlight aloft, Drake examined the stone and decided that it could be pivoted back into place by pushing in the opposite direction. The mechanism was unique, Drake discovered, and he
credited the master stonemason who had designed the castle for creating such an ingenious device.

Drake mustered his strength and shoved and pushed until the heavy stone slowly but surely pivoted back into place. Exhausted but elated, he followed the narrow tunnel to where it forked into three separate tunnels. Ahead of him, steps carved from stone angled upward to form one tunnel. A second tunnel curved to the right and the third angled to the left. Pushing aside cobwebs and ignoring small furry animals scattering before him, Drake paused a moment to catch his breath. Disaster would follow should he take the wrong tunnel and barge into the garrison, and he was not ready yet to follow the tunnel that led to freedom. Not without Raven.

Drake closed his eyes and tried to recall his forays through the tunnels all those years ago when he was a lad trying to prove his courage. Suddenly it all became clear. The stone stairs ahead of him would take him to the solar. He set his foot on the bottom step and slowly ascended.

Raven stared out the window, her mood as bleak as the darkness that claimed her mind. One more day was all that remained before Waldo came to claim her body. She knew it was a sin to wish for another’s death, but she sincerely hoped he would choke on his meat tonight. She had finished her evening meal and suffered through a visit from Lark, but sleep eluded her.

A strange tension was building inside her. She had been on edge all day, as if something extraordinary was going to happen, and she wanted to be prepared. She had not undressed, nor had she brushed out her braids. She could only sit and wait for only God knew what. The silence was oppressive. No sounds from the hall below filtered through the thick stone walls to the solar.

Raven let out a sigh. She was a prisoner in her own home.
She felt so helpless . . . so utterly defeated. The one thing she was certain of was the babe growing inside her. Signs had begun to appear. Her breasts were very tender, and though she had not vomited, her stomach was queasy in the mornings and she could not eat the food Lark brought to break her fast. The illness usually passed within a few hours and her appetite was restored.

Raven’s mind drifted to the child she would bear Drake. She smiled wistfully, picturing a tiny replica of Drake, or a small image of herself. She was so engrossed in her mental wanderings that she paid scant heed to the scraping sounds coming from behind the tapestry-draped west wall. Then suddenly she became aware of another presence in the chamber. She whirled and glanced toward the door. It was still closed. She almost laughed aloud at the notion that the castle was haunted. Then the candle flickered, as if stirred by a breeze. No breeze came through the windows, and Raven wondered if she were imagining things.

The hair prickled on the back of her neck and the breath caught in her throat as she slowly turned and saw him. Flesh and blood, no ghost. Though his flesh was bruised and battered, he was the most glorious sight Raven had ever seen.

She could not move; she could only stand there and gape at him. “Drake . . . How . . . ?”

He stared at her a long moment before reaching for her hand. “You shall see how very shortly. Come, we must leave immediately.”

“But Drake—”

“Hurry, my love; we have little time. Once they learn I am not in the dungeon, the keep will be swarming with men. We have but a few hours’ head start before the search spreads beyond the castle walls.”

Suddenly Raven found her tongue. “Drake, oh, thank God you are all right. I have been beside myself with worry.” She launched herself into his arms.

He held her close. “Thinking about what Waldo was doing to you drove me nearly insane,” he said, hugging her as if he never wanted to let her go. He gave her a quick kiss, then gently set her away from him as he searched her face. “Are you well? Has Waldo hurt you?”

“I am fine. For once in his life Duff stood up to Waldo and would not let him hurt me. But . . . I fear I would not have been able to hold Waldo off much longer. He is . . . anxious to consummate our marriage.”

“Over my dead body,” Drake said with a snarl. “We must leave immediately. Bring a cloak and whatever else you can carry in your pockets.”

Raven grabbed her cloak from a hook on the wall, stuffed a comb and brush in her pocket, and proclaimed herself ready. She had no idea how they were going to leave the heavily guarded keep without being caught, but she trusted Drake implicitly. By some miracle he had escaped the dungeon, and she wondered what other miracles he could perform. Clutching his hand tightly, she followed close on his heels, puzzled when he halted before a dusty old tapestry that had covered the wall for as long as she could remember.

Raven had no idea what Drake found so interesting about the tapestry. But knowing Drake as she did, she was not unduly surprised by anything he did. She
was
shocked, though, when Drake pulled aside the tapestry, revealing a narrow wooden door she had never known existed. The door was ajar, and she watched with bated breath as he widened the opening, motioned her through, and quickly followed. The door scraped once in protest when Drake pushed it shut, and she remembered hearing that same sound earlier and ignoring it.

“I brought the torchlight from the dungeon,” Drake said as he removed the light from the iron ring he had found in the wall. “Do not let go of my hand; I will guide you.”

“How did you know about the tunnel? Do you know where
you are going?” Raven asked, eyeing with misgiving the cobwebs blocking their path.

“I explored these tunnels as a young lad and had nearly forgotten about them. My mind was not clear when I arrived at Chirk, but when I regained my senses I recalled exploring the dungeon years earlier and finding the tunnel. I did not tell the other lads about it because I wanted to savor something only I knew about. When I left, I thought no more about these tunnels. I wanted to forget Chirk and everything associated with it.”

Raven shuddered when something skittered across her feet. “Where are we going?”

“There is a side tunnel leading off the main tunnel. If memory serves, it travels beneath the moat to a wooded hillside beyond.”

His explanation offered Raven little comfort. She had lived at Chirk all of her life and never knew a tunnel existed. By now it could have collapsed, or might end nowhere. “What if the tunnel no longer exists as you knew it? Many years have passed since you last explored it.”

“I will think of something,” Drake promised. He stopped suddenly and she bumped into him. “The tunnel to freedom lies just ahead. I wish we had horses waiting for us, but ’twas not possible. I know not how long we have before Waldo sends out his men to search the forest and surrounding area.”

“Where are we going?”

“First I will take you to Granny’s house; then I will return to Windhurst. I must see to my holdings.”

“Think you Waldo will come to Windhurst?” Raven asked breathlessly. The tunnel had grown increasingly dank and foul, making breathing difficult. She thought they must be under the moat now, for water seeped from the walls and puddled on the dirt floor. The hem of her tunic and the soles of her leather shoes were soaked. She gathered her cloak more closely around her, grateful for its warmth. Except for
his tattered gambeson, Drake had no protection against the chill.

Drake did not respond to Raven’s question, for they both knew Waldo would come. Besides, Drake was far too intent upon guiding them safely out of the tunnel. He was on uncertain ground now. The air was damp and thin and he feared the torch would go out, plunging them into darkness. He grasped Raven’s hand tightly.

“Be careful,” he admonished. “ ’Tis slippery.”

“How much farther?”

“ ’Tis difficult to recall after so many years, but I believe the escape route is a long one. It travels beneath both the inner and outer bailey and the moat.”

Drake halted abruptly. Raven slammed into him. “What is it?”

He raised the torchlight, groaning in dismay when he saw an obstruction blocking the tunnel. Over the years, water had eroded the walls and roof of the portion of tunnel that ran beneath the moat, and a pile of dirt and stones now blocked the narrow path.

“ ’Tis blocked,” Drake said, trying not to sound as grim as he felt.

“Can we not dig through it?”

“I know not,” Drake said uncertainly. He examined the debris carefully from every angle and was heartened to see that the tunnel was only partially blocked. “We are in luck,” he crowed. “Look.” He stared intently at the pile of dirt and rock blocking their path. “See?” he cried excitedly, pointing toward a space near the ceiling. “If I clear away some of the dirt, mayhap we can climb through to the other side.”

“What if the tunnel is blocked farther along?”

He pulled her close and kissed her hard. “It will not be blocked,” he whispered against her lips. “We have to believe that. And if it is, we will return to the keep and I will think of some other way. Do you trust me?”

Despite her fear, she would trust him with her life. “Aye, I trust you. I will help you dig.”

“Nay. Hold the torchlight for me.” He handed her the light and began clawing at the dirt near the top of the pile. Inch by painful inch the opening grew, until Drake cleared a space large enough to scrape through.

“ ’Tis done,” Drake said as he stood aside for Raven to see. “I will go first and explore a bit. Hand me the torch when I am safely on the other side. If the tunnel ahead is safe, I will return for you.”

She murmured a protest and he pulled her against him. “You said you trusted me, Raven. I am asking you to trust me one more time. I
will
come back for you.”

“I believe you, Drake. Hurry, please.” She shivered. “I do not like it here.”

Drake touched his lips to hers in tender farewell, then scooted up the pile of debris and crawled through the space he had made. He dropped to the other side and found his footing on solid ground.

“Push the torch through the opening,” he called to Raven. “Careful; ’tis the only light we have.”

Stretching to her toes, Raven passed the torch through to him.

“I am going to scout ahead now, Raven. Do not move.”

“I . . . I will stay right here,” Raven promised.

Drake knew she was frightened and found one more thing to admire in her. Among her other fine qualities, she had the courage of a lion. There were so many things to love about Raven that Drake was momentarily stunned by his new-found discovery.

Did he love Raven?

The notion had entered his head before, but he had always found reasons to disregard his feelings. This time he did not search for excuses; he merely accepted the inevitable.
He loved a married woman, one who could not legally share his life . . . unless Waldo were dead.

Drake pushed on through the tunnel and, finding no more obstructions, he retraced his steps to where Raven was waiting.

“Drake! Thank God. I saw the light through the opening.”

“Aye, I am here. ’Tis safe for us to go on. Can you climb through on your own?” He smiled when he saw her head appear in the opening and reached for her. “Give me your hand.”

Drake grasped her hand, taking surprising comfort from the small, soft hand clinging to his. With little effort, he pulled her through to the other side. She clambered to her feet, refusing to release his hand.

“The way is clear up ahead,” Drake said.

They continued on. The tunnel narrowed, but they were able to squeeze through. The air was somewhat better now, not as damp or humid. The walls no longer seeped water and the puddles beneath their feet were gone.

“We must be on the other side of the moat,” Drake said. “ ’Tis not far now.”

Drake had no idea what to expect at the end of the tunnel. Obviously no one had used this tunnel since he had explored it years earlier, and mayhap it had never been used. To his knowledge, Castle Chirk had never been under attack. King Henry I, the savage conqueror of Wales, had ordered Chirk built during his reign to guard the borderlands against invasion by Welshmen. At that time he created the earldom of Chirk. That made the castle over one hundred years old.

“I smell fresh air!” Raven cried excitedly.

Drake had begun to notice the subtle changes himself. The stale air was interspersed with drafts of cool, fresh air.
“We should find the exit soon,” he said, encouraged by the signs pointing to the end of their ordeal.

Moments later they stumbled into a cave. A shaft of moonlight speared through the opening, and relief nearly overwhelmed Drake.

“I know not what we will find outside,” Drake warned. “Wait here; I will go first.”