“There is nothing you can do. You will remain in our bedchamber today.”
She looked concerned.
“Prisoners have escaped and I must see to their capture.”
She prayed with all her heart that those who had escaped remained free, and she prayed harder that the Dark One, if involved, remained safe from harm.
“Will you be long, my lord?” She suddenly wanted to seal their vows and have done with it.
“I cannot say. The servants have been instructed to see to your care. If they do not serve you well, let me know. You are to want for nothing.” He walked to his chest and retrieved a black cloak.
“I am satisfied to rest and wait on your return.”
He walked over to her and grasped her chin. “You learn your place quickly. That pleases me.”
She looked up at him and he shocked her when he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers.
“Until later, wife.” He then marched out of the room swinging his cloak around his shoulders.
She shivered and pulled the robe tightly to her chest. No one but Michael had ever kissed her, and she felt as if she had just betrayed him. Her stomach suddenly rumbled in protest and without warning she lost what food she had eaten.
Servants arrived to take her tray and see to her needs. They appeared upset when they realized she had been ill.
She assured them all was well, the food fine, that she was only a bit sick from her wedding celebration. They sighed in relief and asked if there was anything she needed. She explained that she wished to rest and not be disturbed until well after noon. They left assuring her no one would bother her.
Mary knew she was taking a chance, but with Decimus gone it would be her one opportunity to investigate the fortress. She did not know what she would find, but her search might prove useful to Michael. And she could not sit all day and do nothing.
She quickly dressed in a plain brown skirt and pale yellow linen blouse. She plaited her hair so as not to draw attention and to make herself appear a mere servant. Having not been introduced to most of the staff, and with the size of the fortress, she was certain no one would question her as long as she appeared busy.
With a pile of linens in hand she left the bedchambers and made her way through the halls and down the stairwell. What she hoped to find she could not say. But then Reena had taught her well about being aware and recording her findings, and being she did not possess Reena’s talents for drawing, she would need to record her findings in words once she returned to her room.
She spent a good portion of the morning searching the ground level of the fortress. It held a great hall, a large cooking area, and a substantial pantry. The cook’s helpers were busy salting meats and paid her no heed, though two young servant girls eyed her suspiciously as they strung mushrooms and onions on strings to dry.
Her search alerted her to possible escape routes and to the endless number of servants constantly at work. A stench drew her to heavy wooden doors that opened onto a stairwell. It descended down into what Mary was certain was the depths of hell, the torture chambers. She could not bring herself to investigate, not today. Her stomach already protested at the stench that drifted up. She was sure to be ill if she made her way down where the odor grew more offensive.
Tired and disheartened she hurried to her bedchamber. Only minutes after slipping out of her clothes and into her husband’s robe, servants knocked on her door with the noon fare.
She bid them enter and had them leave the food on the table. Soft cheese, roasted pork, and cider filled the tray, but she ignored the delicious scent and sat looking out the window at the heavy rain.
She thought to be brave and help Michael, but she found she could not investigate the dungeons, the horrible smell forcing her to keep her distance. How would she ever live a life filled with such horror?
After sitting for a spell she picked at the food, and finding herself not hungry she went to the bed to rest. It was well into the afternoon when she woke with a start. She heard shouts and loud voices and instantly assumed Decimus had returned.
She hurriedly dressed in the dark green tunic and shift, her hair still plaited and her eyes still droopy with sleep when she descended the stairs to the hall. She heard the bravado in the warriors’ voices. They obviously were pleased about something, and she hoped it was not because they had found the escaped prisoners.
Mary entered the hall and came to an abrupt halt. There on his knees before a circle of warriors was Roarke, beaten and badly bruised and bleeding. She almost rushed forward and demanded that they release him, but she held her tongue knowing her actions would prove more disastrous than beneficial.
Roarke appeared to think the same for he caught sight of her out of the corner of his bruised eye, almost swollen shut, and shook his head.
“My husband?” she questioned the warriors, though no one in particular. They all seemed too concerned and pleased with their capture of Roarke.
“Delayed,” one man answered as if she were unimportant.
“How long?” she queried.
“As long as it takes,” another barked. “He hunts the Dark One and will soon have him.”
Mary looked to Roarke with eyes that begged him to tell her Michael was safe.
He mouthed a word that none noticed but her. Never.
They would never capture the Dark One and the thought relieved her, though Roarke’s capture worried her. She could not let him be tortured and made to suffer unspeakable cruelty. She had to find a way to set him free.
“My husband ordered you to wait upon him.” Mary spoke with a firmness that startled the warriors. “Remember well his orders; he does not condone disobedience.” She hoped his orders were consistent with what had transpired last night. It seemed that nothing was to be done to prisoners until his arrival.
She hoped her reminder would cause them to leave Roarke alone in a cell, maybe then she could find a way to free him and keep him from suffering before Decimus returned.
One warrior spoke up. “We know well our duties.”
“Then see that they are done,” she said sharply.
The men were uncertain how to react to her authoritative manner. They did, however, know what Decimus expected of them, and the dire consequences of any action that did not meet with his approval.
They hauled Roarke off to the dungeon with mutterings and murmurs that they did not wish her to hear.
She returned to her room to think, and every step of the way wished she could contact Michael. Once in the chair by the window she shook her head. It would not be wise for Michael to enter the fortress, though no doubt he had on other occasions. The man simply could enter and exit any building at will. She often wondered how he did it.
Decimus was bound to return soon, once he realized that the Dark One had escaped him yet again. He would probably be in a rage and who better to take his anger out on than a man associated with the Dark One.
She had to set Roarke free.
That would mean descending into the dungeon, but Decimus’s wife would not be granted permission to enter.
But a servant lad baring food for the guards would.
She could don a cap to cover her blond hair, wear a loose shirt and jacket to hide her breasts, and smudge dirt on her face. But where to get the clothes?
When she had been down in the cook area she had wandered out a door and noticed horses stabled close by. There were bound to be stable boys who made their home with the animals. She could find the garments she needed there.