But first she would need to make certain the servants would not look in on her. If they discovered her gone, the fortress would be in an uproar.
A servant girl returned for Mary’s food tray just as she finalized the plans in her head. Would her idea work? She could not dwell on her plan failing. She had to take the chance or Roarke would suffer, or perhaps die.
“I am feeling rather poorly,” Mary said with a heavy sigh.
The young girl looked nervous. “Should I send the healer?”
Mary had not thought the fortress to have a healer. People suffered here, they did not heal.
“It is not necessary,” Mary assured her. “Little sleep is the cause and I can see to taking care of that. I intend to sleep. Please make sure no one disturbs me. When I wake I will send for you.”
The servant obliged with a nod. “I will let no one disturb your rest.”
“I appreciate your help,” Mary said, relieved part of her plan was going smoothly.
Mary waited, giving the servant girl time to return downstairs, then she opened the door and seeing no one there, she slipped out. She had to walk through the kitchen and she did not know if the servant girl would be there. She could not take a chance and be recognized.
In the great hall, she picked up a jug and carried it high so that it partially hid her face. She then took a deep breath, told herself to be confident, and entered the kitchen. She made her way around servants, all of them busy preparing food. With the size of the fortress there were many mouths to feed and that meant all day preparing food.
She was grateful for the frantic activity. She slipped by without notice and once outside, she placed the jug in the corner. She would return for it. It contained mead and the guards would certainly enjoy a swig.
The stable was busy, several young lads attending to the returned warriors’ horses. She kept to the dark corners of the stable, much like the Dark One did when he was in a room. She did not want to be noticed; this was not a good place for her to be.
She made her way carefully to a small room to her right just beyond the entrance. Once inside she was grateful to see that it contained clothes, boots, caps, and cloaks for the lads use.
She wasted not a minute in gathering what she needed and made her way out of the stable. With all the activity no one noticed her, and she scooped up the jug of mead as she hurried to a large door around the side and to the back of the stable.
She had discovered the location of the door that morning and saw that it exited into the inner courtyard of the fortress. Where she would go from there, once she freed Roarke, she was not certain. But together they would figure something out.
She changed in the shadows, rolling her own clothes into a bundle to leave by the door. She would change again on her return. After tucking her braid firmly beneath the knit cap and smudging her face and hands with dirt, she grabbed the jug of mead and headed for the dungeon.
No one paid her mind and she was pleased. Her disguise worked well, giving her more confidence in her plan. Doubts itched at her, though, when she descended into the dungeon; and the stench turned her stomach and it refused to settle.
I will not be sick. I will not.
She chanted the words over and over in her head.
It was a dark and dismal place, torchlight being her only guiding step. She heard the rattle of chains and the clang of a hammer on metal. She swallowed back her fear and proceeded down the dank hall until it suddenly widened considerably and cells appeared on both sides of her.
Small openings with metal bars that sat high in the doors were the only way of seeing the prisoner within.
“What business have you here, lad?”
She turned, startled by the strong voice and even more startled to see Edmond, the man her husband had spoken to upon their arrival. He was more wide than tall. He looked as if he did nothing but eat, so large was his size. His nose was flat, his head bald and his face dripping with sweat. He held a metal bar in one hand, the pointed tip glowing red with fire.
“Mead,” she said in a low gruff voice, holding the jug out to him.
He eyed her suspiciously.
She had expected reluctance. Decimus had trained his men well. They were not to trust under any circumstances.
She stood tall, her big jacket concealing her breasts. “I will be a warrior for Decimus one day, and I came to see where I will bring the sinners I will capture.”
Edmond braced the metal rod against the wall and reached out to take the jug from the lad. “You sound a strong one.”
“I am, nothing will prevent me from succeeding with my plans.”
“Good,” he said and wiped his arm across his mouth after having taken a swig. “Have some.” He held the jug out to her.
Mary took the jug, held it to her pursed lips, and let the mead flow down her chin. She returned the jug to him and wiped her chin on her sleeve.
“You are a good lad.”
“Where are the warriors?”
“Celebrating with the women,” Edmond said with a grin and took another swig.
Mary had no doubt Decimus would frown on such a sinful celebration, so they enjoyed themselves in his absence.
This was something she had not expected but could work to her advantage.
“They do not include you?”
He was swigging hard on the mead, the liquid dribbling down his thick chin. “Someone needs to watch the prisoner.”
“There is only one?”
He nodded. “The others escaped, but not this one. He will suffer.” He pointed to the metal rod and smiled at the still glowing tip.
Mary thought she would retch. The man actually appeared as if he took pleasure in torturing people. She had to get Roarke out of here. Edmond looked eager to set to work on the new prisoner.
“I will watch the prisoner for you.”
Edmond glared at her. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“I am to be a warrior for Decimus.” She spoke as if he insulted her. “I will serve my lord well and do him proud.”
Edmond gave a firm nod. “You will make a fine warrior.”
“Then give me this chance to prove myself and for you to enjoy yourself.” Mary grinned as she hoped a man would.
He laughed and snorted. “A good lad you are. Let no one near him.” He pointed to the cell at the end and to a key ring hanging on a peg on the wall beside the cell. “I will not be long.”
“I do not mind guarding the prisoner.”
Edmond grinned, his look pure evil. “I get my pleasure in many ways, the best being from the screams of the prisoners.” He laughed, the jug firm in his hand as he walked off and disappeared into the dark corridor.
Mary forced back the bile that rose in her throat and hurried to grab the keys on the wall. She fumbled with them, her hands trembling horribly.
“Roarke,” she said, “I am here to free you.”
Chapter 29
“Mary?” Roarke asked emerging from the dark cell.
“Hurry, we do not have much time,” she urged and reached out to take his hand.
He looked more bruised and battered than when she had seen him only a couple of hours ago.
“Are you able to walk?”
“I will walk, do not fear.” But he clung to her, and she squeezed his hand to let him know she was there for him.
“We must get out of here before Edmond returns.”