Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
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.