Page 89 of An Earl for the Archeress

She heard the scuttling of another rat. Madness overtook her and she grabbed the chamber pot, recently emptied, waiting for the critter to arrive into the streak of light from the arrow slit. It finally did so, searching for her bare feet, and she slammed the pot down upon it hard, pummeling it until it lay dead.

She shuddered, unable to scoop up the carcass to dump out the slit just yet to send it to its watery grave like she had the others. God, she missed Robert. Her heart ached. She kicked the rat away from her sight and reached her hands into her skirts to feel Robert’s necklace and ring, items she had managed to hide. Her hair, stringy and knotted, fell into her face once more. She envisioned his smile at her love of the jewelry and felt him caress her cheek, felt him unfasten her gown…

No. She couldn’t go there. Thinking of the beauty of their wedding night would fill her with a sorrow and longing so strong she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Just the thought caused a cry to well in her throat. She strangled it, throwing her face in her hands, but felt a tumble of sobs suddenly pour forth.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she fell to keening. She was a blasted damsel in distress with no rescuer. Robert’s fate must have been horrid, for he hadn’t come, which meant he was still incarcerated or dead. Tipping over on the floor, her head wedged between the wall and the chamber pot, she hugged her arms around her knees and breathed out, giving up, shivering, sweating, filthy, and forced her eyes to stay closed.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Robert refolded King William’s orders, handing them back to the Scottish captain who stood before a contingent more than one hundred strong, extending like a ribbon down the trail. From their vantage, they could see Castle Ayr below them, an impenetrable structure, perched atop a cliff within a firth creating a natural moat around it. Waves lapped beneath it and snow-capped hills surrounded it to the north. It was an impressive fortress with command over the water and land.

“So King William approves of my marriage to Harold Crawford’s daughter?” Robert asked.

“His Majesty believes it a good suit for one of Scotland’s noble daughters,” replied the man, draped in a thick tartan plaid pulled up and over his chainmail haubergeon spanning his chest. “He sends men to assist in the recovery of your wife, upon reading King Richard the Lionheart’s royal missive, and to secure the castle grounds under his command until a new sheriff can be appointed, for if His Lairdship Harold Crawford is indeed stripped of his title, ’twill be his hereditary claim no more.”

Robert furrowed his brow, his beard thick, his hair blowing free from the tie he had used to secure it at his nape. He glanced to Jonathan, then Will, then back at the commander.

“But Harold Crawford has another daughter. Castle Ayr is her home. Where will she go?”

The commander shrugged. “It remains to be seen if Lady Madeline will be appointed another residence, brought to court, or if she’ll be allowed to stay at Ayr with the new sheriff who would act in loco parentis.”

Robert rubbed his beard. Mariel would want her sister to come south with them, not languish as the ward of another man with no telling who that man might be. God, just thinking her name sent his pulse racing as it had the whole of the journey, fearful of what he might discover when he found her, and he took a deep breath. Mariel would be fine, he told himself for the millionth time. She would be well, and they would bring Madeline home to Huntington with them and that would be that.

They rode hard, coming down out of the hills, avoiding the thistles and nettles when possible, and continued on as the sun set. Approaching the natural stone promontory leading to the barbican, the harsh winter winds blew off the waters and ruffled his fur cloak. He took up his reins to join the commander at the front of the column of soldiers. Crawford’s men watched warily from the walls as the main portcullis was dropped to deny them entry to the castle yards.

“Open the gates, upon order of the king!” called the commander, holding out the royal seal for all to see. “Laird Harold Crawford, Sheriff of Ayrshire, has been incarcerated! King William resumes guardianship of the castle and grounds until further notice!”

The guards over the portcullis obliged, lifting the gate back up. Robert cantered beneath the gatehouse as the chains clanked. He was greeted by armed guards watching warily, their arms presented and ready to engage, if needed.

“We’re hereby given permission to search the castle for Lady Mariel, the daughter of Laird Crawford and wife to Laird Robert of Huntington in England!” the commander continued, and Robert nodded a curt greeting, though his face remained stern. These men might consider him an enemy, if they retained loyalty to Crawford.

Just then, a woman hastened down the steps of the keep. She looked like Mariel, but her hair was whiter blonde, her body slight and delicate, and her eyes more watery gray, less green.

“Are you Lady Madeline?” Robert addressed her.

“I am, sire,” she replied softly, giving a polite and practiced curtsy.

“Pray tell, where is your sister?” Robert beseeched, swinging down from his horse and striding to her.

Madeline’s voice remained delicate, her manner demure, but in her eyes, Robert saw distress and fear. “My faither ordered me away upon his arrival home. She was taken to the dungeons at first, but now, naybody knows where she is. I am assured she survives.”

She looked up into Robert’s eyes. Tears launched over her lids and cascaded down her cheeks. She folded her hands together, though Robert noticed her whitened knuckles.

“Please. My faither was in such a rage and I too much a coward to defy him. She is married to you?”

He nodded, reaching to take her hands. “Indeed, we eloped. She’s my wife of merely five sennights and was stolen from me. I must find her. Let’s look for her together.”

“I have searched the whole of the castle through and through to no avail. But I’m nay allowed on the parapet, the curtains, or the various yards. There are many a storage chamber and guard tower.”

His brow furrowed with puzzlement. She bowed her head demurely and lowered her voice. “Please. My faither has eyes on me at all times, whether he is here or nay. If I break his command, I will surely be punished. I risk Mariel’s safety as well as my own just by smuggling her food.”

Anxiety threatened to break Robert’s resolve and he clenched his shaking fists, but he nodded once, turning to Crawford’s soldiers.

“If any of you know Mariel’s whereabouts, I bid you cooperate and lead me to her!” No one moved. “She could be in a serious state!” he urged, though it soon became obvious no man knew, or no man would talk.

Jonathan joined his side. “Crawford has either threatened them, too, or they truly don’t know.”

“Horse shite. Somebody knows,” Robert spat, folding his arms, then turned to King Richard’s contingent. “Disperse, men! We investigate!”