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She let him hurry her to the northern side of the bailey, which backed up to the cliffs below. This portion of the castle was generally deserted, used mostly for storage: old barrels were stacked by the wall and two or three broken-down carts stood ready to have someone finish the job and turn them into something useful again. The old bakehouse listed sideways and now housed small scurrying creatures instead of bake fires.
“Walter, what is it…?” she asked in a faintly complaining tone.
“Someone to see you,” he said, drawing up at the little postern gate that opened just over the cliffs.
“See me?” she said in surprise.
“From the village.”
Originally built to allow small parties of occupants to leave without being detected during sieges, the gate led to an extremely narrow pathway, rocky and slick with sea spray, that scaled down the hillside toward the village. Occasionally, at great need, villagers still used it, when they wished to reach the castle quickly, as it was a much more direct route. It was also much more treacherous. Villagers used it only at times of great need.
With a chill of fear, she hurried to it. Walter swung the door open and hurried her through.
As he shut the gate behind them, two English soldiers stepped in from each side.
She stared for an uncomprehending second. Then they grabbed her, wrapped her up, gagged her, and carried her off to the army camp. Walter hurried behind.
*
“I AM SORRY to have been so underhanded in my methods of inviting you up to visit me, my lady,” said Captain Ludthorpe as Katarina was escorted into his tent. “But it was imperative that I speak with you.”
Still reeling from the capture and Walter’s duplicity, Katarina took the cushioned seat Captain Ludthorpe offered. “Some men send messages,” she told him weakly.
He laughed.
The soldiers had taken her almost all the way to the village to avoid being spotted by the Rardove garrison lining the walls. They were met by a few Irish spies who, it turned out, Walter had enlisted, men who had either no interest in joining a rebellion, or great interest in the coin the soldiers poured into their hands. In any event, the deed was done, and under the disguising cover they provided, Katarina was taken to the army camp.
“The captain merely wishes to speak with you, my lady,” Walter kept assuring her as he hurried along behind. “Hear your petition, and put his to you.”
That, and the gag in her mouth, kept her from calling out. For if this was true, and this captain was indeed intent on negotiation, perhaps she could speak to him.
In any event, she was utterly unable to resist.
Captain Ludthorpe stepped toward a small table. “Yes, well, your clerk indicated it might be difficult to ascertain your true feelings on the matter while inside the castle. He offered to assist me.”
“I can see that. When did he make this offer?”
“Whisky delivery,” Ludthorpe told her with appallingly large smile, and lifted a glass in her direction. “Aodh had it sent out. May I offer you some?”
“No,” she said as he held up the glass. ”But I would very much like a moment alone with my steward. And a pistol.” She had indeed underestimated Walter: his capacity for trickery and subterfuge.
He shook his head. “In truth, my lady, Walter has only your best interests at heart.”
“I very much doubt that. Where is he?”
“We…have him now.” There was something vaguely satisfying about the pause before he said that. Perhaps Ludthorpe did not like Walter much either. “In any event, your clerk felt your head has been turned. And I could not be sure Aodh spoke true, when he said you were fully his.”
She held her tongue as the commander sat opposite her in another of his little camp chairs, cup in hand. For a moment, they regarded each other, then he dropped his elbows to his knees, leaning forward, and stared hard at her.
“It would be a most odd development, my lady, for you to have turned. You’ve always been exceptionally loyal to the Crown. Her Highness was quite taken aback by the news. I counseled that we wait, and speak to you directly, that the news we’d been hearing might not be true.”
“News?”
“From Bermingham, for one.”
“That snake,” she snapped. “He bears only ill news.”
“Yes, well, if that is all the news there is to bear, one is rather at a loss, is one not?” He peered at her, perhaps waiting for her to indicate she was bearing good news.
