Moving around to face him, Robert patted Brant's cheek, giving him another broad grin. Brant in turn, drew his head away, giving Robert a frosty glare.
"And is an explanation for your current course of action, forthcoming, or am I to be kept guessing?" Brant questioned in irritation, at Robert's apparent amusement over what was for him, a distressing situation.
The group of riders moved up the road a short distance, leading the two bound captives, before leaving the road on a path, that took them to a clearing in the woods. A wagon waited there, with what appeared to be a couple of peasants.
Here, Brant and his squire, were assisted off their mounts, and forced into a sitting position, in the wagon. As the captives feet were bound, Brant observed that Robert still wore an ear to ear grin, as though this were some great lark.
He glared at the knave, and gritted out, "I believe I will have to kill you for this, Robert."
Robert replied, still smiling, "Aye, my friend, when you fully understand, the situation you now find yourself in, you are likely to desire my demise. Yet, I do hope in time, you will realize that the situation is quite dire. And that this course of action, seems to be warranted."
As he finished speaking, he grasped Brant's head, tipping it back firmly, against the top of the wagon. The peasant woman took a wine skin, and poured a small amount of bitter tasting wine into his mouth, as his "friend" forced him to swallow most of it. To his side, he noted that his squire was enduring a similar fate. Brant's rage at his friend's seeming betrayal, exploded into a string of vile aspersions, that were silenced by a gag, placed between his lips.
"Rest well this night, my friend," Robert said, as he pushed Brant to lay down in the wagon.
He could see that his squire was quickly losing consciousness. He closed his eyes, as a similar drowsiness engulfed him. Yet, before he was full asleep, Brant was sure he heard someone say, "Let's get moving. The Lady awaits her groom."
Brant's head hurt as he struggled to wake up. He wondered if he had over indulged in drink, last night. Slowly, his memory returned. His mind drifted through the details of being kidnapped, bound, and drugged. Several times, he recalled being jostled about in a wagon, as he fought for consciousness, only to have some vile tasting liquid, poured down his throat. How long had he been kept drugged?
Although he was no longer bound, he resisted moving, or giving indication of waking. Cautious now, he opened one eye slightly, to assess his surroundings. While the bed he lay on was comfortable, the wall that faced him, had the look of a dungeon. He listened intently, to discern if someone might be nearby, watching for him to wake. A scuffling sound indicated that that was probably the case.
Brant remained still, feigning sleep for several more minutes, to let all feeling of drowsiness pass. He wanted to have his wits about him, if he was about to face his captors. Feeling himself fully awake, he opened his eyes, to better assess his accommodations.
The cell around him had three stone walls, one of which had a large barred window, high up on it, through which bright sunlight streamed in. The fourth wall was wooden, with the outline of a solid door, and several small, eye level, closed peepholes in it. Brant rose, and moved to the foot of the bed. There, he discovered an open barred door into an adjoining cell. That cell contained a small table with two chairs, and a bath tub. Here, a barred door had been built into the wooden wall, with a solid wood door, that was now closed, on the outside. A narrow slot in the wall, allowed for a tray to be passed into the cell, and placed onto a shelf near the table.
Obviously, a person could be held here indefinitely, with little chance of escape. As Brant eyed the bath tub, he began to suspect, his captors were prepared to hold him for some time. He tamped down a sudden feeling of apprehension, and sat down in one of the chairs. Willing himself to remain calm, he waited to find out what the kidnapper's intensions were. Whatever they wanted, Brant was sure if he survived, someone was going to pay dearly, for this.
Robert sat with Sir Richard in the hall, as they relieved their thirst, with tankards of ale, just past midday. Richard was mulling the best approach, to the business he must soon undertake, when Justin entered the hall.
As he drew near, Justin said, "Our guest has roused from his slumber."
The three men exchanged uncomfortable looks.
Lady Isabel interjected from nearby, "Do you think you can convince him, of the grave risks, of his war with Avery? Even fast asleep, the hulking lout has an arrogant look about him."
Richard and Robert gave her a questioning look.
Justin asked, "Are you having second thoughts, My Lady?"
"Do you kind gentlemen have a better course, to ease my desperate plight?" Isabel countered. When all shook their heads in the negative, she continued, "Then I trust you can make our guest see the logic, in shifting power, without so much bloodshed, as current conditions make likely. Particularly, his and my, conditions. For we cannot see to the welfare of our people, are we murdered by Avery, as our sires were. Know you Robert, I rely on your council, as to the decent, trustworthy, nature of your friend."
"He would not beat, or kill a woman. Certainly not to increase his own power," Robert assured her.
He did not say that his friend was near as arrogant as the King, and had a temper close to rivaling Lucifer. He knew the Lady was likely to suffer the brunt of that temper, and he doubted how a small, seemingly gentle young girl, would fair. In fact, Robert had no idea, what his friend might do. He was not aware of any female, who had ever tried to cross the knight.
Robert could not recall Brant, ever showing an interest in any female, that would be considered suitable, as a wife. To his knowledge, Lord Eric, Brant's sire, had resisted pushing the idea of a betrothal, for some unknown reason. However, Robert did not want Isabel's resolve to waiver, when he himself, was so close, to acquiring what he most desired.
“There is of course, the less desirable alternative plan that you wed me, My Lady. However, with your holdings triple mine, I would then become a gold-digger,” Justin said, with a chuckle. “That would put you at odds with both Brant, and Avery, with no guarantee of stopping their war. You know, if Brant can be brought to comply with this, he is your best option.”
"Well, My Lady, do I go to our guest, and inform him of the terms of his release, from our hospitality?" Richard asked. "Know you, once it is done, there will be no turning back."
The Lady closed her eyes, and apprehensively massaged a finely arched brow, before replying with a simple, resigned, "Aye, My Lord."
Brant sat on one of the two chairs, eyeing the closed door into his cell, as he seethed over his friend's betrayal. He had thought about voicing his ire, that anyone would dare treat a great Lord, with vast holdings such as himself, so. However, having no idea why, he had been brought here, or who was involved, he could not be certain to what extent, they had earned his wrath. It would not do, for anyone involved in this plot, to escape his vengeance. He was certain, that if they believed he was at their mercy, all parties would be revealed to him. Then, he could formulate an appropriate revenge.
Until he had been taken hostage, Brant had believed that Avery was his only enemy. Clearly, that murderous blackguard, could not be involved in this. Avery would have seen that Brant did not awake, this day. Yet, he was certain, that Robert and Richard, would not tempt his rage, without the backing of someone much more powerful. Brant was one of the largest land holders in the area, giving him resources to raise an army large enough, to annihilate most of the nearby landed Lords.
Brant was startled from his thoughts, by the sound of men approaching the dungeon. He sat, willing himself to appear calm, as the wooden door was opened, to reveal Robert and Richard, through the barred door. As they positioned themselves within view, he glared coldly at them, waiting for one of them to speak.