The man her mother had identified as Avery, said, “We need to get them out of here, before we are found out. Come along Peggy, you need to close the gate, behind us.”
Esme was lifted to her feet, and her mother wrapped a cloak around her, over her night clothes. The girl felt immobilized with terror, as the man who still held his hand over her mouth, pushed her toward the door of her bedchamber. Peggy led the way down the dimly lit passageway, to the back stairs, encountering no one. Once outside of the residential building, the group remained close to the curtain wall, as they moved across the bailey. Esme heard faint voices, that she credited to the lookouts, whom were on guard to see that the Keep was not invaded at night. The girl hoped they would see what was going on, but as she could not see the guards, they were not likely to see her, either. Then, they were at the postern gate. With a quick kiss on Esme’s cheek, Peggy let the kidnappers out of the castle walls. From there, the two captives were hustled across an open area, into the forest. When they reached horses tethered in the woods, Esme knew that she was now at the mercy of her brother’s enemy.
Brant lay on the bed, bound and gagged, just as the guards had left him. He half wondered, what they planned to do to him next. Right now he really did not care. The prospect of spending more time, trapped in this cell, left him thinking he would welcome death, right now. Then he heard the keys rattling, as the door to his prison was opened. He wondered if they were coming to finish him off.
Shifting his gaze to the open door between the two cells, he watched as a guard entered, carrying a torch to light the cell brighter. From behind the guard, a woman appeared, wearing a loose fitting gray woolen gunna, that proclaimed her a serf. Wool was plentiful, and easily woven into rough cloth. All the villains who owed service to the land holder, were provided with the rough garments. Whereas the finer fabrics, used to make the more colorful garments for the gentry, were mostly made on the continent. As she approached, she pushed back a gray mantle that was wrapped over her head, and around her shoulders, to reveal auburn hair. Her hair was fastened in two braids, that hung in loops, on either side of her head. As she came close, Brant could see she was quite young.
"I am here to tend to your wounds," the young woman said, as she placed a basket that she carried, on the small table beside the bed.
Brant noted that her voice was soft, yet steady and firm. He watched as she reached to take a steaming bucket, from the guard, placing it on the floor, and sitting on the edge of the bed, all in one graceful movement. She wrung the excess moisture from a cloth she had dipped in the bucket, as she met his gaze squarely for a few moments, before turning her attention to a gash, beside his eye.
"That is likely to leave a scar," she commented, as she wiped away the blood, he had felt trickling down his cheek.
Brant noticed that although the skin on her hands felt slightly course, her touch was gentle. However, when he winced in pain, from the course cloth irritating the fresh wound, she stopped.
Turning slightly, she placed some of the contents, from several jars in the basket, into a large ladle, and heated the mixture over the candle. Next, she dipped a scrap of cloth in the mixture, before tucking the cloth inside his split lip, from which he had tasted blood, earlier. That done, she returned her attention to his eye. The taste of blood in his mouth, was replaced by a bitter taste, likely from the liquid on the cloth, and Brant wondered if he would soon be unconscious, again.
After several minutes of slowly wiping dried blood off his face, and applying some ointment to cuts, and scratches, she leaned forward to untie the gag. As she did, the loose gown she wore, fell away from her body, revealing a glimpse of full ripe breasts. Obviously, while she was young, she was not that young. The small piece of cloth was removed from inside his lip, as she pulled the gag away.
With the gag removed, Brant asked, "Do you have a name?"
As he did so, he noticed he had some difficulty forming the words. The girl moved back, meeting his eyes squarely, once again.
She paused as if considering, before replying, "You may call me Alisa, My Lord."
Then she grasped his shoulders, moving them forward, and back, several times. Once more, she dipped the cloth in the mixture in the spoon. Then, Brant felt several drops of the warm liquid, fall on the inside of his lip. There was no doubt he was once again being drugged. Every muscle in his body seemed to be devoid of any strength. Yet, when she instructed him to move this way, or that, as she untied him, he somehow had the strength to passively comply. As the bindings were removed, she stripped his body of all his clothing, except the thin linen undergarment, that covered his loins.
When she finished tending all his wounds, the serf tucked several soft fur covers from the bed around him, to protect against the night chill. The guard remarked about how compliant he was now.
The young woman, Alisa responded, "I gave him a herb mixture, to relax him, and help his pain. He will likely sleep, a little later in the morn."
The guard retorted, as the two left Brant’s cell, "It is too bad they did not give him that earlier."
This comment, brought to Brant's mind Richard's words, 'the Lady is unwilling to have you tied down, and attempt to rape you.' When the girl had turned him against her body, to examine the gash on his shoulder, Brant had felt his body becoming aroused. He considered the possibility, that if they had drugged him earlier, he might be passively moving this way, or that, at his wife's behest. If his wife was half as attractive, as the serf Alisa, Brant realized it might be much easier to rape him, than his captors knew.
While that thought was disturbing, the serf's gentle care was also reassuring. His captors might have no intention of allowing him to leave, but neither did they seem to desire, that any harm come to him. Brant's mind drifted back to the listless feeling in his limbs, and that thought remained his focus, until sleep overtook him, much later.
Chapter 5
The group of travelers they were searching for came into sight, much to Justin’s relief. It had been a rough week or so. First, he had been roped into helping Sir Richard, kidnap Lord Brant, on Lady Isabel’s behalf. She was one of Justin’s most powerful allies, holding lands nearly equal to those, held by his brother-in-law Lionel’s entire family. Then, once they had gained Brant’s consent, to wed Lady Isabel, to keep his war with Avery from growing exponentially, Brant balked at a true marriage.
That fact made the success of all their efforts, uncertain. So they had no choice but to continue the groom’s incarceration. Justin had several cuts, scrapes, and bruises from the ensuing scuffle, to return Brant to the dungeon. With the variety of aches and pains from last night, Justin had hoped to take it easy today. Unfortunately, a messenger had arrived with word that Avery, had taken Brant’s sister hostage. They had not yet gotten the marriage documents, to gain authority to guard the girl, until last night. By the time word could be sent, she was already gone.
Right now, Avery and his men, believed Avery controlled Isabel’s forces, which extended to her allies, Richard and Justin. So they were riding to intercept the men, who were escorting the kidnapped girl. As they approached the group, Justin prayed they did not get suspicious. He was already sore from last night’s fight, and hoped he did not have another skirmish, to recover the girl.