chain mail and what he wanted were questions to which she feared the answers.
Her skin did not prickle when he stepped into the room, and even before he said, “I am to bring you to my lord,” she knew another had been sent in his stead.
She turned from the window to the knight whose face was lit by a torch carried by the squire who accompanied him. It was Sir Guy, and he wore only tunic and hose—not the chain mail she had thought she heard. In Thomas’s time, the knight had not been friendly toward her, but neither had he been harsh.
“What does he want of me?”
He frowned. “That is for him to tell.”
Knowing it would be useless to resist, she crossed to the door. “I will follow.”
“You will be led.” He captured her arm.
As if escape were possible, she silently scoffed.
The squire stepped aside to allow the knight and Rhiannyn to descend ahead of him. As he did so, she heard again the ring of metal she had believed was chain mail, and saw the young man had a chain looped over his arm.
Her heart sped, but she did not falter in step, nor inquire into it.
She was led to the donjon and into the hall where the knights had roused from their beds. Some sitting, others standing, they spoke in hushed tones until she came to their attention. Amid the silence, she walked with her chin high beside Sir Guy.
The sight that awaited her when they came around the screen made her falter.
Guy corrected her course and guided her to the far side of the bed, opposite where Christophe and Theta bent over Pendery whose chest glistened with perspiration. Of greater note was the redness and swelling around the wound he had received while rescuing her from death.
She looked to Christophe.
He met her gaze, and there was fear in his eyes.
In saving her life, might his brother give his?
“My lord,” Sir Guy said, “I have brought the Saxon woman as ordered.”
Pendery’s lids lifted. After what seemed a struggle to bring her to focus, he shifted his gaze to his knight. “The chain?”
“I have it.”
He closed his eyes, nodded.
The silence stretched until Sir Guy asked the question not answered. “What would you have me do, my lord?”
“One iron on her…one on me.”
Rhiannyn caught her breath.
“ Non, Maxen,” Christophe exclaimed, “you cannot mean to chain her to you.”
“Now you know,” he mumbled, eyes remaining closed. “Do it, Guy.”
The knight waved the squire to him, took the chain, and reached for Rhiannyn.
She turned to flee, but the squire caught her around the waist. Ignoring her yelp, he tossed her onto the bed alongside Pendery and held her there while Sir Guy fit the iron on her wrist. However, she proved too fine-boned, and it slipped off over her hand.
Muttering, Sir Guy dragged the chain lower and fastened the iron around her ankle.
“Why?” Christophe found his voice, though it broke as the child in him overwhelmed the man.
“To ensure…” Pendery rasped. “…she is here when I recover.”
“The tower room will serve as well.”
“Under whose watch? Yours, Christophe?” Dry laughter. “Finish your ministrations, Brother.”
Tight-lipped, Christophe took the bandages from Theta and began binding them around Maxen’s waist.
“My wrist,” Pendery said and lifted it to receive his end of the chain.
Sir Guy did as bid, and asked. “What of the key?”
As the squire continued to hold Rhiannyn down, she stared at the scrap of metal.
“I entrust it to you,” Pendery said.
Sir Guy opened a pouch on his belt and dropped the key in it. “I will keep it with my life.”
Pendery turned his face to Rhiannyn, narrowly opened his eyes. “Freedom is in the length of chain, and that is all I give you.” He swallowed loudly and moved his gaze to the squire. “Release her.”
The squire obeyed, and Rhiannyn scrambled off the bed and fell to her knees on the floor. The clattering chain followed, snaking across the mattress and pooling on her thighs. She thrust it
Her skin did not prickle when he stepped into the room, and even before he said, “I am to bring you to my lord,” she knew another had been sent in his stead.
She turned from the window to the knight whose face was lit by a torch carried by the squire who accompanied him. It was Sir Guy, and he wore only tunic and hose—not the chain mail she had thought she heard. In Thomas’s time, the knight had not been friendly toward her, but neither had he been harsh.
“What does he want of me?”
He frowned. “That is for him to tell.”
Knowing it would be useless to resist, she crossed to the door. “I will follow.”
“You will be led.” He captured her arm.
As if escape were possible, she silently scoffed.
The squire stepped aside to allow the knight and Rhiannyn to descend ahead of him. As he did so, she heard again the ring of metal she had believed was chain mail, and saw the young man had a chain looped over his arm.
Her heart sped, but she did not falter in step, nor inquire into it.
She was led to the donjon and into the hall where the knights had roused from their beds. Some sitting, others standing, they spoke in hushed tones until she came to their attention. Amid the silence, she walked with her chin high beside Sir Guy.
The sight that awaited her when they came around the screen made her falter.
Guy corrected her course and guided her to the far side of the bed, opposite where Christophe and Theta bent over Pendery whose chest glistened with perspiration. Of greater note was the redness and swelling around the wound he had received while rescuing her from death.
She looked to Christophe.
He met her gaze, and there was fear in his eyes.
In saving her life, might his brother give his?
“My lord,” Sir Guy said, “I have brought the Saxon woman as ordered.”
Pendery’s lids lifted. After what seemed a struggle to bring her to focus, he shifted his gaze to his knight. “The chain?”
“I have it.”
He closed his eyes, nodded.
The silence stretched until Sir Guy asked the question not answered. “What would you have me do, my lord?”
“One iron on her…one on me.”
Rhiannyn caught her breath.
“ Non, Maxen,” Christophe exclaimed, “you cannot mean to chain her to you.”
“Now you know,” he mumbled, eyes remaining closed. “Do it, Guy.”
The knight waved the squire to him, took the chain, and reached for Rhiannyn.
She turned to flee, but the squire caught her around the waist. Ignoring her yelp, he tossed her onto the bed alongside Pendery and held her there while Sir Guy fit the iron on her wrist. However, she proved too fine-boned, and it slipped off over her hand.
Muttering, Sir Guy dragged the chain lower and fastened the iron around her ankle.
“Why?” Christophe found his voice, though it broke as the child in him overwhelmed the man.
“To ensure…” Pendery rasped. “…she is here when I recover.”
“The tower room will serve as well.”
“Under whose watch? Yours, Christophe?” Dry laughter. “Finish your ministrations, Brother.”
Tight-lipped, Christophe took the bandages from Theta and began binding them around Maxen’s waist.
“My wrist,” Pendery said and lifted it to receive his end of the chain.
Sir Guy did as bid, and asked. “What of the key?”
As the squire continued to hold Rhiannyn down, she stared at the scrap of metal.
“I entrust it to you,” Pendery said.
Sir Guy opened a pouch on his belt and dropped the key in it. “I will keep it with my life.”
Pendery turned his face to Rhiannyn, narrowly opened his eyes. “Freedom is in the length of chain, and that is all I give you.” He swallowed loudly and moved his gaze to the squire. “Release her.”
The squire obeyed, and Rhiannyn scrambled off the bed and fell to her knees on the floor. The clattering chain followed, snaking across the mattress and pooling on her thighs. She thrust it
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