Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(84)

He was working on a plan.

Alary didn’t know he was feeling as good as he was. He was still walking hunched over, pretending to be in pain, and he had generally been acting ill. There was a reason for this; Alary kept him in irons and he was hoping that, at some point, the irons would be removed and he would be able to escape. He was essentially trying to lull his captors into a false sense of security and, so far, it was working.

He’d been concocting a plan for the last several days. He knew they were far to the north, nearing Alary’s stronghold, and his soldier friend had spoken freely about their path and the towns they’d traveled through, so he had a fairly good idea of where they were and where they were going.

It was also true that he never doubted for a moment that Gaetan and his comrades were somewhere nearby, perhaps not following him on the same path, but Kristoph knew they were planning to rescue him. Even after Alary’s threat, when news had come from Alary’s spies that they were no longer being followed, Kristoph knew that wasn’t true. His longtime friends and brothers would come for him.

He would stake his life on it.

But it was difficult to wait them out, hence the plan he’d been formulating. If he could simply break free of Alary, he could run and hide and the man couldn’t find him. Then he could make his way south, back the way they’d come, and, hopefully, find traces of Gaetan and the men to follow. If they were looking for him, perhaps he could look for them. It wasn’t the best plan, but he simply couldn’t remain Alary’s prisoner any longer. He was afraid that one more day, or even one more hour, might see Alary cut something else off or decide to beat him again. He wasn’t going to stand by while that happened.

He had to make his move.

Tonight, they were on the outskirts of Warwick, a fairly large town that had seen its share of traffic throughout the evening. Once again, Kristoph was in the livery with his guards and the animals, cushioned by surprisingly fresh hay this night as the sounds of the tavern across the yard filled the air. There was laughter and the smell of meat in the air, and he could even hear what he thought was a citole. Someone was playing and singing.

As he lay back and listened to the sounds that were comforting and friendly in nature, and not reminding him of his dire situation, his friendly guard, Mostig, came out of the back of the tavern with a trencher of food in his hands.

Kristoph saw the man enter the livery and he sat up, eagerly awaiting his only meal of the day. Mostig approached him and delivered the food at his feet. There was a hunk of boiled meat on it and a heaping pile of boiled vegetables, and Kristoph began eating like a man who had never seen food in his life. He shoved it in his mouth, devouring it, as Mostig loosened his chains.

“It is crowded in the tavern tonight,” Mostig said. “There is a great Saxon lord inside, traveling with his daughter. Lord Alary has told him of you and he is interested.”

Mouth full, Kristoph looked at Mostig with curiosity. “Interested? What do you mean?”

“In you.”

“Why?”

“For his daughter from what I heard.”

Kristoph stopped chewing, struggling to swallow what was in his mouth. “For his daughter?” he repeated, puzzled. “I do not understand.”

Mostig shrugged. “The homely girl is not married yet.”

“But… I am already married.”

“That will not make the lord happy.”

Kristoph frowned. “You know I am married,” he said. “We have spoken of my wife and daughter frequently. I cannot and will not marry another woman.”

Mostig wasn’t unsympathetic. He and the Norman knight had been together constantly and they’d formed an odd bond of sorts. Mostig even considered them friends, as strange as that seemed. In a sense, he was concerned for his friend’s safety because he knew Alary. He knew what the man was capable of. A worried expression rippled across his face.

“But the lord offered to pay Lord Alary a great deal for you,” he said. “Lord Alary is considering it. Norman, if you marry her, then you will no longer be subject to Lord Alary and his whims. He can no longer cut your finger off or beat you or harm you. If you are sold, then you must go for your own sake. Get out of here while you can.”

Kristoph couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stopped eating completely and fixed Mostig with a serious glare. “I told Alary my family would pay him well for my safe return but he would not take it,” he said, incredulous. “Yet, he will sell me to a Saxon lord as a husband for the man’s daughter?”

His voice was growing loud and Mostig hastened to quiet him. “Do not speak so loudly or Lord Alary will hear,” he hissed. “If you are sold, it will be the best thing for you. Do you understand? They will more than likely not keep you in irons. You will be… free.”

It was a hint to escape, as clear as the subject had ever been spoken of between them, and Kristoph backed off a little, studying the man and considering his words. Certainly, a husband would not be kept in chains. Kristoph pondered the idea a moment before speaking.

“Mostig, I have not said this to you before, but I will now,” he said. “You are a man without a family… help me escape and I shall see that you are amply rewarded. You could command a fine bride with the money I would reward you with. Does this not appeal to you?”

Mostig’s eyes widened. “I could not do it! Lord Alary would kill me if he discovered what I had done!”