Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(85)

Kristoph could see the fear in the man’s eyes. “You will come with me,” he assured him. “Alary would never see you again. You do not have to worry about such things. The money I could give you would keep you comfortable for the rest of your life, I assure you. Mostig, please – will you not help me?”

Mostig was staring at him with big eyes, perhaps seriously considering the offer. He was torn between his fear of Alary and the lure of a great reward. He scratched his head after a moment, watching Kristopher as the man resumed his meal.

“I… I do not know,” he finally said. “It would be a terrible risk. Lord Alary has allies everywhere in the north. We would have to flee to the south.”

Kristoph finished the last of the meat, chewing loudly. “And we could do that,” he said, trying to sound confident because he was attempting to convince the man to betray his liege. “Once I reach my Norman brethren, you would have nothing to fear. Mayhap, you could even serve me. I have hundreds of men but you would have a place of honor among them.”

Mostig liked that thought a great deal. With Alary, he had no place of honor. He was a soldier, just like all the rest. But what this Norman was promising him was appealing. He was a weak man, in truth, and simply wanted to find someplace where he belonged. Ever since he’d lost his family, that was his only desire. Now, the Norman was offering him such a thing. It was difficult to resist.

“Would… would I live in Normandy?” he asked timidly. “I have never been there, you know.”

Kristoph began to feel some hope. Was it possible he could sway his guard to help him? “You could live wherever you wanted to,” he said. “I intend to have lands here in England, so if you wanted to live here, you could. Or, you could go to my properties in Normandy. It would be your choice.”

Mostig liked what he was hearing and he was quite seriously considering everything he’d been told. Still, he was fearful, mostly of Alary. He’d seen what the man was capable of with traitors and he was genuinely concerned that his attempt to help a prisoner might be discovered. That fear kept him from accepting Kristoph’s offer.

“If I help you, I cannot do it now,” he hissed, hoping the walls around them didn’t have ears. “Lord Alary is discussing you with the Saxon lord right now and if we flee, they would soon catch up to us. We would not have much time to get away.”

Kristoph didn’t agree. “If you do not help me now, there may not be another opportunity,” he said, trying not to sound too forceful because he felt that he was losing the man’s interest in his offer. “If Alary sells me to the Saxon, I will be gone. How are you to help me then?”

He had a point, one that seemed to convince Mostig that the time to act was now. He was quite torn, however, with apprehension in both his expression and movement.

“If I help you, where will we go this night?” he asked. “It is very dark and there is nowhere we can run.”

Kristoph sensed that the man was finally coming around to his way of thinking. Mostig seemed to be good of heart, but he was weak of will. Kristoph sat back against the straw again, thanking God for his friend Mostig. In his plans to escape, he never thought he’d have an accomplice.

“You know this area,” he said. “Are there any towns nearby?”

Mostig nodded. “A few,” he said. “Smaller villages.”

“Then we will avoid them. When we leave, the first places Alary will search are the nearby villages. But I will tell you something; a secret.”

“What?”

“I do not believe my Norman brethren have stopped following us. They would not let me go so easily. I believe they are around, somewhere. All we need to do is find them.”

Mostig’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?”

Kristoph shrugged. “I know them. They would not give up.”

“That is an interesting bit of news.”

It wasn’t Mostig who replied. It was Alary, entering the livery with a pair of his henchmen with him, men who were always at his side to do is bidding. They were also the men who had beaten Kristoph in the first few days of his captivity and the men, he suspected, who held him down when Alary cut off his finger. They were mindless, brutal dogs.

Kristoph’s blood ran cold when he saw them enter the livery. He heard us! He thought in a panic. But how much did he hear? Kristoph would have to be extremely careful with this situation if he wanted to survive it. All of the hope he’d been feeling drained out of him like liquid through a sieve. Now, he felt empty.

Empty and apprehensive.

As Kristoph tried to gauge just how bad his punishment was going to be, Alary looked at Mostig.

“Excellent work,” he said to the man. “You have done well this night.”

Kristoph looked at Mostig, unsure what Alary meant as Mostig stumbled to his feet, looking at Alary in terror.

“I did not do anything, my lord,” he cried. “The Norman spoke of escape but I did not do anything!”

Alary looked very pleased. “I knew you were developing a friendship with him,” he said. “I have seen it from the start. Now you have tricked him into confessing that his Norman friends have not given up the chase, after all. I knew they had not but I also knew our captive would not tell me. You have done that for me, Mostig. Well done.”

Mostig was overwrought with terror. He looked at Kristoph with such horror upon him that it was palpable. “I did not…,” he breathed. Then, he looked to Alary again. “I would not betray you, my lord. Forgive me!”