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“It was Sir Walter,” she said, dropping to her knees beside him. “He hates you, but I had no idea that it was you he hated.”

He raised his head and smiled at her. “Only I would know what you mean, little chick.”

“When my lord returns to Wolffeton, all will be well, I promise you, Edmund . . . Dienwald.” She touched her hand to his shoulder. “You will tell him it was Blanche who hired you, will you not?”

“You have had a difficult time making your husband believe you?”

“Very few people here believe that I am innocent, but now, Dienwald, they will know the truth.”

“Ah, little chick, you are so innocent and trusting.”

“No,” she said firmly, “no longer. I will see that my lord punishes Sir Walter for what he did to you. Where are you hurt?”

“Several ribs are broken. Sir Walter is a vicious man. I begin to see now why he did not simply kill me as he did my men.”

“I do not understand.”

He lifted his hand and touched his fingers to her soft hair. “No, likely you would not understand. I will explain it to you. Sir Walter doubtless wants land. What landless knight does not? And it is true that my father killed his and took his birthright, though from what I remember, his action was justified. But had Sir Walter killed me there would have been no reward for him, no gain at all if, that is, he kept his neck in place. Your husband, little chick, is a very powerful man with very powerful friends. Were he to kill me, there would be no retribution, and Sir Walter would most likely gain from his trickery.”

Kassia shook her head, saying vehemently, “Graelam would not kill you.”

Dienwald gave her a tender look that held pity. Slowly he drew her forward, and before Kassia knew what he was about, he had fastened one of the heavy manacles about her wrist.

“Little chick,” he said ruefully, “I beg you will forgive me, but I do not wish to die. If I stay, your husband will kill me without a second thought. Even if I were able to fight him with all my strength, he would still likely put an end to me.”

“He has no reason to kill you. Please, Dienwald, you must not leave me!”

“Kassia, listen to me, for I must escape, and very soon. Your hu

sband believes that you paid me to help you escape him. If I were to tell him it was Blanche, he would still kill me, for I accepted his barbaric necklace as payment to rid Wolffeton and Blanche of your presence.” He gave a pained laugh. “Were I your husband, I would kill me. I know that when you are found here, in my cell, you will be blamed for releasing me. I am sorry for it, but your husband will not kill you. Were there another way, little chick, I would not leave you. But there is no choice for me. Forgive me, Kassia.”

She looked at the harsh manacle about her wrist. “I forgive you,” she said. “But you have sentenced me to hell.”

He grasped her chin in his palm and lightly kissed her. “I can take you with me, little chick.”

He saw the helpless pain in her eyes, and drew back. “Ah, so that is the way it is.” He rose and stood over her a moment. “Graelam de Moreton is a harsh and ruthless warrior. He can have no understanding of something as delicate and honest as you. Please, little chick, do not scream until I am gone.”

“It would do no good,” she said dully. “My old nurse drugged the only guard. Evidently Sir Walter believed no more guards were necessary.”

“I will leave you the candle,” he said. “Good-bye, little chick.” She watched him slip through the cell door and pull it closed behind him. She leaned back against the damp wall as the rats moved closer to her, their small eyes orange in the wavering candlelight. When the candle sputtered out and the cell was plunged into blackness, she whimpered softly and drew her legs up to her chest.

She heard heavy boots approaching, and then the cell door was shoved violently open. A rushlight torch filled the darkness with blinding light. Kassia had prayed that Etta would come for her, but her prayer was not answered. For a moment her dazed eyes could only make out the outline of a man. Sir Walter, she thought dully. What would he do to her?

“Kassia.”

She froze and pressed herself closer to the slimy wall, moaning softly in her throat. “What are you doing here?” she asked finally.

Graelam gave a harsh laugh. “No, I do not suppose you expected me until tomorrow night. I missed you and pushed my men to return.” He laughed again, a cruel sound that made her flinch. He handed the torch to a man behind him and strode toward her. She cowered away from him. He dropped to his knees and unlocked the manacle.

“Did your lover really need to chain you? Could not even he trust you?”

Kassia rubbed her bruised wrist, concentrating on the slight pain to block the terrible words from her mind.

“Look at me, damn you!” Graelam grasped her shoulders and shook her.

“I am looking now,” she said, staring directly into his furious eyes.

“Dienwald de Fortenberry. Did he appreciate your calling him Edmund, my lady? How very surprised you must have been to see him. Sir Walter is something of a fool, unfortunately. He never dreamed that my soft, fragile lady would be so daring as to release her lover. He is now . . . distraught.”


Tags: Catherine Coulter Medieval Song Historical