“Most of them are dead drunk; the snoring’s so loud a charge of gunpowder might not be heard.”
Pagnell looked up at the old stone walls. “Does this place have a dungeon, some place for keeping prisoners before they’re executed?”
“Why wait? We’ll tie her to a stake and burn her as the sun rises.”
“No, some people frown at that, and with the King in this melancholy mood, who knows how he’ll react? We’ll do this legal. A cousin of mine is conducting court not far from here. We’ll toss the slut in the cellar, then I’ll talk to my cousin and when I return, we’ll have a trial. Then we’ll watch her burn. Now show me where she is.”
Alyx was lying in an uncomfortable sleep, trying her best to position her big stomach, when a hideous whisper sounded in her ear. The voice, one she had never forgotten, and never would, sent shivers down her spine, made her skin tighten.
“If you want your little play fellow to live, you’ll be quiet,” came the voice.
Pressed against her throat was the sharp steel of a knife. She didn’t need to open her eyes to see Pagnell’s face leering into hers. It was a face that had haunted her dreams for months.
“Have you thought about me, sweetheart?” he whispered, his face very, very close to hers. His hands went down to caress her hard stomach. “You gave to somebody else what you fought me for. You’re going to die for that.”
“No,” Alyx whispered as the knife pressed forward.
“You going to go peacefully, or do I have to slip a knife into his heart?”
She knew well who he meant. Jocelin was asleep not a foot from her, his breath coming even and deep, not even aware that her life was in danger.
“I’ll go,” she managed to say.
Trembling, too frightened to cry, Alyx heaved herself upward, Pagnell’s knife scraping, cutting the skin of her throat once. It wasn’t easy to make her way through the bodies sprawled on the floor. Each time she stumbled, Pagnell twisted her arm behind her back, almost pulling it from the socket.
When they came to the dark, cold, stone stairs leading downward, he pushed Alyx so hard she slammed into the wall and tripped down four steps until she caught her balance. Pausing for a moment, her hands protectively on her belly, she tried to catch her breath.
“Go on,” Pagnell sneered, pushing her again.
Alyx managed to get down to the bottom without falling again. The room they wer
e in was cold and totally dark, the ceiling very low. Barrels and sacks of stores crowded the floor. She whirled when she heard the door creak open.
Pagnell stood in front of a heavy door, open to reveal a yawning black nothingness. “In here,” he growled.
“No.” She backed away, but the room was so crowded there was nowhere to go.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and with one shove, slammed her into the blackness.
Crouching in a corner, surrounded by the cold blackness, she saw the door shut, blocking off the last ray of light, and heard the heavy iron bolt shoot into place.
Chapter Thirteen
THE HIDEOUS LITTLE room seemed to be the epitome of every nightmare, every bad thought, every horrible story she’d ever heard. There was no light, and even after an hour she still could not see her hand before her face. For a very long time she remained huddled in the corner where Pagnell had tossed her, afraid to move.
If she could not see, she could certainly hear the noises of insects on the walls and floor, sounding loud and treacherous. What made her finally move was something scampering across the soft leather of her shoes. With a little squeal, she came upright, her hands trying to clutch the stones of the wall behind her.
“Calm yourself, Alyx,” she said aloud, and her voice echoed off the walls. It would be morning before long and Jocelin would be looking for her—if he were still alive. No, she couldn’t depend on anyone getting her out of here. She had to try to find her own means of escape.
Cautiously, hands out like a blind person, she took a step forward and nearly fell across a low bench. Kneeling, she ran her hands over it and was glad to see that she could make out the shadow of it. When she’d finished her exploration of the bench, she moved to the walls, feeling her way to the door. For all the door gave when she pushed against it, she might have been trying to move the stone walls.
The room was about six feet square with stone walls and a dirt floor, and the only furniture was the short bench. There was no window in the door and no light came in around the corners. The low ceiling allowed her to explore every inch of the room. There were no windows, no gratings, no weak places anywhere. When she finished, the upper half of her body was covered with spiderwebs, and there were tears on her face. Angrily, she tried to brush the sticky things from her face and clothes, all the while crying and cursing Pagnell and men of his kind.
After several hours she sat down on the bench, knees drawn up, and put her head down. Absently, she pushed the baby’s foot down from where it was kicking her in the ribs, and as her child became more active, restless, she started to sing to him. Gradually, he quietened and so did Alyx.
Overhead, she heard people walking and knew the ceiling was the castle floor. Somewhere up there Jocelin was trying to find her. She began to imagine ways to escape and wished she could start a fire, thinking that perhaps she could burn her way out. But, of course, the smoke would probably kill her before the fire burned the door.
When the door opened, the sound, so loud in the quiet room, startled her so badly she nearly fell off the bench. Candlelight flooded the room and nearly blinded her.