Chapter Five
Constantine awoke while still mounted atop Lord Christopher’s destrier. She shifted to look into his face. Her wide fearful eyes brought a look of genuine compassion from the powerful lord and he gazed back down at her with a smile of reassurance.
“Fear not, Lady Constantine. I mean you no harm. I am Lord Nicholas Christopher. I have come to save you,” Nicholas declared gallantly. “Now promise to hear me out, and I will remove your bonds.” Constantine nodded with trepidation.
Nicholas removed her gag and felt a bit guilty for leaving it on her so long. He just could not have her awaken and begin screaming until he could explain himself. A bit sheepishly he admitted to himself he also rather enjoyed having a helpless female bound before him. Perhaps his gentle Juliette could be enticed into a bit of rambunctious play once they were wed, he thought hopefully.
“Lord Christopher?” Constantine questioned with some amazement.
“That is correct. I am betrothed to your sweet and gentle sister, Juliette.”
“Why have you stolen me?” Constantine asked. She was still quite frightened.
Though the knight before her was not as large as her Rory, he was still very powerfully built and more than twice her size.
“Not stolen. Saved,” Nicolas corrected.
Swallowing heavily, Constantine tried again. “From whom have you saved me?”
“Why your husband, of course,” Nicolas declared patiently. Poor lass. He must have frightened her a great deal, she being so addled and all. Nicolas sighed. Truly he must remember how big and powerful he must seem to one so delicate and quiet.
“Why do you seek to save me from Rory?” Constantine asked with confusion.
“You are to be my wedding gift to my beautiful bride,” Nicholas said, grinning from ear to ear.
Lord have mercy the man was daft. Constantine was certain. He had stolen her to give her to Juliette? Like some prized horse or cow. She was not a puppy. Although a new thought entered Constantine’s head.
“You take me to see Juliette?” she asked, her hope building.
“Not exactly,” Nicholas began a bit hesitantly. He did not want to frighten her, yet she must understand her only hope of safety resided with him. “I take you to my own home. You see if I were to ride with you to your father’s castle, he would be obligated to return you to Broc. This I cannot allow. Your sweet sister pines for you. She has had word of your ill treatment. As her betrothed and future husband, her wellbeing and peace of mind is very important to myself.”
“My ill treatment?” Constantine asked.
“Fear not, my lady, we have heard all. I will protect you, never fear,” Nicolas declared grandly, chin raised in pride.
“Take me home,” Constantine commanded, her eyebrows narrowed.
Nicolas smiled bemused into Constantine’s outraged expression. Why would she wish to be returned to such a heartless monster? Could she not see he had saved her? She did not seem to be very appreciative of his efforts. Perhaps she was still fearful of him. That must be it. The terror of the unknown. Poor little lass.
“Would you like to see Juliette soon?” Nicholas asked, changing tactics.
Constantine’s expression changed. She would love to see her sister. Poor Juliette, had she come to understand how strange her betrothed was? Perhaps it would be wise to inform her. “Truly I will see Juliette?”
“On my honor,” Nicolas replied and put as much heartfelt enthusiasm into his voice and smile as he could muster. He became happy at Constantine’s own smile of overwhelming gratitude. That was much better. But still he would be ever careful of the quiet young lass. Her terrible fear of him would lessen soon he was certain now.
Constantine shuddered at Lord Christopher’s lopsided grin. Though he was a handsome man, for some outrageous reason he reminded her of Puddles, Uncle Emit’s slobbering old slack-wit hound. Constantine swore the dog offered the same type of confused dim-witted expression. She offered her own hesitant smile. She would suffer through the ride, but once with Juliette, she would promptly inform her that the man was daft. Drat.
* * * *
Lord Christopher’s castle was truly grand. He paraded Constantine around at his side as though she were some prize conquest. With flourish he showed her to ‘her’ room. Once inside the chamber, Nicolas opened an armoire filled with lovely gowns for her inspection, he even offered up a few for her admiration. He informed her he would buy her many more. She would be happy under his protection.
Constantine became angry. Was she to stay here as his plaything? What kind of man wanted to engage in dress up with a woman?
“Rory will come for me,” Constantine informed him petulantly. Indeed, Rory would come. He would then save both her and her sister. Constantine could not stand the thought of poor Juliette married to this man.
“Never fear, my lady. I will keep you safe,” Nicolas said, his tone soothing. Constantine glared at him. But he had that idiotic lopsided grin on his face once more. Before she knew what he was about, he gripped hold of her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.
“Never fear. I will retrieve Juliette and reunite the two of you. You will be happy living in my home. Now, you must consider it your home.” He gave her a light kiss to her temple, spun around, and was gone before she could respond.
* * * *
With the help of serving maids, Constantine was dressed in a lovely long-flowing deep green gown. At her approach of the great table, Lord Christopher came and took her small hand in his. The maids had informed Nicholas Constantine was overly quiet while she had been dressed. They tried to solicit even a meager response to no avail.
As the day had progressed Constantine had an ever-growing concern that perhaps Lord Christopher had not been entirely truthful with her about him fetching dearest Juliette. Only time would tell. She also desperately missed her Rory. He must have discovered her absence by now. How the castle guards would explain this, she had no idea. Constantine was positive they had been discovered, though why no alarm sounded had her confused. For one brief terrifying second, Constantine thought perhaps Rory knew what was to take place. He had conveniently left the castle with Devon, leaving her unprotected. But what would he gain? He already had her dowry. Perhaps he just wanted to be rid of her. He harped overmuch on her use of excessive noise when distressed. Certainly it was not enough for him to want to be rid of her. Was it? What could Lord Christopher gain if she were to reside with him?
Constantine thought hard. She refused to believe Rory would desert her. Though the thought plagued her still. Her lands would not pass to Rory until her father died. Could Lord Christopher acquire the lands through his marriage to Juliette if she were gone? A terrible thought entered her mind. What if Rory were to be accused of foul play if she went missing and her father declared her wealth and titles null and void. Upon his marriage to her sister Lord Christopher would have it all. Was this possible? Why keep her alive? Perhaps he did just want her as a plaything. He fully intended to keep her here, and he had already admitted his intentions. Perhaps he would use her to keep Juliette from interfering. Perhaps Juliette had not wanted to wed him at all. Lord Christopher could use Constantine to make her sister obey; Juliette would do anything for her.
Constantine’s thoughts raced wildly. At least she would be able to see Juliette again. Yet how would she ever be able to cope with the loss of Rory? She was angry with herself for thinking of him unjustly if even only for a brief moment. Lord Christopher must want her wealth, she felt positive. What would he do with her? If she disobeyed in the slightest, would she be locked away or starved? Would he beat her?
* * * *
Nicholas gazed thoughtfully at Constantine as she sat quietly beside him. Her look was pensive, and Nicholas thought she must be feeling very alone and frightened. But soon enough she would be feeling better. He had sent word to Juliette and waited for his messengers return. They would know soon enough as to when Juliette would arrive.
“Eat, lass,” Nicholas encouraged. Her food remained untouched. He lifted her chin with his hand and smiled at her lost lonely expression.
“I am too saddened and...afraid,” Constantine confided. She was battling her tears.
“Fret not lass, we only wait for word of your sister,” Nicholas informed her.
“Truly?” Constantine asked, her brown eyes skeptical and huge with unshed moisture.
“We should know of her arrival within the hour,” Nicholas said with a smile.
Yes indeed, his messenger would arrive and Constantine would lavish praise upon him for saving her and reuniting her with Juliette. He could hardly wait. It would be nice to have two beautiful women fawning and fussing over him. Nicholas smiled broadly. Everything was falling neatly into place.
* * * *
Constantine continued to sit, growing sadder by the moment. She looked at her trencher of unappetizing food. She thought perhaps it might taste better if Rory were at her side. She sniffed delicately; a small tear trailed its way down her cheek and dripped silently from her chin, landing upon her lap, soaking into her beautiful gown.
Taking note of this, Nicholas became visibly distressed. Nicholas jumped to his feet as his messenger unexpectedly entered the great hall. He raced to him wanting the news he sought that would calm little Lady Constantine.
“What news have you?” Nicholas demanded with great anticipation, almost dancing with unrestrained delight.
“’Tis not good, my lord,” the young man informed him.
“What mean you, not good?” Nicholas had a sudden sinking feeling in his belly, and his body stilled with sudden apprehension.
“I fear the Lady Juliette was not there,” the young man informed him.
“What mean you, not there?” Nicholas all but spluttered.
The man stepped back a pace. Nicholas grabbed him by his shirtfront, dragging him closer. Nicholas towered over the shaking man. In his flustered state, Nicholas lifted the smaller man up off his feet. He widened his eyes as he waited to hear the rest from the man. His actions seemed almost wild at his distress. He needed to calm the Lady Constantine. Hearing her sister was gone would not calm her at all.
“She was gone, my lord, taken,” the frightened man cried out.
“By whom?” Nicholas thundered, now enraged. Who would dare risk his wrath by taking his betrothed?
* * * *
Constantine knew. Rory’s quest was to fetch her sister for her, she felt certain. He did love her, yet now she was here all alone with a man whose face grew redder by the moment. Juliette would not come to save her from her daft and mad betrothed. Rory would never again put his comforting arms around her. They would never again make love. Oh, the pain of her loss was unbearable...
“Waahhh.”
* * * *
Nicholas released his hold on the frightened man before him dropping him to the ground like a sack. His hand went to his sword hilt. God have mercy they were under attack! By the Saints, Nicholas had never heard such a battle cry. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He could not believe it. He, Lord Christopher, was actually fearful. A terrible thought raced through his mind. If he were so distressed, the Lady Constantine must be absolutely terrified. Could it possibly be Broc? The eerie howl was bellowed out again.
“Fear not, Constantine, I will protect you!” Nicholas cried and raced to her.
Constantine had only paused for a breath as Lord Christopher threw her over his shoulder. He raced madly with her from the hall. Constantine was terrified. She knew Lord Christopher was enraged. What would he do with her? Now that he no longer would be able to get Juliette, holding her hostage would render his need of her moot. Constantine regained the breath that had been knocked out of her at Lord Christopher’s manhandling. She bellowed again.
Nicholas raced wildly with Constantine slung over his shoulder. The battle cry again sounded.
“By God, ’tis closer. They must have somehow breached the walls. Never fear, Constantine, I have you,” Nicholas shouted. He raced for the tower hoping to secure her inside. He would then join his army and engage in the first real battle of his life.
Nicholas took the steps two at a time. Seeing his intent and noticing the sharp incline had Constantine bellowing again. He meant to lock her away. Worse still, he might throw her from the high tower. She was doomed.
Nicholas raced to the top of the stairs. His heart pounding in his chest. God have mercy, but this was exciting: saving the fair damsel, while a battle rages all around. The battle cry sounded once more. By the Saints it sounded right behind him. Had they stormed the castle? Their army must be great indeed. Nicholas raced into the high room and slammed the solid door closed. He must catch his breath and regain his composure. He placed Constantine on a mound of straw and drew his sword. He was ready.
Constantine took in his wild crazed features. His huge body near trembled from exertion. Lord Christopher’s look was murderous. He was about to run her through, she was certain. Constantine threw back her head and howled as she had never before howled.
Completely stunned that the God-awful noise was not in fact a battle cry, but was originating from none other than the Lady Constantine’s own mouth, Nicholas fled backward. In his haste to escape from the sound, he turned quickly tripping over his own feet. Ever agile, he was up in a flash racing for the door, his hair near standing on end. Opening the heavy door, Nicholas threw himself into the hallway almost running over his squire who had followed his lord and slammed the door behind himself. Nicholas leaned up against the door, his arms spread wide as if to bar Constantine’s escape.
“By the Saints, she is possessed! I have never heard the like! I felt certain her head was about to spin round!” Nicholas rasped. His face had drained a deathly pale. He clamped his jaw closed tightly lest his teeth chatter.
“Calm yourself, my lord, ’tis only a woman,” the young man said soothingly. Though after hearing the howls it was easy to agree. It was truly a remarkable sound.
“Damnation, I have been tricked. Broc wished the banshee to be taken so he could steal the quiet gentle one,” Nicholas mumbled aggrieved, he felt positive. Now he knew why he had escaped detection. It was not his stealth but stupidity. Perhaps the lass had not been abused at all. He had in fact saved Lord Broc.
“My lord, she quiets,” the squire near whispered, his ears cocked, listening.
Nicholas pressed his ear to the hard door. The howling had ceased, but great sobbing remained. Not a cruel man by nature, Nicholas was at a loss. Her weeping distressed him, yet he was fearful of her bellowing. Cautiously he opened the door and peeked in.
“Constantine? Be ye through your attempt to deafen us?” Nicholas whispered into the chamber.
She did not answer. With caution Nicholas stepped through the door and approached her with hesitation. Constantine was slumped in the straw, her hands covering her face. When she looked up at him terrified, Nicholas stopped short and splayed his hands wide.
“No, no. Please, my lady, do not bellow again, I beg you. I am unarmed against your voice,” Nicholas implored.
“You frightened me,” Constantine whimpered accusingly.
Nicholas’s eyes shot up at that. She was one to talk! His heart still pounded. There was not a brush in the land that could flatten his hair, he felt certain.
“Come now, Constantine, how did I frighten you?” Nicholas questioned.
Now it was Constantine’s eyes that widen. Drat dim-witted men.
“You kidnapped me. You refused to produce Juliette. You raged at your messenger, then grabbed me up like an offering. I am terrified of heights, yet you throw me in your tower. Then you draw your sword on me. I am defenseless against one so powerful.” Constantine’s bottom lip quivered ominously.
“Defenseless?” Nicholas snorted. “I feared we were under attack.”
Nicholas squatted on the ground before her. He clasped her chin in his hand and took a firm hold. His look as he glared into her eyes had her breath catch in greater fear.
“You will tell me the truth, or by God I will lock you in this tower a fortnight. Do you hear and understand?” Nicholas said with certain menace. Constantine swallowed hard and nodded as best she could with her face so firmly held. “Has Lord Broc caused you harm? Has he been overly cruel to you?”
“Nay, my lord, he has harmed me not,” Constantine whimpered. His fierce gaze bore into her a moment longer before he released his grip.
Nicholas stood and narrowed his gaze. He was right. He had been duped.
* * * *
Nicholas felt positive it was Broc that took Juliette. The harder he thought, the more positive he became that Constantine’s abuse had been but a ruse. Indeed, Lord Broc would have found it difficult to get close enough to the banshee to lay a hand on her. Absently, he wondered if Broc had even attempted to bed the wench. Perhaps if he gagged her first.
“My lord?” Rosecliff, Nicholas’s steward asked hesitantly.
Dusk had fallen and both men sat companionably with warmed mugs of ale. Nicholas looked to him, a trusted friend.
“Aye?”
“Suppose you, my lord, the Lady Juliette possess the same...ailment?” Rosecliff began with greater hesitancy.
“What mean you?” Nicholas asked, eyes narrowing.
“Perhaps healthy lungs are a family trait,” Rosecliff pondered.
“Nay, not my dearest Juliette...Good God, think you she may?” Nicholas asked aghast. Damnation, he would be rendered deaf on their wedding night.
“Think you Broc has discovered your transgression?” the steward asked.
“Aye, and has been laughing with hysterical relief since.” Nicholas growled. Drat the man was indeed a monster.
“How fares the Lady Constantine?” Rosecliff enquired.
“Both she and her vocal cords slumber, thank God,” Nicholas replied. Nicholas had only just come from her chamber to make sure all was well. The poor maids that aided her earlier were too fearful to go near her lest she let loose again. Nicholas found it hard to believe someone who looked like an angel in slumber could terrify the devil himself. He ran a quick hand over his tired face.
“What do you with her?” Rosecliff asked. He knew his lord was angry but she was just a helpless lass after all.
“I must return her and retrieve Juliette,” Nicholas declared.
“Vocal cords and all, my lord?” Rosecliff whined.
“Think you she may actually bellow as an entire army as well?” Nicholas said, then grimaced. His Juliette was beautiful, but beauty would fade. That noise would linger forever...and ever...and ever. Nicholas slammed his mug to the table. “Perhaps a plan of action is called for.”
“I am at your service, my lord,” Rosecliff replied.
“I must somehow get word to my dearest Juliette. I needs must find out if the lass bellows like ten handfuls of cats in heat,” Nicholas declared.
“How, my lord?” Rosecliff asked.
“You shall aid me,” Nicholas said, his scheming begun.
The two men leaned closely together. Between them they must devise a way to return Constantine to Broc. They must discover any ailments of Juliette. Their mission weighed heavily between them.
* * * *
Constantine awoke with a plan. Nicholas, or Lord Daft, as she referred to him, must take her home and soon. It was apparent he could not tolerate her howling, yet Constantine had no control over its happenings. It only occurred when she became distressed. Though the only other person who was aware of this was now at Braven. It mattered not. Constantine remained resourceful. Though Lord Daft’s anger was fearsome, Constantine had come to the conclusion he meant her no great ill will. He could have caused her tremendous injury when angered yet offered up only threats. Perhaps he coveted her wealth but by God, he would not acquire it. This she swore. With tremendous resolve, Constantine headed for the great hall to break her fast. When none had shown to aid her in her day attire, she paraded about in her bedclothes. Protocol be damned.
“Constantine, what do you unclothed?” Nicholas asked astounded as she seated herself beside him.
“I seek sustenance, my lord,” Constantine replied innocently.
“In your night shift?” Nicholas asked incredulous.
“None would aid in my apparel,” Constantine replied. Deviously she let her eyes sadden and her bottom lip quiver.
“Never mind, lass, you look...fine,” Nicholas said brightly. By God, just the sight of that bottom lip in motion was enough to send three seasoned knights fleeing in different directions.
“Thank you, my lord,” Constantine said, graciously sucking in the offending lip. She smiled happily and began to eat off Lord Christopher’s own trencher. She grinned into Nicholas’s face. “After all, we are family. ’Tis my home now.”
Nicholas dragged a large hand over his face and grimaced remembering yesterday’s words. Was it just yesterday? How had he survived thus long? By the Saints, Rosecliff had best hurry. He needed word on Juliette posthaste.
“Indeed, help yourself,” Nicholas muttered having lost his appetite.
“My lord, I would ask a small favor,” Constantine requested between mouthfuls of bread and cheese.
“By all means,” Nicholas responded while massaging his temples.
“Perhaps I could wander your gardens. I fear I miss my father’s overmuch. It would soothe my sadness I have no doubt.”
Feeling a touch of relief, Nicholas thought this would be a grand idea. If he could just get her clothed.
“The gardens sound like a lovely idea. I am sure I can find two to help with suitable attire.” Nicholas scowled at two of the serving wenches huddled in a far off corner. They would not dare disobey. His foreboding look promised great retribution if they slacked in their duties.
“Wonderful. You will accompany me?” Constantine asked while still shoveling his food into her mouth. She reached her hand for Nicholas’s watered ale and then gulped it down heartily.
Nicholas took in her need to consume large quantities of food. No doubt to regenerate the fearsome noise she created. By God, he was aiding in his own demise. Nicholas snatched the trencher away. Had she consumed enough?
Constantine shot him a look full of surprise. She had eaten not at all yesterday. Did he think to starve her? Well fine, she would more than retaliate at his cruelty.
“Nay, my lady, I must needs train for battle,” Nicholas responded.
“Whose?” Constantine asked innocently enough.
It was on the tip of his tongue to reply her own yet Nicholas fought to contain any superficial animosity. “I seek only to hone my skill,” he answered.
“Perhaps you had best seek to be less fearful of battle cries, my lord,” Constantine offered innocently, lashes fluttering.
“Aye, and you should endeavor to be less fearful of heights,” Nicholas ground out before rising. He stalked off angrily.
Constantine could not help but feel smug. Lord Daft was indeed in a mood. Yet her thoughts were already focusing on the garden. She felt positive there would be many wonderful herbs to aid in her swift departure. If not she would devise a new plan. So little time, so many nasty noxious deeds to be done.
* * * *
It was with great hesitancy the two young maids assisted Constantine in donning her day clothes. The lord suggested they remain close during the day, yet one saddened ominous bottom-lip-quivering look from Constantine had them scampering off to other duties.
Constantine wandered the gardens and surrounding areas unencumbered looking intently at the vegetation. Her smile widened as she retrieved buckthorns. The berries, black and bitter tasting could be violently purgative. How delightful. That mixed with the few remaining buttercups she discovered should keep Lord Christopher’s castle very busy indeed.
Constantine found a quiet spot under a large tree and diligently mixed the two ingredients together. When finished she headed cautiously to the kitchen. On soft slippered feet, she glanced into the room. When no one seemed about, she added her concoction to the evening dinner. Once that mission was accomplished, Constantine grabbed up a large bowl and gingerly made her way back outside, but not before scooping up a conveniently left pair of gauntlets. Her loud lungs having reached the ears of everyone in the castle had all giving her a wide birth. She found it easy to slip into each room with a bowl of putrid dog, pig and chicken feces for each hearth.
* * * *
That evening Constantine sat by Lord Christopher’s side. He made a point of only offering her a small amount of bread and cheese. Though his guilt weighed heavily with him he just could not escape the feeling that too much sustenance would aid in her shattering everyone’s eardrums. He must think of the wellbeing of his people first.
Constantine accepted the food willingly enough and minded not at all everyone else partook in a delicious-looking suckling pig basted in a heavy fruit and herb sauce.
Nicholas ate well enough though glanced curiously about occasionally. Upon entering his castle he seemed to detect a certain unpleasant odor. He sniffed delicately at his dinner, his eyebrows downcast; he realized it was not coming from the trencher. He then hazarded a glance at Lady Constantine. She sat innocently enough and seemed not to notice anything was amiss. Thankfully, the putrid smell wafted not from her either; she wore a beautiful flower high on her dress and one behind each ear. The flowers were heady with aroma that was pleasing when he chanced a sniff in her direction.
“My lord, do you suppose the hounds have been running through the castle today?” One of Nicholas’s knights asked. He sniffed at the air and scowled at the pungent odor.
Constantine continued to shove her cheeks full of bread. When Nicholas became preoccupied with the knight she reached into his trencher and snatched up his own large piece of well-milled bread. This she deftly tucked into the folds of her gown for later.
“The air does smell a bit—un-seeming,” Nicholas replied. He returned to his dinner. Nicholas reached for his bread that was now gone and scratched his head confused. “I was certain I had bread.”
“But, my lord, you have already finished it,” Constantine replied. She nibbled delicately on her cheese.
“It would appear so,” Nicholas sighed. He ingested more of the pig.
“My lord, ’tis time I think to change the floor reeds.” Another knight on Constantine’s left suggested. His nose wrinkled. When he leaned down to give a smell to the ground Constantine quickly grabbed at his cheese and had it hidden when the man returned to his meal. The knight gave a bewildered look to his trencher then shrugged. He too made short work of the meat before him.
Not long after, the people began to disperse from the hall. Though dinner was usually a leisurely and somewhat long affair, they had all eaten quickly wanting to escape the now overwhelming stench of the room. Nicholas took Constantine by the arm and directed her to her chamber.
“When will you return me home, my lord?” Constantine asked him.
They walked down a large torch lit corridor almost companionably. Though Nicholas’s face seemed pinched, he took smaller breaths hoping to block out the terrible odor that seemed to engulf the halls.
“Soon, my lady,” he replied. What the devil was that?
“On the morrow?” Constantine asked.
“Perhaps not that soon,” Nicholas replied evasively. He was waiting on word from Rosecliff. He was certain Broc did not want his wife back. Why else had he not sent word? He must know Nicholas had her. Most certainly he would not trade dearest Juliette for Constantine’s safe return. He was uncertain what to do with her. If luck proved to be on his side, perhaps he could bribe her father to take her back.
“Buuurrrp.” The noise escaped from Nicholas’s mouth before he could stop it. “Pardon me, my lady, it would appear something is not settling right,” Nicholas exclaimed with deep embarrassment. Most assuredly his mother had taught him better manners.
Constantine ducked her head as if to acknowledge his apology, yet could not help the small laugh that escaped her lips. She covered it effectively and coughed delicately into her hand.
Nicholas was most positive the terrible odor in the hall was at fault for her sudden coughing. He hoped it would not make her ill. After this last thought, a tremendous rumbling could be heard coming from Nicholas’s belly. A look of almost abject horror crossed his face and he stopped in mid-stride.
“You must make your way to your chamber from here my lady without me. It would seem I have other pressing business to attend to,” Nicholas informed her hastily, hoping to make a quick retreat.
“Oh please, my lord, do walk me the rest of the way. I am ever fearful of the dark corners,” Constantine begged with spite.
“All right,” Nicholas all but squeaked. His tummy again rumbled and bubbled. Nicholas grabbed up her hand and he near raced her the rest of the way down the hall. Breathlessly, they arrived at Constantine’s door.
“Sleep well, my lady,” Nicholas said then belched, he held a hand to his belly.
“But my lord, you must check to see if all is safe inside,” Constantine replied. She looked up at him her eyes huge, her bottom lip quivering.
“All right,” Nicholas almost cried. By the Saints he had not soiled himself since he was but a babe and he vowed he would not now. Nicholas raced around the room frantically. “All is fine,” he bellowed, then fled wildly past Constantine in a rush and then down the hall at a frantic pace to seek much needed relief.
Constantine watched him flee. She curved her lips into a smile. Starve me do you? Smugly, she removed the bread and cheese from her gown folds. She took a healthy bite of the bread and closed her chamber door, her nose twitching. There really was a nasty smell about the castle. Thankfully it did not occupy her room that she had filled with flowers. Her clean hearth, filled with burning wood, shone brightly. She settled for the night.
* * * *
Constantine wandered about the castle alone the following morning. She had remained in her dress of last eve knowing instinctively none would be aiding her come daybreak. Even the kitchen was empty. She helped herself to the sweetmeats and an apple. With a mug of watered wine, Constantine went to the table in the great hall. Nicholas sat slumped, groaning, and resting his head on his arms. For one brief second Constantine actually felt sorry for him.
“My lord, you look unwell,” Constantine commented.
“I am dying,” he groaned.
“I think not, my lord,” Constantine replied.
“How fare you?” Nicholas asked, somewhat hazily.
“Oh, I am quite well, I assure you,” Constantine said.
“’Tis a mystery how you have escaped this plague,” Nicholas groaned.
“Nay, ’tis no mystery, my lord. It must have been the suckling pig that I was not allowed to partake in,” Constantine said.
Nicholas raised his head and gazed at her foggily. Did he detect a touch of smugness to her tone? She glanced back innocently enough.
“You did this,” Nicholas ground out.
“How could I, a helpless female, do damage?” Constantine chuckled, eyes wide.
“Helpless, my ass,” Nicholas exclaimed on an attempted rise, then groaned once more settling to the bench, his tirade squelched before it began.
Nicholas did not know why, when, or how she managed to render his castle harmless. A terrible thought entered his head. What if Broc knew he would seek to kidnap Constantine? What if he sent her here willingly, with the intent of her dispatching the lot of them? He could attack without retribution from the king. He would claim it was all Nicholas’s doing and seize his lands. By God, he had been duped twice. He must return the vicious little vixen immediately and cry mistake...but first he must relieve himself. By God, his belly had danced all night. It would seem it was not finished as yet. By the Saints, he was also positive he smelled like his fetid castle.