Chapter Five #2
But it would be trickier after she killed him.
She still had to escape the castle and that would be no easy task.
But she presumed that if she could at least find the kitchens, then perhaps she could also find a postern gate.
Most castles had them near the kitchens because of the commerce that was conducted with the cooks.
Her hope was that she could get to the postern gate and flee before de Llion’s body was discovered.
She had to have that gift of time if she had a hope of escaping, and once she was free, she would run to the nearest church and ask for help.
Perhaps it wasn’t a brilliant plan but it was the only one she had and, at the moment, she was desperate.
She knew she had to strike first. De Llion had filled her head with frightening images and thoughts that were feeding her anxiety.
All that waited for her here was doom and enslavement and she wasn’t one to accept such a situation.
She would fight for her life, for her father’s life, or go down trying.
So she changed out of the heavy leather robe she had worn to bed, swapping it out for a few of the garments that Grayton had brought her.
The first thing that went on was a shift of heavy linen the color of eggshells, as most linen was that color because it did not dye well.
Wool was easily colored and she found a woolen surcoat of dark yellow that, once pulled over the sheath, fit her fairly well.
It was well-made and expensive, she thought, simply by the way it was sewn.
Once her clothing was changed, she sought out her leather slippers.
They were badly damaged from her time spent in the vault, shriveled and with some mold, but she put them on anyway over the hose she still wore from the previous night.
Her hair, a rather unruly mass of black silk, was tamed by smoothing her hands over it and running her fingers through it, straightening it as much as she could, before braiding it tightly and securing the braid with a piece of cloth she tore from the hem of her dirty old clothing.
She was dressed warmly and had shoes on her feet, so she was prepared when the time came to flee.
Her plans were briefly interrupted by a knock on the door.
Nervously, she ran for the poker until she realized that it was a servant, so she went back over to the bed and sat as a small old man, dressed in ill-fitting clothing, brought her a meal to break her fast. Allaston eyed the food and noticed that it didn’t look like scraps, which was surprising considering that was what she had been fed for the past three weeks.
She was hungry, too, but she remained on the bed as the servant stoked the fire with some peat and wood he brought with him.
When the fire was burning nicely, he quit the chamber and left her alone.
Once he was gone, she leapt up and ran to the food, shoving bread in her mouth and struggling to chew because it was so full.
The bread was warm, freshly baked, and delicious.
There was also cheese on the plate along with a cup of watered ale, and she drank deeply, thirsty.
A little mound of warmed mutton didn’t survive her hunger long and she chewed it up eagerly.
In fact, she cleared the tray in little time, feeling much better after everything was gone.
With her stomach, and manner, fortified she was better able to focus on what needed to be done.
She had a feeling that de Llion would come around again today, this morning perhaps, and she would be ready for him.
So she resumed her seat on the bed as she waited uneasily and the room grew warm because of the snapping fire.
It felt rather good. Growing restless and jittery, she fingered through the rest of the garments Grayton had brought her, a pile that she had kicked to the floor when she’d gone to sleep.
There was part of a brocaded surcoat, just the bibbed portion without the skirt, another surcoat that was a very heavy blue wool, and then a cloak on the bottom of the pile that was dark green in color with a brown rabbit lining.
It was quite nice and she pulled it out, inspecting it.
She was in the process of fingering the fur when there was a single heavy rap at the door.
Startled, she dropped the cloak and ran to the hearth where the poker rested against the wall.
Snatching the poker, she ran to the door, wedging herself against the wall so that when the door opened, she would be behind it.
Trembling with both fear and anticipation, she didn’t respond when someone knocked again.
She remained still and silent. After a tense pause, the latch to the door lifted.
The door swung open, hitting her as it did, but she didn’t utter a sound. She strained to catch a glimpse of someone entering, her heart beating loudly in her ears as Bretton came into view. He had his back to her as he stepped into the room and it was evident that he was looking for her.
Allaston took it as her moment to strike.
The longer she delayed, the more chance there was of him discovering her in the shadows with a poker in her hands.
Bringing the poker up, she stepped out from behind the door and aimed for his head, bringing it down as hard as she could right on the back of his skull.
There was a loud, sickening thud as Bretton pitched forward onto his face. He wasn’t out cold, however. He was still moving around and Allaston whacked him again, as hard as she could. He fell still.
Allaston stood over Bretton with the poker still raised, preparing to hit him again when she realized that she had knocked him out.
The man wasn’t moving at all. Peering closer, she wasn’t even sure that he was breathing and she could see blood on the back of his head, glistening off his dark hair.
Poker still in hand, she bent over to see if she could tell if he was breathing, now having some indecision about her actions.
What if she did kill him? That would make her no better than he was.
It would make her a brute, capable of violence.
She never had liked violence and now that she had committed a violent act, it only served to fuel her distaste.
But she couldn’t back out of her plans now.
She had already started the scheme in motion and there was no turning back.
De Llion was knocked out cold and it was time for her to move.
She had to flee, to somehow get out of this place.
Tossing the poker aside, she bent down to make sure Bretton was still breathing before she left.
A foolish gesture but she wasn’t entirely cold-hearted about things.
Even towards a man who was determined to kill her father.
After last night’s conversation with him, she had come to understand him a bit.
He was a driven killer, but he’d also led a tragic life.
As she looked down at him, she struggled not to feel sorry for the man.
But there wasn’t time for sorrows or regrets now.
She put her hand in front of de Llion’s nose to see that he was indeed breathing, slow and steady.
At least she knew he wasn’t going to die as the result of her beating.
Standing up, she turned hastily for the chamber door and ran headlong into a big, warm body.
Grayton had her around the neck before she could scream.