Page 36 of Reign of Wicked Temptation

“I have some venison stew and some bread. It may not be much, but it will warm you and give you strength.” The villager ladled stew from the steaming pot hanging next to the fire. He handed the bowl to Crispin.

“’Tis much appreciated.” The scent and heat infused him instantly. “My thanks.”

The man stared at him for a long moment before nodding. He crouched beside Henry and nudged him. Henry’s eyes fluttered open focusing on Crispin and then their host.

“Eat.” He held the bowl to Henry’s lips.

They ate together in silence. Henry fell asleep almost instantly after he finished his stew. Crispin sat staring into the flames. They needed to get into the castle unnoticed. Once he breached the walls, he could turn his men on Francis.

There was only one way into the castle without being seen, and Francis knew of it. If he were wise, he would seal it the moment he returned to the castle. Crispin prayed his brother forgot the secret they kept since childhood. As the plan blossomed in his mind, he made a list of the items he would require and presented them to their gracious, if unwilling, host.

“Oh, and I will need to borrow two horses,” Crispin added. “I shall have them returned post-haste once I reach Culver.”

“Take whatever you need, sire.” The man bowed. “I am your humble servant.”

Once darkness fell, they had gathered the necessary supplies and saddled the horses. Crispin donned his dry clothes and woke Henry.

“We must leave. Can you ride?” Crispin searched his friend’s weary face. “Ruby is depending on us.”

Henry gave a curt nod and slowly rose to his feet. He wobbled at the motion but held out his hand to stop Crispin from coming to his aid. “I can dress myself.”

“Very well.” Crispin took the borrowed cloak and stepped outside to find the man standing with the horses. “Your kindness has been dually noted.”

“My thoughts and prayers are with the queen. I hope you locate her swiftly.” He handed the reins to Crispin. “May God grant you mercy on your quest.”

Henry stumbled from the cottage and mounted the other horse.

Crispin tipped his head in salute before urging the horse into a trot toward the path leading into the forest. If they rode hard enough, they could make it to Culver before nightfall on the morrow. He glanced at his companion who swayed in the saddle but held tight to the reins.

The thin smile on Henry’s lips told Crispin what he needed to know. His friend was weak and exhausted, but he would see this through. They had already come so far. A bit farther, and they could finally end this.

When they reached the king’s road, Crispin and Henry pushed their mounts hard. There would be no stopping until they reached Culver.

After hours in the saddle, they reached Tinley village before sundown the following evening. Half a league along the king’s road would bring them to Culver. Crispin routed his horse on a disused path around the village.

Even though he believed them to be safely locked in his dungeon, Francis would have his men positioned around the area to keep watch. At least that was how they had been taught to think defensively, if Francis remembered anything of their training, of course. Crispin refused to take any chances.

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Henry followed. His companion slumped forward on his horse. The trials of his ordeal took their toll. Crispin prayed he had enough strength to reach the keep. They had come so far already.

His friend’s fortitude stunned him. After days of torture, beaten and starved, Henry remained steadfast. Even challenging death after nearly drowning in the river was not enough to tempt the man to betray his post. ’Twould have been easier for him to surrender to that fate, and yet he persevered. Such determination to survive was admirable, but Crispin knew every man had limits. He could not continue at this pace without suffering irreparable damage to his health...or submitting to death.

Once he caught sight of the familiar parapets and stone walls, Crispin breathed with relief. He brought his horse to a small clearing and allowed him to graze. Henry attempted to follow suit but collapsed as he dismounted.

“Just a bit further.” Crispin wrapped his arm around his friend, hoisting him up. They quietly made their way through the thick trees to a spot on the far hilltop giving them a level view of the castle.

Torches stood bright along the walls, providing the only illumination for him to take measure of the fortifications. The clouds banished the moonlight which gave them a distinct disadvantage, but it could also be to their benefit when they attempted to breach the walls.

Henry lay on his back beside Crispin, his eyes closed, his breaths shallow. How could he ask his friend to push through his obvious pain to mount a rescue? He allowed him to rest as he scoured the castle’s outer walls.

He frowned. Crispin saw no difference between the number of guards he utilized and what protected the keep now. Would Francis be so confident in his plan as to leave himself vulnerable? Perhaps, but if the past were any indication, Crispin knew there were unseen elements at work. He underestimated his brother before. There would not be another occasion.

A soft snore belied Henry’s state of preparation. Crispin shook his head and allowed his friend to rest. Since the sun had just set, ’twas too soon to attempt to infiltrate the castle. They would wait several hours when he could be certain of the residents’ slumber before attempting to gain entry.

Tempted to rest himself, Crispin could not ease his mind. His precious Ruby lay beyond those walls. He longed to see her again, hold her in his arms. Seeing her broken had nearly shattered his heart. Even though she possessed inner strength, her experience would most certainly take a toll upon her both physically and mentally. Should Francis intend to take her for his own, he would be in for a dangerous challenge. His Ruby would not go quietly. No amount of torture or threats would weaken her resolve. Of this he was certain given her past.

Crispin left Henry to sleep and ventured back to where the horses grazed. Halfway down the hill, a distinct prickle of unease stabbed at his conscience. He searched the trees around him, finding dark shadows and tall spires reaching into the heavens. The unease continued.

Someone watched him. He drew the dagger from his belt and held it tight in his fist. Moving forward, he watched for any indication of life in the darkness. A flicker of movement behind a wide trunk caught his eye. He crept forward and grasped at the flutter of fabric behind the tree.

---