So Worthy My Love (15 page)

“Just the same, I perceive you have a fatter purse than you admit, a condition which suggests you do not need to resort to common thievery or kidnapping for your substance. Therefore I would assume your price is high, and for your part in this abduction you will undoubtedly be paid very well.”

Nicholas brushed aside her statement with a careless wave of his hand. “ ‘Twas but a favor for an old friend,
Englisch
, naught else.”

“If you can be bought for a price,” she persisted, ignoring his denial, “how weighty a purse would it take for you to change your allegiance and return me to England?”

A burst of laughter erupted from the Hansa captain, and though Elise's expression grew coldly brittle, the sound of his amusement ran its course until it finally dwindled. Nicholas grinned at her and, with a shrug, spread his hands apologetically as he responded. “I gave my vord to a friend,
vrouwelin
. There is naught else I can do but keep my troth.”

“What does the keeping of one's troth mean to a brigand?” she asked in annoyance. She moved away from him while his eyes, shining with humor, followed her. “You talk honorably of your pledge, Captain, but is that pledge honorable? Is there such great esteem among villains that you can boast of your own repute even while cutting the purse from your victim's sash? Or spiriting away a captive to other climes?”

Nicholas opened his mouth to interrupt, but Elise pivoted on a heel and held up a hand, halting him abruptly.

“Give me leave to speak my words through, Captain. Since you have obviously grown calloused about your deeds, my attempt to reason with you and point out the error of your ways will no doubt prove futile. Nevertheless, I ask to be heard. You have made a pact with the devil, and I am caught in this trap with you as the gatekeeper. Innocent though I be, I will be plunged into a dark pit of that unnamed villain's making while you boast of your honor. Well, sir, your integrity has the foul stench of barbarism. You and your black-hearted accomplice have set yourselves to do mischief of the most wicked kind, and you are as guilty as he for carrying out his bidding.”

“I cannot plead my cause,” Nicholas admitted with an accommodating smile. He was intrigued with the way her eyes flashed when she was provoked. “I am guilty as charged.”

Though she had hoped to sway him by the logic of her words, Elise now realized she had failed. He was a man who had set himself to a task, with full knowledge the deed was wrong, and apparently felt no chagrin.

Nicholas considered her statements in thoughtful reflection, wondering if the future would prove his actions as vile as she had claimed, or if he would be fully redeemed in her sight. Though placed at his mercy for this passage of time, she seemed as yet undaunted. She continued to conduct herself with a proud grace that conveyed an inborn dignity, an unquenchable
verve, and a resilience that few men could lay claim to.

He gently plucked at her sleeve, like a small, wayward child trying to make amends. “Yu may have me flogged if in a year you regret this voyage,” he murmured softly. “I trust it vill prove to be of benefit to yu as well as to my friend.”

Elise stared into the warmly shining eyes and finally, after a lengthy pause, moved away. Nicholas released his breath slowly, fighting an ever-growing desire to comfort her and pledge his protection as her champion and suitor. He was beginning to understand how a man could be so taken with a woman he could forget honor and a troth fairly spoken.

T
HE SHIP ENTERED
the mouth of the Elbe, and as lookouts watched for sandbanks and ice floes, Elise stood on deck, anxious to see what she could of this land wherein she would be held prisoner. Mostly she saw marshes and lowlands until the banks began to rise on the north. A frosting of white mantled the trees where the heavy mists of the prior evening had formed crystalline trappings of ice. Along the shores, a jagged upthrust of giant ice shards traced the water's edge, and where the ground was protected by trees, a blanket of snow remained. An occasional flurry drifted down in the hushed silence of the still day, more as a reminder of the season than any real threat of a storm.

Finally the ship approached the quay at Hamburg, and seamen rushed aloft to reef the sails and secure the lines. The cold air penetrated Elise's threadbare garments as she waited with Fitch and Spence for the ship's landing and the signal to disembark. When word came, she crossed the gangplank first, with Spence and Fitch following close behind, each grasping an end of the chest her new clothing had come in. As she stepped to the dock, Elise felt the weight of the captain's gaze and turned
back to stare up at him as he watched from the rail. He inclined his head slightly, which was his only parting gesture, and Elise responded in kind, somewhat confused by his stoic manner. He had been most distant with her since the night she had asked him to take her back to England, and except for the brief occasions when he had been in need of a chart or some such item, he had kept himself away from the cabin. Not that she mourned his reticence or his aloofness, for he had never given her any choice in accepting
or rejecting his company. It was just that he had seemed to enjoy the exchanges before that particular evening, and she was curious as to what had made him change his mind so abruptly.

Elise and her two escorts merged with the bustling activity of the docks. All around them vendors hawked their wares in a language she could not understand, while eager merchants haggled for the cargoes that had been brought in, yet the lightly falling snow muffled the variety of sounds and seemed to bring a softer note to the cloudy day.

Fitch had taken the lead through the milling throng and now faced her with an explanation. “I gots ta go an' fetch a key for the manor ‘ouse ‘is lor'ship rented for ye. Now be good an' give me yer word ye'll wait ‘ere wit' Spence ‘til I return.”

Elise raised a sharply questioning brow. “If Spence is to remain, is it not reasonable to assume that he will catch me if I try to escape? And who in this foreign place would I plead shelter from if I did manage to escape? I've no knowledge of this jargon these people speak”

Fitch thought upon her answer, then finally accepted her logic. Leaving her to the other man's care, he hurried off down a street.

A vendor of cooked meats had built a small fire beside her cart for the preparation of her wares, and its cheery flames promised the warmth Elise was seeking. Drawn to its heat, she stretched her icy fingers toward the fire, and almost immediately a jolly, rosy-cheeked woman greeted her. Speaking to her in a foreign tongue, the vendor pressed her to take a short wurst on a stick. Elise was reluctant to refuse the purchase, for fear she would be forced to leave the fire, and she looked pleadingly to Spence who had set her chest down nearby. He seemed happy to comply and laid a coin in the hawker's eager hand. That one received it with a jovial
“Danke, danke!”
and handed Elise the juicy tidbit. She fetched another for Spence and it was promptly consumed. Encouraged by his appetite, the woman pressed him to buy another and chortled in glee when he consented. Elise leisurely nibbled her own sausage, more interested in savoring the heat of the crackling fire than the meat, though it was a new and succulent
taste for her.

They had more than enough time to finish several sausages as they waited for Fitch to return. Indeed, Elise was beginning to wonder if the man had lost his way, but finally she caught sight of him trudging slowly toward them. From his doleful expression, she could swear he bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

“ ‘Ere be a change in plans,” he announced glumly when he halted beside them. “We'll be puttin'
up at a different place north o' here. We'll be needin' mounts ta take us . . . an' supplies ta see us through ‘til ‘is lor'ship comes.”

Spence frowned in sudden bemusement. “But ‘is lor'ship said he rented a manor ‘ouse right ‘ere in ‘Amburg an' put out coin for it.”

A long, wavering sigh slipped from Fitch, seeming to deflate his spirits even more. “ ‘Ans Rubert said the ‘ouse's been taken. ‘Tis no longer ‘vailable.”

Spence peered at his companion closely, but the man would not raise his gaze. With a snort of irritation the taller man held out his hand for the purse. “I'll go an' fetch the ‘orses an' supplies meself whilst ye wait ‘ere wit' the girl.”

Fitch mutely nodded and, with another laborious expelling of breath, lowered himself onto a stack of firewood. He dropped his chin into his cupped hand and was in such a state of despair, he was oblivious to the peddler who persistently urged him to try her sausages. It was only when the aroma wafted beneath his nose that he came to an abrupt awareness and eagerly dug in his jerkin for a coin.

It was some time before Spence returned. What he acquired from the waterfront livery made Elise doubt his capable judgment of horseflesh. The saddles and tack were worn relics of an era long past, which might have also been a way to describe the four small horses. The beasts were short-legged and shaggy with long winter coats, and they plodded slowly along with no apparent ambition to move any faster. The food and provisions procured from shops along the quay and gathered into bundles
upon their backs would not have been a wearisome burden for an ordinary steed, but the two geldings on whom they had been laid wheezed and labored under the strain, as if the weight was far beyond their ability to carry.

Having grave doubts as to the strength of her own nag, Elise settled herself gingerly on its back, then caught her breath as the rising winds sent shivery blasts coursing beneath her woolen cloak. Catching the flaring garment and tucking it securely around her, she huddled within its warmth upon the sidesaddle and prodded her mount with a thumping heel until the animal reluctantly followed Spence who led the procession on his steed. Bringing up the rear, Fitch held the lead rope of the packhorses as he kept a wary eye upon their charge.

The short caravan traversed the winding streets of Hamburg, crossing stone bridges that spanned canals and narrow waterways until they gained the outer limits of the city, then they traveled north along a wide road that led them through a thick forest. Though it was early afternoon, low leaden clouds continued to dull the western light and deepen the gloom beneath the trees. Spitting snow stung their faces, leaving traces of white upon the mulched leaves upon which they trod. Eventually they came upon a path that was wide enough for a cart, but only a little better than a worn rut. Without word or nod Fitch turned his horse onto the trail. Climbing gradually from the lowlands, they picked their way through the thinning forest and around large tumbled rocks which became increasingly more plentiful.

The wind whistled over a low ridge that buttressed the hill and wailed a mournful lament as it passed behind them through the trees. The sorrowful sound seemed to echo the dismal mood of the three. The men were only slightly more knowledgeable of the terrain than their hostage, and from the questions exchanged between them, it was apparent the three of them shared a common curiosity as to where the path would end. As for Elise, she was anxious to know where she would be imprisoned, in what house, hall, dungeon, or fortress she would eventually find herself.

They topped the ridge, and to Elise's amazement she found that their path led to an ancient castle nestled on a low bluff a short distance away. Gray and bleak as the wintry sky overhead, the outer walls rose from a jumbled pile of jagged rocks near an elbow of an ice-crusted stream and were themselves breached in several places. Dry tufts of withered grass randomly pierced the clumps of snow that covered the rampart. A low bridge constructed of stout timbers provided access across a moat to the dark, gaping maw of the gatehouse where a rusty portcullis hung askew over the upper part of the entrance, held there by one chain that still secured a corner. A wooden gate lay in a broken heap across the passage and was covered with a fresh dusting of snow.

Picking their way around the fallen gate, the three passed through the gatehouse and entered the courtyard. Elise found little to assuage her anxieties. The storehouse and barracks had all but collapsed against the west wall. On the east stood a
dilapidated stable, to which Spence led the packhorses. The main keep was still intact at the juncture of the east and north walls, but most of the shutters and some of the windows on the second and third level, along with the steep slate roof, were in sore need of repair. A few windows stood open, as if to welcome the birds that fluttered about them.

Fitch stared agog at his snow-bedecked surroundings. Finally he dismounted and approached the maid, seeming reluctant to meet her gaze. Without word or excuse he helped her down and followed at a distance as she climbed the front steps to the arched doorway of the stone keep. The large, heavy portal gaped open, offering little protection from the blustery winds that whipped about them. Peering into the gloom of the inner chambers, Elise moved cautiously inward. She had no knowledge of what creature, human or otherwise, might be lurking within the shadows of the great room, and she was alert to any sudden movements as she descended the pair of steps that led from the entrance. No ferocious beast sprang upon her from the darkened corners of the hall; there was only the assailing attack of her senses by the filth of the place. Decades had apparently passed since the castle received the care and attention of a human hand.

Huge, grayish shreds of long-abandoned cobwebs hung from the darkly timbered, rough-hewn trusses that braced the ceiling. The webs spanned doorways, corners, and other nooks and crannies, while tiny droppings gave evidence of the comings and goings of small rodents. As Elise moved about the room, her skirts raised dust from the long, tapering
ridges of dirt that stretched across the stone floor, marking where strong drafts had long invaded the hall. A large table lay on its side in front of the huge hearth, and several benches were piled in a jumbled heap beside it, some broken in pieces as if used to feed a fire of a more recent time. The soot-coated interior of the open hearth bespoke of a lengthy age of roaring blazes and smoldering coals. A brick oven had been built close against the side of the inner wall, indicating that the area had been utilized as a kitchen. A large iron kettle still hung on its bracket above the ashes, and from a beam overhead assorted pots and utensils hung, covered by a thick mantle
of dust.