Springan stood like a soldier in the hallway and offered to stand guard at the door. “Trust me,” she said, her voice bitter, “I will let no man escape.”
“God be with you,” Glyn intoned, her voice shaky. “My father will see that you’re rewarded.”
“My reward will be Strahan’s defeat.” Springan’s face twisted with a hatred so intense that her beauty was suddenly lost and she looked like a scarred old woman.
Ware offered her a knife he’d taken off Sir Guy and wondered at the reasons of her malice.
With Wolf at his heels, Ware led Glyn, and Cadell along the upper hallway and down the stairs after Clare. His heart nearly stopped with every creak of the old timbers, but no more knights were lingering in the hallways. Except for a few servants, Ware met no one.
“Saints be praised, m’lord!” Habren said, her eyes growing misty when she spied Ware at the foot of the stairs. She and Mertrice were carrying huge baskets piled with filthy tunics, shirts, and breeches.
“Shh, woman!” Ware hissed. “Tell us where the guards are posted. If we’re to reclaim Abergwynn from Strahan, we must overpower his small army.”
“There ain’t many,” Mertrice chimed in. “Sir Strahan took most of his men. But there’s two sentries on the battlements, the steward’s in the cellar, and two or three knights are still sleeping it off in the great hall.”
“We’ll take them first,” Ware said, a cunning smile playing upon his lips.
“Are any of the servants loyal to Strahan?”
Habren snorted loudly and Wolf growled. “Nay. He’s a cruel one, he is. He has nary a kind word for anyone, and he’s often as ready to cuff you as not. There’s not a servant in Abergwynn who doesn’t yearn for Lord Garrick’s return.” She offered him a toothless grin and chuckled.
“Who do you think let the wolf go free?”
“Good,” Ware said, pleased that the servants had started their own quiet rebellion against Strahan. “Now, you, Mertrice, go to the stables and talk to the stable master, also the thatcher and the carpenter, the armorer and the smith. Send them back here, but one at a time, so as not to alert the guards. Everything must appear as it was.”
“’Twill be my pleasure.” Mertrice hurried out of the great hall.
“Cadell, you and I shall take the guard in the east tower, then the guard to the west. Are you game?”
“Am I!” Cadell’s eyes lit up with the fire of challenge. “I’ll run ’em both through.”
“Nay. We capture them and hold them with the others, if we can,” Ware ordered. “You, Clare, deal with the chaplain. See where the loyalty of our man of God lies. But whether he be true to Garrick or has pledged himself to Strahan, he is to be imprisoned with the others.”
“Good,” Clare said.
“But he’s a man of the church—” Glyn said, and Ware whirled on her, his temper snapping.
“Then God will protect him, won’t he? As far as I’m concerned all those who allied themselves with Strahan, except for the servants, are traitors. It’s that simple.”
Glyn swallowed hard. “I’ll pray for your immortal soul,” she whispered, crossing herself quickly.
“Do that,” Ware shot back. Then, moving swiftly, he and Cadell mounted the stairs leading to the east battlement. Cadell carried a dagger between his teeth and lugged Joseph’s huge sword while Ware was armed with Sir Guy’s weapon. They pressed their backs to the wall, keeping to the shadows, until they came upon Strahan’s guard, standing watch, his head nodding. Silently Ware stepped behind him, placed his knife at the man’s throat, and said, “One word and it will be your last, Sir Ivan.”
The old knight didn’t even reach for his sword. “God bless you, Lord Ware,” he whispered, but, though he seemed relieved that Garrick’s brother was back in control of Abergwynn, Ware didn’t trust him.
Within the half hour, both tower guards and the two men sleeping in the great hall were locked into the temporary prison with Springan at the door.
Ware assembled the men — servants and freeman who worked for Garrick. They were a strong lot, but they were used to wielding hammers and pitchforks rather than weapons. “We have no choice,” he told the small group. “Cadell and I will take the fastest horses in the stables and go to warn Garrick. The rest of you will stay here and protect the castle. Let no one inside the gates. Clare is mistress of the castle. You, armorer, will be the leader of our new soldiers and the man responsible for the weapons. The women will guard the great hall, and the men will keep watch over the gates. Is that understood? All of you are to answer to Lady Clare.”
The smith slid an uncomfortable glance at Ware. “Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord, but is it wise to let a woman run Abergwynn?”
“We have no choice,” Ware said swiftly and caught the flicker of indignation in his older sister’s eyes. “Clare is as smart as any soldier and twice as brave.”
The smith worried his hat in his hands. “I know, m’lord, but she’s so small.”
“One doesn’t have to be large to be strong,” Clare reminded him. “Think of Sir Joseph — a big man who fell easily.”
Several of the servants mumbled their agreement. They had already performed the task of burying the brute outside then castle walls.