Gloucester
Date Unknown
Electra’s knight ignored the questions she peppered him with at the start of the journey. A short time into the ride she stopped asking him anything and the two rode in silence. Ahead of them Emily and Simon appeared to be having a civilized conversation. She figured it was civilized after she saw Emily glance up at Simon with an occasional smile.
On the way to the castle, they passed another farm. A man, woman, and three children were bent over a row of sugar beets. Another woman, younger than the one in the field, was about to load a bushel basket in the back of a horse drawn cart. When the knight Electra rode with came parallel to the woman, she shifted the basket to her hip and waved.
“Good afternoon, Harry.” Her hand flew to her lips but not in time to cover the girlish smile she gave him. She lowered her hand and said, “I mean, Sir Harold.”
Electra felt the knight move a little in the saddle and he lifted a hand in greeting. “Good day to you, Corinne.”
Corinne and the others in the field wore clothes like farmer Wildon and his wife. Electra considered possibility after possibility to explain what was going on and none made sense, not really. She gave up. Once they arrived at Elysian Fields and Simon’s lie about it standing strong was disproven, then she’d demand answers. Everyone within earshot would feel her wrath. She’d demand a message be sent to Roger. When she and Emily were free from this band of loons, she’d tell him about how nightmarish the day had been. She’d fill Alex and Shakira in on how their names were being dropped.
They passed the clearing where the outcropping and picnic area was and both Electra and Emily stretched tall in the saddle. Electra yelled for Roger.
“Be quiet,” Harold told her.
She yelled again. After all, if he got rough with her, Roger would beat the snot out of him. To her disappointment, no return call came in return.
“I said, be quiet. No one wants to hear your caterwauling.”
“You be quiet, you nut bar.”
“I don’t know what is a nut bar, but I know caterwauling, so hush up.”
“I will not and if you get physical trying to make me, my boyfriend will beat the snot out of you. Take that to the bank.”
“I don’t hurt women, even those speaking jibberish. I have no idea what a boyfriend is but I can surmise it means you favor the attentions of a lad over a man. I am not afraid of your boy- lover.”
She should let the subject go, not engage. He was being an idiot. “Don’t play coy. You’ve heard the term boyfriend a thousand times. She turned enough to see his face. “Should we go back and ask your little girlfriend, Corinne, if she calls you her boyfriend?”
Harold cracked a smile, the first Electra had seen him do. “We haven’t the time, and if we did, she would never use such a word to describe me. I am a man, out of my boyhood many years. Glad of it, too.”
****
They came into a clearing, Electra and Emily recognized as where the ruins of Elysian Fields stood. But that wasn’t what stood before them now. Instead of the scattered blocks of blonde stone the sisters played on as children, there were stone towers flanking an arched gated entrance. A crenellated curtain wall two stories high fanned out from the towers. Armed men dressed like Harold and Simon patrolled the ramparts. From a corner tower, one of the armed men announced their approach.
They rode across a wooden drawbridge that covered a moat filled with water. Of course, the sisters had known there’d been a moat in the days Elysian Fields served as a fortress. In their lifetimes, water never filled it. It was a grass-covered dip in the ground.
Inside the bailey, a three-story round keep like the one at Windsor dominated the other buildings. A wide stone staircase led to the massive oak entry doors, gone black with age. The stairs were dimpled in the middle from use. From use. How could that be true?
After she and her sisters got to know Shakira, she’d taken them on a tour of the grounds pointing out where the different buildings were located. Off to the right, young ragamuffin boys played with hounds near a row of kennels where Shakira said the kennels originally were. To the left a stable stood where Shakira said it had been. Next to the stable a bare-chested, heavyset farrier nailed a shoe to a horse’s hoof he held between his legs.
The scene was straight out of a Hollywood set for a medieval movie. The bits and pieces Electra heard from passersby were spoken in the same archaic version of English the knights used. For a movie set, the production company spared no expense with the detail work on the facades. They’d built a remarkable reproduction of a Norman castle.
The entrance of their party had caused a stir. Several older teenage boys came over, and acting as squires, took the reins of the knights horses from the men. Cameras had to be running somewhere to capture the action. Electra looked around the immediate vicinity for a sound boom or glint from a camera lens. She didn’t see either. The crew must’ve been very creative to hide equipment so well.
Simon dismounted first. She expected him to have an awkward time of it, considering his missing leg and Emily in front of him. Neither impeded him. When he was on the ground, he lifted Emily from the saddle without the aid of his crutch to support him.
“Help her down,” he said to Harold.
Harold and the third knight dismounted. Harold raised his hands to Electra, following Simon’s order.
“I don’t need your help,” she told him.
Harold grabbed her around the waist and lifted her down in spite of her protests. He turned his back and walked away while she was still mid-protest.
“What do you think is going on?” Emily asked, joining her.
“I’d guess this was a movie set. But don’t you think we’d have heard if they were making a movie here? I can’t imagine Alex or Shakira or Esme or Stephen not saying something.”
With a sweeping gesture, Emily said, “Neither can I. For a set like this, they had to truck in all sorts of equipment and workmen. Everyone in the area would know.”
“I’ve been looking and can’t see where they put the camera or the sound men with boom mics. Where are the dressing trailers?” Electra and Emily turned in every direction searching.
“Maybe it’s a reality show, like Survivor. Only instead of an island they’re doing a Could you survive the Middle Ages show.”
“Still need to have cameras somewhere,” Electra said.
A little girl approached and looked up, big-eyed at Electra. “Momma says you’re witches. She says the knights will take you to the village for burning soon, before you can put a spell on us.” She looked from Electra to Emily and back. “I’ve never seen a witch. Momma says we can throw kindling on the pyre.”
“We’re not witches. We’re not here to put a spell on anyone or anything. We’ve gotten lost and just want to find our way home,” Electra reassured her and reached to touch the girl’s hair.
A woman wearing an ugly brown, wool dress and a plain cloth handkerchief on her head, like a mobcap, came running. She swatted at Electra’s hand. “Filthy witch, you’ll not touch my daughter with your wickedness.” She put her hand on the child’s shoulder and led her away.
Emily flapped her hand in front of her face. “Phew, did you get a whiff of that woman? She smelled like she slept in a goat pen.”
“I got a snootful.”
“I hope they’re joking with the burning at the stake threat.”
Of course it was a joke; a joke that was wearing thin. Time to put an end to this charade. She started toward the Keep.
“Where are you going?” Emily asked.
“I want to find someone in charge, the director or a production person, hell at this point, I’ll talk to an extra. We need to get on our way. Whatever is going on here, Simon is up to his hips in it. He’s shown no inclination to help us.”
“No producer or director will allow you to wander around their movie set.”
“Nothing would please me more than to get kicked out of here.” She stopped and turned to Emily. “While we’re on the subject of Simon, what’s up with that moment you two had back at the farm?”
“We didn’t have a moment.”
Electra raised a halting hand. “Please. I know that look you two had. I also saw how cozy you two were on the ride here.”
“We had a pleasant conversation. He was very nice.”
“He is not your friend. All we’ve heard is superstitious idiocy that we’re witches or spies. This adherence to staying in character by everyone is a royal pain in the arse. I’m fed up with all of it.”
Turning back, Emily said, “Something we don’t understand is going on here. I’m not ashamed to say, I’m getting more afraid not less. I don’t know why they’ve brought us to this place against our will and that frightens me more than you know. I have to hold onto something good, some hope we’re going to come out of this okay. I’m not as strong as you. I have to keep my chin up, or I’ll fall apart.”
Electra hugged her sister. “Another time, another place, and I’d be fine with you being you. Until we know what is going on, I need you to buck up. Can you do that?”
Emily took a deep breath. “I’ll be as steely as you.”
“Good.” She released Emily and started again for the Keep.
“Where are you going?” A nicely dressed, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and well-trimmed beard jogged over to her. He looked clean and smelled clean, but he too wore medieval clothing.
“Are you the person in charge?” Electra asked.
“I am Richard Armstrong, the castle steward. I am in charge of the daily workings of the castle for Master Geoffrey, the new Baron.”
“Please take us to him. This whole scenario has gone way too far and he needs to know and do something about it.”
“Master Geoffrey is not here. He is only six years old and lives with his parents yet, in Somerset. I will endeavor to answer your questions. Shall we go inside?”
“We don’t want to go inside. If the young master isn’t here, and you can’t stop this nonsense, then we insist you allow us to leave.”
“Simon says you might be spies.”
Emily smiled at Simon who had come to listen to the conversation. “I don’t think he still believes that. Do you?”
Simon smiled back. “Well, milady, you haven’t shown much cunning. I confess, I have my doubts about your spying abilities.”
“I’ll have you know, Sir Simon, I’m thought quite clever by my friends,” Emily told him, lips twitching with a suppressed smile.
What was she thinking, flirting with him? “Emily—” Electra shot her a hard-eyed-older-sister-warning look. “We discussed this.” She indicated Simon with a quick eye movement.
Willful as always, Emily rolled her eyes in return, knowing how that irritated Electra.
“Spies or not, I cannot let you leave until you’ve explained your presence on the Baron’s land,” Richard told Electra.
“Let’s cut the horse manure. What are you people? Is this a reality show, or a movie, or some weird-ass social experiment? No matter which it is, you’ve gone too far keeping us here. I know a thing or two about the law and what you’re doing is illegal,” Electra said.
Both Simon and Richard stared at her, blank expressions on their faces. The only reaction she got was when she told them to cut the horse manure. That comment raised their brows.
She waved her hand in front of them. “Hello boys, are we all on the same page now? Has it sunk in this game is going to get you arrested?”
Richard looked to Simon who gave a slight shake of his head and returned to Electra. “I’ve no idea what you mean ‘are we on the same page.’ As to an arrest, the Baron Guiscard was the local authority. Now, it is I who hear the cases in the new Baron’s stead, until he relocates to Elysian Fields.”
“Weird-ass? Foul language does not become you,” Simon added.
Electra itched to choke him. “We’re done here. Come on, Emily. We’re going.”
Electra had only gone two strides before a strong hand gripped her arm and forced her back. The crutch hadn’t slowed Simon. He held tight onto her bicep and said to Emily. “I’m taking your sister inside the Keep. Do you join her willing or do I have one of my men physically bring you along?”
“I’ll come on my own and so will Electra. Won’t you?” she asked Electra, who nodded. “Please just let her go.”
Simon pulled Electra around in front of him. “Don’t give me a reason to put you in manacles.” Her gave her a stiff shake then released her.
“Ladies, if you’ll follow me,” Richard said and led them to the keep. Simon trailed behind.
The entry doors opened to a Great Hall, impressive and imposing. Straw-like rushes covered the floor giving off the scent of fresh mown grass. Behind the fresh smell of the rushes lingered the scent of residual smoke. Far from offensive, the familiar odors comforted Electra. Rectangular leaded glass windows lined the walls. The windows were positioned to provide maximum natural light to enhance the softer light from the torches. On the eastern wall, a fireplace tall enough for a man to stand in was cut into the stone. Long tables, like picnic tables and their benches stood on end along the walls. At the head of the room, another long table sat on a raised platform with individual chairs. Behind it, hung two large tapestries. One showed knights on horseback in the midst of battle. The second showed knights and medieval-clothed ladies hawking. In between the tapestries hung a large banner of a swan against a scarlet field with Fortiter et Fideliter embroidered across the top.
“Have you ever noticed the ring Alex wears?” Emily asked Electra with her eyes on the banner. “It’s a ruby with an intaglio of a swan,” she said, not waiting for an answer.
“Shakira’s wedding ring is identical.”
“Shall we call it a coincidence?”
“I don’t know what to call it,” Electra answered honestly at the same time noting nothing modern in sight.
“I wonder what it’s Latin for?”
Simon saw their interest in the banner and heard Emily’s question. “It is the Guiscard family motto: Boldly and Faithfully. The Baron was a courageous man, as was his father before him.”
Richard continued to the head table. When he reached it, he laid the thick, leather-covered book he’d been carrying down on the table. He pulled out two chairs. “Please sit.”
A servant girl brought a tray with goblets and a flagon of wine. She began to pour for the men, but Simon thanked her and sent her away. He filled a goblet for Richard, then for himself, and took a deep swallow.
Richard had opened the book to a page he set off with a feather quill and the men discussed the issue.
The sisters sat next to each other. “This isn’t a facade. But, how can it be Elysian Fields? The castle is a ruin,” Emily whispered to Electra.
“How is it they know Shakira? How is it she knew the exact layout when she’d only walked the same grounds of the ruin we did? How is it they don’t know Alex but he has a ring like the Baron’s heraldic symbol?”
Emily ran a hand over the table, running an occasional fingernail into a groove. “I keep thinking if I try hard enough, I’ll wake up and find this a strange dream.”
Electra wished the same thing but in the back of her mind, with every unexplained element, feared she was totally awake.
“I have to go to the loo,” Electra told Richard.
“Loo?” He looked at Simon, who shrugged.
“You know, the bathroom.”
Now Richard shrugged and gave a shake of his head. “I don’t know what it is you’re asking.”
Patience was never one of Electra’s virtues and it was now growing nonexistent. “How about this? I have to pee. Do you know that?”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so from the start?” Richard asked in a pleasant tone. “I’ll have one of the servants show you to the garderobe.” He waved at a woman scrubbing a doorway floor. The woman’s face was flushed and she wiped at the sweat on her forehead and chin with her apron as she came. “Lizzie, take this lady to the garderobe and wait until she’s done. You’re to escort her straight back to the hall.”
“I need to go as well,” Emily piped up.
“Fine. Follow Lizzie.”
Lizzie eyed the sisters like they were vermin.
The red-faced Lizzie rushed along the corridor, turning every few seconds to look the sisters over again. Electra thought she mumbled a derogatory comment regarding them but couldn’t be sure and didn’t care.
On the way, Emily asked Electra in a low voice, “isn’t a garderobe a medieval toilet?”
Before Electra could answer the smell slapped her in the face. Her eyes burned with the acrid scent of urine. To her everlasting disgust, the hole in the wall that served as the toilet came into sight.
“Is that what I think it is?” Emily asked, looking horrified and covering her nose and mouth with her hand.
Electra nodded. “Yes.” She wondered how long she might hold off going to the bathroom. Could she hold it until they were set free? “This can’t be sanitary. It has to be a health code violation. Seriously, how authentic does whatever this is have to be?”
Lizzie stopped and jammed her hands on her hips. “Go on, then. Get done. I’ve chores to finish and no time to coddle the two of you.”
“Is there a screen or something to block the view from anyone walking in the corridor?” Emily asked, still looking horrified.
“Screen? What are you on about? No woman who dresses the shameful way the likes of you two do,” she said, wiggling her finger and pointing to Electra’s riding outfit and jodhpurs, “can have a shy bone in her body. Now hurry up, or I’ll have someone send for Sir Simon.”
Electra took as few short, shallow breaths as possible and approached the round cut-out in the stone. “Stand in front of me and block the view,” she told Emily as she unbuckled the belt on her riding jodhpurs.
Emily shielded Electra as best she could. “I take it you’re trying to convince us that you’ve never seen a woman in riding breeches before? Here, in the countryside, you want us to believe this is a new sight for you?”
“Riding breeches? Is that what you call this clothing? There was one other time. I didn’t see it myself, but I heard from the other servants that Lady Shakira arrived dressed the same as you.”
“Really?” Emily glanced over her shoulder at Electra, who mouthed—, “weird.”
“I don’t suppose you have toilet paper anywhere?” Electra asked, seeing no holder.
Lizzie frowned. “Do I have what?”
“Nevermind.” With disgust she stood and pulled her panties and breeches up, wiggling a bit at the damp feel. “Your turn.”
Emily gave a heavy sigh and said, “I’ve been debating if I should attempt to hold it. But, I best not. Neither Simon nor Richard act inclined to send us on our way anytime soon.”
“No. Which reminds me, what do you think you were playing at back there in the bailey with the sugary Sir Simon business? We talked about that not five minutes earlier. I told you to be careful and stop flirting.”
“I don’t see how being sweet-voiced is a bad thing. Your hard-nosed tone and attitude hasn’t gotten us anywhere.”
Electra couldn’t deny she was right. She nudged Emily who stared into the dark hole with a forlorn expression. “Go on, get it over with.”
Lizzie led them back to the Great Hall when they finished. Simon and Richard were sitting, sipping their wine and still talking about what was in Richard’s book.
“Sit down,” Simon told them without looking up. “Are you thirsty?”
Electra looked to Emily who shrugged and then nodded. “Yes.”
Richard reached over and plucked two goblets that hadn’t been there before from the tray and poured them a wine each. He slid the goblets over to Simon who looked up then and slid them to the sisters.
“Thank you,” Electra said.
When the two men finished talking, Richard closed his book and both men turned to the sisters. “You present us with a difficult problem,” Richard said. “Quite simply, we’re not sure what to do with you. Simon doesn’t believe you’re spies and frankly, neither do I. You claim to be from Greenland, a place I know nothing of, but you assert your knowledge of our laws, which is odd for one who is allegedly a stranger to England.”
Not sure where that conclusion was leading, Electra ventured, “If you know we’re not spies, then there’s no point in keeping us here. What does it matter where we’re from? Just let us go.”
“It matters because we are at war. You may not be spies. You may not be French. But we are still no closer to knowing what your business is here,” Simon told them.
“I don’t know what else to tell you other than what I’ve already explained. As you can see from our clothes, we were out riding, we were separated from the person we came with and walked to the home of our sister. When we got to where her house should’ve been, it was gone and a farmer’s home stood in its place.”
“Bring us a bible and we will swear upon it, if that makes you feel more certain of what we’re saying,” Emily added. “We’re in the same boat as you. We don’t have a clue what is at work here. I’m beyond caring what social experiment this is or which reality program. I just want to go home.”
“Until we learn your true purpose, you’ll be staying as a guest of the Baron.” Richard yelled for Lizzie to have the chamber maid come downstairs.
Electra hid her panic and gave him a weak smile. If she and Emily could make them think they were willing to cooperate with his orders, then they might let their guard down. The minute the opportunity presented itself, she and Emily would escape.
“I’ll station a man at your door all night,” Simon said. “As a precaution should you foolishly think of escaping.”
Just our luck to get snatched by a bloody mind reader. Electra thought she’d kept a poker face at the news they’d stay the night.
A maid led them up a spiral staircase lit with torches. The exterior wall was lined with arrow loop windows. In real medieval times, the windows provided archers a view of the bailey if the castle were under siege.
The stone staircase troubled Electra. These steps also had wear depressions as though well used. She’d come to the conclusion everything was part of a reality show. Because she couldn’t see cameras or sound equipment just meant they were expertly hidden. But why would producers of a television show recreate a castle when they could shoot on location at an existing castle? Every explanation she came up with triggered more questions.
They climbed another flight of stairs to the top floor. In olden days this was the family’s quarters. The maid stopped in front of a large oak door and pushed it open. “Sir Simon said to tell you the evening meal is right after sunset. One of the kitchen servants will bring you a pitcher of water for your wash basin. He said to bring you ale or wine if you requested. Do you?”
Electra could use a bucket of wine right now, but thought it best to keep her wits about her. She shook her head and the maid left, closing the door behind her.
Emily had gone over to the chamber’s large bed. Heavy dark blue velvet curtains were tied back to the four posts. She untied them and pulled them along a rod. The curtains served to enclose the bed, which was also covered in a patchwork spread of blue and red velvet. She sat expecting the soft give of the mattress to be similar to hers at home. She was wrong. The mattress had something springy in it but it was far from a soft bed.
She pulled the spread back to investigate and gave the mattress a feel. “I thought this might be down but it’s filled with straw. Ick.” She pulled the corner of the mattress up. “No wonder. Underneath is a plank with no padding, not like a box spring at all.”
A wooden table was pushed against one wall along with one chair. In the corner sat a wood chest with an iron padlock securing the contents.
“I wonder what’s in here?” Electra asked, tugging on the lock.
There was a knock at the door and another woman dressed in a servant’s simple garb came inside without waiting for permission to enter. “Sir Simon said for me to unlock this chest. It holds Lady Shakira’s belongings and he said you might find something suitable to wear for dinner. If not, I’ll rustle up some dresses from a village woman.”
What a horrible alternative. Electra shuddered at the thought of putting on a borrowed dress from a village woman. The way her luck was going, it would be the woman who called them witches and stunk like a billy goat. If the Shakira they were referring to was Alex’s wife, then her clothes would fit enough to wear. They’d be tight in the bodice for Electra and too long for Emily but useable.
“What did Lady Shakira look like?” Electra asked as the maid unlocked the chest.
“She was a tall one, taller than any other woman here. She had hair black as night, thick and arrow straight. It gave Myrna, her lady’s maid, fits.”
Electra and Emily exchanged a puzzled look. The servant had described Alex’s wife.
“Can’t be,” Electra mouthed, knowing she was wrong. When Simon mentioned the Baron’s wife was named Shakira, Electra wanted to believe it was a coincidence, however unlikely. In spite of mounting evidence to the contrary, she chose to grasp at that straw.
The woman pulled two floor-length gowns from the chest and gave them a hard shake and then laid them out onto the bed. “Here you go. Underthings are in there as well.” She looked askance at the sisters. “Ladies do wear proper underthings where you’re from, do they not?”
“They do. You can go. We’ll dress ourselves,” Electra said.
“Well you should. I’m no lady’s maid.” The servant spun around and practically stomped out, shutting the door behind her.
Emily had picked up a deep green velvet dress with a cream silk cutout panel in the skirt. The long sleeves came to a point and were worn tight to the arm. “These are beautiful.” She laid that one down and picked up another. This was bronze velvet with a high neck embellished with a beaded collar and cuffs. “Let’s see what else is in the chest.”
She and Electra dug through and pulled three more dresses from the chest, all jewel tones, a sapphire blue, a scarlet, and a bright yellow. All were stunning with silk embroidered details or delicate lacework. They had to be a costume designer’s fantasy collection.
Emily got on her knees and kept emptying the contents of the chest. “You’re not going to believe what’s on the bottom.”
Electra dropped down next to her and peered inside the chest but didn’t see anything more out of the ordinary than everything else. “What?”
Emily reached inside, grabbed something and then turned her hand over, revealing a wristwatch in her palm. Electra knew the distinctive model with the black face and gold dot at the twelve o’clock point. It was from the Movado Museum collection. “Shakira wears one just like it.”
“I know. That’s not all that’s in here.” She reached inside again and moved a folded gown aside so Electra could see. “So are her riding clothes.”
Electra took out a jacket, cotton shirt with SC monogrammed on the cuff, (Shakira’s maiden name was Constantine), jodhpurs, and black field boots. There was no doubt now about whether or not Alex’s Shakira was here at some point. If there’d been just riding clothes maybe, but it was the combination of everything that was too much to discount as coincidence. She sat back on her heels and stared at the riding gear, trying to come up with a reasonable, logical connection between the gowns and the riding clothes. The more they learned about Shakira and this place, the more questions arose.
“Back at the farm when you asked me if I thought it possible that we’ve gone back in time, I said no.” Electra turned to Emily. “I don’t want to believe I was wrong, but I have to wonder.”
“We need to get to the highway to Gloucester. Whoever is behind this, the one thing they can’t make disappear is the dual carriageway to town.” Electra stood and went to the door, cracking it open to check the corridor. Simon had said he planned to station a guard at their chamber door, but the corridor was empty. Maybe he forgot or maybe he thought they only needed to be watched at night. Whatever his reason, this might be their best opportunity to escape.
“Look out the window,” she told Emily. When Emily did, Electra asked, “How busy is the courtyard?”
“’Bout the same as when we arrived. Why? What do you have in mind?”
Electra shut the door. “We’re getting out of here. The corridor is empty. This is our chance. I’m sure this place has arrow windows all around. I’m going to check on the other side to see how busy the back is. If the activity is concentrated out front, I’m gambling the rear isn’t busy.”
“Too bad the stables aren’t out back. We might be able to snatch a horse.”
“We’d be caught in an instant. Stable boys and knights are in and out of there all the time. Sneaking out on foot is our only shot.”
“We won’t have much time before they come after us. If the coast is clear enough to make a break for it, do you think we stand a chance of really escaping where they won’t find us?”
Not so deep down, Electra thought the odds slim but they had to try. They had to find a familiar face away from here. “They’ll expect us to run until we’re a safe distance and then double back and head to where we were caught. Simon will take a party of knights and spread out. He knows we can’t get too far on foot.”
“It sounds like you don’t think we have a chance of escaping to safety, so why are we trying this?”
“When Shakira explained the original layout of the grounds she said if facing the castle, the chapel and small family cemetery was to the left. The gardens were behind the castle, just outside the kitchen. We won’t take off on a run like they expect. We’ll hide in the cemetery. After dark, while the cooks and helpers are busy with the evening meal, we’ll head to the cliff and down to the river.”
“We have to double back sometime,” Emily said and joined her at the door.
“True, but once we’re by the river we’ll have more cover as we move along the base of the cliffs. When we’ve gone far enough away, we’ll climb up and head home.”
Electra opened the door a crack, saw no one, and then opened it all the way.
When she stepped out, Emily took her place in the doorway. “I’ll keep watch,” Emily said. “If anyone comes down the corridor, I’ll start coughing. You’ll have to find a hiding place. What will you say if you are caught?”
“Well, we’re not exactly prisoners. I mean, if they thought us dangerous, we’d be in a dungeon. I’ll simply say I was curious about the grounds and wanted to see stuff other than the bailey.”
Electra walked at a normal pace until she came to the corridor on the other side of the castle. The passage was not as well lit. Where the other passage had sunlight in addition to torches, this one only had torches. The windows she expected to find right away weren’t there. She saw a square of outside light ahead a couple of dozen yards and hurried toward it. She’d almost reached it when Harold, the knight she rode to the castle with opened a chamber door. He was in the process of adjusting his baldric so the sword lay flat against his thigh. Behind him a pretty blonde in servant’s garb straightened her clothing.
Electra froze.
The maid looked at Electra with wide eyes and laid her hand on the knight’s arm. “Who is she?” the blonde asked in a soft voice.
“She’s one of the women we brought to the castle today.”
Electra forced a smile and started to walk backward. “Hello Harold, didn’t mean to disturb. Just thought to take a gander out these windows.”
“Stop right there,” Harold ordered. “Go get Simon,” he told the blonde.
The blonde took a fistful of skirt in each hand and scurried down the corridor to the staircase. Minutes later, she returned with a stern-faced Simon. Harold hadn’t spoken a word to her the entire time.
“Is there a reason why you’re wandering the corridor?” Simon asked.
“Like I told Harold, I only wanted to have a look around,” Electra explained.
“Where’s Emily?”
“In our chamber.”
Simon glanced from the blonde to Harold, smirked and then dismissed the blonde. “Let’s see if she’s where you say she is,” he said, taking Electra by the arm. “Come with us,” he told Harold.
The knight walked far enough ahead that he rounded the corner of the corridor on their chamber’s side of the castle first. Emily’s fake coughing fit began but suddenly stopped when Electra and Simon came into view.
“Coughing? Really? That was your warning signal if you saw someone?” Simon asked Emily. She opened her mouth to speak but he raised his hand to stop her. “Don’t bother to lie. I know it was and it’s the oldest, most obvious warning in the world. I’m disappointed in your lack of imagination, milady,” he said, directing the comment to Emily.
He let of Electra’s arm. “Get changed, both of you. The evening meal will be served shortly. Harold will escort you to the hall.” Without taking his eyes from the sisters who stood together, he ordered Harold, “Don’t leave their door until then.”