Keziah 

Forgotten for the moment, I watched as the two lords and their knights combined their knowledge of the castle and their enemies to formulate a plan of escape. Uncle, a master at making someone think they were coming up with all the ideas, fed the Marquis a false sense of leadership.

“The eight of us in this temple will take the tunnel out of the fortress?” Uncle posed his decision as a question. “As you said Breccia, we must go now if this plan is to work.” 

To his credit, the Marquis looked leery of leaving behind his people to act as a diversion to his exit. But he nodded his agreement. The nervous Bondsman and the four knights followed suit. Once again, no one looked to me for what I might think of the situation, but I would rather open the gate and point the way. 

Taking a chance on a stranger soaked in blood might be safer than following Uncle. He kept a too-firm grasp on my arm to keep me trapped to his side, preempting me from following through on any crazy idea. He knew I would take advantage of the situation to bolt if I could only find the chance. 

The Marquis’s knights led the way out of the temple, through the bailey filled with the chaos of men and women readying for battle. They scraped together everything they could find at hand to defend the fortress. A trio of young boys ran past with pitchforks and buckets of manure, heading towards the wall.  

I had seen so little of the fortress I hadn’t thought about who lived here. Seeing children made me realize whole families could be broken fighting for what their lord had already given up. 

The Marquis called out shamelessly as he passed. “To the walls! To the walls! Protect our home!” 

His sense of guilt had passed without a fight as well. 

Our little group hurried into the great hall while the Marquis continued to call out shamelessly to his people. 

“Get to the walls! Defend Breccia and defend our home!” His voice echoed against the high rafters. “Every man and woman is needed to repel the invaders! I will don my armor and join you all in this fight! Go now! Out of the hall!”

His high nasally tone laced with panic was not the call to honor he thought it was. The few servants still in the hall looked at him in fear, surprise, or resignation. If they considered ignoring his order the four knights surrounding us with their swords in hand kept anyone from acting on it. 

Cooks and maids headed out of the hall carrying items of their craft: fire pokers, heavy pots and pans, kitchen knives, and boiling kettles. Anything they could find to help defend their home against what they must know would likely be a slaughter against seasoned knights. 

The Marquis shook hands and rallied them on. They gave him skeptical looks and resigned nods. Not a word of encouragement or pride passed from servant to lord. Unfooled by his fervor they left the hall all the same. It was an order.  

The knights closed the thick hall door when the hall was emptied of all, but the eight of us. The heavy iron lock scraped into place with a sound that left a pit in my belly. It cut the sound and light in the hall by half, but the urgency remained. 

Uncle’s thumb dug deep into my arm, pressing down to the bone. He put up a calm front, but I could see the nervousness creeping into his actions. His cane no longer tapped along with every step. He had tucked it under his arm, its vanity forgotten in the wake of quick decisions and quick movements. He pulled me down the hall past the tables that stretched across the length of the room laden with an abandoned feast.  

The invaders would eat well tonight. 

Distracted by the thought, I was unprepared when Uncle savagely tugged me forward. It pulled me off balance and doubled me over in pain from my still-tender bruises. I dropped the skirt clutched in my free hand, tripped over the extra fabric of the dress, and rolled my ankle in the too-big-for-me shoes.  

Uncle, perhaps afraid to appear unmanly if he tripped himself, released my arm without hesitation. He glared down at me with fire in his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth, “Get up! You worthless rat.” 

Sir Erewald grabbed me under the arms and lifted me like a toddler back up to my feet. But with only one step I was on the floor again engulfed in pain. I sat up disoriented from the shock. My ankle could not hold my weight. 

“I can’t walk,” I spoke fearing that silence at this moment would get me in more trouble than words would.  

“Weft be warped, can you do nothing right?” Uncle cursed slamming the tip of his cane to punctuate his frustration. 

“I can carry her, my lord,” Sir Erewald offered. He scooped me off the floor and into his arms like a bag of flour making sure to cup my ass in his grabby hand.  

“That won’t do,” the Marquis said, stepping back towards us. Perhaps he was feeling chivalrous towards his new bride. “The tunnel is too narrow. A man must hunker down to pass through and a knight must remove his armor or he will not fit. Carrying the girl would be impossible. It would unacceptably slow us down to drag her along.” 

Nevermind. 

Uncle fell into a stream of curses and pacing. My ankle throbbed. Even the small weight of the shoe on my foot as it hung unsupported in the air caused it to ache. I concentrated on the pain. I didn’t want my growing joy at the possibility of being left behind to show on my face. 

“You are useless. Nothing better than bait, so bait you will be,” Uncle declared his normally pale face reddening more than my ankle. “Put her in the lord’s chair.” 

Sir Erewald shrugged, the motion lifted and dropped me along with his shoulders. He took the few steps up the dais easily and placed me in the large ornate chair, grazing my breasts before he stepped away. 

Did his inappropriate lust have no bounds of emergency as well as propriety? 

“Uncle…” 

“Hush.”

A woven order. His weaving wrapped around my vocal cords clamping down until I could not make a sound. I braced for what would come next.  

Uncle stepped forward crouching in front of the chair until we were at eye level. 

“Sit up and look forward.” 

My spine snapped up stiff as a board and my eyes looked up and out to the center of the back wall. From the corner of my vision, I could see him pull out a dagger and feel its cool leather handle as he placed it in my palm and wrapped my fingers around it. He carefully arranged my hold on the blade and steadied it on the arm of the chair like posing a doll.

“You will stay here unmoving, unspeaking, unable to reveal our plan of escape. You will only be able to breathe as you watch what is to come for you.”   

Control trickled away and my body jerked in a last tremulous shudder as it instinctually fought against his weaving rooting me in place. The muscles in my arms, legs, back, and core tensed into statuesque stillness. Only my chest rose and fell with each breath.

The sensation was familiar. Uncle had woven me still before, but the experience didn’t ease the intense growing waves of anxiety and dread.

Pins and needles numbness and an itching pain moved over my skin like an army of marching ants. Numb, but in pain. Feeling, but unreactive. My body a stranger. I had lost nearly all physical control. With my lips clamped shut I breathed only through my nose in quick short hyperventilating bursts. 

Be stone. Be calm. I told myself. 

If I didn’t steady my breathing it would only hurt more. 

Darkness filled the edges of my vision, unconsciousness would not relieve me of this nightmare. Uncle had ordered me to watch. 

I searched my limited view for something to ground me. 

Illuminated by a sliver of light from the high narrow windows of the hall, a tall brass water jug sat on a far table. The condensation on its side sparkled. I stared with every ounce of my being until it felt like it was only me and that jug. My full consciousness zoomed into it watching the condensation gather into a glittering drip running down the side and growing bigger as it collected more little drops in its path.

The panic eased and my breathing grew slower and deeper.

I could feel Uncle’s heavy gaze as he hovered beside me. He must have been waiting for something, but what? I was under his complete control.  

“Cuthwyn, enough dallying we must leave!” The Marquis flapped his arms about throwing a tantrum like a squawking crow.

Uncle nodded and they were gone. 

Out of my sight with only the trailing sound of footsteps.

I was alone.