Curled on her side on the damp cold floor, Eleanor shivered in the light of the moon shining through the barred opening high on the tower. How many hours had it been? Ten? Fifteen? It seemed like time was grinding by so slowly. The moon had only moved the smallest amount, a span of four or five hours at the most, yet forever had passed in those moments. From her curled position on the floor, Eleanor watched the thin strip of light beneath the heavy door frame as movement after movement caused shadow in the glow.
Guarded, locked, surrounded by water and rock of the building, she saw no way out. The men that had captured them had separated her and Bruni, they were not within earshot of each other; Eleanor had tested that, shouting his name into the gloom of her cell.
Not usually scared of the dark, she began to resent the lack of light, the feeling that anything could be lurking in the ominous shadows that cloaked the uneven surface of the walls, the constant drip of moisture falling from the jutting stones into the pool below.
Watching a rat scurry from her line of sight, she knew someone was coming, and forced herself to remain still. She wanted nothing more than to hurl herself at her guards, beat them with her fists, even if she caused them no harm at all. She wanted to do it, needed to; she wanted to scream angry words, she wanted to make them bleed. But rationally, what was the point? She had heard the guards, their morbid excitement over the orders.
To be hung at dawn.
What a way to die. Only hours ago she had been on the Auden's boats, only hours ago she and Kate had been bathing in the cool water. Seemed a lifetime now since she had ran to beg Ragnar to return to Kate. It was time for her life to end soon.
The shadows always moved past the door, Eleanor thought, they never stop there, Oh God, they never stop there.
They are here.
******
Sitting high above the water and cold stone floor, she watches the shivering girl straighten out of her protective ball, and crouch on her knees, the long layers of her tunic covering her defensive position.
She plans to defend herself. She thought. Interesting, very interesting.
Tucking the wisps of loose hair behind her ear, she watched the fire burn in this child, so much anger in such a creature. Far too much like herself. Leaning back against the wall, she remembered her capture. So many months ago, or was it a year now? No, she was still 28 so it was still only months since she had been found in the outskirts of the village; her family, her friends, trying desperately to escape the Gaul. As part of a large group of travelling entertainers, she traversed the East and now the West amusing and shocking the various villages with their magic, her own famed fortune telling, and the masterful acrobatics.
Yet when they had reached this far North, the absolute glee and wonder at their entertainments, had become twisted, now the villagers gave furtive glances at the moving carts and foreign people; the whispers and suspicion of the magic wielding people. One night, something had snapped, the tension had become too much, and the villagers had descended on their travelling troupe, her family. Shivering with the memory of that night, silent tears threatened. Memories of the burning carts, some still with the families sleeping inside, the brutal murders of people she had grown up with, harmless people. Rape, butchery, burnings. Most of her beloved friends and family had been left massacred.
Her own child had been chased down by their King himself on horseback, something Stephan had taken great delight in telling her of as he saw her cradling her dead son's body. The handful that had remained alive, had been rounded up, dragged to the cells and chambers within the tower building, and tortured.
Clearing her eyes of her tears, she clutched her growling belly, urging the noise to silence. She needed to get out of here, before she starved, or before they realised she was still here. Stephan had thought her drowned at the bottom of the pool beneath the castle, the depth of the natural clear water unknown, the walls of the natural stone around it closing it off from escape. She should know. Many hours she had spent diving deeper and deeper, combing every possible inch for a route of escape. And finding none.
Seeing the crouching girl's body stiffen, she looked over the ledge. The shadows on the floor halting with scuffing feet, and the loud grate of the deadbolt sliding free of the lock, before the heavy wooden door opened flooding pale candle light over the crouched girl. The chains in their hands are bad, very bad.
Oh sweet Christ, they are taking her for questioning.
The heavy clank of the links connecting with the stone floor even had her flinching, memories she bade rest desperately clawing to the surface. Yet the girl on the floor did not move, she did not shiver, she did not flinch, nor did she raise her eyes to her captives as their angry French drawl spilled into the room. Motionless. Ready to pounce. Sucking in a breath, and refusing to blink, she decided she would commit this to memory for as long as she lived.
******
Pounding against the wooden door, Bruni bellowed into the darkness of the stone cell, only a small break in the cell wall allowed him any light into the compression of the black of the room. A faint streak of moonlight lit the wall to his left as he banged relentlessly against the door. Sinking to the ground, he held his head in his hands. He had failed her, the look of fear on her face as the Gaul men had attacked him on masse, pinning him to the ground, the look of violence on the faces of the two guards that advances upon Eleanor, his muscles had strained against his restraints as they were dragging him away, anything to get away from them, anything to get to Eleanor, to free her from these men with no morals, indiscriminate killers, every single one of them. The only calming thought that pulsed through him was that they had not taken her to the ground the second they had him restrained, they had bound her arms and dragged her through the same entrance to the tower as he, pulled along two opposite corridors once inside, screaming and tearing against their captors, anything to not be separated.
They dragged him for what seemed miles, before depositing him in this dank room, and no one had come back since. The silence, the guilt and the anger tore at him, his fist clenching and unclenching with each push of adrenaline around his body. He had to get her out of here. They were to be hung at dawn.
He had to tell her he loved her. ******
Eleanor steadied her breathing, watching the two guards move into her cell from beneath lowered lids. Do not draw attention to yourself, make yourself small. They will think you are insignificant, they will suspect you of nothing. Yet as the advancing guard touched her, the clank of the links hitting the floor in front of her knees, her time was up. Grabbing the sheathed dagger from the man's boot, Eleanor leapt to her full height, pressing the sharp blade against his throat while the other looked on, rather amused instead of alarmed.
"And what do you think to be doing child?" The smug guard asked in perfect Norse.
"I plan to escape ignorant pig" Eleanor stifled a smile as she responded in perfect French. And received the look of shock she had wanted, and been denied.
