Kenneth waved her inside the monastery, then led Siobhan to a chamber down the corridor. At the door, he paused for her to precede him. “I shall send one of the brothers up with a meal shortly.” He handed her the lantern. “This should make you more comfortable.”
Siobhan offered her thanks and accepted the light. As she entered the small chamber, she wondered if anything would make her comfortable ever again. Too anxious tosit on the small chair in the corner, she paced the windowless room. The air in the chamber was cool, but the lantern cast ample illumination around the small monk’s cell, making the wood flooring and stark stone walls appear warm.
This was a room meant for silent contemplation. A place to listen to one’s inner voice. It was that inner voice that troubled Siobhan now. William needed her. He would die without help. And yet what could she do? She could not fight. She didn’t know anyone she could call upon for assistance.
Because she’d let her father’s life become more important than her own. She had always wanted a life filled with excitement, exploring new places and experiencing exotic things. But she’d set her own desires aside to support her father while he finished yet one more bit of research, wrote his ciphers in one more document.
She paused in her pacing and dropped her gaze to the scroll in her hands. Supporting him was her duty as a daughter. Wasn’t it?
In the hush of the room, a slow prickle of understanding came over her. Was there a reason she could not be a good daughter and still get something out of this life for herself? Be something more than what she’d allowed herself to be over the course of her nineteen years?
Siobhan moved to the simple cot in the corner and sat down. She set the leather casing containing the scroll on the woolen blanket beside her. Something had to change, because she hated the feeling of absolute powerlessness that swelled inside her now.
Last night she’d lain awake worrying about de la Roche finding them. And as if that hadn’t terrified her enough, a growing anxiety had taken root inside her that she might never understand the importance of what her fatherhad entrusted her with. Siobhan looked at the scroll but didn’t touch it.
She’d always believed that things in her life had happened for a reason. It was how she’d explained her mother’s untimely death. It was how she’d justified the time she spent in isolation with her father. It was that thought that comforted her now. Her father’s abduction and William’s appearance in her life were not just random acts, but parts of a bigger whole.
The hush of the room pressed in upon her. But that larger purpose did not include sitting back and watching others. Siobhan stood. It was time for her to take charge of her life. She scooped up the scroll’s leather case and slid it beneath the ropes and the thin heather ticking that made up her bed before heading for the door.
She clenched her fists, remembering yesterday when she had defended herself against William with a hefty branch. Perhaps that skill would help her save him now. With a purposeful stride, she moved down the corridor, back toward the door.
She was no great warrior. She was inadequate to the task ahead. But she would never abandon those who needed her help. William would not suffer alone.
Chapter Six
With Siobhan en route to the monastery, William concentrated on the battle ahead. He gripped his sword firmly in his hands and prepared for the onslaught. Four men attacked without so much as a shout of challenge.
William stayed upright as his sword sank home in the bowels of one warrior, then in the chest of another. Both dropped to the ground, replaced by two more. A horse and rider bore down on him, the morning light at the rider’s back. The horse might not kill him instantly, but it most certainly could cripple him long enough for the other warriors nearby to do the deed.
Dodging the beast, William threw
Siobhan offered her thanks and accepted the light. As she entered the small chamber, she wondered if anything would make her comfortable ever again. Too anxious tosit on the small chair in the corner, she paced the windowless room. The air in the chamber was cool, but the lantern cast ample illumination around the small monk’s cell, making the wood flooring and stark stone walls appear warm.
This was a room meant for silent contemplation. A place to listen to one’s inner voice. It was that inner voice that troubled Siobhan now. William needed her. He would die without help. And yet what could she do? She could not fight. She didn’t know anyone she could call upon for assistance.
Because she’d let her father’s life become more important than her own. She had always wanted a life filled with excitement, exploring new places and experiencing exotic things. But she’d set her own desires aside to support her father while he finished yet one more bit of research, wrote his ciphers in one more document.
She paused in her pacing and dropped her gaze to the scroll in her hands. Supporting him was her duty as a daughter. Wasn’t it?
In the hush of the room, a slow prickle of understanding came over her. Was there a reason she could not be a good daughter and still get something out of this life for herself? Be something more than what she’d allowed herself to be over the course of her nineteen years?
Siobhan moved to the simple cot in the corner and sat down. She set the leather casing containing the scroll on the woolen blanket beside her. Something had to change, because she hated the feeling of absolute powerlessness that swelled inside her now.
Last night she’d lain awake worrying about de la Roche finding them. And as if that hadn’t terrified her enough, a growing anxiety had taken root inside her that she might never understand the importance of what her fatherhad entrusted her with. Siobhan looked at the scroll but didn’t touch it.
She’d always believed that things in her life had happened for a reason. It was how she’d explained her mother’s untimely death. It was how she’d justified the time she spent in isolation with her father. It was that thought that comforted her now. Her father’s abduction and William’s appearance in her life were not just random acts, but parts of a bigger whole.
The hush of the room pressed in upon her. But that larger purpose did not include sitting back and watching others. Siobhan stood. It was time for her to take charge of her life. She scooped up the scroll’s leather case and slid it beneath the ropes and the thin heather ticking that made up her bed before heading for the door.
She clenched her fists, remembering yesterday when she had defended herself against William with a hefty branch. Perhaps that skill would help her save him now. With a purposeful stride, she moved down the corridor, back toward the door.
She was no great warrior. She was inadequate to the task ahead. But she would never abandon those who needed her help. William would not suffer alone.
Chapter Six
With Siobhan en route to the monastery, William concentrated on the battle ahead. He gripped his sword firmly in his hands and prepared for the onslaught. Four men attacked without so much as a shout of challenge.
William stayed upright as his sword sank home in the bowels of one warrior, then in the chest of another. Both dropped to the ground, replaced by two more. A horse and rider bore down on him, the morning light at the rider’s back. The horse might not kill him instantly, but it most certainly could cripple him long enough for the other warriors nearby to do the deed.
Dodging the beast, William threw
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