Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
A sudden jolt at one of the doors had Brother Emanual jumping, not so Cavell. His training had taught him well not to respond to sudden sounds, to always be in command of himself, to always be confident and fearless.
“Help me, please help me!” a soft voice begged.
“We do help you,” Brother Emanual said gently.
“I do not have the madness and no demon lives inside me. Please! Please, I beg you to free me from this horror,” the woman pleaded.
“When you are well, you will return home,” Brother Emanual said.
As Cavell followed alongside the monk down the corridor, those in the cells, a mix of men and women, came to their window to plead for help.
“A generous benefactor allows us to care for people beset with madness or demons. We do our best to not only care for them but to root out the madness or demons so they may eventually return home or at least die pure and whole, the monk explained and stopped by two cell doors that stood ajar.
Cavell peered inside one cell and spotted a narrow slit in the stone wall that allowed for a modicum of air and barely any light. But he did manage to see the shape of a woman sitting on the hay-covered, stone floor, her wrists shackled, and the chains attached to an iron ring in the stone wall and her head covered with a sack.
“No one can look upon her. She is beyond help. The poor soul is possessed,” Brother Emanual said and closed the door.
Cavell wondered how many in the cells were truly possessed or mad or were here simply due to circumstance. That, however, was not his concern. His wife was his only concern.
The monk pushed open the other door that stood ajar. “This was your wife’s quarters.”
Cavell grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall and entered the cell. It was much like the cell he’d just seen though smaller. Barely a thatch of hay with a thin blanket tossed over it served as a bed and a stench came from a wood bucket in a corner. If someone had no such madness before arriving here, they surely would acquire it after being locked away in a place like this. The obvious question was…
“Are you telling me that my wife is insane?” Cavell asked after stepping out of the cell.
The monk took a step back before he responded. “I believe so, which is why I would have opposed the marriage.”
That gave Cavell some thought. “Who brought her here and how long had she been here?”
“Two men from Clan Murdock brought her here tethered, gagged, and completely out of control about a month ago.”
“Since I had no knowledge of her insanity, can the marriage be annulled?” Cavell asked, seeing a possible easy way out.
“I believe so, though since she is legally your wife, you are responsible for her and it would bode well if you were to find her and return her here, then apply for the annulment which I, of course, would assist you in securing.”
“That way no one learns of her escape,” Cavell said, aware the monk was bargaining with him.
“Her return here would serve both of us well, and I can guarantee your freedom from the marriage.”
Cavell had faced far more difficult challenges than tracking down an insane woman. “It won’t take me long to find her, so make sure you have ready whatever document necessary to end the marriage when I return.”
“You have my word on it, sir,” Brother Emanual said with a smile. “Now, how about some more mead and some food before you take your leave?”
CHAPTER 2
Cavell, his face concealed by his hood, sat unnoticed as he savored ale and meat amidst the bustling market at Pinkeny Village. His search for his wife had been disappointing thus far. It had been a week since his stop at the abbey, yet he had not found her. He had begun to worry about her safety since a woman traveling alone was easy prey, and any manner of harm may have befallen her.
A swift glance of his surroundings revealed several stalls and booths busy with merchants and craftsmen hawking their wares and people haggling over prices with them. Chatter flowed abundantly, accompanied by children laughing as they ran in play and musicians performed lively songs.
A village on market day was once a source of joy for Cavell before the battle that had left him scarred. He would barter with merchants, indulge in ale and wine, stay informed through gossip, and easily find a willing woman for the night. Those days were long gone. Women no longer flocked to him. They now shunned him, turning away in disgust.
He silently cursed his situation for bringing him here, but it was one place he just might learn news about a lone woman traveler. He kept his attention focused on the conversations at nearby tables, hoping to catch at least a bit of gossip that might connect with his wife.