There was no time to get Will’s aid, so he had no choice but to follow this person himself.
The figure, hidden within a dark cloak, stopped and looked behind its shoulder—and it was in that brief moment that the moonlight caught the side of her face.
Eleanor?
Hugh exhaled deeply, screwing his eyes shut, rubbing them before opening them again.
Eleanor?
No, he wasn’t certain that it was her. Why would it be his wife anyway?
He must follow this figure until he found some answers.
With a sinking feeling and his heart pounding in his chest, he surreptitiously followed, treading lightly, making sure the suspicious-looking person was unaware of him.
Hugh hid in the shadows cast under an archway as the figure reached the entrance to the undercroft, used by the cooks of the castle to keep supplies, and was met by another...
Gilbert Claymore, the Tallany steward!
The two figures slipped inside, as did Hugh, moments later. Making as little noise as possible, he followed them into the undercroft, ensuring a safe distance between them under the low-level arch. He watched as the cloaked figure pulled down its wide hood slowly, to reveal that he was correct after all...
It was Eleanor!
But why, for the love of God, why was she meeting Claymore in this secretive manner? Nothing made sense. She had said that the steward would escort her back to their solar, but this rendezvous didn’t seem to have anything to do with that. Hell’s teeth, what was she up to?
He had the urge to call out to her; ask what in God’s name was she doing, but something about the whole situation stopped him in his tracks. He needed to wait and watch.
Hugh strained his ears to hear what they were saying but could only hear muffled voices. He crept closer and crouched down, hiding behind an arch as suddenly Eleanor looked round.
‘What was that, Gilbert?’ she whispered, and she turned back to her steward, who slowly drew his sword from its scabbard and took tentative steps back the way they had entered, looking in every direction in the shadowy recesses of the large airy chamber. The older man walked slowly, but stopped short of the arch Hugh was crouched behind.
Gilbert looked back at Eleanor. ‘There is nothing here, my lady. Mayhap it was a mouse?’ He shrugged, striding back towards her.
‘Not again. I really wish Cook wouldn’t chase all the cats away.’ She smiled weakly and turned on her heel. ‘Come, we need to hurry, Gilbert. We must be away immediately.’
‘Aye, Lady Eleanor.’
They walked to the furthest stone wall. A huge old wooden coffer laden with neatly folded linen cloths and rounds of string leant against it. Eleanor and her steward faced each other and she nodded at him. Then Gilbert slid the wooden door of the coffer across, revealing an empty space large enough for no more than one person to stow themselves away inside.
‘After you, my lady.’
He beckoned as Eleanor took a deep breath, crouched low, and curled herself into the space. After a moment Gilbert followed his mistress and crammed himself inside the wooden furniture, sliding closed the door from the inside.
In disbelief at what he had just witnessed, Hugh scurried to the coffer and knelt low, his heart pounding fast, and carefully slid the wooden door open—to find that there was nothing inside.
It couldn’t be... He had watched his wife and the Tallany steward get inside, one after the other, and now they had disappeared into thin air.
The only way to find out what they were doing and where they were going was to continue to pursue them.
He imitated what he had dimly seen them do and crept inside the confined space, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.
Where had Eleanor and Claymore gone?
He scrambled out again and felt inside with his fingers, trying in vain to peer into the dark recess—nothing.
Damn, damn, damn!
Swallowing down his frustration, he gritted his teeth and slid his hands over the back of the coffer. There—this time he felt it. A small gap between two of the wooden panels, so small that it had been easy to miss the first time he had felt his way around.
He carefully slipped his fingers in, but nothing shifted. Taking in a deep breath, he tried again. This time he slid one of the panels and it moved across, revealing a large hollow opening in the stone wall behind the coffer.
He crawled back inside, wedged himself uncomfortably into the enclosed space and closed the outer door so that he was plunged into complete darkness. Sending a silent prayer, he shuffled along so that he was pushing his body into the black void in the stone wall.
Hugh fell from a short height and landed with a thud on his side, onto wet, dank ground. He groaned, rubbing his head, and got up on his feet, blinking a few times. In the distance he saw a glimmer of light darting away and getting fainter and fainter.
Eleanor and Claymore!
He scrambled forward, quickening his pace to catch up with them. As he felt his way along the narrow passage, walled on either side with cragged, sharp slates, he guessed that he was in a maze of hidden interconnecting tunnels, separate from the main tunnels beneath the castle which he knew about—including the gaol. Which meant that these were secret ones.
Dear God!
The further he moved stealthily through the passage the more his heart sank. Whatever they were doing, or about to do, this didn’t bode well. It smacked of conspiratorial behaviour. But he had to be patient—had to give Eleanor the benefit of the doubt until he knew what in heaven was going on.
He eventually caught up with them, but kept enough distance to avoid revealing his presence. The winding tunnel dipped and turned in every direction, then became so extremely narrow that he could only squeeze through by shuffling along on his side. The sharp slates on either
