The Way Back

Chapter Sixteen

The carriage clattered beneath the portcullis and halted by the castle steps. Isabella allowed herself to be handed down, and turned to the guard.

"See Lady Meg to her chambers in the west tower. She's free to move about, but watch her at all times. If she goes beyond the castle walls, be very clear, you'll swing for it."

"Not the dungeon then?"

"Nothing so crude, my dear," she said over her shoulder to Meg. "I see no reason you shouldn't exist in comfort until your groom arrives. I'll summon him tomorrow. Come to me in the morning, we've a wedding to plan."

She swept up the stairs then, leaving Meg to follow the guard. When the heavy door to her room clicked shut, Meg stood motionless, plans, each becoming more and more improbable, swirling in her head. In the end, she simply lay down on the bed, staring up at the vaulted ceiling, shivering despite the fire in the grate.

She must have slept; it was daylight. Meg rose and went to the window, clambering onto the sill. A heavy fog obscured all but the nearest battlement. Pigeons batted their wings, a flurry of comings and goings on the ledge outside. Meg looked down. She drew her knees up, hugging them, gazing at the cobbled yard at the base of the tower.

A knock at the door made her jump.

"My lady – the Sheriff's waiting. Will you be long?"

"No. I'm coming."

Isabella received her in a private study. Branched candelabras augmented the pallid light coming through a row of arched windows behind her desk. Carriage wheels rolled across the cobbles outside; footsteps, shouts, barked commands.

"This fog is tiresome; it makes everything so dreary," she complained as Meg entered. "At least we have a celebration to plan...that will cheer us up, I'm sure."

"Just get on with it," snapped Meg. "I'm tired of your games. This isn't a real wedding, it's nothing but revenge..."

"...oh, you'll find it is a wedding," crowed Isabella. "With all the trappings...we'll make it as festive as we can, given the limited time we have to prepare. I'm sure the cooks can whip up some treats. We'll have all the decorations from the fair put up, and I'll have the steward organise minstrels...you'll see, only the finest for you, Meg."

Isabella rose, sidling round the desk, placing a hand on her arm.

"But you know the part I'll enjoy the most?"

"You can stop your stupid intimidation. It's not going to happen," Meg interrupted. "I don't consent. I will never consent. So there'll be no marriage."

Isabella's grip tightened a little; she gazed at Meg thoughtfully.

"Interesting. So, if I give you a choice between the block, or this marriage....? Would that truly be your answer?"

Meg was silent; she was trapped. Tears filled her eyes, trying to imagine a future without Guy. Should she risk going to the block? There would be an announcement made, she would be in a public place - and Robin had saved her last time. Such a desperate course....

"Foolish, foolish girl," tutted Isabella, "you even need to consider? I suppose I should have expected.....yes, what is it?"

She looked round as a guard entered.

"Some men are here to see you, my lady."

"They've just arrived – they can wait. Give them refreshments and tell them I'll be along shortly."

The guard frowned.

"I don't think that would be wise – they've been sent by Prince John."

Muttering, Isabella glanced back at Meg.