Honour Bound (The Fighting Sail Series #10) by Alaric Bond

Author:Alaric Bond [Bond, Alaric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Old Salt Press LLC
Published: 2017-08-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Despite being utterly certain of never seeing her again, King had a visit from Aimée the following morning. He had been asleep and was roused by her soft voice calling. For a moment it was as if all that happened the night before was some terrible dream, and he found himself smiling into her eyes. And then reality returned; there were bars between them and, rather than a dream, he had woken to a living nightmare.

“Aimée, however did you get here?” he asked, clambering to his feet.

“It is not so very difficult,” she told him simply. “The gendarmes know you are held securely, so what does it matter if a visitor is allowed?”

For a moment King's mind began to race. If Aimée were permitted to visit, she might bring in any amount of tools to help them escape. They had rope after all, a saw, or even a decent file would soon account for the bars on those windows. And then he remembered the height; they must be all of one hundred feet above the ground, with mounted troops and guards on constant patrol in the courtyard below. And even if they were to be able to cross undetected, there were still two substantial inner walls to scale before they reached the town's outer ramparts. No, he had to resign himself to the fact that escape was impossible, although it was still good to see Aimée one last time.

“Thank you so much for coming,” he began. “And I am so sorry, so sorry for...”

“Never mind that now,” she snapped, “we have things to consider, and it is better you listen to me than talk.”

And this was now a very different Aimée: her face had lost none of its beauty, but she was regarding him crossly, as if he were nothing other than a minor irritation she had been forced to address. He opened his mouth to complain, then noticed the two guards standing not ten feet behind her. Neither would be likely to speak English, and he guessed Aimée was trying to fool them into thinking she was telling him off. At least he hoped so...

“I understand from James that you have access to rope.” She almost spat the words, and King found himself recoiling from their vehemence.

“Indeed,” he replied, in a tone that was suitably apologetic.

“That is good. All convoys to Bitche leave on a Monday morning,” she continued. “It is customary to move Citadel prisoners to St Vannes the night before.”

King repeated the name softly, and Aimée treated him to a look filled with contempt and disdain.

“That is the Convent Chapel used before the Revolution,” she told him, and King nodded dumbly in reply. “Next to it is the storeroom, where you will probably be held, though the two are connected. And beyond there is a garden which is hidden from the courtyard and any of the guards. I can not give you details now it will look suspicious,” her voice was softening, and King detected a note of tenderness which was quickly suppressed.

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