A silence settled heavy and thick within the chamber, and I ventured a bit closer, the candlelight flooding the darkness in a faint halo before me. Gold hair gleamed faintly as the candlelight first touched the prisoner's face. I was amazed to see such a beautiful man standing before me in the darkness. His hair was the color of rich autumn wheat and his eyes were reminiscent of a clear, spring sky. His bearing was much more of a young lord than a prisoner awaiting torture and death.

"If you've come to rescue me then unchain me, woman," he barked, anger flashing in his eyes.

My teeth set at the insult and I looked more closely at his rich blue robes.

You must be a Norman, one of the foul tyrants that destroyed my life!

Hatred arose within me and I felt compelled to strike the arrogance out of him, but I didn't raise my hand. I saw his jaw set, the muscles tensing in his cheeks in rage I was not following his command.

"Well if you're not here to free me, don't waste my time," the young man shouted.

I was ready to leave him to his misery and fate, but instead I looked him in the eye and said:

"If you must know I am here to deliver your meal. You should starve for all I care now!"

I was tempted to grab some of the food and throw it full into his face, but his eyes turned down at the tray I held and an amused bitterness crossed his face.

"How like those animals … to bring me food and mock me … And how will I be able to eat it, my dear?"

His wrists strained against the chains that bound his wrists in shackles. He then turned his eyes away and gazed at the cold stone wall.

"Leave and take your food with you," he said, so softly I almost didn't hear.

"Then you will starve? This is foolishness," I said.

I ripped off a piece of bread and held it out to his lips. His eyes snapped to me at my sudden and unexpected gesture. Confusion and surprise briefly passed over his face, before his features hardened again.

"I will not take food from your hand like a helpless beggar!"

"Then you will grow weak and they will kill you," I cried.

Again I felt like throwing the food in his face and leaving. At first his jaw clenched in anger, but then his eyes turned down, lost in his thoughts and I saw something I hadn't seen before – sadness, fear?

"Very well then," he sighed in resignation, as if he was about to suffer the ultimate in humiliation.

Reluctantly I held out the piece of bread to his lips as I still was angry at this arrogant and hot-blooded Norman. He snapped off a piece of bread with his teeth. I was thankful my fingers were nowhere near the fierce bite. All the time he avoided making eye contact with me, keep his eyes toward the wall or the floor, as if too ashamed and angry to meet my gaze. After awhile the bread was gone and I turned toward the wooden cup that was on the tray and held it to his lips. He took a look at the cup and an ironic, bitter grin passed over his lips.

"The best wine in this abbey, I suppose," he said.

I shoved the cup toward his lips and he drank the water, in spite of his sarcastic remark. Some water dripped from the cup and trickled down his neck. I was surprised to find myself gazing at the drops as they ran down his graceful neck. I heard a grunt and took the cup away. He coughed and said:

"What are you trying to do, drown me?"

"Maybe I should if it would keep you quiet," I spat.

Again anger flashed in his eyes, but just as quickly died. He remained silent and although I was glad at his sudden quiet, it made me wonder why someone who obviously looked like a Norman lord would take such a comment from a low-ranking woman dressed in nothing better than wolf skins.

I took up a bowl of stew, which I brought on impulse from the kitchen when I was told to feed the prisoner. It was fare much better than many prisoners of Fenris ever received, but somehow I felt compelled to bring the delicious meal along with me. I held the bowl steady in the crook of my left arm while taking a spoonful of the savory broth. I held it out to him and waited for him to take the spoon into his mouth.

His expression changed as he saw the delicious food before him and I saw something different in his eyes – confusion. He took the spoon into his mouth and tasted it, surprise briefly flashing in his eyes. He licked away the trickle of gravy that remained on his lips and again I felt mesmerized – this time by his shapely, gleaming lips.

"Do you have any more," he asked – and found myself savoring the rich, dark voice he had – unusual I thought for a man so fair.

I gave him a spoonful, then another. Pretty soon the bowl was empty and scraped clean. I then turned to the one last thing I had on the tray – an apple that had been picked from the monks' nearby orchard. It had already been sliced as I knew better than to take a knife with me when seeing a prisoner, and picked up an apple slice.

"This is for dessert," I said, and held the apple close to his lips.

Surprisingly he didn't bite into the fruit, but for the first time gazed into my eyes during his meal. Again, the same strange confusion dwelt within his eyes.

"Why are you doing this," he asked.

The question struck me as an odd one and then said, "Because you need to eat. If chained, someone has to give you the food somehow."

"No, you didn't have to do this." His voice was low; almost a whisper and he seemed lost in thoughts in that moment.

I held out the apple to him and he took it into his mouth. I was thankful he didn't bite because my fingertips were near the apple when it entered his mouth and for a brief instant I felt those soft lips upon my fingers. I was surprised to feel a sudden shiver run through my body at the unintentional contact. I pulled my hand away as though embarrassed I had allowed such a touch to happen.

I handed him another slice and another. Whether he was doing it intentionally or I consistently kept bringing my hands too close, more often than not my fingers passed over his lips and one time I even thought he softly sucked the apple juice from my fingertips. In that moment, a wave of warmth and pleasure swept through me unbidden and I hoped desperately in the candlelight he didn't see me blush.

When I looked at the tray, I almost was disappointed to see there was nothing left to feed him and I had no more excuse to linger there. I looked back at the young man before me and said with some regret:

"I best get back."

"Do what you must," he said.

He continued to follow me with his eyes as I moved toward the tray. I looked at the tray, lying empty on the cold stone floor and then gazed back at him, his piercing blue eyes gleaming even in the dim light of such a God-forsaken place.

"What is your name, my lady?"

It was my turn to be shocked. Being called lady and treated as though I was a maiden in court while I was covered in wolf skins and bore no lands or title. Surely no Norman lord would act toward a poor peasant girl in such a way.

"My name … It is Anne … Anne of Halam."

"Pleased to meet you, Anne of Halam." And he nodded his head as if in place of a courtly bow.

Was he mocking me now or genuinely showing me courtesy – a courtesy I never had seen from any of the Norman monsters?

"And sir – what is your name?"

"It is Guy – Sir Guy of Gisburne, steward to – no." His eyes dimmed a bit and the brief smile that played upon his lips vanished. "No, I suppose that life is over now."

"You were a steward?"

"Yes, a steward – that is until my lord betrayed me to save his own life."

My heart sank. So the handsome young Norman standing before me was a wanted man fleeing for his life.

"What will happen when your lord catches you?"

His blue eyes seemed to harden as he turned his gaze to the cold stone floor.

"I needn't worry about that now, shall I? Death waits here, does it not? The barbarians are set to kill me, I suppose."

I shook my head in indecision, gathering up the empty bowls upon the wooden tray.

"I don't know," I said. "They might give you a choice – a horrible choice – the same one that was given to me."

Guy's eyes gleamed sharply in confusion and fear.

"And what choice is that," he asked, almost demanded in his fear and anger.

My mouth opened in response, but then I heard the door leading to the prison opening. I had stayed too long and one of the Wolf Warriors was coming.

"Goodbye, Sir Guy of Gisburne," I said, hurriedly leaving the cell and taking my candle with me.

I regretted leaving him in the cold and darkness – not knowing if I'd ever see him alive again.