Danielle awoke several hours later; it took her a moment to remember
what had happened to her and to realize that her head was throbbing with
unbearable pain. Their surroundings had changed from the old tattered
carriage, to a small cottage in the middle of the wood. No paths were in
sight, and the trees grew so thick, the sky was barely visible.
"Milady has finally decided to awaken from her peaceful slumber," the man grinned and handed Danielle a cup filled with water.
"Indeed," she replied stiffly, and took the water from his hands gratefully.
He looked at her as she drank the water, in quick gulps, not savouring the liquid, she was thirsty, he thought. He hesitated, but could hardly contain himself. "My wife Hannah, well, she left only ten minutes ago, she will be gone for at least an hour."
At this comment, Danielle suddenly straightened her back, now aware of her situation. She listened closely, not daring to speak.
Charles drew lines with his finger around Danielle's back, moving his finger seductively, slowly it moved across her back, and downwards.
"Please sir, do not do something rash, that you shall later regret," Danielle said, in hopes that it would scare him away, or at the very least, intimidate him.
"My dear Danielle," he whispered softly into her ear, "I have lived long, and there is nothing I regret." He pressed his lips gently against her ear, and moved began to burry his face into her neck.
Danielle was beginning to panic as she tried to free her self from the filthy man, but found that her hands and feet were bond together, as she struggled with her upper body, it only provoked Charles to wrap his arms around her stomach, and kiss her more deeply only as few inches lower than her collar bone.
"I demand that you keep your distance between us, sir," said Danielle in a royal voice.
"And what if I refuse?" He asked, sticking his tongue in her ear playfully.
"I shall have you hung, however, if you were to return me to my home in France, I will reward you dearly, and you shall not be harmed."
Charles looked deep into his eyes at this comment. They where hypnotic and beautiful. They showed wisdom and hardship. Her face was fair, and her hair was that of an auburn brown, thick and soft to the touch. He loved Hannah, but no woman he had ever laid his eyes on was more beautiful than Danielle.
"Milady," he said, kissing her neck, "I did not take you away for gold, but for a much more.rewarding gift."
"And what would that be, my husband would deliver it to you the moment I am safely returned," Danielle promised again.
"This prize cannot be delivered by your Prince, only from the Queen," he said dryly, tracing his rough hands around every inch of her body until she broke down in quiet sobs.
Henry sat in a chair out on the terrace, his head in his hands, deep in thought, trying to absorb his father's plan of action.
"Now," he continued, "we send our men east west north and south, send a messenger to England, telling them of our dilemma," he paused and looked at his son, who sat there motionless.
"Henry-"
"Don't," Henry cut off his father. A guilty pit was slowly eating again at his interiors. He had left her alone, why was it, that in all his life of disobedience, he chose now to obey orders? If only he hadn't left her, there would have been no opportunity to steal her away, right from underneath his nose. They had no idea who could have done this, they knew nothing, it seemed almost hopeless.
Francis left Henry alone, and walked towards his wife. "How is he doing?" she asked, concerned.
"Not well," Francis trailed off for a few moments before continuing, "Marie.if Danielle - if she's not found, shall we consider the marriage contract to Spain?"
Marie shook her head stiffly, "don't say such things, we need to find her Francis, we just need to!"
Henry watched his parents speak silent words. He could not make out what they were saying, and every once in awhile his mother would make an unearthly noise. None of this made any sense to him. If indeed the thieves were looking for money, wouldn't they have sent a messenger by now? What was keeping them, what did they want with Danielle?
He stumbled to his feet, and made his way to the dining room.
When he was very little, his father had showed him the secret entrances and exits of the castle, in case of an emergency, and they needed to escape quickly, without being seen. Fortunately Henry had never had to use these passages; nevertheless, he still remembered how to operate them.
He stayed close to the palace walls, the hard stone was more relaxing then going past his parents and having to explain to them where he was going. He counted carefully, feeling for the loose stone that would lead him into the castle. Within minutes of scooping the walls, his parents had fallen out of sight, and he felt a cold rock move as his hand pushed up against it. The rock moved effortlessly, leaving a small hole, big enough for Henry to crawl through. He entered complete darkness, and felt around him. In the small tunnel, there was enough room for him to stand, but not much else.
He could see at a light at the end, and made his way. As his feet dragged along the stone ground, he felt his foot kick something, something that was not a rock. Bending down, he felt around with his hand, he was about to continue, and then his fingers came to rest on a piece of scroll. Picking it up, he put it in his pocket, curious who would have written something, and then hidden it here.
He soon reached the entrance to the dinning room, pushing the large loose brick away slowly, looked around to ensure no one was around. When he felt assured that no one would see his entrance through the secret passageway, he crawled out of the musky tunnel into a more pleasant atmosphere, making his way to the stable.
There were a variety of horses to choose from, elegant graceful mares, to strong and wilful stallions. But none Henry trusted more with his life than his very own bay Arabian stallion. It was a smaller horse, only fifteen hands, but it was fast and smart. He looked at an assortment of saddles, choosing a lighter one. After hoisting the small saddle onto the horses back, Henry began to decide on a bridle to use. The bits of the bridles varied, some were for stronger horses, who needed to be controlled, others were intended for horses that needed to move quickly, without much strain on their mouth. After a few minutes of contemplation, he chose a simple bit that would not be too harsh on his bay's mouth.
He gently pressed the bit into the horse's mouth, and clipped everything together, in record time, he had his horse saddled, bridled, and ready to ride. He put his left foot in the stirrup, and lifted himself up onto the back, squeezing gently with his ankles, he urged him forward, out of the stable.
Henry rode hard for several hours, looking for signs of Danielle, but found nothing. It was getting dark, and he stopped his horse in an open field to look around.
There was a small farmhouse to his left, he could possibly stay there for the night, and return to his search in the morning. He squeezed gently with his heels, and the stallion began a gentle walk towards the house.
He stood quietly at the door for a few moments, gathering his courage. He was unsure where he was, whether he was still in the province, or even in France. It was likely that the owners of this home would not even recognize, but he needed a place to sleep.
"Hello," said a kind young woman holding a baby in one arm, she had answered the door moments after he had knocked. "Can I help you?" She continued.
"Yes," he stumbled, "I am on a very important mission, and need a place to sleep for the night."
"Why, do come in, you must be freezing!" He stepped into the house, and saw her face a bit more clearly. As he came into the light, he could see her face swell with pride and shock, as she descended into a low curtsy
"Your Highness!" She squealed, and then paused, "but where are your guards? Surely you know, 'tis not safe, gypsies, sire rule this land, and there have been many attacks."
"I know, but my mission is most unfortunate, and please, call me Henry.
She smiled at the thought of her, a lowly peasant being on first name terms with his Highness, son of King Francis.
"Oh, Henry, I shall have my husband fetch your horse and put him in our pasture, and you may come and sit here at the table, have something warm to drink."
Henry smiled with gratitude. A warm drink did sound appealing.
"Arthur!" She called, "Arthur, come quickly, you must fetch our visitor's horse and put it with the others!"
Then she turned to Henry, "ooh, how surprised my husband will be to find you sitting here, at our table! Arthur always said that King Francis was the best thing to happen to France, but in my humble opinion, the best thing to happen to her is your choice in marriage."
Her eyes twinkled happily. She had heard of the Prince's marriage to a servant. She, Annabelle, had always hated social standing. They heard loud footsteps and turned around.
"Oh virgin Mary, son of god, Your Highness!" Said Arthur in barely more than a whisper.
"Please, it's Henry."
"Milady has finally decided to awaken from her peaceful slumber," the man grinned and handed Danielle a cup filled with water.
"Indeed," she replied stiffly, and took the water from his hands gratefully.
He looked at her as she drank the water, in quick gulps, not savouring the liquid, she was thirsty, he thought. He hesitated, but could hardly contain himself. "My wife Hannah, well, she left only ten minutes ago, she will be gone for at least an hour."
At this comment, Danielle suddenly straightened her back, now aware of her situation. She listened closely, not daring to speak.
Charles drew lines with his finger around Danielle's back, moving his finger seductively, slowly it moved across her back, and downwards.
"Please sir, do not do something rash, that you shall later regret," Danielle said, in hopes that it would scare him away, or at the very least, intimidate him.
"My dear Danielle," he whispered softly into her ear, "I have lived long, and there is nothing I regret." He pressed his lips gently against her ear, and moved began to burry his face into her neck.
Danielle was beginning to panic as she tried to free her self from the filthy man, but found that her hands and feet were bond together, as she struggled with her upper body, it only provoked Charles to wrap his arms around her stomach, and kiss her more deeply only as few inches lower than her collar bone.
"I demand that you keep your distance between us, sir," said Danielle in a royal voice.
"And what if I refuse?" He asked, sticking his tongue in her ear playfully.
"I shall have you hung, however, if you were to return me to my home in France, I will reward you dearly, and you shall not be harmed."
Charles looked deep into his eyes at this comment. They where hypnotic and beautiful. They showed wisdom and hardship. Her face was fair, and her hair was that of an auburn brown, thick and soft to the touch. He loved Hannah, but no woman he had ever laid his eyes on was more beautiful than Danielle.
"Milady," he said, kissing her neck, "I did not take you away for gold, but for a much more.rewarding gift."
"And what would that be, my husband would deliver it to you the moment I am safely returned," Danielle promised again.
"This prize cannot be delivered by your Prince, only from the Queen," he said dryly, tracing his rough hands around every inch of her body until she broke down in quiet sobs.
Henry sat in a chair out on the terrace, his head in his hands, deep in thought, trying to absorb his father's plan of action.
"Now," he continued, "we send our men east west north and south, send a messenger to England, telling them of our dilemma," he paused and looked at his son, who sat there motionless.
"Henry-"
"Don't," Henry cut off his father. A guilty pit was slowly eating again at his interiors. He had left her alone, why was it, that in all his life of disobedience, he chose now to obey orders? If only he hadn't left her, there would have been no opportunity to steal her away, right from underneath his nose. They had no idea who could have done this, they knew nothing, it seemed almost hopeless.
Francis left Henry alone, and walked towards his wife. "How is he doing?" she asked, concerned.
"Not well," Francis trailed off for a few moments before continuing, "Marie.if Danielle - if she's not found, shall we consider the marriage contract to Spain?"
Marie shook her head stiffly, "don't say such things, we need to find her Francis, we just need to!"
Henry watched his parents speak silent words. He could not make out what they were saying, and every once in awhile his mother would make an unearthly noise. None of this made any sense to him. If indeed the thieves were looking for money, wouldn't they have sent a messenger by now? What was keeping them, what did they want with Danielle?
He stumbled to his feet, and made his way to the dining room.
When he was very little, his father had showed him the secret entrances and exits of the castle, in case of an emergency, and they needed to escape quickly, without being seen. Fortunately Henry had never had to use these passages; nevertheless, he still remembered how to operate them.
He stayed close to the palace walls, the hard stone was more relaxing then going past his parents and having to explain to them where he was going. He counted carefully, feeling for the loose stone that would lead him into the castle. Within minutes of scooping the walls, his parents had fallen out of sight, and he felt a cold rock move as his hand pushed up against it. The rock moved effortlessly, leaving a small hole, big enough for Henry to crawl through. He entered complete darkness, and felt around him. In the small tunnel, there was enough room for him to stand, but not much else.
He could see at a light at the end, and made his way. As his feet dragged along the stone ground, he felt his foot kick something, something that was not a rock. Bending down, he felt around with his hand, he was about to continue, and then his fingers came to rest on a piece of scroll. Picking it up, he put it in his pocket, curious who would have written something, and then hidden it here.
He soon reached the entrance to the dinning room, pushing the large loose brick away slowly, looked around to ensure no one was around. When he felt assured that no one would see his entrance through the secret passageway, he crawled out of the musky tunnel into a more pleasant atmosphere, making his way to the stable.
There were a variety of horses to choose from, elegant graceful mares, to strong and wilful stallions. But none Henry trusted more with his life than his very own bay Arabian stallion. It was a smaller horse, only fifteen hands, but it was fast and smart. He looked at an assortment of saddles, choosing a lighter one. After hoisting the small saddle onto the horses back, Henry began to decide on a bridle to use. The bits of the bridles varied, some were for stronger horses, who needed to be controlled, others were intended for horses that needed to move quickly, without much strain on their mouth. After a few minutes of contemplation, he chose a simple bit that would not be too harsh on his bay's mouth.
He gently pressed the bit into the horse's mouth, and clipped everything together, in record time, he had his horse saddled, bridled, and ready to ride. He put his left foot in the stirrup, and lifted himself up onto the back, squeezing gently with his ankles, he urged him forward, out of the stable.
Henry rode hard for several hours, looking for signs of Danielle, but found nothing. It was getting dark, and he stopped his horse in an open field to look around.
There was a small farmhouse to his left, he could possibly stay there for the night, and return to his search in the morning. He squeezed gently with his heels, and the stallion began a gentle walk towards the house.
He stood quietly at the door for a few moments, gathering his courage. He was unsure where he was, whether he was still in the province, or even in France. It was likely that the owners of this home would not even recognize, but he needed a place to sleep.
"Hello," said a kind young woman holding a baby in one arm, she had answered the door moments after he had knocked. "Can I help you?" She continued.
"Yes," he stumbled, "I am on a very important mission, and need a place to sleep for the night."
"Why, do come in, you must be freezing!" He stepped into the house, and saw her face a bit more clearly. As he came into the light, he could see her face swell with pride and shock, as she descended into a low curtsy
"Your Highness!" She squealed, and then paused, "but where are your guards? Surely you know, 'tis not safe, gypsies, sire rule this land, and there have been many attacks."
"I know, but my mission is most unfortunate, and please, call me Henry.
She smiled at the thought of her, a lowly peasant being on first name terms with his Highness, son of King Francis.
"Oh, Henry, I shall have my husband fetch your horse and put him in our pasture, and you may come and sit here at the table, have something warm to drink."
Henry smiled with gratitude. A warm drink did sound appealing.
"Arthur!" She called, "Arthur, come quickly, you must fetch our visitor's horse and put it with the others!"
Then she turned to Henry, "ooh, how surprised my husband will be to find you sitting here, at our table! Arthur always said that King Francis was the best thing to happen to France, but in my humble opinion, the best thing to happen to her is your choice in marriage."
Her eyes twinkled happily. She had heard of the Prince's marriage to a servant. She, Annabelle, had always hated social standing. They heard loud footsteps and turned around.
"Oh virgin Mary, son of god, Your Highness!" Said Arthur in barely more than a whisper.
"Please, it's Henry."