Unsure of what to do or how to feel, Beatrix dropped down to the blanket and curled up beneath it, hoping sleep would claim her soon. She lay in the darkness and looked out at the faint glow of moonlight, hoping the answers required would reveal themselves to her soon.
* * *
The days had stretched on and Aaron was growing more and more frantic. His men feared him, more so than they had before, and with good reason. As the minutes dragged into hours which ticked along into days, he became more impatient, more angry.
Most of all, he was riddled with feelings of guilt. Why had he ever let her go in his stead? What had he been thinking, allowing her to place herself in harm’s way such as this? He might rail at his men whenever they returned from searching for her empty-handed, but that was only a mask for what he truly knew: he alone had allowed this fate to befall his only child.
“Tilly, I’m so sorry,” he cried out in a drunken stupor that night. “I’ve failed ya, I have! I promised ya I would always look after her, but I’m no better father than an animal in the wood!”
In truth, his greed was to blame and he knew it. They had not needed to make this hunt, but he had learned of the chance and he’d seized upon it despite his injury. He’d foolishly allowed Beatrix to go and the worst had happened.
Aaron stumbled from the table and fell upon the bed, letting his misery overtake him. If there was a god above, he would die in his sleep tonight. He would see his Tilly again, and be waiting for Beatrix, should she be tried for his crimes.
“Aaron!” one of his men cried out from outside the cottage. “Are ya home?”
It took more will than he thought he possessed, but Aaron finally managed to push himself up from the bed and stumble to the window. He flung open the shutter and looked out at one of the many dullards of his bunch, a lad of nearly twenty who was none too keen but very willing to use his brute strength.
“Cooke? What are ya doin’ about, callin’ me from my bed?” Aaron yelled, but the young man only smiled stupidly. Suddenly, Aaron’s anger turned to consternation. “Where have ya been all this time? I didn’t see ya after the men returned.”
“M’apologies, Aaron. I didna come back with the other fellows that day,” Cooke explained, still smiling.
“You didn’t come back with ‘em? Where the devil didja go then?” Aaron shouted at him.
“I followed some horses.”
“What? You left the men and chased some horses?” Aaron looked frustrated, but softened his words when he remembered that Cooke had once been assigned the task of stealing from some far off stables.
“I just… ran after him.” Cooke was clearly confused by Aaron’s response. “I saw where he went, and then I had to run back here. I’m sorry it took me so long, but it’s a really long way. I had to stop and sleep sometimes.”
Aaron stared at Cooke, dumbfounded. Could he be hearing this right? Cooke had chased after some horses, saw them, and then come back? Surely no man, not even Cooke, was this addled in the head.
“So tell me again, plain. The man ordered all of you on the ground…” Aaron said slowly.
Cooke nodded, still grinning. “Tha’s right!”
“And then he left and the others decided what to do next, but you got to yer feet and… went looking for some horses?”
“Yes, Aaron!”
“And how did you ever manage to run after ahorse, Cooke?” Aaron asked, desperately hoping Cooke wasn’t having fun at his expense. The man would have to be too stupid to breathe in and out to think up one of his foolish pranks at a time such as this.
“I didna alwaysseethe horse, you know. But I followed the road because fancy boys on horses most often like to stay on the road. They don’t like to get their boots or breeches dirty from splashing about in the mud by goin’ through the fields. So’s I followed the road, and I would see where the horses dropped their dung here and there,” Cooke explained in a rush, gesturing wildly as he spoke.
Aaron was silent, pondering this strange tale, and soon Cooke began to grow fearful that he’d done something wrong. His simple smile slowly faded and his eyes grew wild.
“I’ve done it all wrong again, haven’t I, Aaron? I’m sorry! I didna mean to do it wrong!” Cooke began to wring his hands and kick nervously at the dirt. Before Aaron could say something reassuring, he blurted out, “But I thought you’d be pleased since I saw where the Lady Beatrix could be.”
“What?! Why didn’t you speak plainly and say so?” Aaron roared, already reaching for his clothes.
“I’m sorry! I thought… I mean to say, I thought I was tellin’ ya?” Cooke still looked frightened.
“Wait, you don’t mean… you mean you followed the man who took Beatrix?Thathorse?” Aaron asked, his voice trembling.
“Aye!” Cooke said, relieved now that Aaron understood.
Aaron closed his eyes and breathed deeply. His mind raced with a swirl of thoughts while his emotions did battle for his sanity. His deep relief was obvious but there was also a sense of dread. Not only would they have to storm the nobleman’s house for safer return of his daughter—a small consideration in comparison—but Aaron felt certain there would be a lengthy struggle to get Cooke to explain her location.
“Cooke, you did very well. But now go find Pencot,” he said slowly, making sure Cooke heard the instructions and understood. “Then, when you’ve found him, bring Pencot here. To my house. Right now. D’ya understand?”
