shrubs near the road. One of them tied a gag over her mouth and buried her in the straw while the other hitched one of the horses.
This ride was not as painful as flopping over the back of a galloping horse, but the straw made her sneeze and the bindings were too tight. Now she was angry. She knew better than to kick or struggle, as this would only exhaust her and tighten the bindings. She waited, thinking. Her greatest weapon of defense was her mind. After all, unlike the people of these times, she had read hundreds of books and watches scores of movies. She would be able to anticipate what was happening to her and come up with any number of scenarios that might get her free.
She guessed she was being taken to Lord Brigayne. That was easy. The time slip was not. She woke up this morning months later. Would she wake up tomorrow even further in time? Could time advance when she was not asleep? She thought about this. She had been shown her wedding night, and experienced it. She had been shown the first few days of her married life, enough to be used to it and realize how much she loved Jack. She had been warned about Brigayne. Now this. The segments of her life with Jack seemed to be selected for particular events.
Obviously this abduction was an important event in the history of their marriage. She waited. The sun was passed midday when the cart stopped and she was carried into a great dark house and up several flights of stairs. She was deposited on a bed and the gag removed. One man bent to unfasten her wrists and ankles while the other stood at the door fumbling with a ring of heavy iron keys. They were gone and the door locked before Victoria could moisten her mouth and inhale to respond. Her hands and feet were numb.
She stumbled as she made her way to the single window set high in stone walls and barred with thick iron rods. She looked out some three stories up in an impressive house. Not the manor, though. This was a country house alone in the middle of a great forest. This was probably what the lord referred to as his hunting lodge. Yes. She was certain of it. Below her she could see two more low stone buildings and heard the baying of hounds. The stable and the kennel. This was his hunting lodge. He was probably out there now shooting helpless animals, and tonight after he ate them she would be the sweet pudding. Jack had warned her. Jasper had warned her.
She turned away from the window and inspected her prison. It was a small room. There was a fireplace at one end and a bed at the other. A low table was against the wall and contained a pitcher and basin on top as well as an unlit tallow candle, underneath the table was a chamber pot. The bed was heavy wood with four posts with a rope suspension. A thin straw mattress was spread over the ropes and a few blankets and a pillow were stacked at one end. This room was well used. She made a face. How many young women had found themselves here at some point on their lives? Probably half the village. She wondered how many of the village children who called their fathers ‘Da’ were really Brigayne’s.
She sat on the edge of the bed. She pointed at the corner and said, “Jasper!” Nothing. She pointed everywhere and called every name she could think of. Nothing. Even “Albert Magnus” got no response, though she did feel a little vibration in her chest as she said his name. She tried again and got the same sensation, but no old man materialized. It felt as though the magic was weakened across the centuries, or perhaps he could not help her. Or maybe this was like a dream and she could not wake up until it had been played out.
It was about to be played out now. The door burst open and her two abductors strode in and had her on her back on the bed with surprising speed. Her wrists and ankles were bound and strapped to the head and foot posts, and then after lighting the candle, the men left with as much speed as they had entered. She lay there staring at the ceiling, breathing hard with surprise. Their