Chapter twelve- Gilbert

Gilbert forced himself to remain completely still. The last thing he wanted was to be shot simply because he moved. He focused all his energy into staring down the three intruders. He had discovered that many people were as unnerved by his intense stare as they were by his silence, and these men were no exception. They wisely kept their distance. They were an odd group. The pompous grocer, the gruff sheriff, and the relaxed deputy. The sheriff remained calm, staid, and resolute. His deputy, while younger than either of the others, seemed indifferent. He sat his horse with ease, seemingly content to simply observe. It was the rotund merchant who most concerned him.

Narwhal wriggled restlessly in his seat, his belligerent glare focused on Gilbert. He fidgeted so much that he wobbled precariously in the saddle. Fearfully yanking the reins in a bid to keep his seat, he thoughtlessly jerked the bit, and his poor horse screamed with painful protest. Shaking its head, the mistreated beast danced and fretfully sidestepped into the deputy's mount. The young man urged his own animal aside but made no move to help the shopkeeper regain control of his horse.

The Sheriff ignored the distraction. His stern gaze remained focused on Gilbert, his expression stoic.

"A young woman has gone missing." The Sheriff began gruffly. "We have reason to believe you might know something of her whereabouts."

"Where have you hidden her?" The grocer shouted suddenly. He shook a pudgy fist at Gilbert, his round face red with rage as he struggled to maintain his seat. "We know you have her hidden somewhere."

If Gilbert wasn't careful, the blustering shopkeeper was going to get him shot. And he still had no idea what the greedy toad was going on about. Obviously, this had something to do with the girl. Was Narwhal the man she'd been running from?

"I will ask the questions, Narwhal." The Sheriff asserted.

"He has her hidden here somewhere. I know he does." The portly man insisted. "She has to be here. We need to search the place."

Gilbert watched in some sympathy as Daimler sucked in a deep breath, no doubt searching for patience. The older man made a concerted effort to ignore the feisty merchant, focusing instead on Gilbert. He spoke quietly but with determination.

"We will need to search your property. Do you have any objections?"

At least the Sheriff was giving him the token courtesy of a choice. Gilbert could be grateful the older man didn't just take Narwhal's accusations at face value.

"You're wasting your time, Daimler." Narwhal sneered. "I told you. The man can't speak."

The Sheriff pressed his lips together, struggling to hold onto his temper. "He doesn't need to speak. All he has to do is nod." Daimler growled, the words coming from between gritted teeth.

Narwhal continued his ranting, oblivious to the Sheriff's growing ire.

"I highly doubt he even understands a word you're saying. Look at him." The portly merchant glared down his surprisingly long blade of a nose at Gilbert. "The man is obviously an imbecile, little better than a mindless beast."

Gilbert was seriously contemplating the merits of lightening the poor horse's burden by dragging that fat gorgon from its back and showing him just how beastly he could be. But while such an act might satisfy his bruised ego, it would do little good in his bid to convince the Sheriff he was a complacent, law-abiding citizen. So he satisfied his ire by simply glaring at the obnoxious merchant.

"The man is dangerous. He shouldn't be allowed to mix with decent society." Narwhal shrilly insisted. "I want you to do your job and arrest him."

Clearly, at the end of his patience, Sheriff Daimler turned his glare on the obnoxious merchant and barked, "Do not tell me how to do my job, Narwhal."

The pudgy shopkeeper's eyes widened in startled surprise as he realized he'd finally gone too far. He sputtered a bit before attempting to shift the Sheriff's anger away from himself.

"But he kidnapped Miss Smail." He jabbed one soft, sausage like finger in Gilbert's direction.

The fat merchant had the softest hands that Gilbert had ever seen on a man. Obviously, he had never known physical labor. No doubt Narwhal thought such things beneath him. It was the skinny, overworked clerk who served customers and loaded shelves in Narwhal's shop. If the shopkeeper was even in the building, he was usually installed behind a massive desk with his nose buried deep in a huge stack of ledgers. Gilbert only dealt with him when he brought carvings to trade. He actually preferred dealing with the friendly clerk.

"I know he took her, Daimler. My fiancée is here somewhere." The accusation was a whiney screech.

Just then, Gilbert noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. He kept his gaze fixed on the three men, but in his peripheral vision, he watched the rear door of the keep slowly swing in. His heart began to clamor with alarm as he saw Beatrice peer out. She was partially obscured in the shadows, but if any of the men bothered to turn their head, they were sure to spot her. Gilbert struggled  to keep his emotions in check. He wanted to urge her back inside, but he didn't  dare move a muscle. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to her presence.

As Gilbert watched, her face went pale, her eyes widening with fear. She was staring in fixed horror at the portly merchant, obviously terrified. She certainly showed no joy in her supposed 'fiancée's arrival. If he was any judge, he would have to say the man scared her to death. He remembered those bruises on her tender skin and rage roiled ominously in his chest. If this gorgon had caused those injuries, Gilbert intended to make him suffer for every mark.

The portly merchant was an entitled, pompous fool. He would consider a young woman nothing more than a possession to be used as he pleased, with no fear of consequences. Gilbert had no difficulty believing the man would harm any helpless young woman in his power. He couldn't allow them to find Beatrice. She had been terrorized enough. If these men discovered her presence, not only would he be arrested, but Narwhal would have her at his mercy once more.

"I would prefer to determine that for myself." Daimler's gruff voice rumbled.

As Narwhal continued to whine and screech about his lost fiancée, Gilbert took advantage of the distraction. Subtly, he angled his body so that one hand was partially hidden from the men and then flicked his fingers until he was certain he had Beatrice's attention. Hopefully, she could understand the message he was trying to convey. After a few flicks of his hand, she continued to frown in confusion. He realized she wasn't grasping his intentions. He needed to think of something else.

If only he could have shown her the old door leading to the main corridor, which ran through the dilapidated castle. It was doubtful she remembered anything about his carrying her through the corridor when she first arrived. No doubt she didn't even realize there was another door in that room. He kept the door leading to the long passageway closed tightly against the cool drafts, which usually blew through the ruined structure.

If only there was some way to pass her the information she needed without these strangers realizing. He needed to bluff his way through this predicament somehow. If only he could keep her safe. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. He tilted his head forward enough for his hair to fall over his eyes. When he lifted his chin, the mass slid back off his forehead. For a long moment she continued to frown, and then he saw her brow clear with understanding. Beatrice dipped her chin in a short nod before slipping quietly back inside. He almost sighed in relief. Thank goodness she understood. Now, he could only hope she would discover the ancient door lodged over the entrance on her own.

"We must search the place. He could have her locked up anywhere inside this ruin." Narwhal insisted, looking the castle over with a sneer.

"That is what I intended to do." The Sheriff told him gruffly before once more addressing Gilbert. "Do you have any objections?"

Gilbert glanced from the portly merchant to the quiet deputy and then back to the sheriff. He had no objection to the Sheriff or his deputy entering his home. However, he did object to the annoying Narwhal. He debated his options. Before he could even attempt to answer, there was the problem of the pistol still menacingly aimed at him. He pointedly eyed the gun in the sheriff's fist and then met the older man's gaze with a raised eyebrow. He didn't want to be shot for making the wrong move.

Daimler seemed to grasp the problem, and the man nodded firmly as he lowered the weapon until it was safely pointed at the ground. Then he eased the hammer forward and released the trigger, never taking his gaze from Gilbert's. With a nod of gratitude, Gilbert acknowledged the concession. He then proceeded to make his thoughts understood. First, he pointed to the sheriff and made an inviting gesture. Then he pointed to the deputy and made the same motion, but when he indicated Narwhal, Gilbert frowned and thrust his finger to the earth at his feet.

"I guess he doesn't want you looking around his property, Mr. Narwhal." The deputy commented, thoroughly amused.

The portly merchant coloured with embarrassed anger as he turned to glare at the young man. The deputy grinned back unrepentantly, completely unfazed by the shopkeeper's ire. Narwhal turned his back on the young man with a disdainful sniff.

"I insist on searching myself. I refuse to leave my fiancée in the hands of this beast any longer than necessary." Narwhal blustered, renewing his spiel.

Gilbert glared daggers at the merchant. He was tempted to growl menacingly but managed to control himself. He didn't want Narwhal anywhere near Beatrice, especially when he could not be there to protect her.

"I will go inside, alone. Parker, you remain here and keep watch." As he spoke, Sheriff Daimler returned his pistol to the holster on his saddle before dismounting.

"Aye, Sheriff." The deputy answered smartly as he raised his own weapon in partial salute before casually returning it to rest across his lap.

The shopkeeper opened his mouth to harangue the Sheriff again, but before he could utter a word, Daimler snapped. "I said alone, Narwhal. You stay here."

Cowed at last by the Sheriff's brisk command, the portly merchant offered little more than a grumble of protest as Daimler spun on his heel and marched for the door to the keep.

Gilbert almost sighed with relief. At least if the Sheriff found Beatrice, the older man would treat her with respect. She would be safe from Narwhal and his unsavory attention. But no sooner had the Sheriff disappeared through the door than a voice was heard shouting.

"Fire! Mr. Narwhal! Sheriff Daimler! Fire!"