Chapter 7: Escape

11 July, 1686 Evening

She stood a moment on the steps of the house entry, looking back with fear at the path she had just crossed and allowed the pace of her anxious heart slow down.

Moment's passed then she drew a long breath as she threw back the front door and stepped into the house.

She groped moodily forward carefully crossing the room, millimeter by millimeter, over the wood floor. She knew where she was going. She had heard him tell her mistress of the room below the house, but she had never been there before so she needed to use all caution having no knowledge if anyone besides him, occupied the house.

Eventually finding the stairway, down she went, where the dim light of the upstairs wall torches filtered past her trembling body. Down to the dark basement beneath, down into the blackness and silence beneath the house.

She came to a closed door with light filtering outward from between its cracks. Using all caution she slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside... She saw a dark cellar with strange instruments hanging from every wall and the two sisters, Constance and Claire, locked inside two small cages.

"Isabel!" Constance called out at the sound of the door opening, "What are you doing here? Where's Blanchart?"

"I... I've come to rescue you... I guess," the Spanish girl told her shyly.

"But... Miss Bjorn? How ever did you get away her?" Constance asked.

"And our uncle? He was there too was he not?" Claire interjected.

"That bitch!" Isabel snapped as she walked into the room, "She thought she had me so under control that I'd do anything she wanted! Well I showed her, and that uncle of yours a thing or two I did!"

"Really? What did you do?" Constance asked presently.

"Well," she said, "by keeping me tied and a cat-of-nine-tails that wretch of a woman made me do things," the tears sprang to her eyes at the recollection, but she wiped them hastily away with the back of her hand then continued, "I'll never forget it! It was disgusting... and she stunk like a bilge!"

"She is without a doubt the worse kind of a pig! But what happened? How ever did you get away?" Constance asked again.

"And you said our uncle was there right?" questioned Claire.

"Yes, he was there right enough. I was in another room when he arrived, but I could still overhear what they were talking about. Your uncle asked if she would help him break you Claire. He told her how he planned on branding you and then taking your sprit, he said he needed more from you than just a slave, he wanted your mind and your soul as well," Isabel explained.

"That Godless bastard fell from hell!" Constance snapped.

"They're both bastards from hell!" Isabel commented then continued, "Well anyway, just to show him how well she had trained me in even such a short period of time she called me into the room where upon I immediately took the slave position she had beat into me, kneeling attentively, with toes curled forward, ankles and thighs touching as close together as possible, my hands placed on top of my thighs palms down with my fingers spread apart, my back arched in order to push my chest forward and to give the torso good curvature. Well, I did it just as instructed. The bitch was so proud and pleased, and out of the corner of my eye I saw she had gained the envy of your uncle."

"God! How awful. As though you are nothing more than some household pet. But Bjorn was obviously very mistaken concerning just how well trained you really were I take it," Claire commented.

"May the north-star never rise again mistaken she was," Isabel smiled, "After showing off, she bid me to go prepare hot tea and biscuits for them. Again, I did it... just as she instructed... but I also added a special ingredient of my own to the tea."

"A special ingredient?" questioned Constance.

"Yes, sleeping drought," Isabel answered. "I found a whole bottle of the stuff in the cabinet and I laden both their drinks with it. I used a bounty of honey to mask the taste then I served them, just like the good little slave I was. In no time at all both of them were out like a sailor after finishing a pig-barrel of rum. I was prepared to run away as fast and as far as I could when I suddenly remembered you two and your kindness to me before the auction. I just couldn't leave without at least trying to do something."

Tears of appreciation filled both sisters' eyes, "My dear sweet Isabel, come here." Constance held her arms out through the bars of the cage and Isabel came to her. She kissed the younger girl on the cheek and said with all sincerity, "Thank you for thinking of us Isabel. You are very kind and brave. Thank you so very much."

Isabel smiled shyly, "Little more than you would have done for me to be sure. Now, how do we get you two out of those cages?"

"Go fetch that thick iron bar off the wall over there," Constance said pointing to the branding iron, "We should be able to use it to break these locks."

Isabel quickly retrieved the branding iron, then after slipping it through the lock both her and Constance yanked and pushed downward until the lock bar broke free. Quickly, they mimicked the same procedure on the lock confining Claire, and soon all three girls were standing together.

"Now what?" Claire asked looking around.

Turning toward Isabel Constance asked, "How long do you think Miss Bjorn and our uncle will be unconscious?"

"Long I should think. I gave them the whole bottle. But I can't be certain," Isabel answered.

"Well, we dare not rely on good fortune too heavily," Constance said. "Let's look around and see if we can't find some clothing and perhaps even some weapons then get away from here as quickly as possible."

"I'm certainly agreeable with your suggestion concerning weapons Constance," Claire commented. "And, I am now very thankful for all the years of swordsmanship lessons father was so insistent you and I take. Nothing would please me more than to run our uncle Lucien through with a cutlass should I come upon him."

"Nor I, my dear sister, nor I," Constance replied.

In a room just off the foyer the women found their very own chest containing the clothing they had brought with them from Europe.

"That bloody pirate Bass must have taken our clothing off the Red Bonnet when he captured us," Claire commented looking through the clothing.

"And then sold them to Uncle Lucien for a stiff price to be sure," Constance replied rummaging through the clothes, "Damn it, the one thing our uncle didn't take away from us, it seems your string of pearls is missing Claire. I only see my string here. Well, that's of little consequence now. You know, I think these clothes will be of little use to us in our escape. I think it better if we find some of our Uncle's breeches and shirts and wear them instead."

"But we can still take our clothes with us, right?" Claire questioned.