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As he rode along without much to think about, Arthur’s earlier question came to Harold’s mind: Where are we going? The truth was, he was not comfortable with the answer he had given, that they would decide what to do when they got there. By then it might be too late to do what needed to be done. The foreboding feeling from earlier had returned, and though Harold was not one to go on nothing but intuition, these were special circumstances. Somehow he just knew everything was not going as planned, that Sandrina would not be killed by those he had left at the estates. It was not very comforting, but it gave him time to make plans. What he needed was an advantage.
He needed to get to Sandrina, make her feel fear. But what kind of threat would have the desired affect on her? Harold backed up to Sandrina at the estates. What would her next move be? Harold didn’t think she would just settle down at the estate and leave everything be; she would need more help than just the rag-tag following she had. She would need... Henry. Of course! How could he have forgotten? Something would need to be done about that - Sandrina could not be allowed to access her parents. It would create all kinds of problems. Harold knew that he would be at least two steps ahead of Sandrina here. Not only had he decided what she would try to do before she even knew, but he also knew the whereabouts of Henry and Eowyn, something that Sandrina probably didn’t.
Now how to accomplish this. The only way to be sure that Sandrina and her parents did not have contact would be to have either one or both under constant surveillance, and do it quickly. He knew that Henry and Eowyn’s new cottage was a couple days’ hard ride from where they were. Something should be done sooner. Sandrina could have done any number of things in a few days. She needed to be stopped, perhaps by some kind of threat. A threat of pain, yes, that would work. No woman could withstand much pain, weak creatures that they were. Or perhaps pain to her parents. The corners of Harold’s mouth turned upward in a small evil smile. If Sandrina continued to try to reach her parents, she would be made to watch their deaths, and then die herself. She would die anyway, but for her to watch Henry and Eowyn die... Harold couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
So once Sandrina was threatened, he would need to go after Henry and Eowyn. A threat was no good unless it could be backed. They could be... kid-napped. Harold was feeling quite pleased at his own cunning. A great deal better than anything his incompetent sons could come up with, and certainly Sandrina would not be able to figure out the complexities of the plan. In fact, the only way Harold could see that his plot might go wrong would be by Sandrina’s foolishness. Sometimes he wished women were just a little bit smarter; it would make plans like this more foolhardy. It would have to do, though.
Harold pulled his horse up and motioned for Arthur and Samuel to do the same. Harold quickly outlined his change of plans to them. Arthur seemed satisfied; Samuel, on the other hand, looked sick. Harold scowled. Samuel had better buck up soon; it was another way the plan might go wrong, if Samuel were to duck out and go to Sandrina. Harold knew too well that exceeding mercy was one of womenkind’s worst faults.
Harold took this opportunity to switch mounts, as he had been riding the same one since the morning. Arthur did the same. When he was remounted, Harold said to them, “We need to return to the Lightheart Estate with all possible speed. The sooner this gets done, the better.” The fresh mount was only too ready to go, and Harold let it go as fast as he dared. It was several leagues back to the estate, and they would not reach it until the next morning. Harold soon fell back into the monotony of the rolling plains of the Riddermark and the sound of hoofbeats in his ears. He was heated from the inside from the fire of desire for revenge, stoked up by his new foolproof scheme.
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