Her Portrait

In The Moonlight

The moon shone high over the battlements of the castle casting an illuminate light that glowed silver in the gloom of the night. Two guards stood looking at the view of the stables from the battlements and conversing in whispers about dull things. All was silent and still.
Until a figure approached out of the darkness and with a swift swing of his sword the first guard lay dead. The other turned round and tried to draw his sword but it was too late and he fell next to his friend without a sound.
The figure stepped over the bodies after picking up a large package he had left in the shadows, and if you had listened hard enough you would've heard a low mumbling from the package.
"I know we're late," whispered the figure "it's not my fault I didn't know how stubborn you would be. You are just like your daughter."
"The daughter who I didn't know was still alive until fifteen minutes ago" hissed back the package.
Sir Denver sighed and put his sword back in his sheath.
"That also is not my fault." He muttered.
He rested the portrait against the wall of the battlements - it was wrapped in a scarlet cloak so no one could guess what it was - and threw a stone at the stables. A horse whinnied irritatedly and a low cooing sound was heard rather like a pigeon or an owl with a sore throat.
Arianthe stood shivering slightly next to Heloise. She'd been waiting for rather a long time for Sir Denver and was starting to worry, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders she listened hard for the sound of a stone being thrown in her direction. That was the signal that all had gone well.
Hush! What was that? Only a fox. Never mind. Absentmindedly she began to stroke Heloise behind the ears and tried not to let her mind play tricks on her.
Suddenly, about fifteen minutes later, there was a quiet thud just to her left. A horse next to her fussed noisily, Arianthe held her breath in terror of Mr Farrier coming out to see what was wrong. She was certain this was Sir Denver's sign so she replied to it with a rather convincing - or so she thought - coo of a nightingale.
A moment later she heard the noise of someone climbing down the side of the wall. Running towards the sound Arianthe stretched out her arms to catch the portrait which fell deftly into her hands with a slight grunt from its occupant.
"I'm glad you got here alright." Said the Princess to the knight.
"Me too," he replied "but let's just get going before we're caught."
They crossed the paddock to where the horses stood saddled and ready to go, with a lot of difficulty they attached the portrait to the saddle where Kassandra could see what was happening.
"Well, My Lady, this is it." Smiled Sir Denver "take one last look at your home."
"It's not home, not really."
Putting his helmet on Sir Denver approached his horse who was staring at the ground chomping on the bit. He mounted it expertly and began to move out, Arianthe did the sane and took one last look over her shoulder before urging the horse to walk out of the paddock.
Then the most horrible thing happened. A loud voice shouted out in the darkness.
"WHO IS THERE? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Out of nowhere several armed guards came out of the shadows, swords drawn and helmets clamped shut over their faces...