by Alice Wilde
“Sir, this bucket almost sounds hollow.”
The noise of more men approaching grows louder, and then my barrel is kicked again.
“Hmm, you’re right. There’s something different in this one.”
“Should we open it, sir?”
“No. Collect and load up the other barrels and crates first.”
One of the men retreats, and I hold my breath to listen to the men still surrounding me.
“What do you think is inside?”
“Whatever it is, it’s quiet now.”
“Do you think it’s dead?”
“More likely scared.”
“It sounded like some kind of wild beast. What should we do with it?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
A blade sings as it’s unsheathed and I hear it scrape against the rim of the barrel lid.
“Ah, see here? There’s a small crack in the top, most likely to let air in. Whatever’s inside was put there intentionally.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“It’s unlikely smugglers would take the risk if it wasn’t worth something.”
I pull my face away from the gap in the lid just as the man slides the tip of the blade inside and begins to leverage it against the rim in an attempt to pry open the lid.
“Holy hell, this is on tight. Give me a hand.”
The men grunt with effort but are unable to pry the cask open. I’m too nervous to say anything, but it makes me feel better about myself that at least two other men are having just as much difficulty freeing me as I was.
“James, bring the axe.”
The man sheathes his knife as we wait for James to make his way over to us.
“Here you are, sir.”
“Stand back, men.”
I’m going to die. He’s going to chop me into pieces trying to break open the barrel.
“Stop,” I shout, the fear of death loosening my tongue.
Silence follows once again.
“That’s not a wild animal.”
“No, no, I’m not an animal,” I say, my breath catching in my throat.
“It sounds like a woman,” says one of the men.
“Sir, I should be able to break open the cask without harming her,” says James.
“Hmm, very well. Don’t open it all the way.”
“Get as low as you can inside,” James says to me.
I curl up as small as I can and shut my eyes. There’s still not much space between the top of my head and that of the barrel. I swear I can hear the blade whistle through the air and then the cask quivers with the blow of the axe lodging itself in the wood. James frees the axe blade and swings again and I hear the lid start to part from the barrel’s body as he twists the blade.
“That should be enough,” one of the other men says.
James removes the axe and inserts his fingers into the crack to pry the lid up enough for me to see out. The beach is dark, aside from lit torches bobbing about as men hurry to collect the intact crates and barrels and load them onto various carts.
“Well, what do we have here?”
A pair of steely gray eyes comes into view, peering in at me. The man furrows his brow and then straightens.
“It really is a woman. Not half bad to look at either, or at least she should be after a good wash.”
Another face appears and examines me before disappearing.
“A stowaway?”
“I doubt they’re transporting women by barrel these days.”
“What are we going to do with her?”
“Do with me? Why do you have to do anything with me? By the gods, just let me out,” I say.
“The female has quite the tongue to her,” one of the men says with a laugh. “She’d be good entertainment, to say the least.”
“Hmm. Perhaps you’re right. We have a good distance to go before we make it to London.”
“Let me out!”
“James, load her up with the wines. I’ll think of what to do with her next time we camp.”
“Yes, sir.”
I bang against the top of the barrel, but I lose what little balance and influence I had when James picks up my wooden cask. His movements are awkward and unsteady, nothing like my companions, and I stop moving for fear of him dropping me. It only takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and start rocking back and forth as hard as I can, trying to get him to drop me. If I’m lucky enough, dropping the barrel might just be enough force to free me.
“Stop moving,” James grunts, but I only increase my efforts.
I’m about to give up when the world seems to fall away from me with the same uncomfortable weightlessness I had felt just before being tossed into the stormy sea. I brace myself just in time, covering my head with my arms. I crash into the wood just as it smashes against the ground. I look up to see that half the lid has broken, and I immediately begin to squeeze myself through the opening. It’s tight, but I succeed in getting my head and upper body through it before James looks up from where he’s fallen. He rubs his head in pain.
“Don’t move!”
I wriggle harder, but my hips and bottom are proving to be far more difficult to get out. My pulse quickens as James starts to slowly push himself back to his feet, and I push and kick against the barrel. I feel the pressure around my hips lessen as I fall forward to the ground. Quickly pulling my legs free, I scramble to my feet and look around. We’re not far from where they’re loading the carts, just where the sand meets the edge of a steep, rocky embankment.
To my left are more men searching the area for goods by torchlight in front of a small cliff, and to my right, James and the rest of the men are loading the carts. There appears to be a bit of a path through the cliffs there, but I doubt I could get past all of them.
I’ll probably regret this later. I kick off my shoes and tie my skirts as quickly as I can. James is still rubbing his head and hasn’t managed to get off his knees. I’m not about to wait until he does.
Grabbing at the nearest handhold I can find, I pull myself up the embankment as swiftly as I can.
“Stop,” James yells. “Stop her!”
His yell has drawn the attention of the men nearby, and I turn my head to see several of them running toward me.
“Get her!”
It’s the voice of one of the men who had insisted on keeping me in the barrel until he figured out what to do with me. I climb faster, rocks scraping the skin of my knee and cutting into my hands and feet. Climbing sounds so much easier in books. I reach out to grasp at a jutting ledge and pull myself further up the steep embankment, but as soon as I shift my weight the rock breaks beneath my hand and I slide down several feet before managing to catch myself on another handhold.
I’m shaking, but hastily compose myself and reach to start scaling the rocky crag again only to feel a hand seize my ankle. I scream as I am yanked down and into the arms of an unknown man.
“Get off me! Let me go!”
He drops me face first into the sand but quickly drops down on top of me, a knee digging agonizingly into my lower back. I gasp in pain as he forces my arms behind me, tying them in place. The sand stings at the cuts in my legs.
“Someone, please help,” I yell.
“Gag her.”
I look up and into the hard, torchlit face of the gray-eyed man. He watches as the man still kneeling on my back forces a gag into my mouth, his face emotionless.
“Good, bend her over my horse. Let’s see her try to escape from me then.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man finishes gagging me and lashes my feet together as well before rising and lifting me over his shoulder. I look around at the men nearby. They’re all dressed in light armor, but they don’t look like soldiers. James still hasn’t risen from where he fell and I notice he has a deep gash on his forehead. He appears to be in a daze, the blood still dripping onto the sand in front of him.
James looks up at me as we pass, and my stomach turns when I s
ee just how badly he’s wounded. Without medical attention, I doubt he’ll last the night. The twang of a bowstring sounds and I watch in wide-eyed shock as James’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls forward into the sand, an arrow lodged deep in his back.
“Shame he couldn’t be more useful,” the gray-eyed man says. “Move out!”
I stare at James’s lifeless body, left unceremoniously to bleed out on the sand as I’m carried off toward the carts and horses. The men strewn about the beach all head back with whatever else they’ve found.
I grunt in agony as the man carrying me tosses me over the back of a horse, knocking the wind out of me. Their carts are full of various goods that have been washed ashore, as well as what looks like an assortment of random items, foods, and wares.
These men are not soldiers. I am in far greater danger than I could have imagined, and no one knows where I am.
I am just a woman among thieves.
I’d always thought myself an excellent rider, but then again, I’d never been tied up and thrown over the back of a horse between a man’s legs. A horse’s movements are far more noticeable when your stomach is in direct contact. The longer we ride, the more I want to retch. If my bladder were full, I’d have soiled myself by now. As it is, I’m severely dehydrated.
The sky has started to grow pale with the coming dawn.
“Halt,” the man riding with me says. “We’ll camp here for the day.”
I can almost hear the collective sigh of relief from the men. Even with the carts and my position on the horse, I knew we had been riding quite hard.
Dismounting, the man hands the reigns to someone else.
“Feed and water her.”
“The horse or the girl, sir?”
“Both. I’ll send for the girl when I’m ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
The horse and I are led off to a small stream where several other horses are being watered. My horse is secured to a nearby tree and she begins to drink from the running water. A pair of hands tugs me backward and then grabs me around the waist to lift me down from the horse. He props me up against a nearby tree, and I’m grateful for the change in position, even as roughly as he’s handled me. The man is quite young, probably not much older than me, but he’s quite tall and broad, his face hard and weathered. After all I’ve seen the past few weeks, I can’t imagine what he must have gone through to look the way he does. He removes the horse’s saddle and places it to the side as he begins to brush her down. As rough as the young man has been with me, I’m surprised at how gentle he is with her.
“You’d choose a horse over your own mother, wouldn’t you, Bryn?” a man jokes as he leads his own horse over to the stream.
Bryn says nothing as he finishes feeding and caring for the horse. He wipes down the saddle and then picks it up and walks back toward camp, leaving me alone. If only I could run. I squirm to test my restraints, but they remain fixed. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up and I look out into the forest, feeling as though someone is watching me. I’m startled by a voice quite close to me.
“Well, what do we have here?”
I look up into the face of the man who had been teasing Bryn a little while earlier. He crouches down to examine me.
“So, you’re the girl from the beach. I can see why Lord Aldrich wanted to keep you.”
He brushes a finger against my cheek, watching my face carefully.
“James was my best friend,” he says, his voice sharp. “He may have been an idiot, but he was as loyal as they come. You’re the reason he’s dead. Once Lord Aldrich is finished with you, you’ll be all mine.”
I am seething with rage. To think he blames me for the death of his friend when all I wanted was to escape. I didn’t tell either of them to join a group of outlaws. It’s absolutely not my fault they have chosen to live a life of crime, and I was not the one who shot James in the back with an arrow. I’m starting to wonder if all men blame women for their own shortcomings.
“Step away from her.”
I look up to see Bryn returning.
The man crouching before me gets up and returns to his horse without another word.
Bryn kneels down next to me, holding a steaming bowl of stew in one hand, which he places on the ground next to him.
“I’m going to remove your gag so you can eat. Don’t make me regret it. If Lord Aldrich hears you, or word gets back to him that you started screaming, then I can assure you things will get far worse for you. Do you understand?”
I nod my head.
“Very well.”
Bryn reaches over and loosens my gag, slowly removing it. My mouth is uncomfortably dry, but I gratefully take the spoonful of stew Bryn offers me. It’s not as satisfying as water would have been, but it’s something. My stomach welcomes the food greedily. Bryn feeds me several more spoonfuls of the thick stew before my stomach twists in on itself and I am sick on the ground beside me.
“I should have given you water first.”
Bryn stands and walks over to the stream, and I watch him dump the rest of the stew out and rinse the bowl before filling it with water and carrying it back over to me.
“Here, drink slowly.”
I sip at the water he holds to my lips and immediately feel life return to my body. If I could grab the bowl, I’d drain it in seconds. I’m slightly unnerved by Bryn’s surprisingly gentle and patient care for me.
“Why are you being so kind to me?” I ask after I’ve drained the water from the bowl.
Bryn stares at me, his face unemotional. “I’m simply following orders, nothing more. You’re to bathe before joining Lord Aldrich.”
I shudder at the thought. I’d love to bathe, but not under the current circumstances. My stomach clenches, but I’m not sick again.
Bryn stands and then lifts me to my feet, propping me against the tree once again, then he frowns.
“I’m not actually sure how to do this.”
“Do what?” I ask.
“Bathe you.”
“I can bathe myself.”
“Not while you’re still bound.”
He’s right, of course. I’d most likely drown in knee-deep water in my current state. Bryn turns and surveys our surroundings.
“Oi, Jack, come here for a minute.”
The man who’d spoken to me earlier turns to face us, but doesn’t move otherwise.
“What is it now, Bryn?”
“I need help getting this one ready to see Lord Aldrich,” Bryn says with a bob of his head toward me.
Jack’s eyes light up, a dark look appearing on his face as he stands and walks over to us.
“What do we need to do?”
“Aldrich wants her bathed before she sees him.”
“Alright, I’ll help, but gag her first,” Jack says, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Bryn hesitates for a moment and then grabs my gag and repositions it.
“The stream isn’t deep enough for bathing here, but I heard some of the lads found a swimming hole just down the hill over there,” Jack says, pointing.
Bryn nods and then lifts me over his shoulder, following Jack through the camp.
We’re almost out of camp when I start to hear voices and the splashing of water. I had honestly expected Jack to be lying to us.
“What do you have there?” a voice calls from the water.
“A live and kicking woman,” Jack says with a vile laugh. “Well, she’s alive, if not kicking.”
The other men laugh along with him.
“She’s Lord Aldrich’s. No one is to lay a hand on her,” Bryn says, but I can tell there’s a nervous twinge to his voice. Even he doesn’t trust these men.
“Aldrich can’t be angry about what he doesn’t know,” Jack sneers. “Hand her to me.”
Bryn takes a step back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Hand her over, Bryn.”
Men have started to egg Bryn on with jeers and taunts.
&nb
sp; “You want to be one of us, don’t you?”
“I am one of you.”
“Then prove it, hand the girl over.”
“But, Lord Aldrich—”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
I wriggle, trying to warn Bryn not to listen to them, but he just tightens his grip on me to keep me from moving.
“Come on, Bryn. She needs to be bathed anyways, right? Let us help you.”
Bryn takes a jolting step backward, but the tension slowly leaves his body and I’m certain he’s decided to give me up. Jack’s hands grasp me around my waist and he pulls me into his own arms. Bryn drops to the ground, and it’s only now that I see the knife protruding from between his ribs.
“Stupid boy,” Jack says mockingly and the other men cheer and laugh from their places in the pool. “So, how about it, men. Ready for a bit of fun?”
The men cheer.
“Throw her in!”
“Let us have her!”
I watch Bryn let out his last breath as Jack carries me over to a rock jutting out over the pool of water. The whole situation utterly confuses me. For being so angry about James, this man found it easy enough to kill one of his own. Jack lowers me onto the rock and removes my gag.
“Scream all you want,” he says. “No one will hear you from here.”
And with those final words, he shoves me over the edge and I fall into the deep water of the pool below. Hands grab me from every direction and raise me to the surface. I cough and open my eyes to find myself surrounded by a dozen naked men.
“Look how scared she is,” one of them says, laughing.
“She might be even prettier like this,” another man says, his expression wicked.
“Move out of the way,” Jack calls from the rock above as he removes his clothes.
I turn my eyes away as he drops his pants and jumps into the water. Jack rises to the surface and swims over, reaching out and pulling me toward him by the neckline of my dress.
“See, men, if I were your captain, we’d share in all the prizes.”
The men hoot in excitement.
“But, as your captain, I’m sure you could see fit to give me first tastes.”
Jack takes my face in his hand, pulling me roughly to him. His other arm wraps around my waist, pressing my body tightly against his own naked one. Despite the chill of the water, I can feel the stiffness of his arousal digging into my thigh. Without further hesitation, I butt my head into his. There’s a crunch and Jack’s nose starts to bleed. His eyes stare at me, wide with shock, but only for an instant. But then my stomach twists sickeningly as he smiles at me, blood staining his gums, and I feel pressure on my leg grow harder. Gods, I’ve only made him more excited. I should have known. Men cut from the same cloth as Damien relish in the torture of others.
