Slinking back inside the castle, he apprehensively returned to King Cedric and to the nightmarish scene he had only just fled. Raising one fist, he knocked roughly on the door.
“Who is it?” came the king's shaky voice. He couldn't blame him for sounding scared
“Tis I, Terric.”
He stepped back and waited for the king to open the door. He tried not to look towards the ground where King Eustace and Queen Constance lay, but his eyes involuntarily wandered to the bright pools of red that seemed to scream at him to notice them, to acknowledge the people whose veins were now drained empty of that very lifeblood. Though his eyes couldn't be kept from settling briefly on the bloody pools, he refused to let them wander to the actual bodies. Instead, he quickly barred the door once more and stepped around the bodies, walking to the far side of the room.
King Cedric followed. “Am I being foolishly optimistic in hoping that your presence means that the rest of the castle is safe?”
“Aye, there doesn't appear to be anything afoot. I saw King Lawrence and his family with my own eyes, along with your wife and daughter. They were perfectly well; they had several defenders nearby.”
“You didn't...” his unspoken question trailed off, but Terric knew to what he was asking.
“Nay, they never even saw me.”
“Good. I need to be the one to tell them myself, though I dread the task completely.”
“With good reason too. The news will not be well received, especially by King Eustace's children.”
The mention of the dead king's offspring made King Cedric inhale sharply. “In my grief I failed to remember Princess Rosalind. She is the only family not at Brantonwall Castle. She is not safe.”
“You are not safe here. My first matter of concern is getting you to safety.”
“King Hadrian of Peltis will protect me. We have always had good relationships with his kingdom, and seeing as how it is the closest kingdom to here; it would only make sense for us to seek his assistance. I want my family to accompany me, as well as my brother and his family. I want to know we are all safe.”
“It is not a wise choice,” Terric disagreed with him, though he was relieved that the king was once more thinking rationally.
“Of course it is,” Kind Cedric snapped angrily, his emotions close to the surface. “I darest not go to Moar, you know that our ally with them is tentative at best. Besides, it's more than twice the distance than Peltis.”
“Nay, I agree that you shouldn't go to Moar but I don't think it's wise that you take King Lawrence with you. That would leave Darth without any rulers, a fact that would not go unnoticed by both the people of the kingdom and our enemies. That would leave Darth in a very precarious position.”
King Cedric was thoughtful for a moment before he finally agreed. “I don't like the thought of leaving him behind, but I see that it must be. I don't think my fleeing from the kingdom should become common knowledge either.”
“Absolutely not, no one must know where you have gone if you wish to remain safe. My second concern is that Princess Rosalind has been left alone at Hefordshire Castle, and with the death of her parents, she is left an easy target for the enemy.”
King Cedric's face paled. “You must go fetch her, bring her to me in Peltis. She is the heir of the Southwestern Territory. She is now the Queen.” Terric hadn't thought of that—Princess Rosalind, upon her parents’ deaths, was now Queen Rosalind.
“I can't go to her; my duty is to you. If ever there has been a time that you need protection, that is now. Don't you see? Send King Eustace's Lead Defender to fetch her.”
“I will be fine once I am safely in Peltis. My niece is not fine; she could be in danger as we speak. I need you to go to her immediately.”
Terric's concern for Princess Rosalind was immense but he was duty bound to protect the king. He had taken oaths promising to guard the king's life with his own, an oath that was punishable by death if he failed in his duty. The thought of the king fleeing the kingdom without his protection did not sit well with him, it went against everything he had been trained to do and believe.
“Nay, I cannot leave you. We can send someone else to go fetch her and see her safely to Peltis.”
“There is no one else I trust,” King Cedric stated flatly.
“But what of your own life? Surely you are concerned with your own safety.”
“I will leave to Peltis immediately. I will have the protection of Eustace's lead defender. We will double up on protection. We can be there in less than a day if we hurry.”
“If you can trust King Eustace's lead defender with your own life, surely you can trust him with Princess Rosalind's,” Terric argued, uneasy at the thought of leaving the king's protection in somebody else's hands.
“Queen Rosalind,” King Cedric angrily corrected him. “I will have it no other way. I want no one knowing of my destination and no one knowing of my brother's death, especially not Rosalind. I will tell her myself as soon as you deliver her safely to Peltis. Swear to me that you will not tell her of her parents’ deaths. She should hear it from me.”
“I swear it, Your Majesty.” He had no desire to be the one to tell her of the tragic loss she suffered this day. He had no desire to see her pretty face crumple in pain at the knowledge that she was now an orphan. It was a promise he made easily, and one he was certain to keep.
“Good. Now go to her. You must waste no time. If you are quick, you can make the two days journey in a little over one.”
Terric knew all that. He had a vast knowledge of the Kingdom of Darth, having traveled throughout its territory extensively in his duties as defender. He would leave Brantonwall castle immediately, only taking enough time to grab some provisions from the kitchen to see him through his journey.
Just as he was turning to leave, King Cedric stopped him. “Wait,” he said as he walked over to the scribe's small table and picked up a piece of parchment and a quill. “You will inform Rosalind that her parents have made a journey to Peltis to strengthen Darth's ally with them and refuse to leave her alone for such a lengthy time, hence the reason you have been sent to fetch her.” He paused then, taking a moment to write a few hasty sentences on the paper. Once he was done, he folded the paper into thirds then reached for the nearest candle, dripping a spot of wax on the paper before removing his signet ring and pressing his seal into the cooling wax.
Shoving the now sealed letter at Terric, he continued, “If anyone gives you any problems, show them this. This is proof that you are doing my bidding and do not need to answer to anybody.”
Terric took the letter, “I bid you farewell, Your Majesty, until our reunion in Peltis.”
“Do not worry for me, Terric. See that Rosalind is safe. Her life is now in your hands.”
Terric turned and left, without a further word spoken between the two. He had trained his entire life to protect the king. To say that this new assignment to protect Queen Rosalind was unsettling was a vast understatement.
Chapter 7
The Retrieval
Sitting atop his destrier, Terric felt his shoulders slump and his hands loosen on the reins. He had been riding at full speed for nearly four hours before finally slowing the horse to a trot. It wouldn't do to wear out the poor beast completely when they still had at least a ten-hour journey ahead of them. The adrenaline that had been coursing through his body since the attack on King Cedric had taken nearly the entire ride to leave his system, and now that it had, he was utterly exhausted. His body had been trained since he was a wee lad not to give into sleep when there were important duties to perform, and fetching Queen Rosalind from potential danger was now his premier duty.
He pulled back on the reins, bringing his horse to a halt. There was a nearby stream where the animal could drink while he refueled as well. Leading the horse to the water, he bent on one knee and removed his helmet and splashed some of the cool liquid onto his face in an attempt to stay alert. The water was cold as it permeated his hair
and rolled down his neck, disappearing into the top of his tunic. He stood, shaking his head of the excess water, before reaching inside the pack and pulling out a handful of dates, which he hungrily shoved into his mouth.
As soon as his hunger abated and he felt sufficiently alert, he replaced the helmet on top of his head, grabbed the horse’s reins, and began walking in the direction of the Southwestern Territory. He gave the horse plenty of time to rest as they walked along in the dark before he pulled himself once more into the saddle. The solitary silence of the night left him with plenty of time to think. His mind couldn't stop thinking about the earlier attack on the King. He wondered if tonight's attack had any correlation with the prior attack, and he was almost certain it did. The question was, who wanted the High King dead, and why?
As much as he had wanted to see Princess Rosalind, now Queen Rosalind, now was not the time for it and most definitely not the circumstance. His loyalty to King Cedric was deeply ingrained into his being, his oath to defend him written permanently on his heart. He was going mad at the thought of King Cedric fleeing without his protection. Terric knew King Eustace's Lead Defender well. He was a man named Tristan, and very capable, though not as capable as Terric himself. As High King, King Cedric demanded and received the best, and the best was Terric, not Tristan. And though it was currently out of his control, if anything happened to King Cedric, he would only blame himself.
His unease at the entire situation settled upon him and remained as an unwanted guest for the entire trip to Herfordshire Castle. By the time he crested the last hill and Herfordshire Castle came into view, he was exhausted and unusually irritable and more than ready to have his assignment complete so he could return and see to his rightful duties to the king.
Terric rode along the short drawbridge before coming to a brief halt at the gatehouse. He paused long enough for the defenders to recognize who he was before continuing on beneath the raised portcullis and entering the inner ward of the castle. Having been to Herfordshire Castle on multiple occasions, he was very familiar with the castle grounds. He confidently turned left, directing his horse to the stables, where he dismounted and instructed a stable boy to care for his destrier, while he took care of business inside the castle.
Entering the main keep of the castle, it didn't take Terric long to find the castle's steward. A lanky man with a hawkish nose was busy dictating to a crowd of servants and as he dismissed them to see to their duties, Terric marched straight up to him, and not mincing any words, spoke, “I'm here to collect Princess Rosalind.”
The man eyed him curiously before asking, “What is the meaning of this?”
“I'm on official business from the High King. He has sent me to fetch Princess Rosalind and escort her to Brantonwall.”
“Aye. I will send for Brigit, her chambermaid, to inform her of your arrival.”
“Very well,” Terric muttered, but just as he turned a short, round lady came waltzing up to plant herself firmly between him and the steward.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked, her eyes narrowing at Terric in disapproval.
“I'm here to fetch Princess Rosalind and escort her to Brantonwall Castle,” Terric repeated irritably, his patience wearing thin. The lack of sleep was making him grumpy.
“Oh, I hardly think so, sir. Her parents gave her permission to remain here, at Hefordshire while her father attended the quarterly council meeting.”
“But now,” he explained impatiently, “they wish her to travel to Brantonwall to be with them.”
“Then why did they send you to do the job?” she asked, jabbing one plump finger into his chest.
Terric hardly had the patience to make his excuses to the meddlesome chambermaid, wanting only to retrieve the princess and be on his way. Besides, how was he supposed to logically explain to her why King Cedric had sent his Lead Defender to fetch her? It still didn't completely make sense to him. Unable and unwilling to come up with an explanation, he retrieved the missive penned by King Cedric from inside his tunic and thrust it towards her. “I'm on official business from the king. Kindly step aside and let me be about my business.”
As soon as the lady took the note, Terric began walking towards the hall, determined to collect Princess Rosalind and be on his way. The sooner he left Herfordshire Castle, the sooner he'd be back where he belonged—defending King Cedric.
“What are you doing?” the chambermaid squealed behind him, rushing forward to catch up to him as quickly as her stodgy legs would allow.
Brushing her aside, Terric kept walking. “If you disagree with my assignment from the High King, you'll have to take it up with him. I am sent to collect Princess Rosalind and escort her back to Brantonwall Castle, and that's what I intend to do.”
He heard the lady suck in a shocked breath, but he didn't turn back to see if she was following him. Instead, he continued straight for the spiral staircase that he knew would take him towards the bedchambers.
***
Rosalind's knees ached as she knelt on the rough stone floor next to the fireplace, still in her white linen nightgown. She had risen early to collect the array of drying herbs she had placed on the hearth the night before, anxious to get them out of sight before Brigit arrived to help her dress for the day. Since her parents had left to Brantonwall Castle, she had made it a habit of sneaking in various herbs from the garden to dry overnight on her hearth. Both Brigit and her mother would be irate if they caught wind of it.
She carefully picked up sprigs of lavender and rosemary, not fully dry, and placed them gently inside of a wooden box. She jumped at the sound of a door slamming down the hall and almost dropped her box. As her own door began to open, the heavy wood scraping against the stone floor beneath, golden wisps whirled around her head, causing her to feel faint. Perhaps she had spent too much time before the heat of the fire. Ignoring the strange sensation, she glanced down briefly at the remainder of herbs she had yet to collect. She knew she'd never get them hidden in time. Instead, she hastily set the box down on the hearth and rose. Grabbing the hem of her nightgown, she ran on her toes towards the large tapestry hanging on the wall and, wasting no time, she flung the heavy wall-hanging back and slid inside the small alcove hidden behind the tapestry, her heart racing furiously.
Many rooms in the castle were designed with the unique hideaways, elaborate tapestries effectively covering them from view. They had been designed as hiding places of sorts in the event of an attack on the castle. In the entire ten and eight years that she had been alive, she had only ever used them while playing silly games of hide-and-seek with her younger brother Colin.
Rosalind pushed herself face first into the far corner of the alcove. Closing her eyes, she placed both of her hands on her heart, willing it to be calm as she stilled her breathing and waited for Brigit to see that she wasn't there and leave. Mayhap she would think she was using the garderobe and would fail to see the mess she left behind on the hearth. She was in no mood to receive a lecture from the lady this day. But it seemed as if she was in no luck as she felt a breeze, caused by the lifting of the tapestry, whirl around her ankles, swishing her dress between her legs. Rosalind closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable screaming to begin.
***
Terric came to the last door in the hall and pushed the door open slowly, fully expecting it to be Rosalind's room after he hadn't found her in any of the other chambers he'd searched. A flurry of white caught his eye as he watched the imp lift one corner of a tapestry hanging on the wall and disappear behind its heavy cloth. So the girl was trying to hide was she? He almost chuckled out loud but settled on smiling instead, it would give him time to look around her chambers a bit before surprising her with his presence.
He began looking around the room curiously, surprisingly intrigued by being in her most private of chambers. He felt almost sinful as he looked around, evidence of the girl laced throughout the entire room. Red velvet curtains hung from her canopy bed, the covers disheveled from rece
nt use. He walked over to the bed and ran his hand gently over the linen sheets, still warm from her body, and shuddered involuntarily. He removed his hand quickly, trying to reign in his wayward thoughts and walked towards the fireplace. Scattered on the hearth were several small bundles of herbs, a wooden box sitting next to the forgotten plants. He picked up a sprig of sage and twisted the small stem between his thumb and forefinger before placing it back in its spot and sauntering over to the wall that held the tapestry.
He took great effort to be as quiet as he could, lifting the tapestry slowly to reveal the hidden alcove that housed the princess. Inching along the wall he contemplated calling out to her, demanding that she reveal herself at once and ready her things for the journey ahead, but something compelled him to continue on his current course.
Reaching the alcove, he deftly hoisted himself up inside. The girl was huddled in the corner, leaving just enough room for his body to fit behind her. He could feel the warmth emanating off of her body, clad in the simple white nightgown that made her look younger than her years. But lest he be fooled, it clung proactively to her subtle curves, curves he remembered all too well from the night she had danced the Saylatee.
Temptation became too much to bear as he stood breathing in her soft scent. He reached forth one hand and trailed his fingers slowly, gently down the exposed skin of her arm and smiled victoriously as goose pimples appeared on her flesh.
Suddenly she stiffened, a delayed response, and exclaimed, “Brigit!”
His voice was husky as he answered, “I hate to disappoint you my dear, but I'm most definitely not your chambermaid.”
Rosalind turned around abruptly, the small space not allowing her much room to do so. Terric reached out and steadied her, preventing her from falling out of their hiding place, his fingers grasping onto her soft waist as she tilted her chin to look up at him. “You!” she exclaimed.
Ginny Hartman Page 5
