A Walk in the Black Forest

by K. A. M'Lady

  “Ah, well, ‘tis good then that the bloody fool is dead,” Richard replied offhandedly.

  “Aye, but there is something he said that is bothering me,” Damon said, looking at his friend strangely for a moment, then reaching for a hunk of rabbit from the spit.

  “What is that?” Tanak asked, searching his friend’s face in the light of the fire.

  “He had said, when we were fighting, that I may not know of the true battle nor the victors of this war. For make no mistakes, this is a personal war.”

  “Gibberish talk of a fool, no doubt,” Sir Richard replied.

  “Possibly. But if not, the question then would be who the true leader is, and where he will strike next.” Damon looked at Richard for any sign or inclination.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gabriella woke with soft light coming in through the small arrow slit in her cramped cell. The air smelled of rain and emptiness. Rosalynn had ordered the guards to clean out every cell, including her own and to have fresh rushes placed on all the floors. What prisoners were previously housed there had been moved to a different area of the castle so as not to disturb her or cause her fear.

  The nights were getting longer, and the chill of frost would soon be settling over the land. As she lay in the cool air of dawn, she knew that she should try to formulate a plan of escape. Knew she needed out of this dungeon before Damon returned, and that she would be blamed for the murder of Anne. Poor Anne, she thought sadly. To never see the beautiful light of day again.

  Gabriella was weak from the endless days of sickness, unable to keep any large amounts of food down. Her body was tired as it began changing, adapting itself for the babe that she was now carrying. She didn’t have the strength right now to move, let alone try to escape. Gabriella knew she would have to rest for now, and make plans for when she started to feel a little better. This morning sickness can’t last forever, can it?

  She thought of her parents as she lay looking up at the ceiling above her. This would be the first holiday without them. In fact, there would be no more holidays, no matter how much she wished otherwise. She wrapped her blanket tighter around her. She missed them. And she missed Damon, even though she was furious with him. But her anger was a distant second to the combined fear and excitement she felt knowing that she carried his child.

  Gabriella stayed lying down, hoping that her stomach would remain still. If only her thoughts could do the same. She knew with certainty that Damon’s child now grew within her womb. She was at least a month along, maybe a little more, and she smiled at the thought of her belly growing round and full. Closing her eyes, she held her belly and thought of Damon, and if he’d be happy when he found out the news. Despite everything that had happened to her, she had no regrets.

  Even if he did not want her as his wife, she knew he cared for her. It was in his every touch. His every glance. She hoped he would be as happy as she was that his child grew within her. Smiling to herself, she tried to sit up, hoping that the morning sickness had subsided.

  Her hopes left in a sudden rush matching the quick expanse of breathlessness as her feet hit the ground. The room spun and her stomach turned. Rushing to the chamber pot, she fell to her knees, heaving. She sat hunched over for some time before it finally seemed to pass. Finally able to stand, she collected the pitcher of water that Rosalynn left her every night.

  The cell door opened with a creak. He stood in the entrance, sword in his hand, pointing it towards her belly. “It appears the bastard has fostered a bastard of his own, aye, milady?” He blocked the exit with his frame.

  Gabriella dropped the pitcher to the floor. It shattered as she stepped back against the wall. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice rising in consternation. Fear and confusion rushed through her as she stared from the sword to the man.

  “What do we all want, milady?” he huffed. “Riches, rewards, all that is owed to us. All that was ours before your Norman pig stole it from us. Leaving us to be his serfs, his slaves to command and punish,” he spat. “But now ‘tis time for our revenge. He shall lose all that was never his. Even the one thing that is…You. Now come,” he growled, lunging forward to grab her.

  Gabriella backed up to the table, knowing that she would never be able to escape him. He was bigger than she was, which she had never noticed before. He stalked towards her with his sword aimed at the one thing she would protect most in the world. Her unborn child.

  Reaching the table, she grabbed the nearest thing, a plate, and threw it at him. The plate missed its mark, shattering against the wall behind him, food scattering to the ground. “Damon will kill you for this. When he finds out what you are doing, he will hunt you down and kill you with his bare hands,” she swore, panic seeping into her voice.

  “I shall kill you if you do that again. You see, that is where you are wrong, milady. One cannot kill what one does not miss. Besides, by the time they find you missing, I shall have reappeared and none will be the wiser,” he mocked. “Now move.” He advanced towards her, his sword now pressing against her belly. He grabbed her arm and pulled her hard against him, his left arm snaking around her neck. “Now, we are going to leave this castle, and if you utter one single sound, I will slice you open from one side of your belly to the other and gut your precious babe from you. Do I make myself clear?”

  Gabriella didn’t answer quickly enough for her captor, and his arm clenched around her neck, his sword pressing harder against her. Insurmountable fear rushed through her, and she felt weak. Her legs shook from the effect. She nodded, her eyes growing round with acknowledgement. She knew without a doubt that this man would kill her.

  His grip was strong, and she felt bruises forming on her delicate flesh where he clenched her arm. “Why do you hate him?” she uttered through the pain. “Has he not been good to you? Given you a position of importance among your peers?”

  “You need not know the tale as of yet. But in time, perhaps,” he said, gripping her arm tighter, sneering at her with hatred and contempt in his eyes. “Now come,” he growled. “You will tarry no longer,” he said, wrenching on her arm and dragging her towards the cell door.

  As he propelled her forward, she wondered what he would do to her. Would he wound her? Slit her throat and leave her to rot at the bottom of some hole somewhere? Would Damon find her before it was too late?

  Her thoughts tumbled through her head as he dragged her out of the cell into the shallow light of the recently swept walk. Looking right, she could see the stairs that led up towards the main hall. At the end was the alcove where the guard should have been. The dungeon was quiet and a chill ran through her as hope of rescue from the guard passed quickly from her mind. He is dead. He is dead and cannot save me, she mourned.

  Reaching for her belly in an effort to protect the small life within her, she could only pray that she could somehow keep her child safe. Oh God! she implored. Please let me get through this. If not for me, or for Damon, then for this child.

  He pulled her along the opposite direction of the stairs, past the other cells that were in the dungeon. There seemed to be a dead end of stone, but he pushed on one stone in particular and the wall opened slowly, revealing a stairway leading up and around.

  He shoved her through the opening, releasing her long enough to gag her and tie her wrists in front of her. Grabbing a sconce from the wall, he pressed another stone and sealed the opening, pressing his sword into her back. “Move,” he ordered.

  He pushed her up the winding stairs, which led to an outside door. They were facing the ocean, and the high waves were crashing on the rocks like an early morning thunderstorm. Gabriella could look up and see the turrets of the castle and the guards walking the walls. But the breakers were so loud, there was no way they would hear her screams.

  “Keep moving, milady,” he said, shoving her along a narrow path that led down towards the rocky cove. Her footing slipped halfway down and she tried to reach down to catch herself, scraping her hands on the rocky path bel
ow. Wrenching her arms up tightly behind her, he pulled her up off the ground.

  “Now, now, milady. You had best be careful. I would hate for something to happen to you before my plans come to fruition.” He dragged her the rest of the way down the narrow path to the sandy cove below.

  They were far below the cliff side of the castle where a small beach met the rushing sea. He continued to drag her along the beach to a small cave just beyond a dune on the south side of the castle walls. The opening was small and she had to hunch over to get inside. He continued to shove her along, the tip of his sword point leading the way by what seemed like memory in the dark opening of the small cave.

  Soon the light grew less, and her fear increased with each step away from the safety of the castle. Gabriella prayed that when Rosalynn came she would mount a search for her and that Damon would return soon. She just hoped it would not be too late.

  “Stop right here,” her captor ordered, jerking on her bound wrists.

  Here was a narrow recess in the cave, what appeared to be a small shelf formed on one side of the cave wall. There was only darkness on the other. Gabriella’s heart raced in panic. She hated the darkness. The thought of being left in this place scared the hell out of her. But she was not about to go down without a fight.

  She grew up in New York, she was a modern woman, and she knew she had to give it a shot. Taking a deep breath, she turned slowly and faced her captor. She sized him up for the first time, truly seeing him where she had not seen him before.

  He was a bit unkempt and disheveled looking, his eyes dark and darting nervously. His brow perspired and his hair escaped the cloth he’d used to tie it back. His clothes were rumpled like he’d slept in them, and it seemed they were stained with something dark. In fact, his sword was stained. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? He’d done it. He killed Anne.

  He watched as knowledge tightened her features. He smiled smugly. “Aye,” he snickered. “Our poor, wee Anne seemed to have gotten in the way a bit this morn. Saw me speakin’ to me benefactor at a most inopportune time. Couldn’t have the lass going back to that great Norman Bastard and ruin everything, now could I?”

  Gabriella knew then she had to get out of there. He would kill her without a thought. If he could kill poor Anne like that, he would no doubt do the same to her.

  Eyeing the opening of the cave, she knew she’d have to make a run for it. It was now or never. She rushed him, kneed him in the groin and kept on running as he fell to his knees. She made it as far as the entrance of the cave before he caught up with her. He grabbed her hair and the back of her dress, wrenching her to the ground.

  “Bitch,” he spat, kicking her in the side.

  Gabriella lay huddled on the ground, trying to pull her knees up to her stomach to keep him from kicking her again. Tears streamed from her eyes as pain lanced down her side. Her head throbbed where he pulled her hair to stop her retreat.

  “Get up.” He grabbed her beneath the arm, pulling her to her feet. “If you try that again, I’ll not be responsible for the outcome.” He backhanded her, sending her to her knees with the force of the blow.

  He pulled her to her feet once more and dragged her back into the cave. When they reached the place where the natural shelf was, he untied her wrists and lifted her onto it. It was then she noticed the manacles that were connected to the wall. He shackled her wrists and removed the gag from her mouth.

  “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve done nothing to you. You have to let me go,” she pleaded.

  “Let you go?” he scoffed. “Now why the hell would I do that? I finally have the one thing that will be the downfall of the great and mighty Dragon of Blackmoor. No, milady. I am afraid I will not be letting you go.”

  “But you can’t leave me here.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, turning to leave her tied to the cave wall. “I will not leave you here for long. I must cover my tracks and place the blame at someone else’s door. Hmm…” He rubbed his chin in mock consideration. “Let me see. Whom shall I say kidnapped the poor guilty, murderous Lady Gabriella? I know. How about Sir Richard, or maybe that idiot cousin, Pasquel? He seems to have taken a fancy to you. Besides, Damon hates him anyway. Or, I could blame them both, allow Damon to kill them, and when he is weary from warring and worry, I will strike him dead when he is at his weakest, and then I will be the victor of everything. What a wonderful plan. Well, milady, I must be off. Plans to see to, Dragons to slay. But have no worries. I shall return. And do not fear, the shelf is high enough to keep you from the evening tide.” His laughter rang out through the darkness, echoing in the silence like the maniacal ranting of a loon.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The sun was warm on the stairwell as Rosalynn walked down the dungeon stairs with a tray laden full of broth and cool water for Gabriella’s morning fast. She brought fresh bread from the ovens, hoping that if Gabriella ate it first it would help with the sickness before the lady started moving about.

  Taking the steps slowly so not to spill the tray, a tingling sensation coursed through her. Unsure of the feeling in the pit of her stomach, she crept faster down the stairs. She was almost running by the time she came to the end.

  As she reached the bottom, the tray fell from her hands and crashed to the floor as she saw the morning guard bludgeoned to death at the table in the guard’s alcove. Panicking, she ran to Gabriella’s cell. The door was thrown open and the cell was in disarray. The table lay smashed and broken. The tray of food from the previous night was all over the cell and the dishes smashed into bits. The cot was turned over, and Gabriella was nowhere to be found.

  Rosalynn’s heart began to race. All the gods save us! She cursed. His lordship will murder whoever is responsible for this. She looked around the cell for any signs of who could have done this, or if Gabriella could have somehow escaped.

  She turned over the cot, moving bits of the broken table until she found something. It was small. A bit of blue cloth, torn and ragged as though ripped in a struggle. It was small, and would have been meaningless except for the color. Sir Richard’s colors. She found another bit of cloth closer to the cell door, this piece bigger. Green with black markings. Quite possibly an eagle. A standard like Pasquel’s. Her heart stopped for one full second. It could not be. Sir Richard would never betray his friend. Never. Pasquel, she could believe. But Richard? Grabbing the cloth from the floor, she turned and ran for the stairs, yelling for the guards as she went. As she reached the great hall, John came running.

  “What is it?” he questioned, panic filling his voice.

  She told him quickly.

  John gathered his men, giving them orders to start searching the castle and surrounding walls. As the men went about their orders, Pasquel came from his room.

  “Is there something amiss, witch?” he asked rudely.

  “Aye,” Rosalynn replied, turning to John. “John, arrest him until his lordship returns. Search his room, and that of all his captains and soldiers,” she told John sternly, allowing for no rebuke.

  “What!” Pasquel roared. “You can’t have me arrested, you stupid hag. I am a knight of the king. I can have you hung. I can kill you where you stand!” He reached for his sword.

  John reached him and put a dagger to his throat. “Until his lordship returns, milord Pasquel, I am afraid that Mistress Rosalynn is in charge of this keep and what she orders, it is my duty to obey.”

  “John, send two guards to search his lordship’s quarters. And when you’re finished, send them on to Sir Richard’s.”

  “Aye, mistress,” John replied, nodding for two of his guards.

  Moments passed before the guards returned with what appeared to be a chest full of coin and several smaller bags with Lord Damon’s Dragon emblem marked in front.

  “It would appear you are a thief as well,” Rosalynn said, turning to glare at her lord’s pompous cousin.

  “We also found this,” a guard stated, handing a tunic with Sir Richard’s family cre
st across the front of it.

  Rosalynn ground her teeth and began to mutter curses. “Take him to the dungeon, John. Now, before I truly do put a curse on the bastard.”

  “You will pay for this,” Pasquel fumed as John led him towards the dungeon. “When the king hears of this, you both will be drawn and quartered. Do you hear me, witch? I will have you burned!”

  Rosalynn replied, “Silence, Pasquel, or I swear that by all you hold holy, I will indeed turn you into a toad.”

  He stiffened and paused, his steps faltering in John’s grasp before catching himself and continuing towards the door leading to the dungeon, muttering the entire way about witches and dragons and the ridiculousness of the entire thing. He swore the king would hear about all of it.

  * * * * * *

  Damon and Sir Richard’s men had split up at dawn, Richards’ men returning to Woodmir, and Damon riding hard to Blackmoor Castle. He had business to settle that he did not relish and he’d just as soon be done with it. Tanak had stitched his side, and it pained him greatly as they rode all morning and into the night. What should have taken them three days from the deep woods they covered in one, so great was their want to get home.

  Covered in mud, blood and the sweat of travel, they rode hard into the bailey like the thunder of dragons crashing through the gates of hell. The stable boys and other soldiers came to get the weary horses and see them to their stalls. Wives came to meet their husbands.

  A slight twinge went through Damon, as he recalled Gabriella was tucked away in a cell of his dungeon. He was too weary to think of it now. He wanted a bath, some food and a short rest, hoping to gather his courage before having to deal with her wrath.

  Rosalynn met him at the steps of the keep, her eyes sharp, a look of worry and something else that Damon could not describe marring them.