Castle Walls

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  Ros raised an eyebrow. "I can only assume that you are the reason we had to leave in such haste last evening?" she asked, directing her question at the princess. Hazel eyes flickered up and down the smaller woman with disdain. "While you are beautiful, you hardly appear worth fighting for."

  At first surprised, anger soon followed. Having been rousted from her bed in the dead of night, watching family and friends be slaughtered and running for two days, it took supreme effort to hold her tongue. She bit down fiercely on her cheek. Simpleton! Unable to remain completely silent, Katerin responded, her tone icy. "A dear friend is dead and you've been inconvenienced. My utmost apologies."

  A faint glimmer of amused understanding lit Ros' eyes, a corner of her mouth quirking. She bowed her head. "Apology accepted."

  Katerin's teeth ground together.

  Looking at the man beside them, the blonde asked, "Is Sati to make breakfast this morning?"

  "Aye. Wilm says it's to be cherry hotcakes."

  "Good," Ros said with a chuckle. "The troupe needs the extra sweetness." Her eyes returned to the two bedraggled women before her. "At the very least to make up for the night's unscheduled festivities."

  "What of these two?"

  With a calculating look, the woman studied the stowaways, ignoring Katerin's obvious hostility. After a thoughtful pause, Ros said, "Have Lucinda and Gemma get them cleaned up. I think they might have some clothes that will fit." Her gaze became less guarded. "I'll see them at my wagon when they're presentable."

  "Aye, Ros."

  Still angry, though somewhat relieved that they were not in any immediate danger, Katerin found herself being escorted towards a tall, rather colorfully painted wagon. Holding Ilia's hand, she watched the encampment's proceedings with a calculating gaze.

  Ten tall wagons were in the clearing, each with its own intricate decoration. Nearly twice that number of people of all sizes and colors were out and about, working with happy industriousness. It appeared that most of the wagons were traveling abodes as the inhabitants set up awnings, chairs and tables outside them. To one side of the clearing, several men were unrolling a vast length of canvas. The dark figure of Ros was among them, calling direction and lending a hand. From what Katerin could gather, they had stumbled onto a circus.

  Nearing the wagon, a voluptuous redhead looked up from the colorful flowers she was arranging in a vase. "Ho, Willem! What have you there?" she asked, a welcome smile on her face.

  "Katerin and Ilia," the man responded, pointing to each in turn. "Ros said for you and Gemma to assist them. They need cleaning up and clothing."

  Hands on hip, the woman nodded, looking the pair up and down. "Aye, that they do." Looking over one shoulder, she called, "Gemma! We've guests!"

  Katerin started when the side of the wagon opened up, realizing that there was a shuttered window there. Another woman looked out, her hair and skin nut brown. Solemn green eyes regarded them and she nodded respectively. The redhead - She must be Lucinda - rubbed her hands together.

  "Well, let's get started then, shall we?" she asked. Waving her hands at their escort, she said, "Shoo, Willem. I think Gemma and I can handle these two dangerous creatures."

  Chuckling, he responded, "Aye, I know you can, Lucinda. I'll be helping the men with the tent in the meanwhile. Give a yell when they're ready."

  "I will that." Lucinda remained where she was until he'd gotten out of earshot. Casting a conspiratorial look at her visitors, she winked. "Men! What they don't know about women could fill a book."

  A smile crossed Katerin's face. I think I'm going to like this one, she thought.

  "Let's have a look at you, eh?" the redhead insisted, waving the pair closer.

  Chapter 2

  Being clean again certainly feels wonderful, Katerin thought, tugging at the unfamiliar skirt. Gemma had been a near perfect fit for the princess, the waist and length of the clothing being of a size she could wear comfortably. The blouse belonged to Lucinda, however, the dark woman's bosom not quite as small as Gemma's. Beside her, Ilia kept pace in a gown borrowed from the redhead. A bit baggy in places, it fit well enough.

  Willem returned to his escort duties when the pair was declared fit for viewing. He guided them towards one of the wagons in silence.

  Still busy with activity, the clearing looked much different than it had earlier. A large tent had grown in the center and the men were tying down the last of the ropes. The wagons created a crescent around the main entrance, each an advertisement for the available acts. Pictures depicting brightly dressed clowns, a lion tamer, graceful bodies flying through the air and jugglers teased the eye. One wagon sported bars instead of a painting, a large animal curled up in one corner.

  Katerin stopped her wool gathering and focused on a wagon they neared. Ros was lounging before it, idly watching them approach, feet upon a stool. On a rough wooden table beside her were several familiar items. Ilia's gasp matched the princess' sudden recognition of the few items they'd been able to steal away from the castle. Instantly furious, Katerin marched forward, passing Willem to plant herself before the relaxed woman, hands on hips. "How dare you go through our personal things!" she growled.

  "How dare you disrupt the lives of all these people," was the response. Ros stood, towering over the smaller woman. "Do you realize the danger you've put us in? Whoever those men were, one wore the insignia of the Invader. You can imagine he'll not be happy at the death of his personal guard."

  Blinking in surprise, the dark woman's anger faded. She's right. It's not these poor people who are at fault. Katerin dropped her hands and gaze, properly chastised.

  Taken aback at the sudden change of demeanor, the blonde sucked in a breath, quelling her irritation. "What's done is done," she finally said, sitting down. Waving to two other stools, she continued, "Please, sit. We must speak."

  "Do you need me to stay, Ros?"

  "No, Willem," the woman answered. "Though perhaps you could have Sati bring breakfast to these fine ladies…?"

  Willem smiled. "Aye, Ros. I'll do that," he agreed, walking away.

  Waiting for the women to settle, Ros studied them. Once she had their attention, she said, "As you've no doubt gathered, my name is Ros and I own this fine circus where you find yourselves. You've stowed away and stolen our food. The Invader is chasing you for gods know what reason and two men are dead. Is there anything else I should know?"

  With a sigh, Katerin shook her head. "Nay, I think not. That's more than enough."

  "Then the next question is what I should do with you?" An interminable silence followed, broken only by the people around them going about their business. Sighing heavily in irritation, Ros said, "What do you think will happen to two women such as you if I sent you away?"

  Recalling the very unexpected recent events, Katerin raised her chin. "We'll be dead or worse inside a fortnight."

  Mouth turned down, the blonde agreed, "Aye. And it's the worse you should be worried about." She eyed them shrewdly. "I'll not have your deaths on my head, despite the pain in my arse you've become."

  Katerin ignored the flash of anger, instead considering her immediate future. There's nothing left for me - my family is dead, my people ruled by another. Looking at her handmaiden, she made a decision. "Ilia is a fabulous seamstress. I'm sure you could find a use for her," the princess said, leaning forward on her stool in earnestness. "And, should you have a lute about, she plays it very handily."

  "I see. So you would have me hire your servant?"

  "Aye," the princess nodded. "She has a pleasant demeanor and is loyal to a fault. You could do no wrong in taking her on."

  Ros crossed her arms, one hand stroking her chin in thought. "And what of you?"

  Looking away, Katerin swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I shall be on my way."

  "Your Highness!" the handmaiden whispered. "Nay!"

  "Ilia!" the dark woman snapped, cutting her off. She glared intently at her companion, warning her. "It's for the best." Return
ing her gaze to Ros, she searched the woman's face, hoping she hadn't caught the royal title.

  The blonde's face remained serious, her hazel eyes revealing nothing.

  Stifling a relieved sigh, Katerin continued. "What say you?"

  Ros was slow to respond, eyeing them both in contemplation. With a reluctant nod, she said, "I've one open bunk right now. I'll hire Ilia at three coppers a week. She'll help with costuming, play the lute at showings and learn to clown." To the servant, she continued, "You'll be sleeping in Lucinda and Gemma's wagon. They've an additional bunk now that Tilly's gone off to have a babe."

  Katerin felt a heavy weight lift from her shoulders. At least Ilia will be safe now. She won't have to follow Hector beyond. She refused to look at her handmaiden, hearing the gentle weeping, not wanting to be caught up by the emotion.

  "And what of your qualifications?"

  Surprised, the princess' dark eyes latched onto the circus owner. "Me? I have no qualifications. Not for any task you would have here."

  Ros sat forward, taking the smaller woman's hands in her own, studying them. "Aye, I can see that you're a stranger to hard work. Your hands are too fine for menial labor. Do you play any instruments? Sew? Cook?"

  The remarks stung and Katerin yanked her hands from the other woman's. "Nay. None of those." She rose to her feet. "I ask for your generosity in supplying me with one meal and I'll be on my way."

  A slow, impish smile crossed Ros' face as she stood as well. Her face took on a decidedly wicked appearance as her eyes roamed the smaller woman's body with a lascivious familiarity. "I think not," she said. "I could… use a woman of your breeding."

  It took a moment for Katerin to comprehend what was being insinuated. When she did, she blushed furiously. She's a… a… a sapphist! she thought, shocked. Taking a step back, she shook her head. "Nay. I'll be on my way." The princess turned, preparing to leave the clearing and her handmaiden behind when Ros' next words froze her blood.

  "Then take Ilia with you. She'll be of no use to me while she's pining away at your loss."

  Katerin swallowed, eyes staring blindly at the clearing and its occupants, weighing the choices of another death on her head against prostituting herself for both their survival. Hearing her handmaiden hastily rising to follow made the decision for her. She spun around, holding out one hand to stop Ilia. Tentatively, she looked at the circus owner, heartened to see the leer had left her handsome face. "You have me at a loss, madam." With a swallow, she drew herself up. "I'll stay."

  Ros nodded slowly, an expression of grudging respect in her eyes. Gesturing to the table, she said, "Sort through your things. We've no other bunks; you'll be staying in my wagon." She looked to one side, waving a dark complexioned woman forward. "And eat the breakfast Sati has made. We've a long day ahead of us. Rehearsal is this afternoon and there's much to do." The woman strode away from them, dismissing their presence as she headed for the now finished tent.

  Watching her go, the princess bowed her head. A sapphist harlot or a princess with a death warrant on her head, what more could I ask for?

  Reaching Ilia, she hugged the taller woman close. At least my handmaiden will not die, as well.

  Ros circled the tent, her practiced eye scanning the structure. Occasionally, she'd pull on one of the thick ropes, checking its tautness. Despite her apparent attention to the task, Ros went over her conversation with the strangers.

  The Invader's personal guard and an obvious man at arms dead, she mused sourly. As if we've not enough trouble surviving in the midst of a neighboring war. Ros kicked at a thick iron tent peg, grunting in satisfaction as it remained firm in place.

  During a normal season, the troupe would have spent some time in the Dulce kingdom. Ros had diverted from their usual route when word of the Invader's activities had reached them.

  And now we've a blasted royal in our midst! Growling to herself, Ros ducked beneath a flap of canvas, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkened interior. The lack of light reflected her attitude. Again she circled, pushing against poles, noting where more logs could be added for seating, ignoring a handful of her people rigging the backstage area.

  Ilia's comment was not lost on the blonde, though Ros hadn't reacted. The title was an immediate give away. A Dulce princess. And the Invader rabid as a wolf, no doubt.

  Notorious for hunting down all heirs to any throne he stole, the Invader stopped at nothing to attain his goals. Neighboring realms, their leaders already nervous of the potential threat, would now be doubly paranoid until the princess was found or an innocent substitute was executed in her place to appease the tyrant.

  Ros and the circus had had the misfortune of occasional dealings with the Invader in the past. The blonde could still remember the terror of her childhood when this same thing occurred. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the child had been discovered, her head delivered to a displeased new monarch.

  Sighing in frustration, Ros left the tent and stood in the main entrance, scanning the small encampment. She spotted the women in question, their breakfast finished and returning to Lucinda and Gemma's wagon. I can't very well leave them behind. Hazel eyes lingered on the dark one, a mixture of sorrow, sympathy and dull anger in Ros' heart. Life's never easy, is it?

  Dominic awoke, shivering. With a curse, he pulled his cloak tighter and attempted to go back to sleep. Every pebble and root made its existence known as they pressed into him. After an interminable time, the aide yielded to nature with utter gracelessness and rolled out of his makeshift bier. Quiet surrounded Dominic; he heard only his heartbeat, breath steaming in the chill gray of early morning.

  He had been roaming the countryside for two days, irritated apathy his only companion. Remaining within the Dulce capitol was out of the question as long as the Invader was in residence. Still uncertain of his future, Dominic was loath to leave the area. Better to be near. Just in case. In case of exactly what was a mystery.

  With no fire to give away his tiny encampment to roaming brigands, breakfast was a distasteful affair. Dominic sniffed at the meat he'd taken from the castle larder, suspicions confirmed by the faint sweet odor. Grunting in disgust, he tossed it into some nearby bushes and proceeded to nibble at a crust of bread, his thoughts filled with sumptuous royal feasts. Once finished, Dominic brushed uselessly at his travel stained clothing. An internal debate rose - move on or remain here for the day? A check of his water bag solved the dilemma and Dominic hefted his pack onto thin shoulders.

  By now, the light beneath the trees was golden, the sun finally breaching the eastern horizon. Regardless, the air was still cool and Dominic groused as he plodded along, holding his cloak tight about his neck. That bastard will pay for this! he promised himself.

  Just how the Invader would be punished for his infraction was unknown. Dominic was painfully aware of his odds of finding Princess Sabine; if she was giving experienced soldiers and trackers difficulty, there'd be no way he could locate her.

  The sound of running water interrupted Dominic's thoughts. At nearly the same instance, he stumbled upon a tiny game path and froze. Several moments of silence passed before surrounding insects and birds felt comfortable enough to continue their racket. Relieved, the aide turned right and followed the trail, searching for the source of sound.

  A few strides away, the game trail opened up to reveal a small clearing with a creek. Dominic dropped his pack, retrieved his water bag and, after a moment's consideration, removed his cloak. Cold and filthy or cold and clean - one is preferable to the other. He crouched shivering upon the bank and began filling the bag. Shortly thereafter, the aide hissed as he splashed icy water on his face.

  In mid scrub, Dominic froze, peering between his fingers. Directly across from him along the edge of the clearing, one of the small deer that lived in the forest nibbled at tender new growth. The aide's eyes lit and he reached for his belt knife, mouth watering at the thought of fresh meat.

  Suddenly tensing, the deer raised its head, looking abo
ut with wary intensity. Once again Dominic stilled, mentally cursing at whatever was disturbing his future meal.

  An arrow seemed to sprout like magic from the animal's ribs. Startled, the aide fell backwards onto his butt with a grunt even as the deer leapt and crashed away into the forest. Before Dominic could do anything, more noise was heard as the hunter pursued his prey. The stranger could be seen rushing forward just inside the tree line, a flash of metal and green.

  Dominic blinked. That was one of the royal guard! They should all be dead! Leaping to his feet, he barely had time to grab his pack and cloak as he chased after the soldier.

  Does the princess have a guardsman with her?

  After breakfast the new arrivals sorted through their meager belongings, collecting the few items that belonged to Ilia. The remainder was returned to the carry sack and set under the table. Katerin wasn't willing to step foot into the now ominous wagon where Ros lived until necessary. They then returned to Lucinda and Gemma's abode.

  Properly pleased at the new additions to their troupe, Lucinda gave them both a boisterous hug. "Here, now!" she exclaimed, leaning back to peer at them. "Why the long faces? Surely it's better to be here than where you were?" Seeing the women's reticence, she dismissed the question. "No, don't answer. You'll discover soon enough that Ros only bites when she's backed into a corner. Now go inside, Ilia, and Gemma will show you where to stow your things."

  Only after receiving an encouraging nod from Katerin did the handmaiden obey. Silent and solemn as was her nature, Gemma waved the blonde into the wagon.

  "Why does she look so grave?" Katerin asked, once they were out of earshot. "Why doesn't she speak?"

  Lucinda's eyes became sad in reflection. "She's had a very difficult life for one so young. When Ros found her, she was near dead from her injuries." The redhead looked into the open window, watching her friend. "Her tongue had been cut out."

  Katerin's hand flew to her mouth in shock. "The poor woman!"

  "Aye," Lucinda agreed with a nod. "It's a good thing Ros found her when she did. Someone else might have left her for dead." With a gentle shake, the redhead forced a smile onto her face. "Enough sadness! You're both here and alive, new sisters added to our family!"