Castle Walls

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  Gasping at the audacity, Katerin could only bluster at the woman's gall.

  Ros, her smile turning genuine, wondered how many shades of red the smaller woman could turn. Perhaps if it was light out, I'd become truly informed. Rather than remain outside the entire night, she stepped closer to Katerin, towering over her, her face returning to seriousness. "I've told you, lady. I do not condone rape."

  The words were ice water on her anger, leaving Katerin gaping in the aftermath.

  Relaxing her aggressive stance, the owner stepped back, studying the shocked brunette before her. "Come, Katerin," she said, brushing past and opening the wagon door. "Bring your things and we'll find a place for them."

  Left standing alone, the smaller woman collected herself, anger and

  uncertainty warring within. She could hear Ros rummaging about inside the wagon and she shivered against the cool air. Moving to the table, she located the sack she and Ilia had carried for so many fright filled leagues. Katerin sighed, face somber, and squared her shoulders before approaching the wagon door.

  The interior was lit, Ros having a hooded lantern within. Gathering her skirts, the brunette stepped up inside. It was cramped and cluttered, as was to be expected. On the right was a row of cupboards, spanning the length and height of the wall. To the left were the shuttered window, a small table and two chairs beneath it. The bed against the far end looked soft and comfortable, a quilted blanket decorating it.

  Katerin's body ached for that bed, regardless of her situation. Just the sight of it made her bone deep weariness come to the fore and she could feel herself sway at the sudden rush of exhaustion.

  Digging in the cupboards, Ros pulled a handful of items from one and stuffed them in another. "You can put your things here, Katerin," she said, stepping back in the cramped space to allow the smaller woman access.

  Quelling her fear at the close proximity, the brunette slipped past Ros and stashed her bag within. She closed the cupboard quickly and spun around, not liking that her back was turned to the owner. At the blonde's knowing smile, she blushed but raised a challenging eyebrow.

  Ros' smile widened and she gave a slight bow in acknowledgement. "If you'd like, I can step outside while you change for bed…?" she asked gallantly. Opening another cupboard, she pulled out an oversized shirt. "You can wear this until we've had time to outfit you." Not waiting for an answer, the owner turned and stepped out of the wagon, closing the door behind her.

  Katerin blinked, holding the shift in one hand. She didn't know what to make of Ros - honest and honorable one moment, a cad the next. Sighing, she shook her head. Best get changed quickly then. No telling when she'll decide to pop back in here. The small woman turned her back to the door, lest her knight in shining armor decided to catch a peek of her attributes, and removed the blouse she'd borrowed from Lucinda. Pulling the shift over her head and smoothing it down, she could see that it dropped to mid thigh and felt a bit easier.

  When she was finished changing, Katerin folded the clothing and looked about the wagon for a place to put it. Shrugging, she opened her cupboard and placed the items inside, adding her shoes to the pile. There was a knock at the door just as she closed the cupboard.

  "Are you decent, lady?"

  Swallowing against the familiar thrill of fear, the brunette nodded and called, "Aye, I am."

  Ros stepped inside, eyes flickering over her charge. She noted the embarrassed blush but chose to ignore it. "If you'd like to get into bed…?" she asked, beginning to remove her overtunic. "You can sleep on either side, I've no preference."

  The smaller woman paled as she turned to look at the bed. If she slept on the inside, against the wall, she'd be trapped. On the other hand, sleeping on the outside would mean that Ros would have to climb over her. Katerin chewed her upper lip in consternation. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the owner was naked from the waist up and untying the drawstring on her breeches. Gods! she exclaimed to herself, jumping into the bed and scooting as far away as possible. Does she have no modesty!?

  Aware of the other woman's discomfort, Ros couldn't help but smile as she kicked off her boots and breeches. She paused long enough to blow out the lantern and open the shutters a bit before climbing under the covers herself. Sighing in pleasure, she stretched and settled comfortably on her back. Beside her, she could feel the waves of tension radiating from the other woman. "Good night, Katerin. May your dreams be sweet."

  Dark eyes wide in the darkness, the brunette listened to the fluttering

  of her heart, Ros' nearness agitating her no end. "Good night," she finally whispered. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the other woman moved in the bed, quelling her fear when she realized that Ros was simply rolling over onto her side. For some reason, having the owner's back to her helped her to relax.

  Despite the panic, her body eased into the mattress. Well fed and warm for the first time in days, weariness took over and Katerin drifted off to sleep.

  Cold sweat, chattering teeth, thunder and jolt of hooves. Warning yell, clash of metal, screams.

  With a shuddering gasp Liam awoke, struggling to get to his feet. Sharp pain lanced through him, a strangled gasp forced from his over dry throat as he fell back, writhing in agony.

  "By the gods! He's awake!" a voice exclaimed. There was a thump and assorted noises. "Get that witch in here!"

  Uncertain of his fate or surroundings, Liam opened his eyes, relief flowing through him as he recognized the face above his. He tried to speak but nothing would come.

  "Hush, my liege. You're as dry as sand. Be still while I get water."

  Nodding weakly, he shut his eyes, hearing the trickle of liquid being poured. More noises, shuffling, and a hand was helping him partially sit, holding a wooden mug. Despite more pain, the water was ambrosia to his parched throat and he drank what little was given him with qreed.

  "That's enough for now," Dominic said, pulling the cup away, "until the witch has a look at you. You've given Sim and I a scare, Majesty. I'd rather not take any chances."

  Majesty? My liege? It took two tries before Liam was able to voice his question. "My brother?"

  Dominic's face became somber. "No, Majesty. Of the royal family only you have survived. The rest of them have gone to the afterworld."

  Before Liam could form a response there was more noise; a door opening, voices speaking low. Another hovered over him, face craggy and gray, toothless mouth drawn into an intent frown.

  "How do ye feel, lad?" the old woman asked. She pulled back blankets to peer at his chest, ignoring the burst of protest from Dominic.

  "Keep a civil tongue, witch! This is your king!"

  Grimacing, the old woman glared at the interruption. "Nay. He's a lad and one that should count himself lucky to be breathing 't all."

  Their squabbling made Liam's head ache and he raised his hand, shocked at how heavy it weiqhed. "Please, don't fight. It's all right, Dominic. She means no disrespect."

  Dominic's eyes narrowed in warning at the witch before softening as he looked at the teenager. "Aye, Majesty. As you wish."

  With much muttering, the woman examined her patient. Surprisingly, her touch was gentle, causing little pain as she removed bandages from Liam's chest.

  In an attempt to distract him, Dominic leaned closer. "You're a very lucky young man, my liege. Had the Invader's blade been a finger span off, you'd be in the afterworld, as well."

  "How long has--" Gasping at the sudden sharp pain in his chest, Liam ground his teeth. "How long has it been?"

  Dominic left off glaring at the witch to answer. Face saddened, he said, "Four days, Majesty. Your guard, Sim, was knocked unconscious and left for dead. When he woke, he found you still breathing."

  Try as he might, Liam couldn't remember the cause of his pain. There had been war, his family fleeing the Invader. Shaking his head, he admitted, "I don't recall."

  "And doubtful ye would, lad," the witch stated with a grin. "Ye'd been spitted like a pig f
or feast. If'n your man hadn't found me, ye'd be feedin' the ravens now." Finished with her ministrations, she laid a clean cloth over the wound. "Ye need to drink this, lad."

  A stinking cup was held to his lips and he recoiled.

  "Drink it, Majesty," Dominic urged. "Your kingdom needs you whole and hale." Watching the young man obey, Dominic smiled. "When you're well, we'll begin the task of returning you to your riqhtful place."

  Prince Liam Dulce Caesar Alfric, heir to the Dulce throne, drifted off to sleep as Dominic held his hand.

  Waking was a slow process, muscles languid from sleep. The urge to stretch too much for her, Katerin followed her body's instruction. Sighing, she luxuriated in the feel before cracking open dark eyes. Vague light filtered through the cracked shutter, reminding her where she was, what had happened. Dread filled her heart and she searched for the cause.

  Ros was nowhere to be seen, the blankets on that side of the bed tossed to one side, a hollow on the pillow where she'd laid her head. Sounds from outside were heard - quiet movements of camp just awaking, low voices as people talked quietly while others slept.

  Rising from bed, the brunette breathed a sigh of relief. You're being a ninny! Ros hasn't hurt you in any way. Katerin shook her head, moving to the shutters and peeking through the crack. She could see the circus owner by the fire, talking with some of her troupe, reaching out to tousle Wilm's head. It presented a very familial picture and a smile crossed the small woman's face as she watched. Cad or no, she has a wonderful way with her people.

  Reminded of the owner's less than proper remarks and looks, Katerin stepped away from the window. "Time to get dressed," she murmured, "before Ros comes looking." She opened her cupboard and pulled out the borrowed clothing. In minutes, she was dressed, tucking the blouse into her skirt. The brunette looked back inside and removed her shoes and the sack.

  Settling on the bed, she rummaged among her meager belongings and removed a brush. After several minutes, her hair appeared somewhat normal. She pulled it back, tying it into a knot before returning the brush to the sack. Katerin paused, fingers finding her doll within and caressing the flaxen hair. It had been silly, grabbing Isabella the night of the attack. Should have grabbed food. Or another weapon. Shaking her head, the brunette pushed away the need to cry, thumb running along a porcelain cheek. "Now's not the time," she said, clearing her throat against the knot.

  Briskly, she closed the sack and returned it to the cupboard. Sniffing and blinking against stinging tears, Katerin slipped on her shoes and purposefully made her way to the door.

  Sunlight had yet to make its way into the clearing, only the tops of the surrounding trees aglow. That hadn't stopped a good number of the performers from waking, however, and the clearing was abuzz with activity. A handful was around the fire, drinking tea and watching one of the men stirring something in a pot. Others were at their wagons, doing any number of odds and ends chores.

  As Katerin made her way to Ilia's wagon, she received several calls of greeting. She smiled and waved in return, heart warmed by the honest welcome. Upon her arrival, she found her handmaiden throwing two balls in the air and concentrating on Gemma who was juggling three.

  "Good morning, Ilia."

  The blonde, startled, caught one ball but dropped the other as she whirled to curtsey. "Morning, Lady," she murmured, looking at the ground in deference.

  Horrified, Katerin rushed forward. "Nay, nay, Ilia!" she said, grabbing the taller woman by the shoulders, forcing the bowed head to look at her. "You mustn't curtsey any longer or we'll never survive the coming weeks." She looked at Gemma, finding hazel eyes watching curiously.

  "Of course, Katerin," Ilia responded, chagrined. She almost curtseyed once more but stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Lady!" she exclaimed, blushing.

  Pulling the handmaiden into her arms, Katerin held her close. "Nay. You've no need to apologize. I surprised you." Feeling the need to gloss over the incident, she released Ilia and stepped back. "And what are you doing this fine morning?"

  "Learning to juggle, though I fear I'm making a mess of things," the blonde said, ducking her head, face tinting.

  Gemma shook her head vigorously, giving them a thumbs up signal. She held the three balls she'd been tossing about in one hand with a fair amount of ease as she stooped to pick up the one Ilia dropped. Tossing it to the woman, she again began juggling, nodding at the blonde to resume.

  Katerin stepped back. "I believe Gemma thinks you're doing a fine job, Ilia," she soothed. "I'll go see about breakfast while you continue your lesson."

  "Aye, lady," the handmaiden responded, already distracted as her eyes concentrated on the clown's movements. Her hands twitched in mirrored reaction before she began tossing her two balls back and forth.

  Attention diverted from her, the brunette eased away lest she disturb the lesson once more. Looking about the clearing, she found there was really nowhere else to go but the fire. With a resigned sigh, Katerin approached the central gathering place of the circus, hoping the others would keep Ros distracted and deter further discourteous remarks.

  "Good morning, Lady," the owner welcomed in smooth tones.

  Perhaps it was only imagined, but Katerin thought she detected a note of mocking humor. Raising her chin in cool defiance, she said, "Good morning, Ros." Smiling at the others, she greeted them with a bit more warmth. That they appeared amused didn't faze her, aside from a slight blush.

  The man who'd been stirring the pot waved a wooden spoon at her. "Would you like some breakfast, Katerin?"

  "Very much, thank you…" She tried to recall the dark young man's name to no avail. Her eyes reflected her embarrassment as she stammered.

  "Amar," he supplied with a chuckle. He scooped porridge into a bowl and handed it to her.

  Accepting it, Katerin gave a small curtsey. "Thank you, Amar," she grinned.

  "Eat well this morning, Katerin. We've a busy day ahead," Ros interrupted. To the others gathered, she asked, "Who has the midday meal today?"

  "T'would be Gemma, if I don't miss my guess," Lucinda announced, looking up from a shirt she was mending.

  Calling to the juggling woman, Ros said, "Remember, Gemma. We work today - make the meal light and easy to carry."

  Gemma nodded, eyes never leaving the balls she juggled in her hands. Eyes begging the question, Katerin looked about the fire.

  "We'll be eating afoot today," a woman with skin as dark as night explained. "Once breakfast is complete and we're preparing for our pageant, Gemma will fix our midday meal."

  "Aye," a blond man agreed with a wink. "And we'll pack it with and eat when hungry until the show's over and our guests go back to their homes." He leaned forward with a ready smile. "Be sure to get plenty. It'll be a long day."

  Ros interjected, "Of course, Cristof eats like he's never had enough. Which is why we make him last in line for meals." As everyone laughed, including the blond, she added, "Else there'd be nothing left for the rest of us."

  Unable to help but laugh with the others, Katerin watched as the blond patted his belly, his skinny form contrasting the gluttonous look on his face.

  Clapping her hands together, the owner gained the attention of her troupe. "Time to prepare!" she called, her voice reaching all in the clearing. "We leave at midday for the township of Hodsin down the road. Gemma, the fire's yours. Ilia, you'll need to stick close to Minkhat and Sameer for the remainder of the morning. Lucinda and Katerin, I need to speak with you at my wagon when you've finished eating." Rising from her stool, Ros smiled at her troupe. "Today we give our guests the best show ever!"

  There was a rousing cheer as the clearing became industrious. Ros, her manner that of a proud and indulgent parent, watched over them a moment before striding to her wagon. Caught up in the excitement, the dark princess watched her go, mind puzzling over what motivated the owner.

  Chapter 4

  Katerin scratched her scalp, wishing it didn't itch so much. Her waist length hair had been cut, now only rea
ching her shoulders. With its sheer weight no longer hanging, the gentle breezes made it move, tickling relentlessly. Her nose also itched, but she refused to touch it, not wanting to smear the makeup so diligently applied by Lucinda. Turning in her seat, she looked behind her at the remainder of the troupe.

  Four wagons trailed Ros', each with an assortment of colorfully dressed people. A vague grumble could be heard from the next cage, the circus' only tiger pacing about in reaction to the excitement. Cristof was the driver of that particular wagon, the cat being his. Each of the horses had been decorated with feathered headdresses, their manes neatly combed and braided. A handful of people were still at the encampment, finishing last minute preparations for the show. Ilia was there, lending a hand with final costume stitching and practicing the lute for her first performance.

  Despite the princess' circumstances, anticipation filled her and she was hard put to not fidget in her seat. Beside her, Ros clucked at the horses and held the reins. Occasionally, she'd glance at her charge, lip curled in humor at the barely contained entrancement.

  Breaking through the trees, a small valley of farmland opened before them. Homesteads sprinkled the green patchwork, small dark knots in the distance. The road stretched out before them, bearing directly toward a larger cluster of buildings.

  Ros pulled up her steeds, tying their reins about the brake. "Come, Katerin," she said before disappearing over the side of the wagon.

  Gulping, the brunette obeyed, stopping long enough to peer down the suddenly very tall traveling abode. She saw the circus owner looking up, impatience flashing, and Katerin lifted her chin in response. With ginger steps, she eased over the side, feet finding the rungs that would carry her back to the ground. By the time she planted herself firmly on the dusty road, everyone else had gathered around Ros at the back of her wagon. The princess drifted closer.

  "Hodsin is up ahead," the blonde was saying. "Daiki, release the dogs and have Minkhat help with the hoops. Martim, Tommaso, Cristof, Willem and Katerin will drive the wagons. Sameer and Abdullah, post the flyers and make it fun. Gemma, Minkhat, Usiku and Sati, do some tumbles and the like. Wilm will stay with the monkey. Have I forgotten anyone?"