Castle Walls

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  "How goes the battle?"

  Turning, Katerin stepped into a welcome embrace. "Not well, I deem. I'm prepared to surrender." She snuggled closer, smiling at the raspy chuckle.

  "You're doing fine," Ros assured her. "The wagon is clean and aired. Henry and Phizo are touching up the paint and Em has all the bedding out in the sun." She gave the smaller woman a squeeze before releasing her, sitting in the room's only chair.

  Not willing to let her lover get too far, Katerin followed, standing between long legs and running her hand through curly blonde hair. "How long before we leave then?"

  Ros smiled lazily, caressing the brunette's side. "Not long. We're only awaiting two wagons - Daiki and Habibah should show up any day now. I expect Gemma and Lucinda by the end of the week." She leaned forward, pillowing her head on Katerin's belly.

  Closing her eyes, Katerin held Ros close. "It should prove to be an…interesting season."

  Muffled answer, "Aye, it should."

  The brunette smiled and looked at the tousled head. "But it will never get started if I don't finish the sorting."

  A grunt of agreement and Ros pulled away with a rueful grin. "There is that." She released her lover, watching her move back to their bed. "I'm debating the need to bring a third stock wagon. What with Sameer's family and Henry coming along, it would behoove us to have the extra stores."

  "It would," Katerin agreed, pushing through a pile of shifts.

  Her eyes drifting along the items to be packed, Ros blinked and pursed her lips. She rose and went to an open chest along the wall, rummaging within until she retrieved what she was looking for. There was a moment's hesitation as the blonde surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder at Katerin. Sighing, shoulders straightening, she said, "Don't forget this."

  At first, Katerin thought it was Isabella, the doll she'd carted halfway across the countryside in her wild flight from the Invader. It occurred to her, however, that this doll's flaxen hair was of a darker shade, the clothing yellowed and unfamiliar. Blinking, she looked into gray eyes. "You own a doll?"

  Ros sighed again, looking away. "Aye and she goes wherever I go. Her name's Grace and she's my luck."

  Trying very hard to suppress her amusement, Katerin couldn't help but allow a small smile as she stepped forward. Rather than take the doll, she wrapped her arms about Ros' waist and hugged her. "You're adorable when you blush," she murmured.

  Regardless of her tint, Ros chuckled. "Why thank you, madam. I shall endeavor to do it for you more often."

  "See that you do." Katerin yelped and pulled away, rubbing her rear as she waggled a finger at Ros. "Best watch yourself, love," she warned with a grin. "I know where you sleep."

  Ros attempted to look contrite, failing miserably. "Aye, you do. I'll be on my best behavior, madam."

  Katerin's grin widened and she moved back into an embrace. "Good. I'll reward your best behavior," she murmured, tilting her face for a kiss. Her offer accepted, the brunette closed her eyes and sank into her lover's arms.

  A door slammed and pounding feet neared. They barely had time to break off their kiss when young Wills slid to a halt in the open doorway. "Daiki and Habibah are here!" he yelled before dashing off to share the news with anyone else indoors, leaving an excited wake behind him.

  "I believe that's our cue to go welcome them," Ros said, smiling.

  "I believe you're right," came the response.

  Stopping only long enough to set the doll with the rest of the items to be packed, the pair left their room.

  Ros read the parchment, lips pressed together and brow furrowed. Daiki sat nearby on a stump, waiting as he pet a puppy. They were alone at the woodpile, the rest of the family about their chores in and around the Compound.

  "When did this come out," the circus owner asked, clenching the public notice.

  "About mid winter." Daiki set the squirming pup down. "Last fall there was a proclamation regarding the celebration. I suppose this is their 'invitation'."

  Nodding, Ros said, "I'd heard about the celebration. I was hoping to avoid the thing." Crumpling the parchment, she added, "I hadn't expected a personal request."

  Daiki shrugged. "Apparently, every traveling troupe of actors, circuses or minstrels that go through the area has received one. The Invader means this to be a grand party; a reminder of who holds the reins in the Dulce Province." He watched the blonde carefully. "What are we going to do?"

  Ros inhaled deeply, straightening her stance. "We gather everyone and discuss it."

  "In the hall or out here?" the man asked, scooping up the puppy and rising.

  "Out here, I should think. More room and light."

  With a nod, Daiki headed for the main building. "I'll see to it."

  Ros turned away, staring into space after a vague wave of acknowledgement. She opened the parchment once more, scanning the contents and shaking her head.

  The presence of the Adamsson Circus is required at the Grand Celebration of His Royal Majesty Germaine Carlos William Cassaidie to be held on the twenty-third day of the fourth month. A section of Firemount Field has been reserved for your troupe's tent and abodes. You are scheduled to perform before the King on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth day.

  Bleeding Sif, not even given a choice. We're already scheduled to perform for the bastard. Again Ros crumpled the parchment in one hand and stared at the horizon. How much does he know?

  Within the hour, the troupe was gathered by the woodpile. Two benches were brought out as well as a number of stools, the remainder standing or utilizing pieces of firewood as seating. Ros gave Katerin a significant look, receiving a puzzled frown before she began. Holding the parchment out to Abdullah who was closest, she said, "I've received an order to attend the Invader's celebration in the Dulce Province."

  Katerin blanched and wobbled before sitting down. Ilia also paled, leaving Henry's side to hold her mistress.

  "Who's he to order?" Martim asked. He sniffed and flexed well-defined muscles. "He doesn't command us. We're not even in the same kingdom."

  There was a rumble of agreement, though Ros noted the older and wiser heads kept their tongues. "Aye, 'tis true. But a fair half of our route is now within the Invader's borders. If we refuse, he can decide to not allow us entry." She sought eye contact with her family. "We all know how hard it is to open a new route. The question is, will it be worth it to ignore this?"

  "No," said a soft voice.

  Everyone turned to a still pale Katerin.

  "The Invader's taken four kingdoms in his reign. If he takes more, your routes will become increasingly smaller. You can't afford to reroute every time he conquers another kingdom."

  Martim shrugged. He passed the parchment on without reading it, saying, "So? We go. We'll probably make a good penny in the process. What's the difficulty?" Ducking, he barely avoided a cuff from Usiku standing behind him.

  "In case you've forgotten, what with all that empty space between your ears," the black man said, nose wrinkled, "it was the Invader's man killed in our camp last season."

  Before Martim could respond, Ros cut in, drawing their attention back to the issue, "Aye. Are we receiving this 'invitation' because of that or not?" Silence met her question. "Daiki says he's heard of other troupes and minstrels receiving this order. Is it a ruse to draw us in? Or is it what it seems to be - the Invader celebrating his new province?"

  "There's rumor that a Dulce heir is stirring up rebellion in the province," Habibah said in a quiet voice. Despite her lack of projection, all heads turned her way.

  "That's impossible!" Katerin, who had risen, froze under the collective stare of the troupe. She wilted somewhat; mouth open to explain her outburst but nothing came. Ilia provided a measure of support by standing close, hand on her lady's shoulder. The brunette's gaze flickered over the gathering, finally finding Ros'. Love and understanding seemed to pour between them and Katerin stood taller, gaining strength from the look. "I have it on…very good authority that none of the heirs to t
he Dulce throne survived. Save one."

  Willem said, "Well, of course, Kat. We know. The guards rousted us a few nights after you joined us. Remember?" He smiled warmly. "It's no secret they were looking for a woman."

  Flabbergasted, Katerin was speechless once more.

  Habibah tilted her head. "But the rumors from Dulce are that a crown prince survived."

  Katerin's eyes narrowed as she frowned in thought. That cannot be. My brothers are dead. She recalled Hector's statement when they'd met up that night. "Nay, Your Highness. I saw the Invader run them through." Her musings were interrupted by Ros' voice.

  "So, rumors of unrest and he plans a celebration. For what? To thumb his nose at any rebellion? Let them see how unconcerned he is?" She shook her head. "Damn if that man isn't an arrogant bastard."

  "Are we going, then?" Sameer asked. Beside him, Florin suckled their baby.

  Ros sighed and nodded. "Aye. We're going. We've really been given no choice." Looking at her family, she said, "Anyone who doesn't wish to follow can split off before we enter the city." She looked at Katerin. "Lay low and camp until the celebration is complete."

  There was a general murmur as the people discussed their options.

  For the first time, Emerita spoke up. "Phizo, love. Get our wagon from the barn. We're going along."

  "Em," Ros said, stepping forward. "It'll be all right. You don't need to come."

  The old woman smiled, patting Ros' cheek gently. "My family needs me. We're old and decrepit but Phizo's good with the horses and I can cook." She winked at the blonde before going to Katerin and taking the woman's arm in hers. "The fewer worries, the better."

  "Em…" the brunette murmured.

  "Hush, Kat. The decision's made."

  Ros sighed again, a mixture of irritation and pleasure on her face. "Don't bother, Katerin. Once she's made up her mind, that's the end of it." She ignored the chuckle from the old woman, turning to the rest of the troupe. "We go. Those who wish to stay away can camp outside of the city. In the meantime, we've much work to do in preparation. We've a hard road ahead if we're to be there in time. I want us ready to leave a day or so after Gemma and Lucinda arrive."

  Obviously dismissed, the group separated, returning to their chores. Ilia stayed behind until Katerin urged her away. Em, after another wink and a squeeze, let go of the brunette's arm and went to her husband, the pair drifting towards the barn.

  Katerin stepped into her lover's welcome arms. "We must talk," she said, a lump in her throat.

  "Aye."

  Katerin stood in the center of their room, arms wrapped about her. She heard Ros closing the door behind her and shivered, a weight building in her chest. You knew it would happen sooner or later! she scolded herself. Get on with it!

  Warm hands on her shoulders pulled her from her self-castigation. The brunette turned, releasing the death grip on her arms to cling to her lover. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she closed them, wishing the emotions away.

  "It's all right, Kat," Ros murmured. "You're safe."

  Sniffing, Katerin nodded. "I know," came the muffled response. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and pulled back slightly. Looking into concerned eyes, the brunette said, "But I fear you'll not have me when I say what I must."

  Ros hugged her. "Nothing you can say will change my opinion of you, Kat," she assured.

  "Be that as it may," Katerin said unconvinced, dropping eye contact. With reluctance, she pulled out of the comforting embrace, returning to her original stance. Refusing to look at her lover, the brunette said, "I'm sure you have some suspicions of where I came from; why the Invader's man was killed in your camp." She shuddered, remembering the sounds of skirmish, the voice proclaiming Hector dead.

  "My real name is Sabine. I am the daughter of King Frederick of Dulce, the sole surviving heir to the throne and the Invader is looking for me." Inhaling, fighting back tears, Katerin whirled about, straightening her shoulders and standing tall. "Ilia is one of my handmaidens. The second man you found dead was Hector, former royal guard and my man at arms."

  A part of the brunette wanted to gibber in relief but she wouldn't allow it, resorting to her royal training. Katerin studied her lover, expecting anger, dismay, confusion. To her surprise, Ros' face had a bemused grin. "You knew?" she blurted.

  Ros nodded slightly, waggling her hand in a see saw motion. "I suspected," she said. "I figured you to be a royal; I just didn't know which one." Her demeanor became solemn. "Which makes this invitation much more ominous."

  Deflated, drained, Katerin sat on the bed with a flounce, not heeding the clothing there. "Yes, I know." She chewed her lower lip. "I know that my brothers didn't survive. Hector told me he'd seen them run through, Mother included."

  The blonde sat beside Katerin, gathering her into a hug. I'm sorry," she said. "To lose your family in such violent and sudden ways isn't easy."

  Ros' words opened a floodgate. Katerin, unable to hold back any longer, burst into tears, burrowing into her lover's arms. The blonde held her close, rocking gently as a year's worth of pain and worry released.

  When the crying died down, the brunette found herself curled up and cradled in Ros' arms. She snuffled a bit, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Thank you," she whispered.

  Hugging her, Ros whispered back, "Of course. I love you, Kat. That hasn't changed."

  This comment almost set off more tears, but Katerin fought them, pulling out of the embrace. "I love you, too, Ros."

  The blonde leaned in with a smile and kissed her lover on the forehead. "I know." After a careful study, deciding that the brunette was emotionally steady, Ros said, "So. With that off your chest, we need to plan a course of action."

  "Yes, we do," Katerin agreed, nodding. Her eyes, still red and watery, peered at Ros. "I do not wish to cause you or the troupe danger, but I do not think I can stay here the entire season without you." She ducked her head at the confession, staring at her hands.

  Ros rubbed the brunette's back. "I don't wish you to remain here, either." At the tentative peek from Katerin, she smiled. "I'd miss you far too much for my own good. The season would be…empty."

  A ghost of a smile crossed Katerin's lips.

  "So, the question is how do we go about our profession without putting you in danger."

  "Do you think this is a ruse to draw us in, me in?" the brunette asked, turning to her lover.

  Ros shook her head slowly. "I don't believe so. It's too elaborate a plot. The Invader is an arrogant man, yes, but he's a conqueror…not the type to play court games." The blonde gave a sardonic smile. "Subtlety is not his suit."

  "Aye, there is that," Katerin said.

  "I think that the rumor of a Dulce rebellion is what's at the heart of this. He's either had another young woman killed, thinking it was you, or he's decided a show of force is necessary to forestay any revolution." Ros took her lover's hand, rubbing it idly as she thought. "He might be confused as to your gender, thinking a prince did escape his blade. He'll be looking for a young man."

  The thought of another woman taking her place in death caused Katerin to shudder. "Who is stirring rebellion in Dulce?" she wondered aloud. "None of my family survived. Do you think a lord of father's court is attempting a ruse of his own?"

  Ros shrugged. "I cannot say. It could be any number of people." She paused a moment. "You're heir to a throne, Kat. Do you wish to retake it?"

  "No!" the brunette exclaimed, body stiffening. Realizing she had perhaps spoken too adamantly, Katerin blushed and relaxed. "No. I have no training for it. I have no army. My only worth to the throne would be to my future husband and the children I would have." Her gaze was imploring. "I cannot lose you!" she insisted.

  Nodding, Ros squeezed her lover's hand. "You won't, Kat. I had to ask. I had to know."

  Reddening, the brunette nodded and ducked her head.

  "I'm very ill at ease with the idea of leaving any of the troupe outside the city during the festivities," Ros said. "If it's t
his 'prince' he's searching for, he may have patrols sweeping the area, more vigilant than ever due to the special nature of this celebration. I believe everyone will be safer staying at Firemount Field in our encampment." She inhaled deeply, looking at Katerin. "You, however, will remain there during our forced audience, along with anyone else who wishes to be absent. Ilia comes to mind."

  Katerin nodded. "Yes, that would be for the best."

  Rising, Ros helped her lover to her feet, pulling her into an embrace. "So. We're decided then? You come along, stay in camp and then we'll leave, returning to our normal route?"

  Hearing the heartbeat in Ros' chest, the brunette murmured. "We're decided." Somehow, by revealing her true nature to the blonde, a sensation of safety came over her. It's been so long since I've felt safe, Katerin thought.

  The procession stopped despite being within an hour's travel of their final destination. Camp was set as usual - the Invader's tents and environs at the center of a large circle. As befitted their rank and station, the lords of his court spiraled outward, the area liberally sprinkled with fire pits, pickets, servant quarters and Royal Guard. Rimming camp was the regular guard, setting a perimeter and keeping their liege safe.

  Looking over his encampment, the Invader smiled, imagining the curses of his subjects as they were forced to endure yet another night in the 'wilds.' It'll be good for them, he thought, a sardonic twist on his lips. Make them appreciate their homes and money, the leadership that keeps them fat and spoiled.

  He, on the other hand, was in his element. Many a night he'd spend in similar camps, surrounded by his generals, working on a plan of attack against his enemy. Inhaling deeply, the Invader remembered campaigns past. It'd had been on this very spot the previous year that he'd made his final attack on the Dulce capitol. He relived the memory, seeing pompous lords replaced by confident generals, hearing the scrape of weapons being sharpened, the gentle murmur of men preparing for war.