by R. L. Syme
They applied more oil to her arms and before long, the stink of the fish was gone, or at least covered with something stronger and more pleasant. Over her head came another piece of material, then shoes onto her feet.
The woman said something to her, placing a strong hand on her arm. Then, she tried another language. Cadha did not respond.
“Don’t try to fight us, girl.” French this time. “Ah, so you are from our great enemy.”
The man interjected and the woman shushed him.
“French girls get the best prices,” the woman cooed. This time, Cadha couldn’t help the fact that she flinched. Prices?
The woman touched Cadha’s cheek. “You will be a good girl for me, won’t you? You won’t try to fight Stephen again.”
Stephen. Her captor had a name at last. Cadha shook her head.
“Good. I need to put gloves on you. No need to damage the merchandise any more than we already have.”
The man grunted and talked back. They had another tense conversation and the cords at Cadha’s wrists were suddenly loose. She could move her hands again.
Soft material came over her fingers and they tied her wrists in front of her. Someone pushed her breasts up and Cadha’s face heated. Was she about to be sold?
“Come with me, girl.” The woman’s French was accented with something, so fille went up at the end instead of dropping off. Cadha tried to concentrate on discerning the origin of the difference, instead of focusing on the horrible reality that was upon her.
She was being dressed and scented and primped, under guard, and the watchful eye of some strangers, and they planned to sell her. Cadha had heard of these skin traders before, but her father rarely continued speaking of them when he knew she was within earshot.
If only he had prepared her, she might have a better idea of how to free herself. If she could guess what they wanted. If… if… if… but with no resolution. She couldn’t allow them to sell her. She had to find an escape.
Chapter Eleven
Valc settled himself in the back of the dark room. He had stolen one of the soldier’s tunics, but the thing itched and stank and overheated him, and he was about to take it off when the man at the front of the room pounded a giant staff on the floor.
They were somewhere deep inside Berwick Castle and Brother Auden had snuck him as far as the door of the skin trader, then refused to accompany him any farther. Valc could move faster without the paranoid monk, regardless.
The men inside the room kept a good distance from each other and didn’t speak. Nearest to Valc, a fat lord with a pug nose slapped at the tall soldier who stood beside him. They traded quiet conversation and the soldier spoke to the room.
“The Earl would like to request that you bring out a woman now.”
In the front of the room, a door opened and a skinny man shuffled before them. He gestured to each of the four small groups. “If your lordships would be so kind.”
In each of the groups was a seated man, surrounded by standing men in uniforms or in simple tunics. A lord, each of them, and at least one an Earl. Did they think they could buy his Cadha?
Over his dead body.
The lords each held up a heavy purse. Even if they were filled with English coin and not gold, Valc feared how much could be in each one. And the Earl’s purse was the largest. Along with his gut.
Valc couldn’t out-bid an Earl. But he could fight one if he had to.
The skinny man in front gestured to the door and a dark-skinned woman was pushed into the room. She may have been Italian, though it was hard to tell much with nearly every inch of her covered, save her cleavage.
Her eyes were blindfolded, her hands gloved. She wore a long dress that showed nearly all of her breasts, with the barest hint of a nipple. But Valc couldn’t see much of her face.
Two of the men sat back in their chairs, and the other two began a bidding war. The fat one nearest to Valc picked at his fingernails while two of his friends paid money for a strange woman.
Valc’s nose burned as he exhaled a long breath. These women would disappear forever into the households of these rich bastards, never to be heard from. They might see a dungeon for the rest of their lives, or they might be killed on the road and dumped.
There was no worse crime.
One of the men waved off the auctioneer when the price got too high and the winner sent one of his men forward with his purse. The woman cried out when her custody was given over, and the soldier hauled back to hit her. His lord stopped him, however.
The short nobleman rose and walked to the wailing girl. A gleeful smile glanced his features for only a moment as he knocked her to the ground. He kicked her when she came to rest at his feet, and when she wouldn’t stop screaming, the men pulled her to stand. The little lord beat her again and she finally stopped crying.
Valc had to fist his hands and press himself against the wall to keep from jumping at the bastard. His heart throbbed in his chest as he thought of Cadha’s fate being the same. He wouldn’t be able to restrain himself if someone began to beat her, Earl or King or commoner.
The door opened again and another woman came out. Taller than the last, and fairer-skinned. Her hair was light, but loose, and the same yard of breast was visible.
By God, this was Cadha.
Every muscle in Valc’s body tightened as the Earl lunged forward in his chair. The fat man gestured for her to be brought toward him. One of the men with the Earl gave Valc a charged glare when he apparently came too close to the Earl’s prize.
The man in front brought Cadha close for the Earl’s perusal and Valc held his breath. The man’s fingers plunged inside Cadha’s already too-tight dress. She gasped, but didn’t speak.
Her teeth clamped down on her lip and her nostrils flared, but she remained silent. Valc reached for his dagger. Only then did Brother Auden’s words come rolling back to him.
The Sheriff’s men are expendable and they will not hesitate to kill you. Only make sure your wife is there. Then come out to me.
The monk had a plan. Valc’s mouth hung open as the Earl’s fingers reappeared from Cadha’s dress. The monk had a plan.
It had better involve killing this grabby bastard who manhandled his Cadha in front of God and the world. Perhaps castrating would be a more appropriate punishment.
“This is the one I want,” the Earl said. He tossed the entire purse toward the front of the room and gestured for his men to follow. The Earl grabbed Cadha’s wrists and walked to the opposite door.
That was not the way Valc had entered the room, and he wasn’t certain he could justify leaving without rousing suspicion. He shifted his weight and tried to keep from reacting any further.
Cadha was gone and she didn’t even know he’d been in the room when she was sold. But he was proud that she hadn’t carried on. She had a spine on her that would shame most men.
He tried not to think about the kiss they’d shared, or dwell on how much he wanted to break the Earl’s neck. If a gracious exit could be made, he needed to get out of that room.
The next girl they brought out was a mousy, buck-toothed young thing who was barely old enough to fill out the small dress they’d shoved her into. Valc was nearly sick to his stomach when two of the lords jumped out of their chairs and handled her like a mare they were considering.
When that girl was sold to another fat lord, the skinny man shrugged his shoulders. “This is all we have for you today, my lords. I apologize for the small take.”
The empty-handed lord stood. “Will you have more next week?”
“We do not know when our girls will come to us,” the man said, as though there were girls traveling from great distances to be prodded and sold at market, instead of what had really happened—they stole women from the sea or the beach or the slums, cleaned them up, dressed them up, and paraded them in front of debauched men. Call a spade a spade.
“My wife will send the handkerchief when we have more girls.” He clapped his hands and l
eft the room.
The men who had acquired women left by the same door as the Earl. The one who had none left by the door Valc had entered through, which led into the bowels of the castle and went past the entrance to the dungeon.
The other soldier who remained waited for all the doors to be closed, then shot Valc a disgusted look. They both shook their heads and met in the center of the room.
“Was this your first time in the trade room?” the other soldier asked.
Valc nodded. “First time today.”
“Uric is usually with me in here.” The soldier grabbed Valc’s arm. “This is the best post you can draw at the castle. When there are girls they don’t sell, they give them to us to share.”
With a bawdy laugh, the man put his arm around Valc’s shoulders and tried to lead him out the door they’d come in. Valc resisted and nodded to the other side of the room.
“Where does that door lead?”
“I get turned around down here, too.” The man thumbed behind him. “This one goes to the river, where most of the lords have their boats. That one goes to the kitchens, where they bring the girls in.”
The soldier tried to pull Valc along, but he stood his ground.
“Come on, boy. We can’t stay in here, or the Captain will have our heads.” When Valc pulled back, he added, “Now.”
Before he knew he had done it, Valc swept his leg under the man’s feet and had him on his back. He was about to punch him on the ground, when the big oaf kicked the back of Valc’s head.
He rolled across the floor and retrieved the man’s discarded spear. The soldier ran at him and Valc held the weapon steady as his enemy’s momentum carried him forward and impaled him on the spear with a low sucking sound.
Valc didn’t move and the soldier’s big, dark eyes went wide, then empty. Hoisting the man to the side, Valc twisted and let the soldier’s weight drop him to the floor.
Valc jumped to his feet and stuck his head out the door, looking for Brother Auden. He needed help with the body. His enemy’s body—would have killed him if he hadn’t acted. It was understandable.
The monk was still hidden in the shadow of the gilded purple tapestry that hung on the wall just outside the door. Valc waved him over.
“They’re headed for the river,” he whispered.
The monk peered into the room and then followed Valc inside. He didn’t balk at the body and stepped right over the fallen guard.
Valc bent over and took the soldier’s heavy hands. “Help me with this.”
“Leave him,” Auden said. “There’s nowhere to take him.”
“How did you know to come out of hiding?”
“I saw one of the lords pass this way.”
Valc dropped the soldier’s arms. “He didn’t get what he came for, so I suppose there would be no harm in the world seeing him leave.”
“This is why we have been working to end the trade that happens in this room.” The bitter note in Auden’s voice revealed his rancor. “The meetings are now more frequent and they are being more obvious. No one will stop them.”
Valc put his hand on the monk’s strong shoulder. “You will stop them.”
Auden offered a sympathetic, but sad smile. “One man cannot right all wrongs, brother.”
Valc opened the river door carefully, one hand on his dagger in case there were enemies on the other side. But it was only a dank, dark hallway, free of sound or soul. “The only wrong I need to right at the moment is to cut out the heart of the man who just bought my wife.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
Valc whirled on the monk, but Auden’s smile was more playful.
“Let’s find her first,” the monk added.
Valc went through the door, keeping a hand on his weapon, and scanned the dark corners of the hall for any enemy. He wouldn’t give up Cadha without a fight, and he wouldn’t let the evil man who took her slip into the night without punishment.
Mercy wasn’t in his blood.
Chapter Twelve
Cadha wound the loose end of the cord around her hand and checked to see if it pulled tight when she spread her wrists. It did.
Her gloves had been removed and the lesions on her skin were raw and bleeding. Whatever salve the French-speaking woman had put on her aching wrists had been rubbed off by the gloves and the rough treatment.
They moved down a narrow passage that smelled of standing water and sulfur. It seemed there were two people with her, because one had held her arms and the other walked ahead.
She attempted to make her footfalls light so she could tell if someone else walked with them, but she heard no one. Only the man in front of her and the man beside her.
They walked at an incline, as though down a hill, but from the echo of their steps, Cadha felt they were still inside. For a time, the ground was solid beneath her. Then they came to steps, and the passage seemed to narrow even further.
Her feet were still unfettered. She took her steps carefully, letting the man in front get a bit ahead. The one holding her arm tried to force her to pick up the pace, but she resisted. None of them spoke, and only their unenthusiastic grunts echoed against the walls.
Perhaps they did not feel her worthy of hearing their voices. Or perhaps they preferred not to acknowledge each other on this dastardly journey they were about to take.
They had just bought her, like a prize pig, and the man’s hand down her dress had left no doubt as to his intention. They should both be ashamed of themselves, and she would show them just what depravity cost them.
She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking her or causing her shame. Her father had taught her strength in the face of any foe, including these fools.
Cadha halted and the man at her side tried to pull at her. She yanked the cord taut between where it was tied to her wrist, and where she held it with her hand. With a jerk, she pulled it around the man’s neck and kept pulling him up the stairs behind her, holding it so tight, he had to fight against her to get leverage.
His shoes were slipping on the stair and he finally called out as he struggled for purchase. The other man’s footfalls came up the stairs toward her. Once he was close enough, she anchored herself and let the cord go. She pushed him forward toward the other man’s huffing breaths, grabbed her skirt, and ran up the stairs, pulling at the blindfold. Below her, the men kept tumbling, and she hadn’t heard them land.
Her eyes stung in the low light and she tried to blink through the tears. Cadha ran as fast as she could up the long, inclined walkway. A commotion sounded in front of her and she saw two men running toward her. One of them was a soldier.
She stopped and tried to grab for the end of the cord again.
“Cadha!” the soldier called.
He pulled the tunic over his head and the long, flowing, golden hair of Valc Vanhorn greeted her. She released a long breath and sobbed out gusts of fetid air.
“Valc,” she wailed.
His arms were around her and his lips on hers. He took all her breath, but she no longer cared. She was with Valc. He’d come for her.
He kissed every inch of her face, repeating her name over and over like a prayer. “I thought I’d never find you.”
She tried to breathe through his attentions, but she found she didn’t care. He was here, he was with her. She could breathe later.
But the memory of her attackers drew her away. She pulled him to arm’s length. “The men, they’re behind me. I only knocked them down the stairs.”
“We can’t go back this way.” Valc stopped her when she tried to run past him. He took her hands and pulled at the knots binding her.
“We can’t go back toward those men. I don’t know where the passage leads.” She massaged her wrists.
“To the river,” said the man with Valc in heavily accented Dutch. He had a square-set jaw and dark eyes. He wore a cassock. A monk? Where had Valc found a monk? Or a monk’s clothing?
“It leads down to the river. I think the
re are multiple passages, though.” Valc glanced behind her, toward the stairs. “I see it jogs off in many directions.”
“So we might miss them?” Cadha let Valc take her under his arm and lead her back toward the stairs. She couldn’t hear the men making a commotion. Maybe they were dead.
“Do you remember which way you came up?” the monk asked.
“I didn’t know there was more than one way. It just seemed like I ran straight up the stairs and then straight up this hill.”
Valc tightened his grip around her waist. “We’ll take the center way, then.”
Only there were weren’t three passages, as he’d anticipated. Two at first, and then each of those broke into two, and then each of those had two sets of stairs. It would be impossible to guess which one contained the men she’d run from.
But it would also be unlikely they’d choose the very one that would lead her back to her captors.
Valc led her to the right, and then when the tunnels split, they went to the right again, and took the right set of stairs. This did not feel like the way she’d come up, and Cadha breathed a small sigh.
“These all go to the water?” she asked.
The monk shushed her and they quieted their footfalls. A loud commotion sounded in the upper passage behind them. Clattering, shuffling, yelling. It must have been the men she’d pushed. They were alive. Part of her wished she’d killed them.
“Quick.” Valc pulled her along.
She followed as fast as she could, and the monk was behind them. Both men had drawn daggers, watching over their shoulders. A monk with a weapon?
They made quick progress to the river. She could hear the splashing against the side of a ship or a boat, and then they were suddenly in the open. There was a short, narrow deck in front of them, with poles to tie off ropes, and long poles to push off the dock.
Valc and the monk hugged the wall. Cadha leaned around just a touch. She could see the edge of the long, narrow riverboat on the other side of the dock.
“There’s no one on this next boat,” she whispered.
