by Barb Hendee
“Brother,” she said, smiling. “I heard you were coming through here, and I came to visit Gisele in the hope of seeing you.”
The captain pulled his hands from hers and embraced her with both arms, lifting her feet off the ground in a most undignified manner. “Margareta. What a surprise. But you shouldn’t have risked the roads right now.”
Two of the other women greeted two other officers, but Jan’s attention shifted sharply to the fourth woman. A lovely creature in a pale blue gown, probably not yet twenty, she had shining red-gold hair hanging to the small of her back. Her eyes were the same pale blue as her gown, and her skin was flawless.
With her slender, white hands clasped against her stomach, she walked to Lieutenant Braeden and bowed her head. “My lord.”
He nodded in return and didn’t touch her.
“Is all ready for tonight’s banquet?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord.”
Captain Oakes walked over and grasped one of her hands, raising it to his mouth. “Ah, Gisele. I always said Braeden would marry the most beautiful woman in Droevinka.”
Her face broke into a smile, as if hungry for his approval—or perhaps any approval.
As opposed to being offended by the captain’s familiarity, Braeden’s expression shifted to one of pride. Jan was good at reading faces, and he understood the situation instantly. The lieutenant had no love for the girl, but he was proud to have her as his wife, as a possession.
And with that thought, Jan saw a way to use one of his talents to set himself free. It was risky, but in being only one day outside of Enêmûsk, he was willing to try anything.
How could he gracefully get himself inside to entertain at the banquet?
His mind was racing when Captain Oakes spotted him and solved the problem.
“Oh, Jan, come here,” he called.
Jan did.
“This one is quite good with that violin he carries,” the captain told his sister, and then he turned back to Jan. “Would you to consent to play for us? If you do, I’ll try to find you a place to sleep inside.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Jan answered.
Glancing towards the lieutenant, he found Gisele staring at his face. She looked away and then couldn’t help looking again.
Braeden frowned.
“What do you say, lieutenant?” Captain Oakes asked. “Should the ladies have some music tonight?”
“Whatever you wish, sir,” Braeden answered tightly. “I am your humble host.”
The lieutenant was hardly humble, but Jan didn’t care. With access to Gisele, the next part would be easy, and anything after that was up to fate.
· · · · ·
Down in a storage room below the keep, Julianna reported what she’d seen in the main hall. Zupan Cadell went pale and Nadja’s mouth was tight as they both listened. Everyone in the room heard the truth, and Gideon’s mother, Sari, took in the news with bleak eyes.
“Will this never end?” she asked.
She was young to have a twelve-year-old boy, and when he was born, she probably hadn’t been much older than he was now. Her husband had been conscripted by the Äntes.
“Perhaps…” Zupan Cadell began, “perhaps it is time we slip upstairs, go out the back, and abandon the keep, at least for now.”
Sari looked up sharply. “And live in the woods like animals? Sleeping in the cold?”
“Nizhyn Village is only a two day walk,” he answered. “We could head there.”
“And what if it no longer exists?” Nadja asked quietly. “What if the Äntes conscripted men from there, and then the Väränj burned it to the ground. We’d be little more than victims out on the open road, and we might arrive in Nizhyn to find nothing waiting for us.”
Cadell fell silent. Nadja was right—on several counts.
“We have to find a way to make the men upstairs leave,” Julianna said suddenly.
Everyone looked at her.
“How?” Cadell asked.
“I don’t know… but for twenty years, this place had such a dark reputation that the Äntes couldn’t get anyone to remain as vassal.” She looked into Sari’s eyes and added, “We all remember.”
Sari nodded. “The ghost.”
Cadell frowned, as if they were wasting time. “What ghost?”
Julianna glanced at Nadja. There had been a ghost in this keep, the victim of horrifying events over twenty years past. Nadja had managed to get rid of the ghost while Cadell was away, and she’d never told him about it. Neither had Jan or Julianna.
At the time, their zupan had had more than enough on his plate.
“Just stories, of course,” Nadja put in quickly, “but there were a few unexplained deaths, including a young lord throwing himself from the tower. The place was said to be haunted.”
Julianna sighed, wondering why she’d even brought this up. “Well, we can’t conjure up a ghost.”
“We don’t need to,” Nadja said. “We only need make those men upstairs believe.”
Listening intently, young Gideon asked, “You mean dress someone up in torn sheets and paint their face white? Have that one wave their arms and scream and scare the men? I’ll do it.”
Nadja smiled at him. “No, that isn’t quite what I meant.”
The zupan appeared put off—almost annoyed—by this entire discussion, as if he wanted to start planning something serious, but then Nadja began to speak again, pouring out the threads of an idea that caused him to put his hand to his mouth while listening.
Julianna felt her heart beating faster. Could it work?
“We need to do more than frighten them,” she said. “They have to believe themselves in true danger.”
Still hesitant, Cadell finally sighed. “I might be able to help with that.”
Julianna inched in on Nadja, speaking as quietly as possible. “You’ll be the one up the secret passage, inside the room with the spy hole. Will your knees be all right if you need to move quickly?”
For the first time ever, Nadja looked at Julianna in something akin to anger. “My knees are fine.”
Julianna glanced away, sorry she’d asked.
“So… if we do this,” Sari began, “how do we start?”
The other villagers in the room looked to Cadell for an answer. Once a decision had been made, he was never long in taking action. Stepping between a few of them, he picked up two burlap bags of apples and dumped out their contents, leaving only the empty bags in his grip.
“Gideon, get a few of the boys to come help me search the rooms, around, behind, and inside any crates. We need to start hunting.”
· · · · ·
Jan played nothing lively that night at dinner.
Inside the main hall of the manor, he walked around the table where the officers and their sisters or wives ate and he kept up a string of beautiful, slow songs, filling the place with a haunting, melancholy air.
Every time he passed Gisele, he could see her struggling not to look at him, and he timed each pass near her with the most heart-aching strains of a tune. Throughout the meal, Braeden all but ignored her, except when he chastised her choice of brook trout instead of silver salmon for the fish course.
She apologized.
As dinner ended, one of the lower officers suggested a game of cards, but the captain hesitated.
Motioning Jan over, Oakes asked, “I think the men would like to play cards on their own for a while, so they can place bets. Would you mind entertaining the ladies? Maybe show them a few of your tricks?”
The man was probably not remotely aware how condescending he sounded, but Jan couldn’t have been happier. This was easier than he’d expected.
“Of course. Tell them I’ll read their palms.”
“Oh, my sister would enjoy that. Thank you.”
Not long after, Jan was seated near the hearth with Margareta, Gisele, and the other two women—whose names he quickly learned were Brenna and Camille. The latter two were married to Äntes officer
s and had traveled here with the captain’s sister. Jan thought it would be easy to grow fond of Margareta, who possessed a warm spirit. He didn’t think on this for long, however, as Gisele was his target.
“And have you actually traveled with the Móndyalítko?” Margareta asked him, leaning forward in her chair.
“Nearly every autumn of my life. My mother and I join her sister’s family, and we roll through the towns and villages putting on shows.”
“How romantic,” she sighed. “I’m sure most of the village girls swoon at your feet.”
Jan blinked at her honesty. Most women of her rank didn’t pay such compliments to men of his status. But he recovered quickly and flashed her a smile. “I fear they do.”
She, Brenna, and Camille laughed. Gisele only smiled nervously, her eyes still moving over his face.
“So, can you tell us our futures?” Margareta asked.
“I can. Who would like to go first?”
He hoped it would not be Gisele, as he wanted her to continue watching him in action for a little while. She was starved for love and approval, and he needed to make her aware of her hunger.
“I will,” Camille said, pulling her chair closer to his. Then suddenly, she seemed to grow hesitant and asked, “Can you really tell the future?”
For the first time, he took her in. She wasn’t as young as Gisele, but she was only in her mid-twenties, with rich brown hair and a round face.
“I’ve been told I have a gift,” he said, avoiding a direct answer.
She lowered her voice. “Can you tell me… will I have a child soon? I have been married two years, and nothing has come of it. It is… painful for me. I so want a child.”
Despite everything, Jan forgot the room around him. For a few moments he even forgot Gisele. He could see what Camille’s question had cost her to ask in front of the other women.
Reaching out, he grasped her hand, running his finger lightly down the inside of her palm. “I see a boy,” he said. “A young boy with brown hair like yours, running to you. You are a good mother to him, and he loves you.”
She put her free hand to her mouth. “Truly?”
Jan nodded once.
Normally, when pretending to read palms, he was nowhere near this specific, but this situation was different. He needed to put on quite a show, and she was clearly in pain. Perhaps believing the child would come might help ease her mind… and a child would come. He hoped so.
Margareta was watching him with a thoughtful expression. “Gisele,” she said. “You go next.”
Turning his chair toward Gisele, Jan extended his hand. “May I?”
Trembling slightly, Gisele held out her hand, and he took it, turning it over and running his fingers slowly and lightly across her palm. She drew in a quick breath at the sensation.
“Do you have a question?” he asked, leaning closer to her.
“No… I… No, just tell me what you see.”
He kept moving his fingers lightly over her palm. “I see great love in your future and adventure, a life you never thought possible, with joy in every day.”
“Oh,” Brenna said. “Perhaps the lieutenant will take you with him on his next assignment? I wonder where you will go.”
Gisele’s face clouded at the suggestion.
Jan could see that she barely knew her husband and didn’t care to know any more. Women of her station were usually viewed as chattel by their parents, bargaining chips in marriage to strengthen alliances between families. As a result, they were guarded carefully until such a marriage was arranged. This poor girl had been sold off to the cold, arrogant Lieutenant Braeden.
Jan knew that what he had planned for this night would greatly injure her—and possibly ruin the rest of her life.
But that didn’t stop him.
“You see love?” she asked.
“Yes,” he breathed.
Across the hall, the men were still playing cards.
· · · · ·
Late in the night, with Gideon right behind her, Julianna paused at the top of the stairs where the closed door emptied into the kitchen. Nadja had already taken the secret passage from below and was heading upwards in a different stairwell. Julianna and Gideon’s part in the plan was more dangerous—and somewhat distasteful—but they’d both agreed.
Each one of them carried a wriggling burlap sack, and Julianna tried not to think about what was inside.
Putting her free hand to the door’s latch, she whispered, “Ready?”
“Yup,” Gideon answered from behind.
They’d waited until this late hour in the hope that the invading men had consumed enough ale to fall asleep by the fire in the main hall. Still, Julianna cracked the door slowly and peeked out, both looking and listening.
“Seems clear,” she whispered.
Stepping out into the small passage, she turned left into the kitchen. It was empty of people, but a cask of ale sat atop a butcher-block table, causing her to breath in relief. The men hadn’t taken it yet.
Passing off her wriggling bag, she told Gideon, “Hold this for a moment.”
“What are you doing?”
“Something Nadja asked me to do.”
Finding a heavy knife, Julianna pried off the cask’s lid and drew a good-sized pouch from her pocket. Opening the pouch, she dumped its dried, powered contents into the cask and then replaced the lid, making more noise than she wished by pounding it in place.
“What did you put in there?” Gideon asked.
“I don’t really know. It’s a ground herb Nadja gave me.”
Taking back her wriggling bag, she led the way onward, deeper inside the keep until they reached the archway of the main hall. Careful to remain outside, Julianna peered around the edge. All the men were sleeping, snoring at various levels, their bodies scattered about on the floor, on top of the bedding they’d dragged down. Asleep, they didn’t look quite so fierce.
Both she and Gideon knew not to speak and give themselves away. Their part in this was simple but critical, and they had to wait for the exact instant. So they crouched, listening to the snores in waiting—and waiting. Julianna was beginning to worry that something had gone wrong on Nadja’s end when the first wail rang out.
It was loud and long and like nothing she had ever heard before.
Gideon flinched beside her, glancing about in alarm.
The second wail rang out, and the men on the floor began stirring, rolling onto their hands and knees.
“What the…?”
The second wail faded, and a voice carried through the air, hollow but filled with a mix of pain and rage.
“Out, defilers!” the voice cried. “This place belongs to the dead! The last lord who refused to leave finally flung himself from the tower.”
The bald leader was on his feet, looking all around, but even Julianna—who knew—could not tell from which direction the voice was coming.
It sounded nothing like Nadja.
“For your crime of invading this haven of the dead, you will be punished,” the voice droned on. “You will be plagued by rats, and your food will never pass through your stomachs. It will be expelled from your bodies until you die.”
The eerie quality of the voice was so unsettling that Julianna found herself wanting to run, and Gideon’s eyes were wide.
All the men were on their feet now, hands moving to weapons, but it was still impossible to tell from where the voice came.
“Rats!” it cried. “You will be plagued by rats.”
Upon hearing their cue, Julianna and Gideon leaned out as far as possible without being seen and dumped the contents of their bags. Around twenty panicked rats ran from the archway into the hall, straight for the men—who began shouting.
“Rats!” one of them called.
“Over there! More! Get ‘em off the blankets!”
A few men swung with their weapons, trying to hit the racing rodents.
Julianna and Gideon did not stay to see the rest. Grippin
g their emptied bags, they whirled and ran for the kitchen. She reached the door first, pulled it open, and shooed Gideon inside. Only when she’d followed and pulled the door closed did Julianna take a full breath.
She heard no one coming after them.
“Down,” she whispered.
Gideon didn’t need to be told twice and hurried down the stairs.
At the bottom, Julianna stopped him. “Tell the zupan what happened. I’m going to Nadja.”
Without waiting for an answer, she ran to the dead end wall and passed through. Halfway up the stairs beyond, she began to pant but kept pressed onward until she reached the top.
Nadja knelt on the floor before the peephole, her red dress spread all around her legs. Looking back at Julianna, she held a finger to her lips. Julianna crept forward and knelt down. Nadja’s expression was distressed, and she tilted her head toward the spy hole.
Julianna peeked through.
A few rats lay dead on the floor, but the others had scattered, and the men were arguing.
“I say we leave now,” a wiry man with no armor insisted. “I’ve heard of this place. I’d forgotten, but I have. A young lord threw himself off a tower some years back in these parts… and folks say he was plagued by the dead.”
“By the dead?” Argyle scoffed. “So you’re going to let a few rats run us off at some voice, likely a skulking peasant?”
“More than rats,” a middle-aged man in chain armor put in. “We’ve been over every inch of this place. There’s no one here… alive, that is. I say we pack up.”
“We stay!” Argyle roared and, putting one hand on the hilt of his sword, he waved the other about the hall while slightly lowering his voice. “You want to leave this keep and go back to robbing beggars on the road? I don’t care if the place is haunted or not. I won’t let some screaming voice and a few rats chase me out of here. What about the rest of you?”
Almost shamefaced, the other men began agreeing with him. One cut off a fresh slice of cheese, and a few others began bedding down again.
Julianna sat back in near despair, whispering, “We failed.”
“Not yet. You put the herbs into the second cask of ale?”
“Yes.”
