by Barb Hendee
“Good. They should break into that by tomorrow night. Then they’ll have bigger problems than vermin.”
· · · · ·
As the men continued playing cards in the manor’s hall, Jan approached the captain and leaned down.
“Might I go outside and answer the call of nature?” Jan asked. “I swear I will return straight away.”
“Of course,” Oakes answered.
This was hardly a kind concession, as even if Jan should try to run, he’d never get past the courtyard gates.
“How are the ladies doing?” Oakes asked him.
“Well, I think. When I come back, I’ll show them some card tricks they might enjoy.”
Oakes nodded and turned back to placing a bet.
Jan started for the archway out of the hall, but Gisele stood to one side of it, stretching her legs and watching him. As he passed her, he slowed long enough to whisper, “Make an excuse to leave and meet me outside the kitchen door.”
Though he hadn’t seen the kitchen, most manors such as this always had a back door for deliveries. At this point in the game, he wasn’t worried.
Gisele’s blue eyes flooded with shock and then excitement—just as he knew they would—and she nodded almost imperceptibly.
He walked out of the hall and stopped a serving girl coming toward him. “The kitchens? I’ve been sent on an errand.”
She pointed down a passage. “That way.”
With a nod of thanks, he followed the passage, walked through the kitchen—ignoring the surprised faces of two cooks and three scullery maids—and went out the back door. The night air was cool but not cold, and he waited, though not for long.
The kitchen door cracked open, and Gisele stepped outside.
He’d chosen this meeting place because now five people had seen him walk out, only to be followed moments later by the mistress of the house.
Gisele walked toward him—lovely and sheltered, naïve and lonely—and he had to push down all regrets over what he was about to do.
“Jan,” she breathed in wonder as she stepped close enough for him to touch.
He took her hands in his own and whispered back, “You are so beautiful… and kind and gentle. I can see so much in your eyes.”
Her expression filled with longing, as if she wanted him to keep talking, to go on lavishing praise and approval upon her. Braeden must be a black-heart to have done this to his young wife.
Instead of saying more, Jan leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. He gently pressed his mouth to hers. Though she flinched at first, her mouth then moved clumsily against his, as if she’d never been kissed with any kind of softness.
Pulling back, he said, “Come away with me, tonight. My father is the vassal of Chemestúk Keep. You won’t ever have to do without. I can take care of you, and in the autumn, when my mother and I go to travel with the Móndyalítko, you will come with us. She will love you as I do.”
He saw the effect his words had on her as she pictured a life with him—someone who praised her and thought well of her, with a mother-in-law who would love her. Adventure for a few moons of the year on the open road with the Móndyalítko… and best of all, she could leave behind the hollow life she currently lived.
“Will you?” he asked.
“How will we get the guards to open the front gates?”
That was a more intelligent question than he expected.
“You are the lady of the manor. Have your husband’s guard not always followed your orders?”
She blinked several times, thinking and then nodded. “Yes… yes, they have.”
“Then order them to open the gates.”
Jan knew full well that the guards would never allow Braeden’s lady to leave the grounds in the middle of the night with some dusky stranger wearing three rings in his ear. But he had no intention of ever taking her that far. As long as she believed it was possible, that was all that mattered.
“All right,” she said, as if waking up from a dream. “I’ll come with you… anywhere with you. Take me away from this place.”
Jan faltered for an instant, but his parents and Julianna were alone in the middle of a civil war.
“Would you give me something to keep close to my breast?” he asked.
“What?”
“A lock of your hair.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she kissed him again.
Crouching down, he pulled the dagger from where he’d been keeping it inside his boot, and he cut off a small lock of her hair, holding it between his fingers.
“Go pack,” he said. “When you return, we’ll find horses. Don’t let your husband or the captain see you.”
With a joyful nod, she ran back into the house.
Jan waited long enough for her to get upstairs, and then he re-entered the manor himself, walking past the shocked kitchen staff again and continuing on to the main hall. The men were still playing cards, and he went to the lieutenant and leaned down.
“A word out in the passage,” he said quietly.
Braeden frowned, but didn’t appear eager to be seen arguing with someone of Jan’s rather uncertain status here—not quite a servant and not quite a guest. Rising, he followed Jan out into a wide passage where the stairs to the upper floor were a few paces to their right.
“What do you want?” Braeden asked, as if uncomfortable even speaking to Jan.
“I’ve just talked your wife into running away with me. She’s upstairs packing.”
Braeden’s expression flattened in shock and quickly hardened with rage as he stepped backward. “You dare you make such a—”
His words broke off as Jan held up the lock of red-gold hair.
“A number of your kitchen staff saw me walk outside,” he said. “Lady Gisele followed, and they saw her re-enter… shortly followed by me.” He dropped his voice even lower. “Take me outside right now, order your guards to open the gates and let me go, or I swear I’ll make sure everyone here knows your wife agreed to run off with some tzigän scum rather than stay here with you. You’ll be a laughing stock.”
Braeden’s face turned ashen. There was only an ornately sheathed dagger on his belt, and he pulled the weapon.
“Unless I kill you here.”
Jan still held his dagger by the hilt, its blade flat against his forearm. In a quick back-step, he spun it point-out before himself.
“No doubt you’ll best me,” he said, “but not before I yell loud enough to bring everyone running, and I’ll make sure they know why we’re fighting.” He paused. “And your lady is about to come down those stairs with her bags packed.”
The muscles in Braeden’s jaw were twitching as he stared in Jan in hate, but Jan could also see his mind working. The one thing Braeden could not abide, could never allow, was a wound to his pride. He cared nothing for Gisele, but he would probably rather die than have word get out that she’d agreed to run away with Jan.
“All you need do is let me go,” Jan added, “and no one will ever know what happened tonight except you, me, and Gisele.”
“Don’t say her name!” Braeden hissed, but he glanced at the stairs nervously.
He believes me, Jan thought. He knows she’ll be coming down any moment.
With another hiss through his teeth, Braeden tilted his head toward the front doors.
“After you,” Jan whispered, for he wasn’t about to let the man get behind him with a dagger.
Together, they left the manor and headed for the gate. A few soldiers straightened at the approach and passing of their lieutenant, but not one of them would say a word without being spoken to first.
“Tell the captain you took pity on me,” Jan said. “I have a feeling he might understand.”
“Don’t speak to me.”
As they reached the gates, a sound from behind caused Jan to turn. Gisele came running around the side of the manor and stopped cold at the sight of her tall husband by the gates with Jan. She wore a cloak and carried a trav
eling bag.
She stood staring.
At the sight of her, Braeden’s face filled with hatred again, and Jan tried not to think of what would happen to the girl later… and over the following years. Instead, he pictured Julianna’s face.
“Open up,” Braeden ordered his guards.
His men obeyed.
Without looking back, Jan ran through the open gates and down the road.
· · · · ·
The following night, Julianna and Nadja crouched inside the secret room, taking turns watching through the peephole in the stones. In the main hall beyond, the new cask was on the table, and the men had been drawing mugs from it.
“Not long now,” Nadja whispered.
“What will it do to them?” Julianna asked.
She knew Nadja would never poison these men—or at least not kill them. Nadja was no killer, no matter what the situation.
But the answer never came.
Instead, as Nadja watched from the peephole, she said, “One of them is turning green. It’s time.”
Taking a long breath, Nadja let out a wail.
Julianna could barely believe the sound, loud and long and otherworldly.
“Get out! This place belongs to the dead,” Nadja cried in that voice too deep to be her own. “Your food will no longer sustain you.”
An instant later, Julianna heard the sounds of retching begin below.
Pulling back, Nadja motioned Julianna to the peephole. Looking through, she saw a number of men on their knees, vomiting all over the floor and the bedding, and she realized Nadja must have used a purging herb. Julianna had heard of such, but she herself had little knowledge of herb lore.
More of the men began retching violently.
Then Julianna saw that Argyle was not bent over. He was not even tinged green. Had he not tasted from the new cask yet? He stood looking around in anger and suspicion.
“Someone else is here,” he mouthed so quietly that Julianna only read it on his lips.
Turning, he strode from the hall.
Where was he going? Would he start searching again? If so, how long before he opened the door beyond the kitchen?
Standing quickly, she whispered, “I’ll go tell Cadell this has started. You stay and watch. Hopefully, they will leave this time.”
She fled down the narrow stairs, but upon coming out at the bottom, she ran across the rectangular space between the storage rooms. Everyone down here was still hiding inside the two rooms with the doors closed. No one saw her as she dashed up the stairwell to the kitchen, desperate to reach the upper door before Argyle.
At the top, she didn’t hesitate and slipped out the door, going straight for the butcher-block table and picking up the heavy rolling pin that she and Nadja used to make pie crust.
With the rolling pin in hand, she hid behind the open archway between the kitchen and the inner passage. Her plan was half mad, but it was all she could think of. When Argyle walked through, she’d swing hard, hopefully cracking his skull with the first blow. She was no trained fighter, but the rolling pin was as solid as a cudgel, and she was fairly certain she could crack a man’s skull with so heavy a weapon.
After that… well, she’d think about that later. Zupan Cadell could come up and help her drag the body downstairs. Argyle would simply vanish. Without him, the other men would leave.
Swift footsteps were coming, and she pressed her back against the wall. She’d only have one chance at this, and she knew it.
His wide form passed through the door, and she took a step forward and swung. Unfortunately, he’d been walking faster than she calculated, and she only clipped the back of his head, hard enough to hurt, but not do much damage.
Roaring in surprise, he whirled around, and they locked eyes. Up close, his shaved head was filthy, and his beard was flecked with bits of food. His shoulders were broad inside his leather hauberk, twice as wide as her own.
He had not drawn his sword, and it was still sheathed on his hip.
Though he’d been momentarily startled, that passed quickly, and his upper lip curled back.
“A girl,” he spat in derision. “I knew it. That was you calling through the wall somehow?” His deep-set eyes moved up and down her red dress. “I’ll make you sorry for poisoning my men.”
Panic flooded through her. Sucking in a loud breath, she wailed at him, trying to pitch her voice exactly as Nadja had done, and a loud, unsettling sound exploded from her mouth.
It startled him, and he stepped back.
Knowing she had only an instant, still gripping her rolling pin, she dashed through the kitchen for the back door of the keep, shoving it open and nearly flying outside into the night air. She could hear him coming behind her. A part of her knew this was foolish—running blindly—but she could think of nothing else, and her long legs had served her well in the past when she’d needed to escape.
She ran around the corner of the keep, and then around the side of the single turret, scrambling over the rocks, unsure where she was even trying to go.
To her horror, she could hear him gaining.
And then… she heard a grunt and a thud.
Juliana didn’t stop. She only slowed in glancing back and then slowed more.
Argyle lay among old fallen wall stones long covered in creeping weeds, and he was struggling to get up. He didn’t know the grounds as well as she did in living here for years, and he must have slipped on or tripped over some of the rubble.
Instinct took hold, and she ran back at him.
Just as he saw her coming, and his eyes widened…
Juliana slammed the rolling pin with both hands against the side of his head.
This time she heard a loud crack on impact. She drew back to bash him again—and she missed as he flopped to one side. Quickly retreating, before he could grab her ankle, she thought to turn and run again. But he only lay there, not moving, and she finally crept closer.
When she saw his open eyes, even in the dark, she almost bolted, but his eyes didn’t blink. They stared across the damp earth the other way.
He was dead.
Julianna stood there panting for a few moments, trying to come to grips with the fact that she’d just killed a man. Then she wondered what to do with the body.
A thought struck her, and she raised her eyes to the top of the turret. From where he lay, it looked as if he’d fallen… or thrown himself, just as that last young lord who’d refused to leave this place. Stepping back, Julianna left him there and she walked back inside, slipping through the door leading to the storage rooms below.
Sometime in the night, the men must have found Argyle’s body, because Nadja came down to announce that they had all packed up and left.
· · · · ·
The days passed quickly, and Jan almost never stopped moving as he headed east. He rested no more than he absolutely had to, thinking only of his parents and Julianna. Along the road there was little to eat, and he drank water from streams, or even puddles.
When he realized he was less than half a league from Chemestúk, even in exhaustion, he broke into a jog, finding strength in the knowledge that he was almost home.
As the edge of the village came into sight, he slowed, first in disbelief and then alarm.
The sight of a blackened hut filled his vision, and he kept walking forward until he could see it all.
The place had been burned and two bodies with smashed skulls lay out in plain sight. No one had buried them… suggesting there was no one left.
Looking up to the keep, he whispered, “No.”
He broke into a run.
· · · · ·
Julianna walked through the courtyard of the keep, still trying to come to terms with the fact that she had killed a man. Worse, she wasn’t sorry, and if she were given that night to do all over again, she’d have acted the same. Perhaps that bothered her more than anything.
Life at the keep was returning to normal in a sense, but everyone was worried about th
eir lost men, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Jan, about what might be happening to him, what he might be suffering.
The zupan had announced that tomorrow, they would all go down into the village and begin the clean-up… and to bury their dead. He’d been so set on keeping everyone hidden, on protecting them, but now he seemed to realize it was time to move forward.
Julianna wondered if it was even possible to move forward.
With a sigh, she was about to walk back inside the keep, when movement caught her eye. Looking out through the broken gate and down the road, she saw someone running toward her. She froze, ready to sound the alarm… when she noticed the green shade of his shirt.
“Jan?” she said to herself.
Running through the gate, she closed the distance rapidly. He slowed, and she stopped when they were barely a few paces apart. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but they had never even touched that much before. He looked terrible, thin and filthy. Worse, his eyes were bleak, and more, they were haunted. She’d never seen him like this.
“Oh, Julianna,” he said, even his voice sounded different. “Are my parents…?”
It hit her then that he must have come through village, and he’d been taken before the massacre.
“They’re all right,” she answered quickly, closing the distance one more step. “Both are inside, along with… what’s left of… everyone. Your father has been hiding those who survived.”
Then it truly sank in that Jan was back—and safe—and she looked down the road beyond him.
“Did you… did anyone else escape with you?”
He dropped his gaze and wouldn’t look at her.
“No,” he choked. “I was only able to… and I had to do something… awful… to get free.”
She’d done something awful too, that she didn’t want to tell him.
A voice spoke from behind. “Whatever you did, you did what you had to do.”
Julianna spun around.
Nadja walked out the broken gate, taking in the sight of Jan with an expression beyond relief. “My son.” Her gaze turned to Julianna, “And my girl. You are both safe, and that is all that matters to me.” Motioning them toward the keep, she said calmly, “Dinner is ready. Both of you come and eat.”
