A River of Orange

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  The muscles at Shell's jaw twitched. “All that has happened is because of her. The day she stepped foot on Keronia she brought trouble to the crown, and now she must pay ... you all must pay. Within a day's time the Jabrians will seek their revenge for what Rule's army has done to their village and will strike with weapons far greater than swords and daggers.” Shell pushed the knife against Meav's throat. “But for now, ‘tis my pleasure to see Meav breathe her..."

  Shell never finished his words because Bulwark rose to his feet from behind and with one slice, as though he were cutting through butter with a hot knife, slit Shell's throat with the dagger.

  Shell's blood splattered all over the side of Meav's face and hair, soaking her dress. As he fell to the ground, he took her down with him.

  Lorna, who luckily was looking up into the trees at the pixie's, didn't see Bulwark rise. Hearing a thud behind her, she spun around. Her eyes went round with shock as she saw the blood pour form Shell's throat. Clutching her own throat with her hand, she screamed.

  Bulwark reached for Meav and pulled her to her feet.

  'Twas then Lorna regained her wits enough to lunge at Meav.

  Bulwark stepped in front of Meav and shielded her with his body. He raised the bloody dagger. “I have never killed a woman,” he warned Lorna, “but if you take one more step I will be forced to spill your blood as well."

  "As I will yours, for I have a deadly weapon aimed at your head. Drop your dagger and turn around slowly,” the voice grated harshly.

  The tone was like an echo from an empty tomb, and one Meav recognized. Her thoughts prickled with warning as she spun around to face him. Icy fear twisted around her heart, and panic welled in her throat. Swamped with confusion, her eyes locked with those of the enemy's.

  Meav could hardly lift her voice above a whisper. “Hollister McGreary ... but how?” The fearful images of this very man burning her farm and murdering her family flashed before her eyes.

  Hollister sneered. “Did you think I would let you get away, love? I followed you that night you fled Dublin, boarded the Sea Dragon and survived the wreck ... just as you did. We are the only two alive.” A wicked grin curled his mouth. “Do you not find that amazing. I believe it must be fate. Our destiny is to be together."

  Bulwark slowly turned to face Hollister, measuring him with hatred.

  Hollister quickly appraised Shell's lifeless body, then returned his attention to Bulwark. “I would like to thank you for disposing of that nuisance for me.” He arched a bushy brow. “The idiot really believed he would challenge the crown using me weapons to rise to victory.” His glanced again at Meav. “Not even a smile, love?” he asked with deceptive calm. “And here I thought you would be overjoyed to see me."

  Bulwark's face twisted with contempt. “How do you know this rogue, my lady?"

  Meav's voice was unsteady. “'Tis a long story, Bulwark."

  Hollister's tone was heavy with sarcasm. “Can it be, me precious Meav, you have neglected to mention me to your new friends?” Hollister's eyes raked over Bulwark in disgust. “I am her betrothed."

  "And I am her husband,” boomed a voice from behind a hedge plant.

  'Twas then Meav's world shook, as her warrior husband's power burst forth from the bushes. Ibrehem and Wesley followed close behind.

  Hollister was thrown to the ground with such force his lungs exploded a loud grunt; the gun flew out of his hand.

  Rule's large fist came down across Hollister's jaw.

  Hollister threw a punch to the side of Rule's head.

  'Twas then Rule picked the scoundrel up, held him high over his head and tossed him like a rag doll into the air.

  Hollister came down head first on a rock, splitting his skull. Blood poured from his mouth, the beady eyes glazed over ... he was dead.

  Meav rushed to Rule's side.

  Gathering her into his arms, Rule held his wife tight, blocking her view of Hollister's and Shell's bodies. “'Tis over, my lady."

  "Not quite,” Lorna screeched.

  All of them turned to find Lorna holding Hollister's gun in her trembling hands. The barrel was aimed at Meav. Her finger fumbled for the trigger, though she had no idea how the weapon worked. “I ... I watched the man ... saw how he held this ... this..."

  "'Tis a gun,” Meav said. “You do not know what you are doing."

  "I believe I only need to pull on this latch,” Lorna went on in a shaky voice, placing her finger on the trigger.

  "Nay, Lorna, do not touch the lever.” Meav warned. “That is a very deadly weapon."

  "Good, then it will get the job done,” Lorna retorted sharply.

  Rule pushed Meav behind him. “Put the weapon down, Lorna."

  "Nay,” she screamed. “All of you must die."

  Meav pushed her way forward. “Please, put the gun down."

  Rule took a step in front of Meav and moved closer to Lorna. “Lass ... I demand you drop the weapon, seda!"

  "Nay, I will not. At this moment I stand strong, for the memory and honor of Uri Kent,” she sobbed, her finger fumbling with the trigger.

  "Nay, Lorna!” Meav screamed.

  Lorna was ready to shoot, when a buzz of little bodies knocked her off balance, causing her to drop the gun. Many little hands beat at her head and face, pulled her hair, and ripped her clothes. Tiny mouths bit her earlobes, neck and nose.

  Lorna began to scream as she swatted the horde of pixies. When her attempt at stopping them failed, she ran to the river. Deeper and deeper she waded into the water to free herself from the angry fairies.

  'Twas then that Loreli sprung from her hiding place, grabbed Lorna around the waist and claimed her.

  The last thing they all heard was Lorna's shrill, petrified scream as she disappeared beneath the water.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Meav's dress was completely ruined ... stained with Shell's blood.

  Gently Grendel removed the garment from Meav's trembling form.

  "Toss it into the fire,” Meav bitterly instructed of her new handmaiden.

  Both women stood silent before the fireplace and watched the beautiful linen dress burn.

  Grendel's soft words broke the silence. “Let me help you wash, my lady.” She led Meav to the basin of warm water and with tender strokes washed her clean of the blood that had stained her flesh.

  Meav continued to stare at the flames. “Where is Rule, Grendel?"

  Grendel knew Meav was suffering from shock. Softly she spoke, slowly removing the rest of Meav's clothes. “He is with his men in the great hall, my lady."

  Meav looked around the bedchamber, casting a glance out the window. “Already it is dusk? I do not remember the day passing, or walking up the stairs to this room."

  "Your husband carried you up them, my lady.” Grendel washed Meav's face. “You were near faint, pale as an Elwin's hair and weak as a newborn babe."

  Tears welled in Meav's eyes. “I was?"

  "Aye, ‘tis true, my lady. And your husband,” Grendel went on, as she redressed Meav in a clean dress, “set you upon the bed, stroked your face and talked ever so sweetly to you."

  Meav swallowed hard. “My memory is a blur. What did he say?"

  Grendel tenderly dampened the ends of Meav's hair with a cloth, washing the strands splattered with blood. “Why, my lord told you that you were his love, that you need not ever worry again because no one would ever hurt you ... he would make sure of that."

  Meav's lips curved into a tentative smile. “Aye, he did make sure.” She reached for Grendel's hand. “Twice now he kept his word."

  "And he will always keep that promise to you, my lady,” Grendel assured her. “All one needs to do is look into his eyes when he is looking at you to know you are his world, the very reason he breathes."

  Tears slipped down Meav's face. “Aye, I feel the same towards him."

  Grendel smiled warmly. “Then ‘tis a match made in heaven."

  "And by fate,” Meav added.

 
Grendel took Meav by the hand, led her over to the dressing table chair and helped her sit. “Let me braid your hair now, my lady."

  Meav frowned at her reflection. ‘Tis still dirty ... I am still dirty ... his blood still feels like ‘tis on me."

  "Your husband has requested a bath for you, but first he asked I just get you cleaned up enough so he could speak to you about the ... the ... strange weapon that..."

  Meav clenched her eyes shut. “That Hollister McGreary had,” she finished the sentence.

  "Aye, my lady ... do you think you are ready?"

  Opening her eyes, Meav chuckled nervously. “If I wait for when I am ready, Grendel, we will all be old. Right now I do not know if I can bring meself to put one foot in front of the other in order to go where Rule is.” She frowned. “Nor if I have the courage to ever leave this room."

  Gently Grendel rubbed Meav's trembling hand, pity rising in her heart for the new lady of the castle. “Shall I tell him you will not be joining him?"

  Meav shook her head and straightened her shoulders. “Nay, Grendel. I will go to me husband and help him with whatever he asks."

  * * * *

  Rule was standing by the window, looking out at the courtyard when Meav entered the great hall. Ibrehem and Bulwark stood by the fireplace. Wesley, Olin and Ustin were seated around the large table. In the center was Hollister McGreary's gun.

  All three men stood when they spotted Meav.

  Rule rushed to her side, took her hand and led her over to a chair. Kneeling down in front of her, he tenderly stroked her cheek. “I know you are still in a state of shock over what has happened ... and I would not ask this of you, my lady, if it were not of immense importance."

  Meav nodded. “What do you want to know, Rule?"

  He stood, reached for the gun and held it out to Meav. “Show me how to use this weapon."

  Meav ran her finger over the handle's scroll and border engraving, around the ivory grip and down the ten inch barrel. Suddenly she jerked her hand away ... remembering who it once belonged to.

  Rule reached out and enclosed her trembling hand in his. “I know this is not easy for you, my love ... but if I do not know how this weapon works ... in what way it is deadly, I cannot guard against it."

  Meav took a deep breath. “I remember this gun well,” she began. She wet her lips nervously. “Once, when Hollister came to me farm,” she paused, glancing into her husband's amber eyes. They hardened with the mention of the evil man's name. “He showed me this gun.” Meav felt a chill run through her. Standing, she made her way to the large fireplace and warmed her hands. Keronia was warm by day, but after the sun set the climate changed. A chill breeze from the ocean left the island damp. Meav felt it now throughout her very bones. Or was it still the fear of coming face to face with her family's murderer that left her trembling?

  Rule followed, standing silently beside her, but reached out and gave her arm an affectionate squeeze.

  She glanced at the gun in his hand. “That is a dueling pistol. In my country they are all the fashion of the upper class, a statement of wealth."

  Rule arched a brow. “That villain considered himself to be of high station?"

  "Aye,” she said softly.

  Rule frowned. “Why was McGreary showing this gun to you?"

  "He wanted me to know ‘twould be used if I fancied another."

  Rule's frown deepened. “Then this is not for warring?"

  "Nay, ‘tis for challenge ... but ‘tis still very deadly.” Meav pointed to the artillery's nose. “Even just loading the gun powder into the barrel wrong can cause an explosion."

  Ibrehem moved closer, holding a crescent shaped vessel made of ebony wood. A silver stopper closed the opening at the top and a long piece of leather was attached to each side. “I found this draped over McGreary's shoulder."

  "'Tis a powder horn,” Meav explained. “It holds the black gun powder."

  "And what about these two pouches?” Ibrehem questioned.

  Meav pointed to the larger pouch. “This one holds the balls and wadding ... the other the caps."

  Ibrehem frowned. “These things are used to make the gun work?"

  "Aye,” Meav said.

  Rule took her by the hand and led her outside.

  Meav had to run to keep up with his long strides.

  The others followed close behind.

  Once they were a safe distance from the castle, Rule gripped the gun's handle. “Show me how to make it work."

  Meav bit her bottom lip. “I am not all that certain I can remember every detail. I have seen me father ready a musket many times, but this gun is a wee bit different.” She frowned. “Should I forget just one detail, or do not instruct you right..."

  "This is how McGreary held it,” Bulwark said, reaching for the gun and demonstrating the grip.

  "Careful,” Meav choked out hoarsely. “The hammer is fully cocked and the gun is loaded."

  "Loaded ... what do you mean by loaded,” Rule asked eagerly, taking the gun from Bulwark.

  "Hollister was very proud of this firearm. ‘Tis a fairly new weapon, and not like the one me father used. This firearm, I have heard, is called a percussion lock gun.” Meav reached over and pointed to the gun's hammer. “When this lever is cocked back it cannot strike the cap that is placed on this part here,” she said, pointing to the nipple of the gun. “Having the lever half-cocked means the shooter is preparing to fire a shot, but when ‘tis fully cocked, as ‘tis now, then the weapon is ready to use and will go off just by pulling this lever down here,” she said, pointing to the trigger. She sighed heavily. “I am surprised, having been handled so much, that it has not gone off already."

  "So the caps are placed here?” Rule asked, indicating the gun's nipple.

  "Aye, and the gunpowder and balls are shoved into the long part up front with the rod that is beneath this part here,” she said, referring to the barrel. “The cloth wadding is then stuffed into the gun so the balls will not fall out. Then somehow, when the bottom lever is pulled back it snaps the top lever on the cap, and a connection is made through the channel of the gun that flames the gunpowder and shoots out the ball."

  "And ‘tis that ball that kills,” Rule concluded.

  "Aye ... rips apart the flesh. More times than not the wound is fatal."

  Bulwark suddenly looked green. “And that scoundrel had this thing pointed at my head."

  Rule arched a brow. “Then you can only get one shot for each ball?"

  "Aye, ‘tis how it works,” Meav agreed. “Then you must do the whole loading process over if you want it to work again."

  His eyes widened. “By thunder, a man's life would be at the mercy of how fast he could reload his gun."

  "But one shot goes a great distance,” Meav explained.

  "So, with your foe far from you there is time to reload,” Rule said.

  Meav nodded. “And after you grasp the whole procedure it can be done fairly fast. But this gun is not used in battle. There are much bigger ones called muskets that can shoot farther. A musket is what me father used."

  Bulwark grunted. “Give me a sword and dagger any day."

  The muscles at Rule's jaw tightened. “Do you know if the muskets were aboard the ship?"

  "Aye, they were ... I hid down in the hull, and there were many crates packed with guns and ammunition,” Meav said.

  Rule's muscles tensed. “Teach me how to use this, my lady."

  She took a deep breath, wishing this day to be over. “Place the handle of the gun securely in the palm of your hand, and spread your feet far apart for balance.” Meav watched as his hips, tapering to long, muscular legs, braced his stand. She reached over and lifted his arm. “Now aim the nose of the gun at that tree over there,” she instructed, pointing to a tree in the distance The lines of concentration deepened along the brows and under his eyes. “Now pull the bottom lever."

  A blast sounded from the weapon. Rule was thrown back a bit, but caught himself. White smoke bl
ew from the barrel, filling the air. It made them all cough and the explosion made their ears ring.

  Bulwark ran to inspect the target thirty feet away. He stuck his finger in the hole that now marred the trunk and felt for the ball. ‘Twas lodged deep. His heart sank at the thought of the Jabrians having their hands on weapons like this, only larger. He turned and shouted to Rule. “My lord, we are in for some trouble ... big trouble."

  * * * *

  Meav's stomach rumbled with her hunger. She had not eaten since she broke the morning fast, yet she could not manage to swallow one morsel of the delicious meal now set before her. Quietly she pushed the food around on her plate and listened to Rule instructing his men on what strategy to use while fighting the Jabrians ... ‘twas hardly dinner talk, and did naught to increase her appetite.

  Hollister and Shell's dead bodies lying bleeding on the ground, was etched in her mind. Aye, they were bad men, and deserved what they had gotten, but the truth be told ... it all was a ghastly way to keep the peace.

  And now her husband had to lead his men into another battle, one with villagers that may not have a warrior's skill, but did have weapons of a far greater destruction. Her stomach lurched with each plan the men hatched; hiding in the trees with bows and arrows ... such danger, behind bushes with swords and daggers ... such odds. Good Lord in heaven ‘twas no wonder she feared for all their lives ... but especially for Rule's. What would she do if anything happened to him? The thought of losing her husband was just too much for her.

  She felt tired and dirty, still not having the bath she had been promised. By the time she had finished instructing Rule and the others on how to load and reload the gun, dinner was ready. Her ears still rang from their practice shots, making her head throb along with her other wretchedness.

  Meav stood and pushed back her chair. With a quick glance at Rule, she ran from the great hall and up to their chamber. Once she had closed the large oak door behind her, she slid to the floor and wept.