* * *
Roland saw the band of men enter the tavern and was at once on his guard. They carried themselves like professional soldiers. He instantly regretted not being more careful. He thought they had shaken the pursuit from Greystone Castle. They had been on the road for days and had seen no one. Well, maybe not.
He and Scarlett were seated in the tavern that formed the front part of the inn and were having supper. Luckily, they sat at a table in a dark corner. Maybe they wouldn’t be noticed. The men fanned out, taking tables at different spots in the large dining room. This was not good, thought Roland. If they showed any interest in Scarlett and her telltale red hair, he would know.
“Don’t look now, but some men just came in and they are looking around. Slide back into the shadows and hide your face.” He only wished he’d had the foresight to do something about that hair.
* * *
Rand entered the tavern from the back and saw her before the other men did. He was shocked. What was the princess doing here? He had just left her with Hutchin. As he moved closer, however, he realized it was someone else. She looked like the princess—same fair face, same gorgeous red hair. But, of course, she couldn’t be. For one thing, the clothes were different. For another, she was with a knight; that much was clear about his identity. The sigil on his shoulder proclaimed his status. Rand even recognized it. Durham, an earldom in the south of Angleterre.
His eyes met Rand’s and there was challenge there. Rand immediately understood. He was her protector. Then he recalled the meeting in the tavern in Kern. There had been rumors of an imposter, a girl pretending to be the princess. But she and her champion, whoever he was, had had to flee Greystone Castle and Kingsgate, so the men had said. All of these thoughts ran through his head in a matter of seconds, so when the knight stood and drew his sword, Rand understood what was about to happen.
* * *
Roland’s attention was momentarily diverted by the stranger who had entered from the back of the tavern. He had not been with the others, but he had seen Scarlett, and his face had registered shock, as though he recognized her. Roland’s eyes caught movement. The men had spotted Scarlett, and had begun to approach. Roland realized they would have to fight their way out. With weapons drawn, they were advancing on him and Scarlett.
Several things happened all at once. The commander of the troops pointed at Scarlett and said, “That’s her! Get her!” Rand turned and faced the threat coming through the tavern toward the couple in the corner. The knight had his sword out. Rand drew his as well, and closed on the flank of the advancing men. Together the pair engaged the attackers and swords flew. Patrons screamed and fled, impeding the progress of the men who tried to close in on Roland and Scarlett. Bowls and jugs were smashed as tables overturned. Confusion reigned, which worked to the advantage of Rand and Roland. Together they engaged the men-at-arms. Metal clanged upon metal as the pair attacked, parrying and thrusting with swords, dispatching several of the men and leaving the rest writhing on the floor. Still, Rand reasoned, there could be others nearby. Escape out the front was unwise.
“Come with me,” said Rand. “There is another way out.” He upended a table to block the back doorway, buying them some time, as they hurried out that way.
Roland didn’t have time to speculate as to who this stranger was who had come to their aid. But the man had recognized Scarlett, so perhaps he was a friend. Whatever the reason, he had sided with them in the face of the attack. He grabbed Scarlett by the hand and they followed Rand as he disappeared into the inn.
Chapter Sixteen
Juliet heard the shouts and the screaming from down below. Something was happening. Rand had told her to stay in the room, but she was worried. What if someone had seen her lover and tried to arrest him? He was, after all, an outlaw as far as the authorities were concerned. She had to see what was happening.
The princess took the back stairwell down and saw Rand coming through the kitchen. Behind him were a man and a woman. When the young woman’s eyes fell on Juliet, her face registered instant surprise. So did the face of the princess when she saw Scarlett. For a moment they both froze, staring at each other in mutual shock.
Juliet’s paralysis was broken when Rand said, “Hurry, we have to move. For all we know there are more of them about. Where are your horses?”
Roland led the group toward the inn’s stables. The four of them hastily saddled their horses and made their way through the streets of Highbridge, on the lookout for anything that looked like a troop of men-at-arms searching. Rand realized their best chance lay back in the Darkwood. This new development made it dangerous to be on the road to Kingsgate.
“Much as I hate to say it, princess, we’ll be safer in the countryside, back toward the Darkwood,” said Rand as they rode out of the city. “Obviously, men are looking for you or someone who looks just like you. Once we figure out what is going on, we’ll see about getting you home.”
Juliet was disappointed, but she nodded. The whole affair had scared her. Best to be safe now.
* * *
On the road, south of Highbridge
They rode for some time, Rand doubling back often to see if they were being followed. When he was satisfied that no one was in pursuit, he stopped.
“So now, sir knight, I think it time we had a talk.”
“I agree,” said Roland.
The four of them dismounted next to a stream and let the horses drink.
“I am Sir Roland Ferris of Durham. This is Scarlett. She lives near the village of Kern. That is where we were headed. We left Kingsgate several days ago. We’ve been traveling ever since. We need to keep going. I’m afraid our mission is most urgent.”
Rand looked at Scarlett again. “You’re the girl from the convent of St. Agnes, are you not? I’ve seen you on the road with the sisters, going to the markets in Kern.”
“Me?” said Scarlett, shaking her head. “I don’t know you, sir. We have never met.”
“You wouldn’t have seen me. In the forest I am invisible, my lady, but you may have heard of me. I am Rand LaFlors.”
Scarlett gasped. Roland saw her surprised expression and said, “What is it?”
“This man,” she said. “He is an outlaw.”
Juliet knew that, too. She had heard her father mention the name.
“Is that so?” said the knight. He seemed very much at ease despite the revelation, as if he wasn’t worried in the least about LaFlors. Well, after all, Juliet mused, the man had come to their aid.
“You fight pretty well for a common brigand,” said the knight. “Now, might I ask who is your companion, the one who could easily be my lady Scarlett’s twin sister?”
Before Rand could stop her, Juliet blurted out, “I’m Princess Juliet Greystone. King Robert Greystone of Westvale is my father.” For a moment nobody said anything. Juliet looked from face to face, seeking a reaction. “Well?” she asked.
Then Scarlett spoke, breaking the silence. “When I was at Greystone Castle, impersonating the princess as I was told to do, some of the attendants and ladies suspected that I was an imposter. They were told by the high minister that they should not ask questions.”
“You impersonated me?” said Juliet, astonished at this revelation. “Why?”
“I do not know. I was told it was necessary for the good of the realm. Some of them suspected I was not the princess. Later one of them, I think the princess’s old nursemaid, told me that although I looked exactly like the princess, she knew I was not. There was a sure way to tell the difference, she said. Princess Juliet has a birthmark on her left knee.”
“Do you care to show us, then, my lady? To prove who you are?” asked Roland.
“Show them,” said Rand, who had folded his arms in disgust. “You’ve already disobeyed me. I told you to keep quiet until we reached Kingsgate.”
Juliet cringed. He had, at that. She had reverted to form and opened her mouth without thinking. They would probably have one of Rand’s ‘l
ittle talks’ later. She lifted her dress above her knee. Then she turned around. In the hollow in back of her knee all could see the circular birthmark. She readjusted her clothing.
“I was abducted,” said Juliet. “I don’t know why. I was taken to Bathen Castle and kept prisoner there by this person I knew only as Countess Morgaine. She told me I was to be trained. For what, I don’t know. I escaped. There are many young girls there who are supposed to be ladies in Morgaine’s employ. In reality they are slaves who do Morgaine’s bidding and work arduous hours under threat of punishment. Now I just want to return home.”
“Home might not be the safest place, princess,” said Roland. “A plot is brewing, and I’m afraid your father is in dire peril. He has been given a slow-acting poison. Scarlett was put in place to impersonate you, supposedly because you were ill. Instead, she discovered your father was ill, and diagnosed the nature of the poison he was being given to make him appear so. She enlisted my aid and we escaped because Scarlett believes that she can secure an antidote.”
Juliet gasped. “A poison? But who would do such a thing?”
“We think it is the high minister, Lord Cramden,” said Roland. “With the help of your jailer, Morgaine. I understand they call her the red countess.”
“But why? He has served my father all these years.” Juliet could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“He wants the throne for himself, I suspect,” said Roland. “If your father died, he would be appointed regent until you came of age. If he married you, he would be king in all but name.”
“Married me? I wouldn’t marry him. Never. He repulses me.”
“You might have agreed to anything if Morgaine had been able to keep you in her clutches for a time,” said Rand. “Girls can become very compliant as a result of her training methods. She sells her captives to rich Ieryn—to be their submissive concubines.”
Juliet collapsed on a stump, stunned and bewildered, then looked up, beseeching the trio with her eyes. “What are we to do?”
“I don’t know about your outlaw’s plans for you,” said Roland, “but your father is my first concern. I made a promise to Richard of Angleterre, whom I serve. We were on our way to the convent of St. Agnes to secure the antidote for the poison. And we have to hurry.”
“I think we must band together,” said Rand. “We will need help. My men can be counted on. We’ll first get the antidote and then head for Kingsgate.”
Chapter Seventeen
Upon the quartet’s arrival at the convent of St. Agnes, the sisters rejoiced at the safe return of their adopted daughter, Scarlett. Their happiness was short-lived, however, when she told them she had to return to Greystone Castle. “I must help the king,” she said. “All of us will be in danger if the realm falls.” The sisters understood.
The four of them met with Sister Miriam, who was the most knowledgeable in medical matters. Rand listened intently as Scarlett explained to Sister Miriam what she had discovered. From Scarlett’s description of the odor she had smelled in the king’s chamber, the good sister deduced the nature of the poison. “It comes from the crushed pits of a rare fruit,” she said, as she prepared a vial containing an antidote. “Administer this. It will reverse the effects of the poison. It acts very fast and that is fortunate. Almost as soon as he drinks it, he will revive, but you must hurry. Soon it will be too late.”
* * *
Within a day’s time, they were to be on the road again, but not before Rand managed to take the princess aside for a private discussion.
“Sister, do you have a place here, out of earshot, where the princess and I might talk?” Rand had addressed the prioress just before they were to leave.
It seemed a reasonable request, but the prioress and Sister Bernice noted that Rand gripped the princess by her upper arm as he spoke. “There are the novice’s cells in the east wing,” she said. “Most are not in use.”
“Thank you,” said Rand. “Come along, princess.”
Rand was aware of the sister’s raised eyebrows as he led the princess away. He supposed the princess’s panicked look must resemble that of a novice caught in some forbidden activity. Well, what she had done was forbidden as far as he was concerned
Rand found a vacant cell, led the princess inside, and sat on a cot. Juliet stood facing him. She had to know she had disobeyed his instructions. Juliet rubbed her arms as if chills crawled up her spine. It was gratifying for Rand to see her suitably worried and hopefully repentant, as she no doubt contemplated the likely consequences. Rand expected his instructions to be obeyed.
“I told you that your identity was to be kept secret until we reached Kingsgate, did I not?”
“Yes, but they were friends. There was no harm done,” said Juliet, pleading her case.
“At the time we did not know that. They could have been anyone.” Rand crossed his arms indicating his annoyance. “Juliet, there are people who would sell you to Morgaine for a farthing. Do you understand that?”
Juliet looked down, not wanting to meet his eye.
“Come here, Juliet.” Rand uncrossed his arms and gestured with his hand. It was time. There was no help for it. Survival of the entire enterprise could depend upon her putting her headstrong nature aside and following instructions.
“Rand, no,” she pleaded, backing away. He rose to insure her obedience, taking her around her waist. He sat back down and flipped her across his knees. In a trice he flung her skirts over her head and drew her drawers down to her knees. It was humiliating for her to be treated so, he realized, but there was no help for it. She deserved the spanking she was going to get. Soon he was gazing at her bare bottom and at her most intimate secrets. For a moment he paused, nearly transfixed by the beauty of Juliet’s charms presented to him in such a submissive posture. He knew what he really wanted to do was plant kisses all over that shapely backside and then make love to her. He sighed. Later. Now he had a job to do. He pursed his lips and steeled himself.
He delivered the spanking with calculated efficiency. For the next three minutes the cell rang with the sound of palm striking bare flesh. He covered every inch of her delectable bare bottom with judiciously placed smacks, alternating evenly between left and right cheeks, occasionally spanning the lovely divide in the middle. He was an artist painting a canvas with a uniform rose-red hue. Despite her resolve to keep still, Juliet writhed across Rand’s lap like some village wanton and pleaded for forgiveness. Her bottom wobbled lasciviously under the onslaught and Rand had to remind himself that this was discipline despite the growing hardness of his manhood. After delivering what must have been a hundred or so sound smacks, he stopped.
The spanking had to have stung, Rand thought, because his palm did. Hopefully not unbearably so, just enough to impart the lesson. It had probably been more humiliating than anything else, he figured. The pair received some curious looks and a few knowing smiles from the sisters as Rand escorted her back to rejoin the others. Yes, they know what just happened and they approve.
“I think we are ready to leave now,” he said.
Rand saw Scarlett and Roland look at each other. Both no doubt observed the redness about Juliet’s eyes and had noted the absentminded rubbing of her bottom by the princess’s right hand. That was good. It would leave little doubt in their minds as to the nature of the ‘discussion’ between Juliet and himself, and Roland would understand that she would follow orders and not compromise their purpose.
They had to know that even a princess was subject to discipline by an outlaw on occasion.
* * *
The return to Darkwood Forest proved uneventful. At least for now it appeared they had shaken their pursuers. A day later a troop of ten, which included the four of them plus half a dozen men, left the forest and headed for Kingsgate. There had been little time to plan. Rand enlisted several of his men for the journey, but he had to leave several of his best fighters and hunters behind. “Who will protect these people if I don’t come back?” he asked at a
council of his closest comrades. No one had an answer for that. They understood. He was right.
One thing was fortunate, however. Rand’s fame as an outlaw ensured that he would be able to enlist followers once they arrived in Kingsgate. Only they’ll be cutthroats, thieves, and worse, he thought ruefully. Perhaps the prospect of a purse or a pardon would ensure their loyalty.
On the road they had time to talk. “How do we get into Greystone Castle?” asked Rand. “We can’t fight our way in, obviously.” They were seated around a fire, having stopped for the night.
“I know a way,” said Juliet. “There is a tunnel. My father showed it to me. It was built as a secret escape route in case we ever had to flee. It comes out on a hillside outside the gates of the city. I think I can find the entrance.”
“That sounds promising,” said Rand. He poked the fire with a stick. “We can get in at least. But how to get out. And, how to enlist the aid of Robert’s loyal men. Remember, they don’t know what is happening.”
“I must make contact with Sir Brenden Fowlkes,” said Juliet. “He was appointed by father as my personal guard. He is loyal; I am sure of it. No matter how many men Cramden has brought in, he will help. I will need to be inside anyway. The passage tunnel is barred at the castle. Unless it is open no one can get in, and I alone know where the door is.”
“So we will have to split up,” said Roland. “Scarlett and I will have to come through the tunnel, Juliet will have to simply present herself at the gates, then Rand will rejoin us.”
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