Hostage Rescue (Princess Rescue Inc Book 2)

by Hechtl, Chris

  Something deep inside told him that as excuses go it wouldn't work for long.

  ~~~^~~~

  Zara left the basket where it was until hunger got the better of her. The bread was stale, but she appreciated the half-hearted sentiment. Not that she had any intention of ever forgiving the traitorous fool.

  ~~~^~~~

  Siegfried forced himself to visit the dungeon with the other package he'd brought for the princess. He refused to leave the package with the helpful guard and warden. He was appalled by the sight of misery in the dungeon. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded. “Get them more food and drink. Some more than blankets,” he snarled.

  “Oh yes, my lord. Right away, my lord. Will you be takin' tea down there with them?” a guard mocked. Others laughed.

  Siegfried burned at the insult. His fist shook.

  “Supplies are short,” a familiar voice said. He turned to look at Augustus but couldn't hold the man's burning eyes for long.

  “Not even a Garmr deserves this,” Siegfried murmured. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I am so sorry I got into this,” he hissed to Augustus.

  “You better leave or you'll be joining us,” a miles growled.

  Other prisoners said similar things.

  Siegfried gulped and then nodded. He stormed up to his room and practically threw himself on the bed, angry at himself and what his pride had led him into.

  ~~~^~~~

  Dominus Fenton heard about the dungeon meeting from Percival who'd been contemptuous of it.

  “The lad is right. They are of no value to us dead,” the dominus stated. Percival stopped talking and stared at him in shock.

  Fenton smiled thinly. “I may not like them but they are hostages. Therefore, we need them alive,” he said firmly.

  “I can't spare anything. We don't have enough to go around as it is,” Percival insisted.

  “Get them blankets. There are spare blankets,” the domina stated. “Take the old ones and have a servant wash and mend them and then bring them back if you have to. We really should have the dominus in there placed elsewhere,” she said, looking at Olaf and then Fenton.

  “We don't have the men to guard them,” Olaf said. “Not that many.”

  “He's right,” Percival stated.

  “Then at least extract the smiths.”

  “Smith. One died.”

  “So we have one left?” she asked. Fenton grimaced but then nodded. “Get him out of there. Treat him. He may come around. At the least, the threat of going back there might break him, or we can leverage their suffering for his compliance.”

  Dominus Fenton stroked his beard and then looked at Olaf. Olaf nodded.

  Percival looked annoyed; it would force them to split the guard. But he realized the others were right; the last surviving smith was a resource. Reluctantly, he agreed.

  ~~~^~~~

  The warden cursed as he took a guard down to extract the smith. The prisoners blinked and then shied away from the bright light from above. “Which one is the smith?” he demanded, unsure of who was a smith in the blackness.

  When no one answered, he kicked those near. When that didn't extract a response, he stepped on a woman's hand until she shrieked and bones broke. She pointed to someone five bodies down from her with her free hand.

  He went over to the man. “You the smith?”

  “So what if I was?” the man croaked.

  The warden turned to the guard. “Get him up and out of here. They want him upstairs,” he growled.

  “It's your lucky day,” the guard said, using a small hammer to remove the rivet to the manacle and chain. It fell away from the wasted limb. There were sores and scars from laying on the manacle. The guard grabbed him by the underarm and forced him up, half dragging, half carrying him to the ladder.

  “How do we get him up there?” he demanded.

  “Use a rope,” the warden said as he climbed the ladder. “Do I have to think of everything?” he said in exasperation.

  “Yeah, around his neck,” a guard upstairs cackled.

  “Where are you taking him?” Augustus demanded. He was cuffed and beaten for his trouble. He tried to put his arms up to protect his head and torso weakly.

  A rope was lowered, and the guard tied it around the smith's arms and looped it again around his waist. His fellows hauled the smith up, the smith barely moved and only groaned when he was scraped against the ladder and the opening.

  The guard turned and looked at the group shivering under the worn blankets and rags. He put his fists on his hands, contemptuous of them.

  "I guess you are regretting not taking up the drott's generous offer when you had the chance?!" he asked and then laughed again.

  One of the guards upstairs joked about dumping their chamber pots on them.

  “Not with me down here too!” the guard said, hastily climbing the ladder.

  “You will do no such thing,” a bass voice rumbled. The guard on the ladder hesitated but then finished climbing up into the room above.

  The warden turned to stare at the drott in the doorway. The guards looked and then looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

  Olaf looked into the chamber and then at the group of guards. "I need these men alive. They are no good to me dead. Keep them that way."

  "Yes, Dominus," the warden said with a hasty nod. “What of this one?” he asked as a guard pulled the ladder up and another slammed the door closed. They held up the smith by each arm. The smith sagged.

  Dust filtered down but Augustus craned his neck to hear what was said.

  “We'll put him in a chamber and have a medicus see to him. If he lives, we may have a use for him. You haven't been taking care of them properly,” bass voice growled. “Do better,” he said as he stormed off.

  Augustus heard the soft cursing and then complaints but ignored it as he sat back. He was glad at least one of them had gotten out of the hellhole.

  ~~~^~~~

  Tycho's resistance found a lodge with a head of an antlered beast with a big crest under the ridge pole and the head of a basilisk mounted just over the door. That amused the group. “It definitely makes a statement,” Agnes murmured.

  They went inside, stamping and slapping at themselves to get the snow off. The taberna staff was startled by the number of people. They were dismayed by their identity too, not that they had much choice in serving them.

  Tycho made sure to keep a guard out to keep watch, cycling them off according to the regular fire watch. The lodge was on the edge of the deep forest in an area less traveled than most. When a snowstorm came to snow them in, he decided it was safe enough to lower their guard and rest and recover for a spell.

  ~~~^~~~

  The more the domina delved into the day-to-day operations of the castle and abroad, the more disgusted with state of affairs she became. Discipline was either too much or lax. Supplies were a constant issue. The looting had been rampant. The supplies young Siegfried brought in were the only fresh supplies they'd received other than wood, at least those taken voluntarily.

  Her steward was reporting unrest and problems at her home as well. She had to return soon to set things straight; she'd taken too many people from her domain to turn things around in the capital and now was failing at both.

  She listened as merchants paid the heavier tribute. They carped and complained, mainly about the lack of work being done in the capital, the damage, and Stephan's people demanding their own tribute. She realized that the princess had done the same. It was all a matter of scale. She had done it at home, but the princess had listened to her as well as to the commoners.

  Just in the castle alone she had to settle constant arguments over who got to sleep near the fire now that the winter was settling in. Cut wood was expensive too. Many were only allowed to sleep near the fire in the common areas and kitchen for part of the night.

  They had some blankets, but many were in disrepair. The help in sheering had not appeared; she had allowed the men folk to run off to dri
ll and guard rather than attend to duties on the farms. They were short in many other categories from the farm.

  And then there were problems with some of the rougher men trying to get handsy with the women. She tried to counsel with the women to “help” the men when possible. A few men molested the wives or widows of some of the other soldiers and fights broke out. She left their punishment to Percival. She did have to find a way to patch them up though.

  She tried to listen to the merchants because she needed them on their side. She needed the merchants and others to continue to provide goods and services in the capital. They needed order; more importantly, they needed to generate income to fund what was to come. It wasn't easy listening to them. Oh, they couched their complaints in polite verbose, but she saw through it. Many had a genuine right to complain—even if they were jumped-up commoners with delusions of self-importance.

  Initially, she'd wondered why they'd come to her. Then she realized she'd set herself up as the voice of reason, the person who got parties to compromise. She had the ear of the men folk in their little government and knew how to get their attention.

  Still, it rankled to see so much discontent. You'd think they'd be happy now that the Imperials were no longer in control. That was apparently not the case.

  There was a common theme, however cautiously it was put forward. The people were very unhappy about the damage to the capital and that none of it had been fixed. They were unhappy about the lawlessness in the capital. And they were not getting the promised Terran devices. Some had paid deposits for them. She refused to admit that her people had taken the money or destroyed the devices.

  Her people had tried to appease them with promises that it was coming in time.

  "When?” Khalid, a prominent taberna owner, demanded. He had paid to get some of the Terran upgrades and now that was not happening. He was out a lot of pecunia and was not happy about that.

  “They were going to add their devices to my taberna! I was going to start a chain of them! They said we would have help with the harvest, help with warming our homes and my taberna cheaply in winter!" He waved a hand to the domina and turned to look at others who had come to ask their own questions.

  "Soon. In time all will be made right. The greedy southerners will be forced to share more in time," the domina said soothingly.

  "When is that?"

  "Soon!" she said, slapping the armrest of her chair. It was clear that her patience was at an end.

  The applicant realized she'd had enough and backed off before her temper did something to them.

  “This has been very trying.” She called a recess to get a drink and regain her composure.

  The one good thing about the weather was that the Imperium would not come north to war in it. No fool fought in the cold depths of winter, not if they could help it.

  It was a small balm though; it just meant she had to suffer through the winter while the men tried to plan and usually mess up her spring plans along the way.

  Chapter 37

  When the smith recovered enough to walk on his own, Dominus Fenton paid him a visit rather than having him summoned to his presence.

  He had a simple proposal to pay him for his services. Herb refused. Fenton started in on blackmail. He could see the fear initially, but that was overcome by resolution about returning to the others. Finally exasperated, he offered a deal. For each project, the smith fixed they'd feed the princess and prisoners each a meal, plus provide them with medical care, beer, and more blankets.

  Herb insisted on seeing the princess first.

  The dominus considered it. He knew it would twist the princess to see one of her people in the smith's state. He was quite frankly appalled himself. He was initially dubious the smith could handle the stares but then nodded.

  Herb had to pause frequently going up the long spiral stairs, but he eventually got to the top panting. When they opened the door, he stepped inside and fell to his knees.

  Zara had been seated on her bed with her hands in her lap; she rose and came over and then gasped softly when she recognized the man. She gently ordered him to rise but he remained on his knees.

  “I barely recognize you, Herb,” she murmured, touching his face gently.

  He kissed her hand and pressed it to his wizen cheek. She used her free hand to stroke his straggly hair and then gently extracted her hand. “What is this about?” she asked, looking from the smith to the dominus.

  “They say …,” Herb turned to look back at the dominus. “It is their idea. They took me from the others. Augustus …”

  “Augustus is alive?” Zara asked, feeling her heart skip a beat.

  “Oh, aye. A third of us are left, plus the lordlings and some of their servants,” Herb replied. “I'm the last smith. None of the smiths or medicus lived or were caught; we know not which. Well, other than Ianus, but he died due to his injuries.” He looked up at her imploringly. “We tried to save him but …”

  His head sank and tears fell. “Forgive us, my liege.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. The transgression was not yours,” she said, stroking his hair gently, but her eyes were coldly locked on the dominus behind the smith.

  Fenton grimaced.

  “Yes well …”

  “They want me to fix things that are breaking down and fix the things that they destroyed,” Herb said in a rush.

  “Do they now?” she asked mildly as she looked at the dominus again.

  “What is your command? They said they'd feed the others more if I complied.”

  She felt torn but nodded internally. They had just the right lever to pry things out of the smith no matter what she did. But he'd shown remarkable conviction and stubbornness to insist on seeing her first. She knew he was there to seek her approval.

  Fenton cleared his throat. “We'll provide additional furs and clothes for them. And you,” he said, looking around the room and noting she was just in a gown. He frowned. “Is that all you have?”

  “Emma took the rest. When she returned some of it, I couldn't get it clean, so I burned it, having nothing else to burn for heat anyway,” Zara said.

  “That little …,” Fenton scowled. “I'll … no, I can't talk to Rasmussen. I'll talk to her. If she can't behave, I'll find someone else to care for you.”

  Zara just cocked her head slightly.

  “Your orders?” Herb asked, looking up at him.

  “We each must follow our own heart.” Zara said. She could see Fenton look like he was about to say something. “But, if you wish to test their word and comply to aid the others, I won't begrudge that. You have my word as well as the word of my house you will not be punished for making repairs. But,” she held up a finger, “no weapons nor help them to kill.”

  She glanced at the dominus. He grimaced but then nodded grudgingly.

  Herb nodded and slowly rose. Zara was half afraid she'd have to help him. If he was in that state after only two mens , she was dismayed to think of what the others would be like.

  Once they were outside her chamber and in the landing, Fenton ushered the smith to go ahead and sighed. “Well, I suppose something is better than nothing,” he said to himself.

  The guards at the door looked at each other. He turned to them. “From now on, each time you do a shift change, the shift coming on duty is to bring wood to her—each of you. Is that clear?”

  They looked ready to object but one grunted and then nodded. “Yes, Dominus.”

  ~~~^~~~

  Augustus watched as some of the men used a ball of rags as a toy to toss around. He had no idea who'd started it, but it seemed good for morale so he didn't stop it. It kept their minds going too. He had feared madness would set in soon. He even tossed the ball when it came to him.

  "I fought a basilisk for this?" a miles asked when the ball bounced off his head. That earned a tired chuckle from the group.

  ~~~^~~~

  Percival worked with Olaf to appoint a series of legatus to help oversee the castle a
nd the training of the men. Their most experienced men had gone out to try to run the Imperials down.

  Those left had been training on the weapons. He had ordered that they not fire the weapons, just learn to use them and maintain them. That was a problem, his people knew some but only a little about them.

  Despite their supposed best efforts, an inspection showed that rust had begun to crop up in some weapons. Some became useless after being put away wet; some of the metal just disintegrated. They had managed to make spare parts, but he was unsure of their value. He didn't trust them.