The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  Bethany didn’t know what the woman was talking about. In fact, she was having trouble even understanding the woman’s words. Her mind felt hazy and sluggish. She tried to stay focused on the woman’s baggy eyes, but the startling mustache lining the woman’s upper lip kept drawing her gaze away. Lilah’s wispy, white hair was tucked up under a scarf and her earlobes nearly reached her neck. Bethany didn’t know what this woman’s life had been, but she suspected it hadn’t been up in a castle being pampered.

  The princess just stared at the old woman, unsure what to say or do. The younger woman, who had opened the door, was staring at Bethany with the same sort of interested disgust. This woman took an equally long look. Her hair was a shocking shade of red and cropped short. The ends of her red hair barely reached her jawline. She wore a tight bodice that made her breasts look three times their actual size and a ragged skirt of brown cloth, bits of it tucked up into a wide belt wound around her waist. From where Bethany stood, she could see long swaths of the woman’s round legs.

  This image brought her mind back to her own torn dress. She pulled the pieces together again. Before anyone could say any more, the door swung open and Sir Caldry stepped in.

  “Thank you, Lilah,” he said as he stopped and kissed the elderly woman on the cheek. “I can never repay you for this kindness.”

  Lilah waved him away with a dismissive noise in the back of her throat. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m alive because of you. C’mon, you two. I’m pretty full today, but I’m sure we can find a room for you.”

  The old woman took them from the tiny room between the alleyway door and the rest of the building. Beyond it, Bethany found herself in a large room filled with women dressed like the red-haired woman. Dirt-covered men were milling around, mugs of drink in their hands. The women laughed and occasionally led a man away from the large room to a set of rickety stairs.

  In a sudden moment of clarity, Bethany realized where they were.

  “Surely we can find a different place to hide, Sir Caldry,” she whispered as she took a step closer.

  It felt as though every face looked, in some small way, like Féderic’s. Bethany didn’t think she had the strength to take another step into the room full of strange men.

  Despite her age, Lilah had excellent hearing. She burst out laughing. “Got yourself a highborn lady there, eh, Cal?”

  Sir Caldry looked down at Bethany, an infuriating display of sympathy showing on his face. “There is no better place to hide. Authorities won’t look here for us.”

  “How do you know?” Her voice shook.

  “Lilah has paid off the right authorities to allow her to run this little business.”

  “What do you mean? Tolad is filled with brothels.”

  “True, but those brothels pay fines to allow them to run and their woman live under certain legal obligations. Lilah doesn’t run her business by Wolfric’s laws, meaning the authorities avoid it due to the right people being paid off. We’re safe here.”

  “You two coming?” asked Lilah from halfway up the staircase.

  Sir Caldry took Bethany by the arm and dragged her into the crowd of whores and customers.

  Bethany focused on the pain of Sir Caldry’s strong fingers digging into her arm and the pain in her groin as she jogged to keep up. If she allowed her mind to acknowledge the men watching them, the bodies pressing up against them in the crowded room, or what had recently happened to her, she would…

  Just as Bethany was about to collapse on the floor in hysteria, they reached the stairwell and started up toward the upper levels.

  On the second level, they passed a woman leading a man back toward the main room. The man looked pleased. Bethany felt her empty stomach give a roll and she clamped her mouth shut to keep from vomiting.

  From within the rooms they passed, Bethany could hear a variety of noises, most of them sounding like someone bashing the walls with pieces of wood. There were vocal noises too; noises Bethany had never heard before. As they walked, her hands crept up until she had them smashed against her ears.

  Bethany swallowed the bile that rose to her mouth. How could these women live like this? Without realizing she was crying, she felt tears drip off her jaw and drop to her bare chest. At the end of the hallway, Lilah opened a door. Bethany looked in to find a narrow bed and nothing else. The room was too small to accommodate much more.

  “We don’t use this room unless we’re full up. That won’t be happenin’ tonight, though we’re getting’ close. But come mornin’, I need you out.”

  Sir Caldry nodded once as he pushed Bethany into the tiny room.

  “I’ll send some food up, and perhaps some thread to fix that tear. Assumin’ your highborn girl knows how to sew.”

  “That would be appreciated.”

  Lilah made an affirmative noise from the back of her throat before closing the door.

  “Why can’t we hide somewhere else?” asked Bethany as she huddled in the corner, trying to keep as much distance between herself and the bed.

  “Where? Where do you suggest hiding?”

  “There must be some place.”

  “There isn’t. Now, stop asking.”

  Before she could argue further, a gentle knock on the door interrupted them. One of the working girls entered with a plate of food and a small pouch of sewing supplies. She deposited them on the foot of the bed and exited without a word.

  “Eat,” Sir Caldry ordered as he sat on the bed. He held out the plate for her to make her own selection.

  Bethany took a hot tuber off the plate and bit into it, ignoring the roughness of the skin. At home, they would have pealed the skin off and mashed the soft insides with cream and salt. It was much better than this plain tuber.

  She refused to sit on the bed with the knight, so she lowered herself to the cold floor and pulled the torn skirting of her dress over her bare legs. When they finished eating, she considered fixing her skirt, but she didn’t want to do it with the knight watching. Thankfully, he seemed to be aware of the problem. He tossed her the small pouch before lying on the bed with his back facing her.

  Bethany waited a few minutes, afraid he might peek back at her while she was busy, but in no time at all he was gently snoring. With shaking fingers, the princess opened the little cloth bag to find a few needles and a spool of rough thread. It took her nearly an hour to stitch up the long tear in her dress. Many times she had to stop to wipe the tears from her eyes or calm her quivering fingers. The fix wasn’t pretty, but at least her legs would not be exposed to the world. She repacked the pouch and looked around the room.

  One lamp hung from the wall, the piece of metal behind it dim and in need of a polish. The walls were made of wooden slats that had been painted once, but time and use had worn most of the paint away. The bed Sir Caldry slept on was more of a cot than a bed with the thinnest mattress she had ever seen. Still, it would have been more comfortable than the floor she sat on. Bethany adjusted her seat in attempt to keep her backside from falling asleep.

  After much adjusting, she ended up curled up on her side, listening to the sounds of the brothel, each bang, each moan reminding her of Féderic. It didn’t take long for the tears to return, and by the time she drifted off into a troubled sleep, her face rested in a pool of salty liquid.

  Chapter Five

  Lyolf swung his leg over the rump of his horse and landed on the ground with a painful jar to his sore legs. The sky was just showing the first signs of pink on the horizon, and he had been out with the guards since they first closed the city gates. Now he was bruised, cold, hungry, and tired, but his day was far from over. In fact, it was really just beginning.

  The bastard prince handed the reins to his horse over to the waiting stablehand before trudging across the snowy bailey. Despite being only November, the snow was already in deep drifts and the occupants of the castle were forced to walk through narrow paths created by hours of shoveling.

  Lyolf trudge up the steps and through the main doo
rs of the keep, his stiff legs complaining. Inside, he found Wolfric sitting at one of the lower tables with a company of men and advisors. To the prince’s astonishment, he spotted Tethys, a local lord, among the number. How had he been summoned to such a private meeting? Lyolf glanced at Sir Ward as he joined the group.

  “Tethys came by on other matters,” whispered the knight when he noticed Lyolf frowning at the lord.

  “Lyolf,” said the king, drawing Lyolf’s attention away from Tethys. “What is the report?”

  Lyolf blinked his heavy eyes, trying to remember what the captain of the guard had recently told him. “All the city gates are shut. The guards are still sweeping the private residences, but all the pubs, brothels, and theaters have been searched. If anyone knows of any connections Cal may have in the city, we need that information now,” he added, scanning the faces of the crowd for signs of hidden knowledge.

  “Do you think they have escaped?” asked Tethys

  Lyolf stared at him, too surprised by his boldness to immediately respond. He cleared his throat before saying: “It is very likely they have already made it out of the city.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” argued the king. “I am sure I do not need to emphasis just how important secrecy is. No one beyond my family and this small group must know that the princess has escaped, and by the aid of one of our own. Especially considering that most of the general public believes her to be willingly engaged to Féderic. His injury is also to be kept a secret. We will simply say he is ill to account for his absence and the doctor’s continual presence. The only slave who will have access to him is Flora. She’s a trustworthy woman.”

  “My lord, may I be so bold as to make a suggestion?” asked Tethys.

  Wolfric nodded.

  “I have a man under my employment with an uncanny knack for tracking. He has recently returned from finding a runaway slave for me. He is also a discreet man and would be completely able to keep these vital secrets.”

  “I’ll call for you if his assistance becomes necessary. For now, we must assume they are still in the city.”

  “If they are in the city,” began Lyolf, “they are well hidden, or else we would have found them by now. I think our best bet is to open the gates and look for a scarred man with a young lady. No doubt, if they are still here, they will want out of the city and try to escape through one of the gates. Cal is too easily recognized to escape without being noticed by the guards, especially if the guards have been told to look for him. Besides, if we leave the gates locked for too long even the daftest knave will know something is amiss.”

  Wolfric was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Very well. If they are not found by the ninth hour of the morning, have the gates opened. If that happens, I want a knight stationed at every gate. Until that time, men, go to the gates and inform the guards of what may be happening.”

  The king looked as though he would have said more, but Queen Arabelle appeared at that time, looking just as tired as Lyolf felt. Dark circles lined her eyes and, for the first time in Lyolf’s memory, she did not walk with her usual purposeful tread. Wolfric noticed her in the entry way and quickly dismissed the men.

  Lyolf was going to follow Wolfric to where his mother stood when he noticed the knights shuffling their feet and looking at each other. He realized it was Cal who usually gave the specific orders beyond the general commands of the king. They didn’t know who to turn to, now that their leader had been labeled a traitor. Lyolf sighed as he watched his mother and Wolfric head toward the main staircase. He wanted to know how his brother was doing, but first he must see to the arrangements.

  Another half hour saw to all the necessary preparations. Each knight knew where he was to go and what he was to say to the guards stationed at each gatehouse. Lyolf left them to pursue his own interests. He trudged up the stairs and down the hall to his brother’s room. A guard was stationed outside Féderic’s door again.

  “Sor’, my lord. No one’s ‘lowed to enter, save the king and queen, and Healer Fenrir.”

  Before Lyolf could respond, the door creaked open and his mother peaked her head out. “Let him in,” she ordered.

  The guard stepped aside and Lyolf joined her in the prince’s room. Féderic had been moved to his bed, though he was still lying on his stomach. The wound was still left open with a fresh coat of poultice smeared across it. The invalid was awake and turned his head to look at the newcomer.

  Lyolf tried to hide his shock as he looked into his brother’s sunken eyes. Like their mother, Féderic’s eyes had dark circles under them and his cheeks were sunken in, as though he had gone without food for days. His skin was as white as the snow littering the bailey and his pale lips were pulled down into a pain-filled grimace.

  “Hey, old man,” Féderic said in a voice roughened by the pain. “You look as bad as I feel.”

  Lyolf smiled. It was good to hear his brother joke.

  “Hey yourself.”

  Féderic grimaced again.

  “He just woke up,” explained his mother. “He has not had a chance to drink any of Fenrir’s tea, which should reduce the pain.”

  “Have we found them?” Fed asked through clenched teeth.

  Lyolf glanced at Wolfric, but the king was in a chair, his head resting in his hands in such a way that he could not see Lyolf. Therefore, Lyolf chose to answer truthfully. “No. They are not in the castle. We are still searching the city.”

  “I was a damn fool,” muttered Féderic.

  “Yes, you were,” said Lyolf before he could censure himself. To keep his mother or the king from responding to his ill-judged remark, he continued to speak. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I brought Bethany up here. We were… together. The next thing I knew, I felt a searing pain in my back and then it all went black. I can only assume it was Cal. The bastard! I never suspected his feelings for Bethany. I should have known…” Federic trailed off as his effusions caused his back to spasm.

  The attack left him covered in sweat. Arabelle knelt beside him, and began to clean the sweat from his face and neck. While their mother administered to his needs and did her best to soothe him, Wolfric rose from his seat and ushered Lyolf out of the room.

  They walked in silence until they had turned the corner and were beyond the hearing of the guard. Wolfric stopped in his tracks and looked at Lyolf until the younger man began to wonder if he had done something wrong. Out of years of habit, Lyolf began to think back to his recent activities, looking for something that his supposed father could find fault in.

  “I have to say, boy, you have done surprisingly well with this crisis.”

  “Then maybe you will afford me the respect I deserve,” snapped Lyolf.

  He bit his tongue, shocked and disgusted with himself. It was because he was so extremely tired that such a sudden, and inappropriate, speech had erupted from his lips. As expected, Wolfric frowned down at him.

  “You choose an interesting time to be impertinent.”

  “Since I have already ruined this special occasion,” he sneered, “I shall be sure to do it thoroughly and choose this time to inform you that I have decided to join the army.”

  “What do you mean ‘join the army?’ Princes don’t fight with the foot soldiers.”

  “Let’s stop pretending that I am a prince!” snapped Lyolf, exhaustion sending him over the edge of propriety. “I have work to do. You can find me at the main gate.”

  With this, Lyolf stormed off, too shocked with himself to think clearly. He hadn’t intended on making that announcement now. He hadn’t even completely decided on that course of action.

  Too late now, he thought as he ran down the steps and into the great hall.

  Bethany woke with a start, momentarily disoriented. The smell of horse hair and hay that emanated from her blanket and the hard, cold surface she slept on were foreign and confusing. In a sudden moment of clarity, she remembered the fire, the hours in the cell, and their daring escape. She sat up
right and looked around. Sir Caldry was not in the room, and Bethany didn’t know what she was expected to do. Finally, she decided to stay where she was. She used the time to attempt some sort of cleaning. She unplaited her hair, ran her fingers through it until her scalp hurt, and re-plaited it in a simple but tidy braid. She then used the dull sheet of metal behind the lamp to see her smudged face. With her fingers and her own spit, she got the worst of the grime off.

  As ridiculous as it seemed, she refused to be seen again by the whores looking like a vagabond.

  Moments after she finished her grooming, the door creaked open and the scarred knight entered with a bundle of clothing, which he tossed on the bed.

  “Put those on. They’ve re-opened the gates, and Lilah and I have come up with a plan to get us out.” With this simple statement, he closed the door.

  Bethany shook out the garments he had brought her and stared. They were not impressive. In one hand, she held a pair of thin trousers, both knees patched and the ends badly frayed. In the other was a lace-up tunic badly stained with someone else’s blood. Both garments smelled.

  The princess dropped them on the bed and went to the door. Sir Caldry was nowhere in sight. Instead of obeying, she sat on the bed, trying to ignore the smell. Long before she expected him to return, she heard a soft tap on the door.

  “Enter,” she said.

  The knight poked his head in and frowned when he noticed her still in the soiled dress.

  “Why haven’t you changed?” he growled.

  Bethany swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. She didn’t understand what was happening or what his plan might be. Bethany had spent too many horrid hours left in the proverbial dark, and now she refused to continue. She had to know his plan or she would start to cry again, and she was done with crying. Bethany lifted her head, using the manners her mother had taught her to hide just how frightened and confused she felt.