Maiden and the Monster

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Do as I command!” Vladamir insisted in a low growl. Even as he did so, he saw the knights that manned the wall look over the girl with curious stares. He heard their whispering as it drifted down, though he couldn’t make out their hasty words. He didn’t need to. The woman was more than likely a Saxon wench and they would wish to know whom, for none in the manor were missing. If she was dead, there was nothing he could do for her. He didn’t need this headache. His life was stressed enough.

  Through his irritation, Vladamir saw hesitation on the older man’s face and quieted his tone to a logical murmur. “Is she dead?”

  “I know not, m’lord.” Ulric leaned to touch the girl and then turned back to his lordship. “She is not responding.”

  Vladamir tried to control his exasperation and repeated his original command, intentionally raising his voice to quiet the knights on the wall. His harsh accent made his words all the more lethal as he ground out, “Then she is dead. Burn her. I won’t have her corpse carrying disease to the manor.”

  Ulric looked to him, searching the duke’s face for a sign of compassion. Vladamir didn’t give him one, refusing to be stirred to pity. It was easier to be feared than loved. It was easier to be dead inside than to feel.

  Sighing heavily, the servant crouched over the girl. The duke stepped to the side, getting a better look at her. She was young and it was clear she’d been beaten. Her clothes were torn and her hair was matted with dirt and possibly blood.

  Ulric yelled over his shoulder, loud enough to make sure the watching knights also heard his reply, “Nay, methinks she takes breath. She is not dead, merely insensible.”

  The duke frowned, knowing the servant hoped he wouldn’t dare to leave a Saxon girl for dead, especially with so many soldiers to bear witness. If it had been a decade earlier, Vladamir would’ve carried the injured maiden into the castle to care for her. He’d have tended to her wounds, oversaw the physicians, stayed by her side until she was better. But the time was now and the duke would never allow himself to care like that again. Life had taught him some hard lessons.

  Rubbing his brow, he then ran his fingers through the long locks of his tangled hair to brush it from his eyes. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and didn’t answer the servant. Scowling, he willed the maiden to disappear. He didn’t want her in his home.

  “Would you like me to leave her afore yer gate to rot? Or would you like to bring her in?” Ulric stood up and boldly matched his lord’s stare, his thick jowls quivering in irritation.

  Vladamir didn’t like his servant’s impudent tone and the man’s sarcasm didn’t go unobserved. He gritted his teeth as he asked with a sullen glimmer of hope, “Is she near death?”

  “I know not.” The servant once again turned from his overlord back to the pitiful girl. Thunder stuck in the horizon, beating its violent rhythm across the purple sky. The man pulled another carcass from her and tossed it aside.

  “Check her.” Vladamir purposefully sounded bored as he sheathed his sword. Anger was the easiest of all emotions and he clung to it. His gut tightened and he raised his eyes briefly to the heavens as a droplet of rain fell across his nose. “Be quick, Ulric.”

  Ulric felt the girl’s pulse. “She has a good chance to recover if we move her indoors now.”

  Suspecting that the man might be lying, the duke paced in a frustrated circle, his hands fitted firmly at his waist. He rolled his neck until it cracked, debating the fate of the girl.

  Those who moved about the bailey made their way toward shelter. A small page ran close to Vladamir, a pack of mongrel dogs quick on his heels. The boy laughed as a particularly ugly gray dog tripped him about the legs and sent him sprawling to the ground at the duke’s feet. The page’s face became wrought with fear as he looked up from the ground. The duke growled at him and the boy scurried away from him as the rain fell harder, hammering the ground with its loud music.

  “It would appear she has been badly beaten,” Ulric said. “Methinks it would be wise to move her inside, out of the rain, lest she is not like to live through the night. I can have a chamber readied for her abovestairs if you wish.”

  No matter how badly he wanted to give the order to leave her outside, Vladamir couldn’t do it. He silently cursed himself for a fool and gave a self-depreciating laugh.

  So much for being a complete monster.

  “Yea,” Vladamir conceded reluctantly. He stopped his pacing and turned to go, intent on leaving Ulric to tend to the woman.

  “M’lord, wait.” Ulric’s urgent voice stopped him.

  “Yea?” Vladamir gripped the hilt of his sword.

  “M’lord, it would seem the maiden is a lady.”

  * * * * *

  “Who is she, Ulric? Why has she come? Methinks ‘tis a bad omen.” Vladamir paced over a quarter length of his main hall only to turn and walk back in agitation. He always paced when he was unnerved. His arms held strong to his sides and he moved with circular purpose, his feet not stopping in any one place.

  Who would leave a lady afore my door to die? Who would dare to conspire against me?

  Narrowing his eyes into slits, the duke impatiently brushed back his hair only to slash his hand through the air, striking his palm with a hard crack against a table.

  “M’lord doesn’t believe in omens,” Ulric said logically. The duke growled. Only after Vladamir had finished his small tirade, did the man continue, “So, ‘tis impossible fer her to be a bad one.”

  Vladamir grumbled in response and continued to pace. His feet crushed the matted rushes into the stone floor and he touched the knife at his waist.

  “I had Haldana look to her ladyship. It would appear she was badly beaten and it may take many days fer the wounds to heal. But Haldana is most hopeful in the recovery.” Ulric’s bemused statement wasn’t the one the duke sought. Sardonically, the man added, “With yer present generosity, m’lord, she should mend quite well.”

  Ladyship? This woman is no more a noble than you are, Ulric.

  Vladamir turned to glare at the impudent man. Sliding the knife swiftly from his belt, he flung it through the air, embedding the blade into a small knot of wood in a nearby table.

  Ulric looked unimpressed as he reached for the weapon. With a jerk, he pulled it from the wood and handed it back to his lordship. Vladamir took it without comment and sheathed it at his waist. If he hadn’t been in his service for so long, the duke might have considered turning Ulric out of the castle. But, instead, he tolerated the man’s careless smirk and paced once more.

  “It would also appear that m’lady has either fallen or has been carted in dung. Methinks it would be wise to question the peasants who work with the pigs,” Ulric advised. “I instructed that her ladyship should be bathed at once and a new garment sewn fer her.”

  “Nay, don’t waste time sewing for the intruder. Only mend the clothes she has brought with her,” Vladamir commanded with another aggravated slash of the hand.

  The duke thought of the odorous cloak she wore. As she was carted inside, he could tell the fine cut of the garment, though it was matted. He hadn’t wanted to get too close to her and so had refrained from intimate inspection—for not only had she fallen in pig dung, but she’d been covered with the rotted carcasses of gutted rabbits. The rabbits were set ablaze as soon as she was free of them. He imagined that he still detected her awful smell in the keep from when the knights carried her abovestairs.

  His voice was abnormally loud in the empty hall and he turned to glare at the servant. “‘Tis not my place, nor my desire, to care for her. As soon as she awakens, I want her gone. She has already outstayed her welcome.”

  “M’lord.” Ulric nodded, not liking the decision to turn the maiden out, but he wisely refused to press the issue.

  The servant was unimpressed by the great show of fury coming from the duke. He was well used to the nobleman’s moods by now. None who saw the nobleman would know he was unsettled as he paced the floor, for Vladamir appeared to
be and was accepted as, a ranting monster. But Ulric knew better. The nobleman might appear to be brooding in his ruthlessness, but really he was just scared of anything disrupting his angry world.

  “Argh!” the duke yelled in anger.

  Just then, Ulric noticed one of the Saxon maids entered the hall carrying a tray laden with goblets. Lizbeth was a beautiful child and so full of life, though she was very demure in her carriage. Her willowy frame swayed and she halted to a nervous stop. She diverted her round eyes from the tempest of straw and dust that his lordship kicked up from the floor in his frenzy. Taking a hurried step back, she disappeared into the kitchen clearly unaware that Ulric had seen her hastened retreat.

  Ulric shook his head in pity, hating the way the people of Lakeshire feared the duke. Most of the time, the servants tiptoed around him, endeavoring to accomplish their duties when he wasn’t present. Like Lizbeth, trying to set the high table for the morning meal while the duke was supposed to be out of the castle.

  Ulric knew all the whispers, knew that Vladamir earned those whispers because he had an exalted temperament. Just as he realized that if the duke would stop in his self-pity, he would grow to be an even greater leader. Ulric had become used to his overlord’s ways in his many years of loyal service. Just as Vladamir was now feared, Ulric also knew it hadn’t always been so. There had been a time when the duke had been quite charming in his ways, but those times were gone forever, and in the charming man’s wake was a self-proclaimed monster.

  Ulric shook his head, drawing his eyes away from where the maid retreated into the shadowed kitchen. He returned his attention to the discussion at hand.

  “Who is she?” the duke demanded. “Do you not recognize the crest on her cloak?”

  Ulric was happy Lord Kessen conceded to letting the woman stay long enough to recover, knowing he could deal with Vladamir’s desire to banish her from the castle when the time arrived. Instead, he was more alarmed that the duke acted so merciless in public view, though none were there to witness the tirade. Seeing his lordship desired an answer, Ulric sighed.

  “I know not, m’lord. The crest has been torn from her cloak. I cannot see what family she is from.” Hiding the mischievous glint in his expression, the servant added, “It would appear m’lady is quite beautiful.”

  “With welts on her bloodied face?” Vladamir asked, his brow rising to a severe arch, before he waved a dismissing hand. Then, stopping in his restless pacing, the duke took several steps forward so he could face the manservant. “I care not what the lady looks like. I would that she was dead so I could burn her and the offending smell she brings with her.”

  “M’lord.” Ulric nodded again in understanding. He easily dismissed the scathing look directed him and concealed his smile.

  “Mayhap her garments are torn because she is a thief. She stole the cloak from a noblewoman she did to death. Ealdorman Baudoin, the incompetent goat, will no doubt commission the Witan and blame us for giving her aid. No doubt Alfred’s fyrd will hang us next to her in the gallows.” Vladamir’s look scathed in its intensity as he narrowed his eyes, appearing to contemplate his actions. “I have changed my mind, take her to the countryside and leave her. We have done our best by her.”

  “That would be murder. She couldn’t survive unattended in the country,” Ulric protested in the reasonable tone he knew aggravated his lord. He wouldn’t be bullied to anger or driven into fear and had no intention of following the cruel decree given him.

  “Very well,” Vladamir conceded with an aggravated sound of contempt. He gave Ulric a vicious growl before his mouth curled in a mischievous grimace. “Give her food and water. Then take her to the country and drop her off at some cotter’s hut. Let someone else take care of her. I won’t have a murderous thief in this keep. I have no wish to be involved.”

  “Have you thought that, perchance, m’lady is the victimized noblewoman? Would you have her point the king’s gauntlet at you fer not helping her? Would you dare to bring the wrath of Alfred on our heads? And fer what? The paltry cost of a little meat and ale? The insignificant time it takes Haldana to look in on her? ‘Tis not as if you need to be bothered with her care. You have no need of even seeing her.” Ulric smiled as he saw he had his lord’s attention. He scratched his balding head before turning an audacious look to the taller man. “Mayhap, m’lady is innocent.”

  The comment received the wrathful snarl Ulric expected. He flinched at the pain that flickered over the duke’s face. However, the emotion was so brief that Ulric wondered if he’d witnessed it at all. Over the years, Vladamir’s emotions had shown less and less, until the servant was left with only an impression of the deeply seated pain he knew to reside within the duke.

  “No woman is innocent, especially not one of noble breeding. ‘Tis not in their devious natures. Methinks the treachery they are capable of must far surpass that of a man,” Vladamir stated. His eyes appeared to turn a supernatural black in his rage and his voice crackled in its low tonality. As his chest heaved, he continued under his breath, “If she is not guilty of murder she is guilty of something. All women are. Mayhap, ‘tis why she was banished to die.”

  “Perchance this one is innocent,” Ulric persisted, softening his tone. “Besides, would you dare to anger King Alfred while we are living in his land on his good graces? You should at least find out who she is afore you sentence her to death. Mayhap the king will reward you fer yer chivalrous deeds.”

  “More reward than this?” Vladamir snorted as he lifted his hand to encompass the main hall of Lakeshire Castle. He swept his fingers past the line of his vision to move over the dusty black stone of the wall and the dirty straw rushes of the floor. The hall was undusted and unkempt, just like Vladamir ordered it to remain. “Methinks I don’t wish for more reward from the king. The empty title and foreign land, ‘tis enough while I reside peaceably in Wessex and await the war that is sure to come.”

  Ulric gave a wry laugh and tried to hide his disappointment in the duke’s attitude, but the man’s disposition was getting harder and harder to put up with. “These times of rest cannot last forever. The killing will soon start again. And then, perchance, you can find yer own peace as you bloody yer sword with the Anglo-Saxons’ fluids. Never mind that you have lived amongst them fer a year.”

  “Yea, soon we will be fighting our way back to the border or dying in the try.” Vladamir smiled at the prospect. Ulric grimaced. The duke didn’t notice. “Though, I don’t care much for going back. What says you? Shall we head south instead and join the Franks or even the Moors? Do you think Guthrum will notice if we were to leave tonight?”

  “Yea, if his peace treaty is broken because King Alfred’s most prestigious hostage disappears, methinks he might take note.” Ulric shook his head in denial. “I won’t be the cause of war.”

  “Yea, but I must be the peace of it,” Vladamir grumbled in anger. The duke had said on many occasions that anything would be better than wasting away in a place he had no liking for. Pointing his finger at Ulric, Vladamir asked, “Do you think it would matter if one of the other hostages disappeared? Methinks the kings wouldn’t even take notice. By hell’s fire, the others are probably returned home as we speak.”

  “‘Tis no one’s fault but yer own that you are here. You asked to be sent as a prisoner. ‘Tis a prison of yer own making.” Ulric had little sympathy as he reminded the duke of their situation. Vladamir flung his hand with a sound of annoyance. Unlike Ulric and some of the others who felt they had no choice but to come to the foreign land, Vladamir had been given an option. Albeit, a narrow one. “You made yer deal with the king, now ‘tis you who must live with it and the responsibility it bears. And if that responsibility means you are to reside here in peace, then ‘tis what you’ll do.”

  “Argh!” Vladamir fumed as he again pointed a long fingernail in the manservant’s direction. His eyes darkened and shot out with a vaporous light. Snarling, the duke’s face contorted into that of a great beast. For a lon
g moment he didn’t move from his pose. Then, whipping his finger back toward his chest, he said, “Fine. She can stay. But you mind after her care and alert me as soon as she awakens or when she is dead. I don’t wish to be bothered with her afore that time.”

  “Yea, m’lord.” Ulric hid his smile by scratching his whiskered chin. He took a deep breath, pleased with the small victory.

  “And clean her up. I won’t have her filling the manor with her stench.” Vladamir’s voice crackled through the air as he glared at the stairwell.

  “Yea, m’lord as you wish.” Ulric bowed, wiping his sleeve over his forehead.

  “Nay, if ‘twas as I wished it, she wouldn’t be here at all.” Vladamir stormed from the room, only to bark over his shoulder, “I go back to my exercise.”

  “But, m’lord, the storm,” Ulric called after him. It was too late. A blanket of rain emerged behind the duke as he passed through the open doorway. Within a blink, Vladamir disappeared into the thundering morning air.

  Ulric’s smile didn’t fade as he turned to the stairwell. His steps were light as he made his way up the narrow stairs to the maiden’s chamber. The ring of keys on his belt clanked a merry tune with each bounce. It had been a long time since he’d seen Vladamir unsettled and the old seneschal knew that the duke was well overdue.

  * * * * *

  “So m’lord is letting the poor child stay?” Haldana asked when Ulric came to the dingy chamber to check on their guest. Graying red hair sprouted about her head in short curls that bounced with her every vigorous movement. “Can we move her from this chamber to a more suitable bed?”

  “Yea, Haldana, she can stay.” Ulric smiled sadly, ignoring her last question as he leaned to give the woman a brief, affectionate kiss on the cheek. Going to the narrow window slit in the wall, he watched as lightning illuminated the sky. Ulric saw the duke’s silhouette clearly. Vladamir slashed his sword through the air as the rain assaulted his clothes. The nobleman viciously fought against an imaginary creature in exercise. With a wry shake of his head, Ulric knew it to be more like a demon from the past that his lordship sparred with. Sadly, he knew in the end the demon would win. “I told you he would let her.”