Maiden and the Monster

by Michelle M. Pillow

  From the top of the wall, he recognized Lord Luther’s banner at the back of the earl’s camp. It was possible that his wife’s former fiancé tracked her to his castle gate. At least in the alliance between the two men his wife spoke the truth. He was glad for the siege as it was an excuse to not face his treacherous wife so soon. The promise of a good fight always did something to lift a warrior’s mood, and he was still too enraged to deal with his little scheming duchess.

  After many moments the gate raised and an undersized man rode in. The soldier was poor, his woolen clothes hanging on his thin frame. As the man’s horse timidly approached, Vladamir smiled, for the man sent to him was actually a boy and a weak one at that. He could hardly keep astride his saddle. The page looked shakily about the manor before settling his eyes on the infamous Monster of Lakeshire.

  “You ask fer mercy?” his voice squeaked with his boyhood changing. The page slowly reined the horse in front of Vladamir and swallowed hard.

  “Nay, I do not. Tell your lord that I wish to know why he dares to lay siege to my castle. Tell him to face me like a man. I give my word that he’ll be escorted safely back, if he acts honorably,” Vladamir said in his darkest tone. He hid his laughter as the boy nodded and tore out of the castle. Minutes later, four more horses rode forward.

  Vladamir froze, keeping his expression a hard mask to hide his vengeful thoughts as he recognized Clifton. He would’ve known him even without the help of the white and blue banner that flew behind him on his soldier’s horse. The self-important man by the earl’s side could only be Luther.

  Vladamir raised his fists to his waist as he stared at the approaching men. To their credit they didn’t hesitate like the boy had, as they rode their mounts straight toward him. Two soldiers Vladamir didn’t know halted their stallions behind their leaders and held back as the nobles rode forward to confront him.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Vladamir narrowed his eyes but made no move to arm himself. He hadn’t bothered to carry his sword, knowing Clifton well. The earl wouldn’t attack an unarmed man, at least not in the presence of so many eyes. The duke smiled coldly as he saw that Clifton noticed his weaponless state.

  “Arm yourself. I have come to avenge the death of my daughter.” Clifton looked down the length of his nose from his horse, his bulky stature not the least bit intimidating to his opponent. What the earl lacked in height he made up for in width. His broad shoulders were tight with war-hardened muscles, but it wasn’t his physique that demanded obedience. It was his bearing.

  “Nay,” answered Vladamir, his expression giving nothing away as he grinned in pleasure.

  “Nay?” Lord Luther injected from the horse at Clifton’s side. “Are you a coward? Can you only harm defenseless women?”

  “Someday, I may ask you the same thing.” Vladamir dismissed the man with a turn of his head. “Come inside, m’lords. Let us discuss this problem in a more civilized fashion. At least in Northumbria that ‘tis how ‘tis done as you may well remember, Clifton.”

  Clifton stiffened at the overt reminder of his deeds. He gave a perplexed glance to his cohort before turning his attention once again to the duke. Clearing the phlegm from his throat, he came down from his horse. His feet landed in the dirt with a heavy thud as he nodded at the others to do the same. Two stable lads came forward to collect the reins.

  “Leave them saddled,” Clifton grumbled harshly to the lads. “We won’t be here long.”

  The towheaded boys nodded and led the horses to the stables where they could tend to them. As Vladamir walked he motioned to Raulf to follow. The man obeyed. Turning his head slightly, the duke said, “Raulf, inform the other men that we have guests. Tell them to make their presence known in the main hall, lest we are considered inhospitable and when they don’t care about hospitality, tell them there is mead for all.”

  Raulf laughed at the implication and did as ordered.

  “Mead,” bellowed Vladamir to a passing maid. He strode to the high table and sat down just in time to see Clifton and Luther slowly follow into the hall. The two soldiers with them came in but hung back by the door to stand in watch of an ambush.

  “What is the meaning of this, Vladamir?” Lord Luther roared from the entryway as he stormed into the hall. He looked suspiciously around the black keep. Noting the hall was empty, he continued forward. “We are here to demand justice. If we aren’t satisfied we will leave here and lay siege to Lakeshire until you and all within these walls are dead.”

  Vladamir scowled at the slender man’s tone. He’d never met Luther and was instantly thankful he wouldn’t be long in the offending man’s presence. The man looked arrogantly up at him from his towering height. A smirk lined Vladamir’s lips as he turned his eyes slowly away from the objectionable man to stare expectantly at the earl.

  Clifton hesitated, once again looking about the inside of the castle. Then, lifting his chin slightly, he smelled the air only to frown. He moved forward to the high table, telling Luther diplomatically as he passed him, “Quiet. We will drink and hear what the duke has to say.”

  Vladamir nodded to the maid who hesitated when she saw the angered men. She came forth and filled goblets with her wooden pitcher and quickly set the cups before the duke at the high table only to retreat.

  “I have killed no daughters,” Vladamir said without preamble as the men took their seats. He leaned lazily back in his chair and looked about as if bored. His ring finger tapped lightly on the chair’s wooden arm. Then as the men looked to him, he said, “I’d know by what right you lay siege to my castle, for ‘tis an act of war to do so. King Alfred and King Guthrum won’t be pleased by this.”

  Clifton threw a torn piece of cloth to the table. The scrap of wool was of fine quality, though it was soiled and ripped. It carried the same blue and white design of the earl’s banner. “We found this outside your castle wall. ‘Tis a crest from my daughter’s cloak.”

  Vladamir picked up the torn material and pretended to examine it closely. Blood stained it. Waving the piece of cloth in dismissal, he threw it back onto the tabletop. “What of it? The wind could’ve blown it there.”

  “‘Tis not likely Vladamir and you know it,” Luther interrupted. His large, thin frame shook with indignation. “I’ll have justice.”

  “Duke,” Vladamir stated simply with a frown. When Luther looked in confusion about the hall, he clarified in an irritating tone, “I’m now a duke and I have not given you leave to address me so informally, Lord Luther.”

  Luther swallowed hard, saying under his breath, “You’re a prisoner, naught more. I do not bow to foreign dogs.”

  “Luther,” Clifton growled. The man shut his mouth.

  “Now, my lord.” Vladamir turned to the earl. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, I have killed no man’s daughter. In truth I have killed no man since arriving in Wessex.”

  “I know she was here.” Clifton slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. “You cannot deny it.”

  Vladamir raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He took up his cup of mead and drank with a great show of leisure. Drawing the goblet away from his mouth, he spun the mead about in the cup to watch the swirl of dark amber liquid.

  “By all the saints, I can smell her mixture in the rushes. There is no other like it in the Kingdom of Wessex,” Clifton said with purpose. “You have killed my daughter.”

  “And why would I have done that? For scented rushes?” Vladamir laughed as he set down his goblet, letting his eyes glint with mischievous pleasure. “I care not what smells come from my hall.”

  “I know not why you would have cause to commit this grievance.” Clifton swallowed visibly at the expression Vladamir gave him. The earl was treading on dangerous ground and they both knew it.

  “I would be careful if I were you, Clifton,” returned Vladamir darkly. He scratched the corner of his lip with his fingernail. Then, pulling his finger into his line of sight, he studied his nail by running his thumb over the ti
p. “I’m sure there are things you wish never to be said.”

  The earl gulped at the nebulously spoken words. The color drained from his face.

  “Enough of this banter!” Lord Luther crowed. He picked up the scrap of material and flipped it over. Pointing at a bloodstain on the back of the cloth, he raged, “Lady Eden was to be my wife. You have killed her. All the evidence points to it. I’ll have my revenge against you for it. I challenge you—”

  “Silence,” Clifton yelled with a quieting slash of his hand. He frowned at the man’s hasty actions. Trying to talk in a reasonable tone, he said under his breath, “Don’t act with such haste, Luther.”

  Vladamir dropped his hand to the arm on his chair and glared at the men in annoyance. He narrowed his eyes as they quarreled in hushed whispers.

  Finally, Luther stood and made a move to leave. “Come, Clifton, let us go. There’s no reasoning with the Monster of Lakeshire.”

  “Wait.” Vladamir’s tone was nowhere near a plea, but more like a restrained command. A lazy smile curled his lips as he saw the earl’s flustered expression.

  “What have you done with her, you monster?” Slamming his untouched mead on the table, Clifton stood up as the brown drink splashed over his hand and spilled from the overturned cup to the floor. He hit the table twice with his flattened palm. “Tell me.”

  Vladamir didn’t know what the earl and his lackey were up to and he still wasn’t sure of Eden’s involvement in it, but he would watch their game and find out. The duke glanced at the stairwell, a smirk curving his hard mouth. Eden had just rushed down. Her gaze flew about the main hall in search of her father and Lord Luther. She’d changed her gown to a simpler one. It was of an earthen brown, a few shades deeper than her hair. Vladamir wondered absently where she had gotten it, only to assume it was borrowed from one of the maids.

  At the same moment of his wife’s timely arrival, the duke’s men filed into the hall. Their hushed voices broke into the silence. The tables hadn’t been set up for the morning meal, for it was still early in the day for eating, and a couple of the men grabbed them as others took up the benches. In no time they were ready for drinking. With lazy yawns and tired eyes they turned their watchful gazes forward to see what warranted mead so early in the day.

  Raulf led Lizbeth into the main hall, whispering into her ear. The maid blushed as she gazed across the hall to the angry men at the head table. Seeing the duke, she frowned, but nodded to Raulf in agreement as she did so. Then, scurrying off to the kitchen, she left.

  The two unwelcome guests followed the duke’s unwavering stare to his wife. Clifton gasped in shock when his daughter walked toward him. Her head was bent piously to her feet, though her walk was too fast to be considered solemn.

  “By all the saints!” Clifton made the sign of the cross over his chest. “It cannot be so. I was sure she was dead.”

  “Father,” Eden stated simply, though the shaking in her voice belied her lack of confidence. She moved her hand to pat down her hair, though the tresses didn’t need straightening. “How is it you’re here?”

  Vladamir watched the interplay with practiced indifference, though he noted every detail of the exchange. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his injured foot to fall across his knee. The scratch on his arch throbbed in mild irritation.

  “I’m here to avenge you.” Clifton leapt down from the high table in two big steps. Holding his sword steady at his side, he strode forward to his daughter. Eden cringed slightly at his advance.

  “Avenge me?” Eden inquired demurely. She looked overly modest as she eyed the ground at her feet. Trembling, she flexed her fingers slightly at her sides.

  “Yea, tell me child. What has this monster done to you?” Clifton demanded loudly, obviously hoping his daughter would denounce the man in front of the Saxon soldiers. He moved his hand to clasp her shoulder and squeezed it hard in warning. Dragging her by her shoulder, he brought her to stand before Vladamir. The earl held his daughter away from him, not showing any fatherly concern for her safety. When she didn’t answer, he jerked her by the arm as he directed her gaze to the duke. “Speak, Eden. Tell what the monster did.”

  “Monster?” Eden squeaked. Vladamir hid his amused chuckle. She pretended to look around the silent hall. Patting her hair to her head, she didn’t appear to notice the rough handling of her father.

  “Don’t play daft child, lest I be tempted to beat you,” the earl snarled. He raised his hand as a threat and then lowered it slowly back to his side. Stopping in his tirade to study her gown, the man frowned.

  “But…?” Eden tried to feign innocence. She once again refused to look directly at the duke. Her body jolted as her father once more shoved her forward.

  “You look like a servant,” Lord Luther spat as he came up from behind her father. He narrowed his eyes in a display of intimidation so the older man couldn’t see. When he spoke, his words were low and distinct. “What has he done to you?”

  “He has done naught to me, Father,” Eden stated simply, ignoring Luther. The earl dropped her arm in surprise. She took a step back from the angry men, glancing to her husband for help. Vladamir stood, but he didn’t come to her rescue. “Naught that would be construed as dishonorable. He has treated me well.”

  “Then you’re still pure,” her father assumed in relief. “Good. We leave at once. You’re to wed with Lord Luther tonight. There will be no more waiting. I’ll have my alliance.”

  “Nay.” Eden clutched her fingers together as she turned her pleading expression to Vladamir for assistance. He stood unmoving, determined to see this game through.

  What are you doing? Tell them. Say something. Say anything.

  Eden studied Vladamir in disbelief. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

  “I said move,” Clifton yelled in outrage. He yanked her arm and threw her toward the door. “You have caused me enough grief, child.”

  Eden stumbled but didn’t fall, her feet skidding heavily in the rushes. The duke’s knights frowned in disapproval but didn’t stand to give her aid. One of them took a knife from his boot and laid it on the table. The men watched Vladamir for any signal that they were to fight but Vladamir held still.

  The earl turned to glare at the duke, not waiting to see if his daughter obeyed him. “Thank you for looking after her, m’lord. I shall take her and go, but if I find you have harmed her I’ll be back with the king’s armies behind me.”

  “Nay, Father, I cannot marry Lord Luther tonight.” Eden moved forward to stand between her father and her husband. With Vladamir near her, she found the confidence to defy her father yet again. Her shoulder ached where he pulled at her and she rubbed the offending muscle gingerly. She glanced around the immobile crowd, pleading silently for assistance. No one moved.

  “You insolent wench,” Clifton shouted, not bothering to hide his mounting wrath. “You’ll do as you’re told. ‘Tis not your decision to make. You’re lucky Luther would still have you after all that you have done—running away like you did. I raised you to be a lady, his lady wife, and that is what you’ll be. Tonight.”

  “Yea, Father, ‘tis my decision. I won’t marry him. You don’t know what he has done.” Eden wanted desperately to explain the type of man Luther was. She wanted to make her father understand that it was his choice in suitor who was the true monster. Her mouth opened, ready to explain what type of treachery Luther had been up to, ready to tell him what happened to Lynne.

  Luther stepped forward, looking as if he might protest. His mouth opened at the same time Eden’s did. They were both silenced when Clifton raised his hand. With a heavy-handed swing, he struck her across the face with the back of his fist. She went sprawling into the rushes, straw flying into the air to land gently atop her. Blood trickled from her nose and pain radiated from her face. Tears entered her eyes as she glanced up to look at the men. Luther’s frown turned into a pleased smile as the two men stood over her with their arms crossed over t
heir chests. Her body shook. Luther’s face lit in delight and Clifton’s fell in grim determination. When she didn’t move, Clifton turned to his men.

  “Take her to the camp,” Clifton ordered as he motioned to his fallen daughter. “Come, Luther, let us make an end of this.”

  Chapter Eight

  Vladamir was surprised that the man had actually gone so far as to strike his daughter in front of witnesses. Until that moment he thought their interchange was a play put on for his benefit. He watched Eden fall as if in slow motion. Her head snapped back on her neck, the sound of the man’s fist against her face was too loud and too real. Blood trickled from her mouth and nose from the impact. The second his wife hit the ground he sprung forward with a lethal force. Leaping down the platform, he drew back his arm and punched the unsuspecting Clifton on the chin.

  “You will keep your hands off my wife,” Vladamir fumed. The older man tumbled back but didn’t fall. Luther’s mouth dropped open in wide-eyed outrage, but he took a step back. The duke moved to stand in front of his wife, blocking her from their view. “Lest the next time you touch my property it will be your last.”

  “Your wife?” Luther asked with a toss of his blond hair. “Nay, she is my fiancée. You have no right to make such a claim. Clifton, say something.”

  “Nay, she was your fiancée. She is my wife,” Vladamir responded in his most reasonable tone. He heard Eden stand up behind him. Taking a deft step to the side, he kept them all within his sight.

  “Eden?” Clifton questioned in disbelief. He turned his round eyes to his daughter, willing her to deny the duke’s claim. “‘Tis true? Did you bind yourself to this monster willingly?”

  “Don’t call him a monster. You’re the monster, Father. You and Luther.” Eden quickly dusted her skirts, noting a tear on the side where it had scraped against stone. Her nose bled profusely from his blow and she swiped her hand across it with a jerk, getting blood on the sleeve of the tunic. “Yea, I’m his wife and willingly so.”