CHAPTER FOUR
Josephine was jolted from a sound sleep by someone pounding on her door. As Josephine rolled over and sleepily sat up, Ola rushed from her pallet in the alcove and unlatched the door. Sully burst in, dressed to the hilt in chainmail and leather, with his helm underneath one arm.
“An army approaches, my lady,” he said quickly.
Instantly, Josephine was awake, her green eyes wide with fear. “At night?” she gasped. “But the Dalmellingtons have never attacked us at night. The wall and the gate are not even…!”
He cut her off. “My lady, the army is far larger than the Dalmellington force,” he told her. “I believe it is The Red Fury.”
“God’s Toes!” Josephine exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Why did you not say so to begin with? I will greet him in the Knight’s Haven. Go, Sully, go!”
Sully saluted her and was gone, with Severn at his heels. Severn, quiet and thoughtful, was usually the one to shadow Sully on his rounds. When the door closed, Josephine ripped the nightshift over her head and went to the dressing table where Ola was preparing a quick toilette.
“Sweet Jesus, Ola,” she exclaimed softly as her maid splashed rose water on her face, cold with the night’s chill. “He actually came… and so soon.”
Ola nodded in silence as her mistress rattled on. It was obvious that Josephine was greatly relieved, but was very anxious about the mercenaries themselves. What kind of man was a mercenary? She wondered. And she was wildly curious about The Red Fury himself. She imagined him to be huge and grizzled with a halo of wild orange hair. Why else would they call him “The Red Fury”?
She was soon about to find out.
There was a sense of apprehension in the air as Josephine dressed to receive the mercenary she hoped would save her castle and her people. She was dressed in a gown of garnet-colored wool. Her long, silken hair was left loose and free, and was curled gently down her back. Taking a last passing look at herself in the mirror, Josephine headed out the door, leaving Ola standing nervously by the dressing table. The little maid worried for her mistress and the negotiations that were about to take place.
But Josephine would not be alone as she faced the fearsome mercenary. Justine stood by the top of the darkened stairwell, dressed in what looked like a black bedsheet. Her brown hair was pulled severely back, making her blue eyes look large. When she saw Josephine approach, she went to meet her.
“I have read the cards, Joey, and I do not like what I see,” she said.
The greeting that had been on Josephine’s lips disappeared, and she rolled her eyes at her sister, pushing past her.
“I do not have time for this, Justine,” she said.
“Wait!” Justine grabbed her sister’s arm. “You must listen to me. I fear that The Red Fury will destroy you. I spread seven cards in an arch, beseeching them for guidance in your present and future. The first card, Eight Swords and a Maiden, was correct in its description of your past grief. The second was Seven Swords, indicating your determination and hope for the future.”
Josephine jerked her arm away from her sister. “Cease,” she hissed. “I do not believe in your ridiculous cards.”
Justine followed her sister down the stairs and ignored her protests. “The third card was the Queen of Swords, telling your future of womanly sorrow, need, and separation,” she said. “The fourth card…”
Josephine whirled around when she reached the bottom of the stairs, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Justine, I do not believe in your charlatan fortune-telling,” she spat. “I have enough on my mind without your insane babbling.”
Justine was stubborn; she pretended not to hear her. “The fourth card was the Knight of Swords, indicating courage and war and defense; possibly destruction and ruin,” she said quickly as she followed her sister across the foyer. She felt a true sense of duty to tell her sister what her cards had foretold, whether or not Josephine believed in them. “The fifth card was the Three of Swords and tells me that you will have a happy relationship with someone, yet it indicates the presence of a third person, but does not necessarily threaten the happy relationship.”
Josephine was truly at a loss as to how to shut her sister up at this point. “My only confusion is to why I have not cut your tongue out prior to this moment,” she growled as they crossed through the great hall. “I may yet if you do not shut your yap.”
Justine was not deterred. “My puzzlement, however, comes from the sixth card,” she continued urgently. “It was the inverted Four of Swords, and indicates wisdom and prudence. I do not understand it.”
Josephine stopped one final time and turned to her sister with controlled anger.
“And I do not understand you,” she hissed. “I have told you to cease your insane chatter, yet you soundly ignore me. Have you gone deaf, Justine? I have no time for you. I am trying to save Torridon!”
With that, she turned away and headed for the Knight’s Haven, moving as quickly as she could without running, but Justine gave chase. She wasn’t about to let her sister get away.
“And I am trying to save you,” Justine said grimly. “For the seventh card, the card of Prophecy was the King of Swords. The decisions and power over your own life do not rest in your hands, Josephine de Carron. Crosswise over it lay the Ace of Swords. That denotes extreme love or hate. It is the most powerful card.”
Josephine heard every word her sister said but ignored her as she marched into the Knight’s Haven. There were a few servants milling about, lighting torches and setting out bread and wine. The room was soon bathed in a yellow glow as Josephine took her seat at the head of the table, completely ignoring Justine as the woman lingered near the door before finally turning away and disappearing. A servant poured her a cup of wine and she took a healthy gulp. She was not too proud to admit she was nervous, but she’d be damned if she let on to The Red Fury. She sat back in her chair with her eyes fixed on the doorway, waiting. She fleetingly wondered why Justine had not followed her in, but was relieved she hadn’t. She’d had enough of her sister for the night.
Best appear calm and in control from the very first, she told herself. I shall inspect him when he enters and let him see that I do not fear him or his lusty reputation. Then let the negotiations begin! She sat a little straighter, perhaps a bit more confident with herself. But in the back of her mind, she prayed that Sully would do the bulk of the speaking. Her confidence and experience did not encompass negotiating with soldiers of fortune.
It was not long before she heard voices and footsteps approaching. There were the hard, sharp clicks of war boots on the cold stone and, suddenly, the doorway was filled with her knights, dressed for battle. Her knights. They fanned out into the room, with their shadows dancing eerily on the walls as they took their traditional seats at the table. They acknowledged her with a grin or a nod, and she nodded coolly, her eyes not missing anything.
Soon, men she didn’t recognize entered the room and were told to sit in the chairs that were placed away from the table, against the wall. They looked older and, perhaps, more rugged than her own knights. She eyed them; there was something earthy and different about them, something she couldn’t put her finger on. But just the sight of them set her confidence back a notch or two.
Where in the hell was Sully?
Josephine focused on the doorway feeling great anticipation. Had she not been so caught up in the heat of the moment, waiting for Sully to appear, she would have realized that every mercenary solider in the room was eyeing her as if she were the most delectable morsel.
Yet, she saw nothing but the doorway. With each passing second, the anxiety grew, and she soon reached the point where all she wanted to do was stand up and scream away her apprehension. But she continued to sit, swathed in garnet wool in a room full of both familiar and unfamiliar knights, and waited for what was to come.
The Red Fury.
*
Andrew had been mildly surprised as Torridon Castle loomed into view.
It was an incredibly massive structure, rising several stories above the moor upon which it sat. The outer bailey wall was exceedingly tall as well. But the closer they got, they could see chunks missing from the wall and men working on the gates in the light of a thousand torches. It gave the appearance of a busy hive of activity, for as they drew closer, they could see the wall lined with archers and a line of foot soldiers around the wall’s perimeter.
Yet one thing with this picture was painfully plain – Torridon was obviously low on manpower. The commotion inside both baileys was relatively low because everyone who could use a sword or shoot straight was on the perimeter.
Knowing that they would be skittish, Andrew halted his humongous army about a quarter of a mile away and rode the rest of the way with Thane, a couple of pages, six men, and another of his generals, a big German by the name of Hans d’Aurilliac. They came storming up to the broken gates with the hooves of their large destriers throwing mud and rocks as they pulled the horses to an uneven halt.
“I am Andrew d’Vant!” he called out. “We are expected!”
One of the knights at the demolished main gate looked at him with a sneer. “Who?”
Andrew cocked and eyebrow. “Tell your liege that The Red Fury has arrived.”
The knight’s eyes went wide with recognition and he yelled to one of the men, who immediately dropped what he was doing and took off at a dead run. The knight turned back to Andrew.
“My name is Simon,” the knight said, far more politely. He was an older man with receding gray hair. “Follow me into the bailey.”
They did. Except for a few men running here and there, it was quiet at this hour. Andrew and his men dismounted, with the two pages remaining behind to hold the horses while the rest of the men entered the inner bailey. There was a feeling of trepidation as they did so, feeling the stares of uncertainty from those around them, but they continued on. Not that they blamed those who were feeling trepidation at the sight of strangers; with the state of the castle, it was clear they’d been pounded and pounded yet again. Men under such stress had every right to be suspicious.
But the knight leading them into the inner bailey wasn’t uncertain. In fact, he seemed more than eager to assist them. Once inside the inner ward, Simon was joined by eight more knights, all seasoned men in well-used armor and protection. Simon briefly introduced each of the knights, but introduced Andrew as The Red Fury and not as Andrew d’Vant. Andrew chuckled inwardly as he wondered if any of them believed that it was his birth name.
The Red Fury was a much bigger name than Andrew d’Vant, a somewhat unspectacular name.
And it was the name, The Red Fury, that made the biggest impact. Once introductions were complete, they were about to head to the enormous keep when the massive oaken doors swung open, purging two men from the innards. Both were dressed in full battle gear, with helms underneath their arms. The man slightly in front of the other was of average height; older than Andrew, with his square jaw set grimly. The second man was big and was very blond, with sharp and intelligent features. They approached with force, yet their eyes were guarded as they regarded Andrew, whose expression was one of self-assurance and slight impatience.
“I am Sir Sully Montgomery,” Sully said. “You are The Red Fury, I assume?”
Andrew nodded coolly. “Andrew d’Vant,” he replied. “Your message was received.”
“Five thousand marks to defend Torridon until you are no longer needed,” Sully said, eyeing the man. “The amount is acceptable?”
“It was enough to bring me here,” he answered steadily. “But I do not discuss monetary amounts or contract terms out in the open air. We will proceed inside and accomplish the task.”
There was something about the way he spoke that made Sully want to comply immediately. Andrew d’Vant had a natural command ability that caused men to do his bidding. But he caught himself and felt a wave of anger wash over him. No one gave him commands inside the walls of his own fortress!
“Of course,” Sully replied, very controlled. “But first, tell me how many men have you brought with you.”
He was attempting to gain the upper hand in the already rapidly escalating negotiation, with a man who had already given him a command. But if Andrew sensed the competition already, he didn’t let on. His gaze lingered on Sully.
“Nine hundred and ninety-six,” he replied.
Sully acknowledged the number with a nod of his head, intently studying d’Vant just as he was being studied in return. It was the expression of men who were sizing one another up, trying to determine who was the most dominant.
So this is The Red Fury? Sully thought to himself. Somehow, he pictured a huge, violent red-haired man just one notch back on the evolutionary ladder. But this man was tall, evenly groomed, and intelligent-looking. His hair was a reddish-brown, reflecting in the torch light. He was very strong and capable-looking but, in truth, Sully couldn’t see why they called him “The Red Fury”.
But then again, he had yet to see the man fight.
“Your fortress looks in shambles,” Andrew said after a moment’s silence.
“You noticed,” Sully said dryly. “Considering what we have been through, it is little wonder the entire structure is not razed.”
Andrew’s gaze moved along the top of the inner wall, with great soot marks from flaming projectiles. “I had no idea that the Dalmellington army was so formidable,” he said.
Sully shook his head, beginning to relax just a little now that the initial inspection phase was over and the conversation had begun.
“In truth, they are not,” he said. “But constant barrages, week after week, for the past year have taken their toll. And we lose men, which makes holding the fortress harder and harder. Even our mistress has taken up arms to help defend it.”
Andrew’s eyebrows rose lazily. “Only one mistress? I thought there were two?”
“There are,” Sully replied. “Lady Josephine chooses to fight, while Lady Justine hunches over a crystal ball in hopes of conjuring up dark powers to defeat the Dalmellington army.”
He’d said it before he could catch himself. Why was he telling a perfect stranger this? The Red Fury will believe both women are as crazy as birds! But as he looked at Andrew with some chagrin, he caught a twinkle of amusement in the man’s eyes.
“Has it worked yet?” he asked.
“Has what worked yet?”
“The crystal ball,” Andrew said, as he shifted on his big legs. “Have the dark powers converged to beat back the Dalmellingtons?”
Did he sense… humor? Sully was surprised at one with such a fierce reputation having room for a joke. But the corner of his mouth twitched as he replied.
“I do not know,” he said. “But you have come, have you not?”
Andrew grinned. He might possibly like this man, Sully. “God’s Bones!” he exclaimed. “Do you mean to say the rumors are true? That I am spawned from the bowels of hell?
Sully’s face lit up with a reluctant smile. “Crystal balls do not lie,” he said. “Only hell’s powers feed it.”
“I would accept that as reasonable,” Andrew conceded.
Before Sully realized what was happening, he felt himself warming to this professional soldier. Sully, who was always on his guard and was always coolly detached, rarely warmed to anyone. He would have to be aware of that in the future, for this man had a manner that could disarm Lucifer. Negotiating terms of contracts were not going to be easy for Josephine.
… Josephine!
God in heaven, she was probably in the Knight’s Haven right now wondering where in the hell they were.
“Come,” Sully motioned to them and turned to go inside. “My mistress awaits you.”
With that, everyone turned for the keep and the Torridon knights preceded Sully and Andrew into the dimly lit castle. Sully and Andrew walked side-by-side as they marched into the cold foyer, a faintly dank smell assaulting their nostrils. Andrew glanced about him with some interest, noting the old but rich tapestries that lined the foyer, the furnishings that were costly and fine.
Off of the foyer was a corridor that they passed into, and at the end of the corridor was a wide, yawning cavern of a chamber. It smelled heavily of smoke and dogs. Down at the opposite end, however, he could see an arched doorway cut into the wall and a warm light emitting from it. As he and Sully walked towards it, Andrew spoke.
“Then it is true that Torridon has no master.” It was not a question.
Sully shook his head. “True – no male heir,” Sully concurred. “But there are two mistresses, daughters of the earl, and you are about to meet the eldest, Lady Josephine. She is the Countess of Ayr in the wake of her father’s death and commands Torridon quite capably.”
“She was permitted to inherit the earldom?”
“Aye. She was granted the succession.”
Andrew nodded, satisfied with the answer. It was at that point that they entered through the brightly lit doorway.
The room was long and narrow, and was lined by flaming torches on either side. Andrew noted that the knights of Torridon were seated, while his men either stood or sat along the wall. He noticed Thane against the wall up by the head of the table, and was aware of a strange expression on his friend’s face as he looked at the figure seated at the head of the table. Also near the head of the table, Sully indicated a chair to Andrew and, as he took it, he happened to look to the woman at the head of the table as he sat.
It was the most beautiful woman in Scotland.
*
Josephine saw him enter the room with Sully.
It was hard to miss him, for he was tall and muscular, and his rich auburn hair caught the firelight as he walked. With his proud stance and potent presence, it could be none other than The Red Fury himself. Initially, she was surprised that he wasn’t a hideous ogre. Quite the contrary, she realized, as he drew closer.
As the man took a seat, all she could do was stare, hoping her shock wasn’t too obvious. And she had to concentrate to keep her mouth from gaping open. Never in this life had she seen a man as beautiful as The Red Fury. As he sat, their eyes met and, for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. She felt her cheeks grow warm as his brown eyes were riveted to her, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to tear her gaze away from him. She didn’t want to look at him.
The man was already casting a spell on her.
“Lady Josephine de Carron, this is Andrew d’Vant,” Sully said, then added, “The Red Fury.”
Hesitantly, Josephine returned her gaze to him. “My lord.”
Andrew nodded his greeting. “A pleasure, Lady Ayr.”
Josephine was hit by the quality of his voice; the graceful, deep flow of it. She was sure that if she closed her eyes and listened to it, she could quite easily be charmed by it. But the fact that this man affected her so strongly frightened her so, immediately, her guard went up.
“Thank you for coming,” she said stiffly. “How many men have you?”
“Nine hundred and ninety-six,” he repeated. “They are camped over the rise. I would like permission to camp them around the perimeter of the fortress.”
Josephine cocked a well-shaped eyebrow. “Not until contract terms are agreed upon,” she said. “Now, the initial offer was five thousand marks to defend Torridon until such a time that we no longer require your services. The five thousand will be paid upon termination of your services, and not prior to the commencement. Also, should we decide on an offensive, the fee will cover that as well. Have you any questions so far?”
Andrew’s face was impassive as he answered. “The first two items are acceptable as stated,” he said. “However, should you decide to launch an offensive, the fee will immediately increase five thousand marks more. That is my fee for a successful campaign.”
Josephine’s mouth fell open. “Ten thousand m…!” she sputtered. “You are not a mercenary, you are a thief. How dare you add another five thousand marks to an already exorbitant fee? I would sooner….”
Sully cut her off. Her anger was quick to flare and they were not going to get anywhere if she continued. “Three thousand marks,” Sully said evenly. “There will be an additional three thousand marks should we launch an offensive and a share of the plunder when we assume control of Burnton Castle.”
Andrew’s full attention was on Sully. He regarded the man a moment, obviously mulling over the offer.
“My choice of booty,” he said finally.
Sully nodded slightly. “Your choice of the booty,” he agreed. “But only with my consent. Do we have a contract?”
A smile flickered on Andrew’s lips. “I believe so.”
“Good,” Sully replied, then looked to Josephine. She was sitting back in her chair, her pretty face stormy and her eyes were riveted to Andrew. She was angry at his boldness, Sully knew, and not the money.
“Is that acceptable, my lady?” he asked her permission.
“Aye,” she said reluctantly, then looked at Andrew and stuck her chin out. “But, by God, Andrew d’Vant, you had better be worth every last cent.”
Andrew’s smile broke through, amused at the lady’s irritation. “I can assure you, my lady, that I shall meet your high expectations,” he said. “And there will be no need for you to ever raise a sword in defense of your castle again.”
That had been an unexpected comment. Josephine’s eyes narrowed at him in disbelief. “Thank you for your concern, d’Vant,” she said evenly, “but I shall decide as to whether or not I shall fight in Torridon’s defense.”
Andrew stood up from his chair, his features awash with bemusement as he pulled tight his gauntlets. “Lady Josephine,” he said. “I will be commanding a sizeable force in defense of your castle. It would make it considerably easier if I did not have to worry about you becoming one of the dead or wounded because you chose to fight against men twice your size and strength.”
It was clearly an insult and every Torridon knight at the table groaned inwardly, especially Sully. But he bit his tongue; better Josephine deal with d’Vant’s arrogance now and establish the boundaries. This was her fight, and her fortress, and Sully would let her do what she needed to do.
But he didn’t envy d’Vant one bit.
Unfortunately, Josephine had a temper that she didn’t often control, and a tongue to match. She bolted out of her chair, the skirt of her garnet-colored gown billowing as she rounded the corner of the table and came to stand in front of Andrew. He was so tall she had to tilt her head back to look up at him, nothing but rage in her expression.
“You conceited, piss-hearted lout!” she barked. “How dare you insult me?”
Andrew’s eyebrows went up. “Conceited?”
Across the table, Sully’s eyebrows went up. “Piss-headed?”
Josephine ignored the comments, stomping her foot angrily. “Let me tell you something, Andrew d’Vant,” she seethed. “You will not order me about in my own home. I have been fighting and defending Torridon since my father died, and not once have I even received a nick. This is my castle and should I choose to bear arms to defend it, then it will be my choice and not yours. Is this in any way unclear?”
Andrew was watching her rather impassively, although he was thinking that she was quite beautiful when she was enraged. She was also quite unruly. He wasn’t about to let this woman order him about, even in her own home. She wanted his help? Then she was going to have to do as he asked.
“I would have you safe in the tower in the event of another attack.” It was not a request.
Without hesitation, a little balled fist came up and caught him squarely on the jaw. There was a dull popping sound when the fist made contact and Andrew’s head snapped to the right. His hand came up and he began rubbing his jaw as he eyed her. Across the table, Sully was on his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he prepared to defend his disorderly mistress.
But Josephine didn’t care how angry Andrew was. All that mattered was that the man understand her position, on all things. She was nothing to be trifled with but, by God, he was certainly trying.
“And I would have you keep your stupid male notions to yourself,” she said, jabbing a finger at him. “I can fight with the best of them, Andrew d’Vant, and I’ll not have you tell me otherwise.”
With that, she breezed past him and flew from the room, leaving everyone in stunned silence. No one knew quite what to say, or how to react. They could not believe that little Lady Josephine de Carron just punched The Red Fury. Sully seemed to find his legs first, and went over to Andrew. Their eyes met and he looked at the tall man questioningly. Andrew continued to rub his jaw.
“She has a good strike,” he admitted. “Did you teach her that?”
“No,” Sully shook his head. “She learned that on her own. Now, I believe, we need to get you and your men settled for the night. You may move your army to the perimeter now, as you have requested. Will there be anything else you require?”
Sully was desperate to change the subject away from his rowdy mistress, hoping that encounter didn’t change d’Vant’s mind about taking on the defense of Torridon. He hoped if he pretended that it was simply business as usual, Andrew would be more focused on the job, and the reward, rather than the little spitfire he was working for. It must have worked because d’Vant motioned to his men, still standing in the shadows, and the group began to head to the chamber door.
“Not that I can think of, but I shall let you know,” he said. “And Montgomery?”
“Aye?”
“Do not think I shall forget this.”
With that, he walked away, leaving Sully to wonder what, exactly, he meant. He would not forget that Josephine struck him? That a woman refused to lay down her arms now that he was here?
He wondered.