CHAPTER SIX
Within three days, the wall had been repaired and the main gate reset. Andrew had put his men to helping Torridon’s men in the repairs, for it was evident that there were woefully few for such a large job. Fortunately, several of Andrew’s soldiers were handy craftsmen and carpenters, and the task was completed with relative speed.
The past three days had also been an adjustment period for Andrew, and he spent most of his time with Sully, Thane, and various other Torridon knights, learning all that he could about the Dalmellington army and their tactics. He ate, slept, and pissed Dalmellington. He talked to everyone he could, even the lowliest soldiers, to learn everything he needed to know. In order to fight an enemy, he had to know the enemy, so Andrew spent his days learning about the army he was being paid to destroy.
In fact, he found himself almost wishing that the Dalmellington army would come again and lay siege, for he wanted to see them in action to confirm what he had been told. But three days of peace passed, and so did a fourth, and Torridon was repaired to withstand another battle. But Andrew knew, instinctively, that the peace wouldn’t hold. If everything he’d been told was true, then the Dalmellingtons would come again, soon enough.
The Dalmellington patrol Sully had ridden to intercept the night Andrew had arrived had managed to send an advance messenger to Burnton Castle. They’d discovered that very quickly when a Dalmellington man they captured was quick to inform them. It was therefore assumed that Colin Dalmellington knew of The Red Fury’s army at Torridon, which changed the dynamics of the situation considerably. What Colin would do with that knowledge remained to be seen.
So they watched and they waited, Torridon men alongside d’Vant men, and Andrew and Sully right along with them. There was a tension in the air that never seemed to go away, the apprehension of men who found themselves in a battle every time they let their guards down. Andrew understood that apprehension well. But all the time he was spending time with Sully and Etienne and the knights of Torridon, there was one person he wasn’t spending time with.
That little spitfire who liked to slug him in the throat.
Josephine hadn’t been around much at all, much to Andrew’s disappointment. He never saw her during the day, only at night when they would feast on any number of culinary delights from Torridon’s stores. She would sit on the dais, the lord’s table, in the most resplendent of gowns while he sat down the table or across from her, hardly speaking with her, mostly speaking with Sully or any number of other men.
He was rather tired of speaking to other men.
Justine, in direct contrast of her sister’s fine gowns, always sat on her sister’s right hand and always looked as if she were wrapped in black sheets. But the two girls constantly seemed to be isolated, talking only with each other or, occasionally, to a Torridon knight. For Justine, it was probably true to character. But for Josephine, he wondered why.
The day he’d arrived, she seemed to be very much aligned with her knights, and they with her. She did not seem to be the withdrawn type. He wondered if her bout with her sister’s potion was still affecting her, though it turned out to be harmless. Through Oletha, Andrew discovered that Justine had mistakenly put dill in the potion rather than hemlock, for the two flowers looked very similar, yet dill was yellowish-green instead of white. Oletha had had a good laugh at Justine’s amateurish mistake, though she never let on to the young witch-hopeful.
Still, Andrew thought Josephine seemed withdrawn and tired, at least from the little he saw of her. He was disappointed, hoping to at least pick up with the flirtatious repartee they’d had the night of his arrival. But the days passed and there was no interaction, and he was coming to wonder if Josephine’s health was poor in general, although she appeared robust enough. He mentioned it in passing to Oletha, but the little woman had shrugged and stated gaily that the mistress looked well enough to her.
This brought him to the subject of the mysterious Dewey. He had yet to be found, but nobody seemed particularly concerned. Sully mentioned that, sometimes, Dewey would disappear for days on a supply hunt, combing the woods and hills in an attempt to restock his vast array of herbs, flowers, and fungi.
Sully also mentioned that Dewey was quite ancient, an old man who had learned the art of healing and alchemy from his father, who had learned such things from his father. Dewey evidently had ancient books bound in human skin, and some whispered that he had a ghost in a bottle hidden somewhere in his chamber. It was enough to keep people from wandering into his rooms, in any case.
A withdrawn lady notwithstanding, Andrew thought it was all quite curious. Truly, what an interesting place Torridon Castle was turning out to be.
*
Josephine had, indeed, been remote, she knew, but it wasn’t for the reasons people thought. It had nothing to do with the arrival of the mercenary army, or even Justine’s attempt to poison her. It all had to do with the fact that the day following Andrew’s arrival, she had received a dispatch from King Alexander. A royal rider had come and gone, leaving a message that Sully had inquired about, once, and Josephine had refused to elaborate on. He’d dropped the subject but, to Josephine, it wasn’t a subject easily put aside. In, fact, it was quite important. The message she’d received had informed her that the king would be visiting around the third of the next month, which was a mere week away.
At first, she had been thrilled with the prospect of entertaining the king, her distant cousin through her mother’s side of the family. Colin wouldn’t dare attack so long as the king was at Torridon. But the euphoria soon gave way to darker emotions, for she began to suspect this would not be a social call to resolve the feud between the Dalmellingtons and the de Carrons. At her age, and unmarried, a sure way of resolving a feud was marriage. If King Alexander ordered her to marry Colin Dalmellington, which had been proposed before, she could not refuse.
Frightened, and sickened at the thought, the next few days passed in a blur for Josephine. Only she and Justine were aware of the contents of the letter, for she had not even told Sully. To be truthful, she was afraid to. With the hatred he had for the Dalmellington, she was unsure of what his reaction would be and she wanted to think through all of the possibilities before broaching the subject. It wasn’t as if he could fight off the king, either.
They would both be at his mercy.
And then… there was The Red Fury.
Good Lord, the man was proving to be a tremendous distraction for her. The second day after his arrival, she had watched from on high in the west tower down to the practice field in the outer ward where Andrew d’Vant was mock sword-playing with a few Torridon knights, as well as a few of his own commanders.
What she saw utterly amazed her.
For such a large man, he moved with the speed of a hummingbird and had the skill to match God Himself. He was so quick and so strong, that most men didn’t have the chance to see what had hit them before they fell to the soft earth. Josephine had always considered Sully the best knight she’d ever seen, but not any longer. She was certain The Red Fury could outfight even Sully.
Yet, as she watched, there was something more she sensed in Andrew’s movements. He seemed so… angry. There was violence behind every thrust and every parry. It was as if he were truly trying to kill someone and kill them again, with every movement of the sword. In his business, he had to make every effort count, and it was obvious that he did just that.
Still… it seemed to her that it was more than a business to him. What he did, the way he moved… it was personal.
But he was enthralling to watch. She was riveted to the flash of his sword as he fought with a madness that set an uneasiness in her chest. He frightened her with his intensity. And then, it hit her – fury. He was fighting with fury. Now, it became clear how he received his nickname. It was clear in every move he made. It was then that Josephine began to believe that, mayhap, the man called The Red Fury was worth five thousand marks. There was something about the man that made him seem worth every pence.
And she felt interest in him that wouldn’t seem to go away.
The only time Josephine was ever in the same room with him was at the evening meal in the great hall, where she had had an unobstructed view of Andrew as he sat with his men at the same table. But he seemed not to notice her. Instead, he was very engaged with the big blond general that followed him around like a dog. Or, he was engaged with Sully. Although she was not in a particularly social mood, somehow it irked her that he did not so much as acknowledged her presence at the meal.
Not that she was going to be the first one to make a move.
Therefore, the evening meal was an odd standoff, but Josephine had more important things on her mind. Now, on the fourth day of The Red Fury’s arrival, she was coming to feel resignation with the king’s impending arrival. Andrew d’Vant or no Andrew d’Vant, that would not change the motive behind Alexander’s visit. In Josephine’s mind, she was convinced it was for a marriage to bring together two houses and end their nasty feud. In this case, there were two choices – Colin could either marry her or Justine, and she knew that it had to be her.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
It would be with great reluctance that she would marry Colin if the king wished it, but she would never love him. She couldn’t. She might even present him with children for the rest of his life. So what if she was miserable? She had to think of the greater good – Torridon, her sister, and her knights would be spared. But she wondered how Sully would react to taking orders from Colin Dalmellington. Most likely, he would do something foolish and get himself killed. She shuddered at that thought. She would have to talk to him and convince him, for her sake, to behave.
On this rather cool and blustery day, it was just before the nooning meal and Josephine descended into the foyer and crossed into the great hall on her way to the kitchens. The kitchens of Torridon were on the ground level of the keep, a low-ceilinged series of rooms that were always hot and smoky, at any given time of the day or night. The cook was just setting out huge platters of boiled beef. She looked up as her pretty little mistress entered, her attention on the steaming meat and huge bowls of peas and onions. Josephine caught the woman’s eye as she looked up.
“You know that I love boiled beef,” Josephine grinned. “Is there enough for the evening meal, too?”
The woman nodded. “This is from the meat we butchered last month, the same meat that has been in the cold vault since then,” she said. “There is plenty for tonight, too.”
That pleased Josephine greatly. Dora was the best cook who ever graced a kitchen and could make a spiced crab apple pie that sent Josephine into a virtual feeding frenzy. As children, she and Justine and James would practically thrash each other for the largest piece.
But now, there was no such competition and Josephine picked up a large hunk of freshly baked brown bread, dipping it into a bowl of honey before taking a healthy bite. The door to the kitchen yard was open, emitting light into the dingy kitchens and giving the smoke somewhere to evacuate, and Josephine chewed on her bread and engaged Dora in a light conversation. It wasn’t often that she was able to come to the kitchens with Justine as chatelaine. But she was so preoccupied with food and conversation that she didn’t see the two little villein children stealthily creep in through the open kitchen door.
The two young children stood quietly by the table near the door, the one harboring cooling meat pies that Dora had just baked. Moreover, Dora’s back was turned to the door and she had no idea they were there. Children of the servants often frequented the kitchen, which was why Josephine gave no thought to the children until they snatched two of the nearest pies and dashed out the door.
Dora and Josephine quickly turned in time to see the children racing off. Dora was already howling as Josephine ran after them.
“I’ll retrieve the pies, Dora!” she said as she blew by the flustered cook.
The little boys were fast. They rounded the corner and flew with unnatural speed into the inner bailey. Josephine, however, was closing the gap behind them. She rounded the corner as well, her dress flying out behind her as she pounded the dirt with her slipper-clad feet but she found herself hoping that the children would not drop the pies in their panic. Dirty meat pies would be a sad loss, especially Dora’s pies. She began to run faster, hoping to catch them.
Sully, Andrew, Etienne, and Thane were entering the inner bailey just as the children ran past them, almost plowing into Etienne. He jumped awkwardly out of the way, and all four men turned curiously to watch the children run off towards the main gate. They shrugged and started to proceed again, but then Josephine ran between the four of them in a pounding flash of braided hair and purple wool. That glimpse caused more of a reaction from the knights, and they were surprised at their mistress running after two children at top speed. It was Sully who moved first.
“God’s Bones,” he muttered, putting his hand on his sword to hold it steady. “This will prove to be interesting.”
He took off, followed by the other three in a close pack. Everyone in the outer bailey was frozen in mid-movement, watching their mistress run after two small children, and then watching two knights and two mercenaries running after her. Albert and Burl stood with their arms crossed and grins on their faces, shaking their heads at the humor of it. They had no idea what was going on, but it was great entertainment. But Christoph, John, and Severn, at their posts on the wall, gave the parade exiting the front gates uninterested looks. Whatever had happened was no concern of theirs.
The children were tireless as they tore down the road and, miraculously, the pies were still intact in their grubby little hands. A quarter of a mile down the road, however, they veered sharply to the left and headed into the woods. By now, Josephine was growing tired and was no longer amused by their little chase. She considered stopping, but rather decided it was the principle of the situation that she didn’t. To let them run free would constitute a success in their thieving little minds and would encourage them to try again. Besides, she was curious now – they had turned away from the village.
Where were they going?
Josephine stumbled a little as she entered the woods, but not bad enough to trip, yet enough to slow her a little. Ahead, she could see the little boys growing smaller in the foliage. Growing increasingly irritated, she started to run again, picking up speed, determined as ever to catch the little louts. They were not going to make a fool of her!
But the undergrowth was slowing her considerably. She plummeted through a thicket and splashed across a small stream, all the while growing angrier. Those little buffoons were ruining a perfectly good dress! As she went deeper into the growth, she began to slow, realizing the kids had lost her. It was difficult for her to admit that. Coming to a panting, sweaty stop, she stomped her foot in frustration.
“Damnation!” she muttered, planting her fists on her hips.
She glanced about, looking at the trees and surroundings, but there was no sign of the children. The smell of moldy leaves was heavy in her nostrils, causing her to sneeze once or twice. With a reluctant sigh, she turned to go, but something up ahead in the trees caught her attention. There was something moving through the trees in front of her. Smiling craftily, she drew up her skirts and stepped quietly towards the movement, being very careful to make no noise.
She was going to capture those boys yet.
Josephine could see a small group of people in a clearing up ahead, sitting around a small fire. It was difficult to tell who or what they were, but her better sense told her to turn around and leave as quietly as she came. Generally, a group of people camping far deep in the woods was never a good thing. It indicated thieves, outlaws, and the like. Suddenly, her enthusiasm to catch those young thieves wasn’t so strong anymore.
Cautiously, she stopped behind a large tree, peering around it and watching the people in the distance. They looked like wanderers, dirty and unkempt. Decidedly uncomfortable, Josephine decided the best course of action would be to return to the castle, quickly, and she kept her eyes on the clearing while she began to back away. But it was already too late; her path was abruptly blocked by a warm body, and as she started to scream, a dirty hand went over her mouth.
Blind panic filled Josephine as she was dragged into the clearing by her neck, kicking and fighting all the way. She still had not seen her attacker, but she could hear him mumbling something unintelligible with his stinking breath. He had her by the neck and by the hair, and she was unable to even make a fighting attempt to flee.
He had her solidly.
As they approached the group of people in the clearing, everyone seemed to panic at the sight of her at first until they realized that she was, in fact, a prisoner. They suspiciously eyed Josephine, looking at the person who held her questioningly. Josephine’s heart sank as she realized these people were the scum of the earth, uneducated and without sense or morals. They taught their children to steal but the older ones did worse than that. Taking the possessions she had on her, her shoes and jewelry, would probably be the very least they would take.
She was going to have to think fast to get herself out of this one.
God, why did she run after those boys?
As Josephine looked anxiously at the people around her, the two little boys she had been chasing stepped out from behind the adults, smiling mischievously and chewing sloppily on a hunk of meat pie. She would have liked nothing better than to wring their little necks.
“Och, whatch got, Zef?” one of the men asked.
The man holding her laughed lewdly. “Mayhap, one of the wood nymphs I have heard stories told,” he said. His accent was not Scot; it was very, very English. “She’s pretty like one, isn’t she? Smells good, too.”
He took a long smell of her hair and Josephine cringed, trying to pull away as the men standing around laughed lewdly. But the man who had spoken before pointed at her.
“If she were a nymph, she’d be naked as a baby,” he said. He was fat, dark, and dirty. “Mayhap she’s a fae, come to grant our wishes!”
The group laughed loudly and Josephine felt sick with fear. She had been so stupid to let her determination get the better of her. She should have never followed the boys into the trees, and when she saw the dirty wanderers in the clearing, she should have run at the mere sight of them. What a foolish female she was. And now, what would her silly woman’s curiosity cost her? No doubt, they would strip her of her clothing. But most likely, she would relinquish her virginity as well.
How could she have been so stupid?
A woman burst forth from the small gathering and rushed straight at Josephine. The woman was disheveled and her black hair was dirty and unkempt. Reaching out with long, filthy fingers, she yanked the pendant Josephine had been wearing right off of her neck.
“Ha!” she crowed triumphantly, holding the jewelry up for all to see. “She has already granted my wish!”
The clan roared wildly and Josephine’s first urge was to grab the woman and pound her face into the ground. But, wisely, she refrained, for she knew she was heavily outnumbered. But she vowed she would get that necklace back and that little witch would pay.
They would all pay.
But that was providing she ever had the upper hand. As she stood there, fearful and angry, the fat man stepped forward and motioned to the man holding her.
“Let her go,” he ordered. “I’m interested to know who she is.”
The man let Josephine go but shoved her when he did. She fell forward onto her knees, almost pitching onto her face. But she caught herself and, deliberately brushing off her hands in a gesture of pure disgust, she remained on her knees. She wasn’t one to cower, but she wasn’t going to stand up and give them a target to strike at. With disdain, she glared up at her captors.
The fat man read her expression, but he was more interested in studying her fine curves. She was a delicious, ripe morsel, ready to be plucked. He sauntered over to her and stood directly in front of Josephine, appraising her openly. She stared back angrily, her cheeks flushing a rosy color.
“What’s your name, lass?” he finally asked.
She looked at him a few long seconds before answering. It was her way of controlling the situation. She was going to make him wait.
“Josephine,” she finally said.
“Josephine,” he repeated slowly, rolling it on his tongue. “Josephine. What were you doin’ in the woods, Josephine?”
She looked at the two little boys, grinning back at her. They all probably knew what she was doing in the woods, so she couldn’t lie. She straightened her back and looked back up.
“I was running after two little thieves,” she said.
A small chuckle bounced about the group; somebody tousled one boy’s hair. The fat man smiled.
“They were simply hungry,” he said. “They stole to feed us all. Is that still thievin’?”
“It is,” she shot back. “They did not have to steal. I would have given them the pies and more had they only asked.”
The man’s smile was fading. “You are too kind, my lady,” he said, but his tone was menacing. “You are a saint. Tell me, are all castle servants as gracious as you?”
“Castle servant?” she said in outrage. “I am the Mistress of Torridon, not a castle servant.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Mistress of Torridon?” he repeated with mock courtesy. “Oh, I beg your forgiveness, my lady.”
She knew immediately telling him had been a grave mistake. She cursed herself for her annoying habit of speaking before thinking. Damnation, she hadn’t done a single thing right since she left the kitchen in pursuit of those two guttersnipes. She prayed that the knights that saw her leave had enough sense to come looking for her before too much time had passed, because it did not appear that she was doing too well on her own.
She needed help.
As Josephine knelt on the grass and struggled not to tremble, the fat man was staring at her. He had no doubt she was telling the truth, for she was as fine and pretty as any queen. But she was the Mistress of Torridon, which meant her husband was probably very aware his wife was gone and, perhaps, was hotly searching the area now. If she was located with a group of outlaws, it could go very bad for the outlaws.
Daume was a gypsy and a thief, but he was not stupid. He knew if her husband found her here with them, he would most likely kill them all. They could flee, but they’d either have to take her with them or kill her so she couldn’t tell her husband.
He had to make a choice.
“Bind her hands,” he said finally.
Josephine looked at him in shock. He had been almost pleasant talking to her, but now he ordering her restrained. In truth, she had almost been expecting it, but was hoping he wouldn’t. The disgusting man that had captured her in the woods gleefully grabbed her arms and bound her wrists tightly in front of her, touching her cheek with a dirty finger before rising.
“Gag her until we decide what is to be done,” Daume instructed.
A grimy rag was shoved in her mouth and tied snugly. Josephine was absolutely terrified at this point; she truly had no idea what was going to happen next. Would she even make it out of this alive? She found herself worrying about Justine. What would happen to her without Josephine’s guidance? And Sully… what would he do without her? Certainly, he could run Torridon quite adequately, but she wondered if he would even miss her.
Then… there was Andrew.
God, why was she even thinking about the man? She had known him exactly four days and wasn’t sure if she even liked him. He was conceited, arrogant, pompous… but he had let it slip that he could be caring and sensitive as well. And watching him train with the men had excited her more than she would care to admit.
As much as she told herself that her interest in Andrew was purely for the fact that he was a new and interesting face at Torridon, she found herself sorry she might not ever get to know him better. The Red Fury seemed to be the antithesis of his formidable reputation, but she wanted to find that out for herself. He intrigued her, as much as she hated to admit it. Anyone who took two punches from her without hitting back couldn’t be all that ferocious.
A big, grubby male grabbed her by the upper arm and roughly pulled her to her feet, jolting her from her train of thought. He pulled her over to the other side of the campfire and cruelly pushed her down. With a grunt, Josephine landed heavily on her left side, but slowly pushed herself up as he walked away. All the while, her eyes were shooting daggers at the people who were now very much her enemy. Her thoughts began to turn to escape. She would have to be very aware of any opportunity. Perhaps, she would even have to form a plan.
She wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
As Josephine struggled to come up with a plausible escape plan, there was some commotion in the trees to the west. The gypsies jumped to their feet and began running about in a panic. Josephine was sitting on her knees, straining her neck to see what was transpiring. She was not frightened, only tremendously relieved that the attention was diverting away from her. Maybe this was the opportunity she had been looking for.
Maybe it was time for her to run.
She was looking for an escape route when she saw two men emerging from the woods. She saw them and heard them, but it wasn’t until they actually approached the camp that she realized the two men were none other than Andrew and Thane. Neither one seemed to notice her, so intent on the conversation they were having with Daume.
There were greetings being tossed about and Andrew seemed quite amiable. Josephine watched with increasing confusion as Andrew and Thane proceeded to sit heavily on a log directly across from her, graciously accepting the cups and the platters of fatty meat offered to them. Still, they didn’t look at her.
They ignored her completely.
It was fortunate that Josephine was gagged because she would have given both men a piece of her mind. She could not believe her eyes. There was The Red Fury and his general, as large as life, consorting with the enemy.
At first, she wondered if this wasn’t some sickening trick and that, perhaps, Andrew and his mercenaries were in cahoots with these criminals. They were chatting animatedly with her captors, as if they had everything in common, even laughing at the buffoon’s crude jokes.
Was it possible that this had been their plan all along, to get her out of Torridon?
But, no. That kind of collusion didn’t make sense on too many levels. Josephine may have been frightened, but she wasn’t irrational. Whatever was happening now was improvised, but she couldn’t understand why Andrew wasn’t trying to save her.
Shock gave way to full-blown anger. How dare Andrew ignore her in her time of need? He hadn’t so much as cast her an uninterested glance and the anger in her belly began to burn. If she was fortunate enough to make it out of this, Andrew wasn’t going to get a single mark out of her. Not one bloody pence. He’d be lucky if she didn’t throttle him with her bare hands.
Anger was a miraculous motivator. Josephine shot to her feet, unable to speak, but unintelligible sounds emitted from her throat as she told Andrew d’Vant exactly what she thought of him. Andrew and the others looked at her in surprise, startled by her sudden movement, but Josephine didn’t care. She was so angry at Andrew that the gypsies were all but forgotten in her rage. God’s Toes, she was going to thrash him even if it cost her greatly. He wasn’t going to get away from this.
But Andrew seemed to have something else in mind and Josephine was about to find out what, exactly, that was. Perhaps, he wasn’t ignoring her so much, after all, when he pointed to her and asked about her. Somehow, the subject of a price came up and the next thing she realized, someone was yanking her to her feet.
Josephine quickly discovered that she had underestimated Andrew.