Bondmaiden (19 page)

‘Just do it,’ he said, ‘or it’s purple tits for you again. Come on, Magda, stop wasting my time.’

She shook her head, but he coaxed and threatened her in equal measure until eventually she began to wriggle in his lap, raising and lowering herself awkwardly.

‘Good girl,’ he muttered. ‘That’s a good girl, nice and steady. Don’t want it over too quick, do we?’ One arm was still around her waist, encouraging her movements. With his free hand he rubbed her breasts and plucked her nipples. ‘That’s nice,’ he breathed. ‘This is good, isn’t it?’

His hand moved down and he slapped her belly. Then lower still, his fingers exploring her, drawing from her a whimper. ‘Hush,’ he murmured. ‘You’re a lovely thing, aren’t you? A lovely thing with a nice tight arse. Not as tight as it was, but still nice. Would you like to suck us afterwards, me and Lang?’ She shook her head. ‘Sure you would,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ll even let you swallow my cream for a treat. You’ll enjoy it, I promise you.’

Lia crept away, back to the stairs and down to the kitchens. Once there she told the others what she’d found, though she spared Elfrida the sordid details of the queen’s and Magdalena’s torture. When she said there were but few guards in the royal apartments the princess’s spirits seemed to lift.

‘You think we can rescue them?’ she asked, her expression both despondent and hopeful at the same time.

‘I believe so, my lady,’ Lia said cautiously. ‘Princess Magdalena was alone when I got there, so we know they aren’t being guarded around the clock. I’m sure we can get them out of their rooms and down the stairs if we wait for the right opportunity. It’s afterwards I’m worried about. The enemy will turn the place upside down when they realise they’re gone. They might even guess there was outside help and question some of us.’

Lia didn’t use the word ‘torture’, but she could see everyone was thinking it. If the soldiers did decide to interrogate one or more of them it wouldn’t be long before the truth came out.

‘With respect, my lady,’ Holmann said, ‘I think Lia’s right; a rescue’s no good if the queen and princess are straightaway recaptured, as seems likely.’

‘So what now?’ Elfrida asked desperately. ‘We can’t just cower down here and do nothing.’

‘Of course not, my lady,’ Holmann said placatingly, ‘but I think we should try to learn the enemy’s plans before we make any rash moves, begging your pardon. Lord Torkel holds a council of war each evening in the great hall; I saw him with my own eyes when I took the refreshments up last night. If someone could get in there and hide she might discover what they’re intending to do with their prisoners. Once we know that we’ll be better placed to decide how to proceed.’

‘I’m sure we would,’ Elfrida said, ‘but who is brave enough to risk it? And where would they hide, in any case? There are no curtains or screens in the place that I recall.’

‘I’ll go,’ Lia said, ‘and I won’t need to hide. Hopefully they’ll take no notice of a mere servant going about her business.’

Elfrida looked doubtful, but finally she agreed, and as Lia headed up the stairs once more, armed only with her basket of bread and jug of wine, she hoped her optimism of being disregarded wasn’t misplaced. She didn’t doubt that the fate of anyone caught spying would be dreadful indeed.

She went up two floors and crept forward to the arched entrance to the great hall. Luckily the doors were open so she stayed on the landing, pressed against the wall, holding her breath and trembling with fear.

‘When will the main force arrive?’ a deep voice asked.

‘Two days, my lord,’ someone answered. ‘Roland’s skirmishers will be here tomorrow, but we have little to fear from them. They number no more than five score, so our scouts tell us.’

‘And how many in the main force?’

‘Three thousand, all told. The Darkheim ranks have been swelled by the Attland troops that fled when we first attacked. There’s a rumour flying around that Baran is leading the Attland contingent, but our scouts couldn’t get near enough to confirm or deny.’

There was a long pause, then the deep voice spoke again. ‘We cannot stand against so many. Order the withdrawal for tomorrow. Foot soldiers must be away by noon at the latest, and mounted men two hours before dusk. I want cavalry screens front and back, Fulke, and flankers too.’

‘Aye, my lord, but the men will want to know about the loot.’

‘As much as they can carry; slaves, too. We don’t run like dogs, though we’re outnumbered two to one. This is an orderly return to our homeland – a victorious return – and we’ll carry our prizes there with pride.’

A growl of assent went up from a dozen throats.

‘A pity Prince Baran slipped through the net, my lord,’ a new voice ventured. ‘With no king to rule here Attland would have been weaker.’

‘Indeed. She’ll be a dangerous enemy still on our borders, though they’ll maybe think twice about reprisals while we hold the queen and princess hostage. You’ve made arrangements for their transport, Fulke?’

‘I have, my lord, in a cage. I’ve had it mounted on one of the royal carriages.’

‘Most appropriate. And the youngest, Elfrida; any news of her? It would be nice to have the full set of royal females.’

‘No news, my lord. The slave Velda won’t change her story, despite rigorous questioning.’

‘Velda, yes, she’s the one you captured, isn’t she? The queen’s bondmaiden, or some such. Bring her here to me now so I can see just how rigorous your questioning has been.’

‘As you wish, my lord.’

Lia heard footsteps and backed away fearfully, only to collide with something large and immovable behind her, something that clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder and spun her round, and she found herself looking up into the bearded face and stern brown eyes of an Osburg officer.

‘What are you doing skulking here, girl?’ he demanded gruffly.

‘B-bringing bread and w-wine, my lord,’ she stammered. ‘B-but I daren’t go in. They might punish me for d-disturbing them.’

A man came out of the council chamber and went by, sparing them barely a glance, but the bearded officer clamped a hand on the back of her neck and marched her into the hall. A dozen men were sitting at a long table, at the head of which was a thickset man with iron-grey hair and piercing blue eyes. Around his neck he wore a heavy bejewelled gold chain, and she knew it must be Lord Torkel himself.

‘What’s this, Ingram?’ he said. ‘Dancing girls for our diversion?’

‘Refreshments, my lord,’ Lia’s captor said. ‘Just bread and wine, I’m afraid. Common soldiers’ fare.’

‘And none the worse for that,’ Torkel said. ‘Bring the wench over here.’

The bearded brute manhandled her to the lord’s side where he finally released his hold on her neck. Torkel picked up a goblet from the table and held it out to be filled, so Lia set down the basket of bread and began to pour the wine.

‘She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?’ Torkel said. ‘Do you think she’s on the menu?’ His officers laughed dutifully, and Lia’s hands were shaking so badly she feared she’d tip wine all over the lordly sleeve. ‘In terms of personal material gain,’ Torkel went on, ‘I cannot claim this has been a successful campaign. I’ve gained not a farthing in coin, nor a scrawny chicken, and not a single slave. A poor effort, gentlemen, don’t you agree?’

There were cries of ‘Yea’ and ‘Nay’ in equal proportion, and much laughter.

‘Take this one, my lord,’ someone called out. ‘She’ll be a great comfort in bed on a chilly night, I’ll warrant!’

Torkel turned those piercing eyes on Lia, and she quailed. ‘Aye,’ he said quietly, ‘I imagine she would. And in the daytime too, I think.’

At that moment there was a disturbance at the door. The man who’d exited earlier came in followed by two guards who half-dragged, half-carried Velda between them. She was wrapped in a blanket and her head hung down. Only the barest twitch of a hand or leg showed that she was alive and conscious. Every man’s eye was upon her, and Lia took the opportunity to back away slowly, step by step, towards the wall.

‘Put your questions again, Fulke,’ Torkel said. ‘I’ll hear her answers and judge the truth for myself.’

‘At your command, my lord,’ Fulke said. He turned to Velda and tipped up her chin. Lia barely recognised her, for her face was pale and drawn, and there were dark bags under her eyes.

‘Where’s Princess Elfrida?’ Fulke demanded harshly.

‘Town…’ she said weakly. ‘With Lia.’

‘So you said before. Where in the town?’

She shook her head. ‘Don’t know… I told her don’t go home… do the unexpected… don’t tell me anything.’

‘And you expect me to believe that? You must enjoy pain, I think. Hold her fast, men.’

Lia had reached the wall, and shrank back against it and watched in horror as Fulke took out his dagger.

‘Wait,’ Torkel said, rising to his feet and approaching them. He grasped Velda’s chin and turned her head this way and that, studying her face. ‘Was she beautiful, Fulke? Before you started to question her, I mean.’

‘Very, my lord.’

‘I can believe it. And you’ll be beautiful again, my dear, I promise. Just tell me where they are and you can go free.’

Velda laughed, though it came out as little more than a harsh croak. ‘You’ll kill me,’ she said, ‘when you have them… or when King Roland comes… and you run like rats.’

‘Kill you? I don’t think I will, as a matter of fact. I’ve a mind to take you with us and dip into you myself. I expect I’ll be last in a long line, my men being short of female company and all, but one can’t be choosy. This is war, after all.’ He seemed bored with her suddenly, for he turned away and flicked his fingers, whereupon the guards took Velda out. Lia slid along the wall, sidestepping slowly towards the door, hardly daring to breathe. The men were clustered together, all eyes on their lord, and she feared at any second he might remember and look round for her. Foot by foot the doorway came closer, until finally she was there. She stepped back onto the landing and then to the side, so that she was hidden from them at last.

‘You think this Velda knows more than she’s telling?’ she heard Torkel ask.

‘Probably not, my lord,’ Fulke replied.

‘I think you’re right,’ Torkel said. ‘Escalate the torture anyway, just in case.’

Lia fled as silently and swiftly as she could, back to the kitchen and relative safety.

With the others hanging on her every word, Lia recounted what she’d seen and heard in the great hall. Elfrida was overjoyed at the news that the Osburg army was leaving, but dismayed that they planned to take the queen and her sister with them as hostages.

‘If Prince Baran truly leads our army,’ the princess said, ‘then that is the most wonderful news. With my uncle Roland’s help he’ll soon send these invaders packing. Our duty now is to rescue my mother and sister before they’re carried off to Osburg.’

‘And Velda, my lady?’ Lia reminded. ‘Surely we won’t abandon her to cruel torture?’

‘Well, no… of course not,’ Elfrida said. ‘We’ll rescue Velda too… should an opportunity present itself, I mean.’ It was clear that the princess’s mind was on the jeopardy facing her family, and when Holmann said he had a plan to rescue and hide them in a storeroom until the invaders were gone she was soon in eager discussion with him over the details.

Forgotten for the moment, Lia slipped away. She was determined to help Velda if she could, for it seemed no one else would. Velda had been incredibly kind to her, taking her out of the kitchen, teaching her how to speak and act like a lady, rescuing her from the worst of Elfrida’s excesses, keeping them from the clutches of the Osburg animals. But the kindest thing of all was arranging for Durwin to be the one to take her maidenhead.

At the time Lia had thought little of it, indeed, she’d been so mortified and flustered she hadn’t been thinking at all. Afterwards she believed it was sheer coincidence that Velda had selected Durwin rather than Jarold, say, or one of the guards, but now she’d had time to consider it properly she was convinced it was no mere coincidence. Velda must have known about her and Durwin all along: probably she knew
everything
about them, though it wasn’t from Lia’s lips. And so she chose him for the demonstration, out of pity for a frightened country girl whose virginity was to be sacrificed for a princess’s edification.

For that act of kindness above all others, Lia was determined to help her former tutor, and so she cautiously made her way down to the dungeons, the old catacombs, finding a torch at the entrance to light her way. She was soon lost in the maze of tunnels and chambers carved into the solid rock by ancient hands, and began to fear she would wander beneath ground until she died of hunger or thirst, ending her young days as rotting food for the rats she knew were watching from the darkness that enveloped her. It was cold, and damp, and smelt of death and misery.

At long last it was the sound of a hand-crank that finally guided her to the right place. The metallic clank of pawl against ratchet echoed through the passageways, faint at first, then louder as Lia drew closer to the source. She hurried along, and after two false turnings reached the place she was seeking. She set the torch in a ring on the wall and went forward silently to peer into the small chamber.

Velda lay on her back on a table. She was naked, arms stretched above her head, wrists fastened down. There were straps about her ankles, and ropes ran from there to pulleys on the walls, one on each side, and from the pulleys to a hand-crank. There were two guards in the room, one of whom was turning the handle, drawing Velda’s legs apart. They were spread wide even now, but the man didn’t stop, his eyes on his victim all the while. Velda’s groin had been freshly shaved, and her sex appeared pink and especially vulnerable.