Castle Walls (3 page)

The distinct sound of a horse snickered. It was near.

Sudden terror filled Katerin's heart as the servant waved at the encampment below, urging them onward. As quietly as possible, the trio moved along the hillside. Behind them could be heard a muffled curse and the heavy thud of someone dismounting. Reaching the edge of the forest, clouds still covering the moon above, Hector threw caution to the winds and herded his charges across a cleared area and into the encampment itself.

Ducking behind a wagon, the princess leaned her back against it, watching her one and only aging guardsman peer around the side and back the way they'd come. Before her were several other wagons, their coloring indistinct in the lack of light. Her eyes narrowed as she studied one -
Is that a design painted on the side?
Hector's hand on her arm refocused her attention.

With exaggerated movements the servant urged them along the line of wagons until they came to the fourth. Here, he stopped them, hands held aloft, indicating they should wait. Stealthily, he eased around the wagon to have a look behind them.

The smell of food almost made Katerin swoon. It was overpowering and she knew that this must be the wagon from which Hector had taken their repast. She grasped Ilia's hand for comfort, her stomach growling in demand, and she closed her eyes against the faintness. Above them, clouds drifted aside and the moon illuminated the area.

"Bleedin' Sif!" came the soft curse.

Startled at hearing such language from her servant, the princess' eyes opened wide.

Hector returned to the women, face visible in the moonlight, clearly concerned. Leaning his head close, he breathed, "Only one man. He's got our trail and following." Glancing quickly about, accessing the situation, he grabbed the princess' arm, pulling her toward the back of the wagon.

As he eased the wagon door ajar, the aroma that assailed them nearly made Katerin faint. His hand on her arm pushed towards the opening and she stumbled on her skirts as she was forced inside, her handmaiden following. Turning in the darkness, the princess could see Hector's silhouette against the moonlit encampment, the tense set of his shoulders, his hand reaching out.

"Give me the dagger, lady." He glanced once backwards at a noise. "Quickly! I'll try and draw him away!"

Katerin knew there was no other choice. She handed it to him. "Be careful, Hector," she insisted. "I need you now more than ever!"

"Aye, lady," Hector grinned, tugging his forelock. "I'll do my best. Now, get back!"

The princess obeyed, darkness closing in as the wagon door was shut. She heard the latch click into place with a thrill of fear. Groping about her blindly, she found Ilia and the pair sank down to their knees.

Cautious movement could be heard, the slight jingle of chainmail as someone neared the wagon. Then a silence dragged on for eternity. Katerin felt her eyes widening as she tried to see in the pitch black, her ears nearly growing in length. She held her handmaiden tightly, comforted by arms wrapped about her as well.

A sudden blur of sound, some sort of skirmish. The wagon thumped once, rocking at the impact of two bodies running into it, and the women were hard pressed not to cry out in fear. More scrabbling, the sound of metal on metal, dogs nearby sounding an alarm, a voice grunted in pain. Ominous silence, only dogs barking in excitement.

Dread in her heart when Hector did not immediately reappear to open the door, Katerin rose and pushed further into the wagon, pulling her handmaiden with her. Outside voices were raised in sleepy question and irritation. Curling into a corner with Ilia, the princess wrapped her cloak tightly about them, drawing it over their heads. The barking drew closer and soon there were sounds of happily snuffling hounds all about.

"Freya's tears, Daiki," somebody cursed, getting closer to the provision wagon. "Your hounds raising a ruckus for a midnight snack? Thought you had 'em better trained than that."

Snort of derision. "If you wouldn't sleep on watch, Tommaso…"

A gasp of surprise, followed by another curse. Rustling movement.

"Ros is not going to be happy with this," Tommaso commented. After a pause, he continued, "Both dead and no good comes of that. What do you think they're doing here?"

Katerin bowed her head in mourning.
Poor Hector… All this death and destruction. And for what?

"Don't know," Daiki answered. Another set of footsteps could be heard. "Habibah! Get Ros."

Further away, a woman agreed. Only the men shuffling about as they waited broke the silence. After a few moments, other footsteps could be heard, nearing the wagon.

"What's going on, Daiki?" The voice was low and gruff, filled with command.

"That, Ros."

"Bleeding Sif!" Ros cursed. "Tommaso?"

"That's how we found 'em, Ros," the man responded, tone a bit desperate. "I didn't hear or see nothing - I was on the other side of camp when it happened."

Another derisive snort from Daiki.

There was the sound of a resigned sigh. "Well, we can't stay the night here. Someone will be looking for the guard. And who knows what people are waiting for this poor fellow." Pause. "Tommaso, wake Martim. I want you two to clean up this mess. Hide the bodies as best you can. Daiki, Habibah, lock up the dogs. We need to get water from the creek and clean up this mess before we move." As Ros walked away, the orders continued. "We leave within the hour. Roust everyone!"

A chorus of agreement followed and soon the encampment was a buzz of activity.

Even if Katerin could leave the provision wagon, there'd be no way she and her handmaiden would get far without detection. And now we don't even have a weapon, she sighed.

The wait was long and the terror of previous days was taking its toll. Eyelids drooped heavily, startled wide only when the wagon jerked into movement. Making a decision, the princess sat up, pulling the cloak away from her head.

"Your Highness?" Ilia asked faintly.

"Katerin or Lady, Ilia," the princess reminded in the dark. She felt for the bag of food that Hecktor had stolen. "We'll be here awhile, I think. It's high time we had more food and some sleep. We're not getting out
of this wagon without help."

"Aye, lady."

The women, bread split in half between them, devoured the remainder of the meat and cheese. Finally sated, Katerin leaned back, weariness washing over her. The gentle rocking of the wagon lulled her into sleep.

After two days running, her exhaustion was deep. A full belly and the lazy swaying of the wagon didn't help matters any. Katerin's slumber was sound, as was her handmaiden's. Bright sunlight spilling across her closed eyes woke her and the princess jerked upright with a start. Wincing, she raised her hand to block the unwelcome light, turning her head to one side. Beside her, Ilia pulled the cloak up over her face.

"Well, what have we here?" a gruff voice asked in amusement. "A pair of sleeping mice?"

Memory crashed in on Katerin, her heart thumping in fear. Eyes adjusting to the brightness, she lowered her hand, peering out the wagon door at a dark silhouette. Her handmaiden peeked over the edge of the cloak.

"Well?" the voice asked again.

Swallowing, Katerin cleared her throat. "My name is Katerin. This is Ilia," she nodded at the blonde beside her. She became silent, at a loss.

The sound of running could be heard and a small voice piped, "Da! Mum says she'll make cherry hotcakes for breakfast!"

"Hold, Wilm," the man ordered, looking over one shoulder. "Go get Ros."

"Aye, Da." Small feet pelted away.

Children. There are children here, so these people can't be all bad.
The princess pulled the cloak from her shoulders, preparing to rise and move towards the entrance.

"Hold there, girl," came the gruff voice, his attention back on the women. "We'll just wait a moment until Ros gets here, all right?"

Katerin nodded. "Of course," she answered softly. Remembering the terror of the night, she recalled the sharp command in Ros' voice, the obvious respect from the others. She could feel Ilia trembling and reached over to pat her knee comfortingly, dark eyes warming with the promise to get them both out of this alive.

As they waited for the mysterious Ros, sounds of people making camp were heard. Voices called back and forth in cheeriness, men and women alike. Somewhere in the near distance, a man yelled out, followed by the rumble of a tree being felled. Footsteps approached.

"What's the hold up, Willem? We've got hungry people to be fed."

The man at the entrance stepped back and to one side. "Looks like a pair of mice have crawled into the provisions," he said with a grin, nodding into the wagon.

It took a moment for Katerin to realize that the new arrival was a woman. She was dressed in black, tunic and breeches, the only color a splash of light blue from her undertunic. Her curly, golden hair was cut scandalously short, giving her a roguish appearance that was further aided by the sword strapped to her hip.

Eyes narrowed, the woman studied the stowaways. "Come out of there," she demanded, hand resting gently on her sword hilt.

Recognizing the voice as Ros', the princess obeyed, helping Ilia to her feet. With no sudden movements, Katerin guided her handmaiden out of the wagon, wincing at the bright sunshine that assailed her eyes. Despite the circumstances, she sighed in happiness, finally able to stand to her full height, surreptitiously stretching in pleasure. Eyeing the strangers before her, the princess subtly stepped in front of her handmaiden.

Ros raised an eyebrow. "I can only assume that you are the reason we had to leave in such haste last evening?" she asked, directing her question at the princess. Hazel eyes flickered up and down the smaller woman with disdain. "While you are beautiful, you hardly appear worth fighting for."

At first surprised, anger soon followed. Having been rousted from her bed in the dead of night, watching family and friends be slaughtered and running for two days, it took supreme effort to hold her tongue. She bit down fiercely on her cheek.
Simpleton!
Unable to remain completely silent, Katerin responded, her tone icy. "A dear friend is dead and you've been inconvenienced. My utmost apologies."

A faint glimmer of amused understanding lit Ros' eyes, a corner of her mouth quirking. She bowed her head. "Apology accepted."

Katerin's teeth ground together.

Looking at the man beside them, the blonde asked, "Is Sati to make breakfast this morning?"

"Aye. Wilm says it's to be cherry hotcakes."

"Good," Ros said with a chuckle. "The troupe needs the extra sweetness." Her eyes returned to the two bedraggled women before her. "At the very least to make up for the night's unscheduled festivities."

"What of these two?"

With a calculating look, the woman studied the stowaways, ignoring Katerin's obvious hostility. After a thoughtful pause, Ros said, "Have Lucinda and Gemma get them cleaned up. I think they might have some clothes that will fit." Her gaze became less guarded. "I'll see them at my wagon when they're presentable."

"Aye, Ros."

Still angry, though somewhat relieved that they were not in any immediate danger, Katerin found herself being escorted towards a tall, rather colorfully painted wagon. Holding Ilia's hand, she watched the encampment's proceedings with a calculating gaze.

Ten tall wagons were in the clearing, each with its own intricate decoration. Nearly twice that number of people of all sizes and colors were out and about, working with happy industriousness. It appeared that most of the wagons were traveling abodes as the inhabitants set up awnings, chairs and tables outside them. To one side of the clearing, several men were unrolling a vast length of canvas. The dark figure of Ros was among them, calling direction and lending a hand. From what Katerin could gather, they had stumbled onto a circus.

Nearing the wagon, a voluptuous redhead looked up from the colorful flowers she was arranging in a vase. "Ho, Willem! What have you there?" she asked, a welcome smile on her face.

"Katerin and Ilia," the man responded, pointing to each in turn. "Ros said for you and Gemma to assist them. They need cleaning up and clothing."

Hands on hip, the woman nodded, looking the pair up and down. "Aye, that they do." Looking over one shoulder, she called, "Gemma! We've guests!"

Katerin started when the side of the wagon opened up, realizing that there was a shuttered window there. Another woman looked out, her hair and skin nut brown. Solemn green eyes regarded them and she nodded respectively. The redhead -
She must be Lucinda
- rubbed her hands together.

"Well, let's get started then, shall we?" she asked. Waving her hands at their escort, she said, "Shoo, Willem. I think Gemma and I can handle these two dangerous creatures."

Chuckling, he responded, "Aye, I know you can, Lucinda. I'll be helping the men with the tent in the meanwhile. Give a yell when they're ready."

"I will that." Lucinda remained where she was until he'd gotten out of earshot. Casting a conspiratorial look at her visitors, she winked. "Men! What they don't know about women could fill a book."

A smile crossed Katerin's face.
I think I'm going to like this one
, she thought.

"Let's have a look at you, eh?" the redhead insisted, waving the pair closer.

Chapter 2

Being clean again certainly feels wonderful
, Katerin thought, tugging at the unfamiliar skirt. Gemma had been a near perfect fit for the princess, the waist and length of the clothing being of a size she could wear comfortably. The blouse belonged to Lucinda, however, the dark woman's bosom not quite as small as Gemma's. Beside her, Ilia kept pace in a gown borrowed from the redhead. A bit baggy in places, it fit well enough.

Willem returned to his escort duties when the pair was declared fit for viewing. He guided them towards one of the wagons in silence.

Still busy with activity, the clearing looked much different than it had earlier. A large tent had grown in the center and the men were tying down the last of the ropes. The wagons created a crescent around the main entrance, each an advertisement for the available acts. Pictures depicting brightly dressed clowns, a lion tamer, graceful bodies flying through the air and jugglers teased the eye. One wagon sported bars instead of a painting, a large animal curled up in one corner.