Castle Walls (5 page)

Nodding reluctantly, the dark woman forced a small smile. Lucky me. A flash of Ros' leering gaze, her low voice ringing in the princess' ears, and Katerin swallowed a sudden thrill of dread. To distract herself, she asked, "What do you do here?"

Lucinda's smile widened. "I dance." With a provocative look, she raised
her hands over her head with feline grace, her belly undulating seductively. Seeing the other woman blush, she laughed merrily and dropped her stance. "I sing, as well. And play the tambourine. But the men don't care of that."

Unsure of what to say, Katerin murmured, "I can imagine they'd not."

"What can you do?" the redhead asked in curiosity.

I can run from danger. I can get loyal servants killed. I can fade away in obscurity as a harlot.
"Nothing," the princess said. "I've no skills that you talented people could use."

"Well, no worries there," Lucinda said, patting the smaller woman's shoulder. "I'm sure Ros can find something for you." She looked to the wagon as Ilia and Gemma stepped out of it, failing to see the troubled expression cross Katerin's face. "All done then?"

Gemma nodded as the blonde woman beside her looked to Katerin.

"Let's take you visiting then, shall we?" the redhead asked cheerfully. "I'll introduce you to the rest of our fine troupe."

"Certainly," Katerin said politely, nodding. "Lead on."

With a happy excitement, Lucinda led the way towards another wagon.

Names and faces whirled about in Katerin's mind as she entered the large tent with the rest of the circus. The tour of the wagons had been short, there being only a score of performers, but meeting them all at once was baffling. She doubted she'd be able to remember one in three for the next fortnight. They were of all colors and sizes, old and young. Wilm was the baby at a tender four years, Daiki the eldest at fifty-six - though he appeared hardly older than thirty.

Around her, people laughed and joked as they entered the tent's cool interior. Eyes adjusting from the direct sunlight, she saw Ros standing in the center awaiting them. Several logs had been felled and trimmed, laid out in a rough circle. Outside the circle more were placed in semi-neat lines.

"What are those for?" she asked Lucinda, pointing.

"Seating for our guests," the redhead confided. "And the center is the boundary for our stage."

Ros gestured for the entertainers to settle down. Even little Wilm was in attendance, though the black and white monkey he was playing with distracted him. Once everyone was assembled, their leader clapped her hands to gain their attention.

"You've all done wonderfully on short sleep. We're all weary from our travels and toils, so there'll be no show tonight." Grinning at the applause and whistles, Ros ducked her tousled head in acceptance. "Rehearsal this afternoon, as usual, and we'll take the evening off." More cheering with a few groans were interspersed.

She should smile more often
, Katerin mused.
It eases the stern lines of her face.

Ros's expression turned serious. "I'm sure the reason why we left in such haste has reached your ears. I'll not lie to you; two men are dead, each killing the other. We've enough problems without the added headaches of dealing with a feud." She waved the two new arrivals forward. "Ilia. Katerin."

Startled at the candor the circus owner was showing her troupe, the brunette rose and stepped before the audience. Her handmaiden followed timidly, wringing her hands.

"You've probably already met both of them, if Lucinda's had her way," Ros said with a grin, standing between them and placing a hand on each woman's shoulder.

"Aye," a black man called from the rear of the gathering. "And when does Lucinda
not
have her way?" Laughter was his response.

The woman in question stood and whirled about, hands on her hips. In a scolding tone, she said, "You're just jealous, Usiku, because I haven't had my way with
you
!"

Katerin wasn't certain which was more disconcerting - the warm hand placed so proprietarily on her shoulder or the bawdy humor of the crowd laughing and teasing each other in such a manner. She could feel her face heat up as she blushed.

"Be that as it may," Ros called out cheerfully, regaining the people's
attention, "this is Ilia and Katerin." She indicated each with a nod. "For whatever reason, they found their way into our cook wagon. I've decided to keep them on. Ilia will be our seamstress and can play the lute. She'll train with Gemma and Minkhat as a clown."

"Can you do the Russian Swing?" a swarthy man questioned Ilia.

The blonde gave a half shrug and a shake of the head, uncertain as to what it was.

"For now it's not necessary," Ros interrupted. "Should she decide to remain longer, she'll have the opportunity to learn." Indicating the brunette beside her, she said, "And I've hired Katerin as my personal attendant."

Guffaws of laughter rippled through the small crowd, several of the men making colorful remarks. One or two women joined in or glared in mock anger at the raucous comments. Katerin stared at her toes in embarrassment, feeling the initial flush suffuse every inch of her skin. That the circus owner didn't disavow any of the comments didn't help matters.

Chuckling at some of the observations, Ros held up her hand to gain their attention once more. "Again - be that as it may…" she trailed off at the laughter. "We now have two more mouths to feed. And a potential danger." Her face became solemn. "As far as anyone need know, these women have been with us since we stopped at Aimsbury near a month ago. Understood?"

There was a general rumble of agreement.

"Good." The owner's hazel eyes scanned her people with practiced ease, making contact with each individual, calculating. "We're in this together - have been for many a year. I trust you all with my life, as you trust me with yours. Trust me in this."

"Aye, Ros!" a woman called. "We're better together than apart. You've said so yourself. We'll stand by your decision."

Again, the sound of several voicing their approval.

With a slight bow, Ros said, "Thank you, Sati." A smile returned to her face. "Rehearsal after lunch. Eat light and until then, enjoy the morning."

The performers dispersed, chattering at their good fortune. Katerin attempted to join them, but the hand on her shoulder tightened.

"Stay," Ros ordered.

Swallowing the bile in her throat, the brunette fought with anger and fear as she nodded hesitantly. She watched as Ilia was urged to follow the rest, giving a false smile of encouragement. When they were alone, Katerin was relieved when the hand fell away.

"I'll not lie to you, either," Ros said. She walked away, turning to straddle the first log she came to. "May I speak frankly, lady?"

The brunette blinked, surprised at the clear gaze directed at her. "Of course," she answered softly.

"I may be a sapphist, but I do not condone rape." Seeing the small woman blush, she looked away. "You'll be as safe in my bed as you would in your mother's arms."

Flustered, it took a few moments for Katerin to respond. "I… Thank you."

"The Invader's not someone to play lightly, however," Ros continued, still not looking at the brunette. "I'll get you away from his clutches and you can stay as long as you wish, but you must make the decision when to leave my troupe." With that she rose, dusting woodchips from her breeches. "Lunch is promptly at midday. As I said, eat light. We work hard at rehearsals."

Katerin watched her stride from the tent, puzzled yet intrigued.

Chapter 3

Ros certainly didn't speak in jest
, Katerin thought, wiping a sweaty brow on the sleeve of her blouse. She watched as half a dozen of the troupe performed feats on what they called Chinese Poles. Two tall poles were in the center of the 'stage', a series of ropes holding them upright in their bases. On each were three of the clowns, leaping and bouncing from one to another, passing each other by mere breaths. At one point, the brunette could only gasp as the performers levered their bodies parallel to the ground below using only their arms.

Ros clapped. "No, no!"

Pausing, all eyes and ears were focused on the owner. Those on the poles shifted their stances, locking their feet and arms about the wood and giving her their attention.

Stepping into the ring, the blonde continued, "Minkhat, your timing is off. Is your shoulder still paining you?"

"Some, I'll admit, Ros," the swarthy man who had asked Ilia about the Russian Swing said. He rolled one shoulder with a wince. "I can still have a go."

Ros shook her head, her tone and face brooking no argument. "No. Pain means it's not healed. Hop down - we don't want you to do further damage."

Slightly disgruntled, Minkhat did as ordered, pushing away from the pole, flipping into a backwards somersault and landing on his feet below.

"Katerin, do you know any of the healing arts?"

Startled at being called upon, the brunette blinked in response. At the irritated look she received, she quickly spoke up. "Aye, a bit."

"Good. Have Sameer show you where our herbal supplies are and see to Minkhat's shoulder." Dismissing her new charge, Ros returned her attention to the performers. "Let's start from the top. Gemma, Sati, close up the gap and we'll try it with five people."

Sameer, the troupe's only dwarf, put down the length of rope he'd been repairing. Climbing off a log, he ambled toward Katerin with an awkward gait. "This way," he ordered, his voice surprisingly mellow compared to his craggy appearance.

The princess followed, Minkhat trailing slightly behind.

Bright sunlight met the trio, the muggy warmth of the tent chased away by a mild breeze. Sighing, the brunette wiped sweat from her forehead, enjoying the cooling wind. Arriving at the cook wagon, Sameer clambered up the three steps and began struggling with the latch.

Katerin watched for long moments, becoming concerned as she watched him fight with the simple mechanism. He was obviously not quite tall or strong enough to open it with ease. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the swarthy man would be of no assistance as he gazed idly back at her.

Vexed, the brunette tsked.
What was Ros thinking?
she demanded.
The little fellow can't do this!
Stepping forward to intercede, she felt a hand wrap about her upper arm, pulling her back. Head whipping about, black eyes fearful and frustrated, Katerin saw Minkhat holding a finger to his lips and shaking his head. As her heart slowed, she heard the latch finally give way and the dwarf's lusty sigh of satisfaction.

"There we go," he said, a wide smile creasing his face as the door swung open. In moments, he was in the wagon, shoving boxes and rough-hewn sacks aside as he rummaged about.

Minkhat released the woman, winking at her as he pulled up a nearby stool and settled down.

Still uncertain, Katerin kept her expression neutral as Sameer found what he was looking for. Wood grated on wood as he pushed a medium sized chest towards the door. Opening the lid, he waved at it with a flourish and bowed. "All of our healing supplies - at your disposal, Lady Katerin."

Despite irritation at forcing the dwarf to work so much harder than a normal man, the brunette smiled, dropping into a curtsey. "Thank you, kind sir." His answering chuckle caused her smile to widen.

Sameer climbed down the steps. "That's all we have. We've not had anyone skilled in the healing arts for some time. If you need anything else or would like to restock what we have, let Ros know," he chattered. "She'll purchase what we need at the next village."

"Thank you for your assistance, Sameer," Katerin said. "I shall go over what we have."

Minkhat finally spoke. "Thanks, Sammie," he said with a wave and a sardonic grin.

The dwarf's eyes flashed in feigned anger. "That's Sameer to
you
, 'Minkie.'" With a final wave at the pair, he returned to the tent.

When he was far enough away, Katerin turned and glared at the man on the stool. "Why wouldn't you let me help him? He was obviously unsuited to the task; it would have been far easier to do it myself."

Holding his hands up and leaning backwards, Minkhat said, "Because he'd have been insufferable for the remainder of the day. And you," he continued, pointing at her, "would have made an enemy."

The brunette blinked, trying to comprehend. Finally, she murmured, "I don't understand."

"Obviously," the man muttered. At her sharp glance, he shook his head with a smile. "No, I mean no insult, Katerin." Warm brown eyes studied her. "You've not spent much time with commoners, have you?"

Swallowing, Katerin looked away, not wanting to give the man any more information than he could already discern.

"No matter. Let me tell you the way of it with people such as Sameer." Minkhat's eyes became unfocused with thought. "You spoke truly that he wasn't suited to the task at hand. But do you believe he'd enjoy being treated as a child his entire life? Would you?"

"What?" Surprise lit Katerin's eyes. I'd not thought of it in those terms. "Certainly not." She considered Sameer, how life would be for a commoner of that stature, how her life would have been in his place. To always be looked down upon as less, regardless of intelligence or skill - a tedious existence indeed.
And to forever be denied the opportunity to prove myself…

Seeing comprehension, the swarthy man smiled. "You understand how he would be insufferable for the remainder of the day?"

The brunette grinned sheepishly. "Aye. I can."

"And how you've brightened his day considerably with your acceptance?"

"Again, aye." With a slight bow of her head, Katerin said, "Thank you for my lesson. I'll not forget it."

Minkhat raised an eyebrow, keenly studying her until he realized she was amused rather than annoyed. "You're welcome," he responded, nodding.

"Now, turn about on that stool and take off your shirt," the woman ordered in a matter-of-fact tone.

Obediently, he did as he was told.