He turned his back on her and left. She followed him with her eyes, wondering how she could have loved him in the first place. Her stomach churned and her fists were tightly closed. She was trembling with anger and shame, and wished she could make him pay right there and then.
Beltrand grabbed her arm. "Come, my lady, I will escort you."
"Don't touch me," she snapped, freeing herself. She went downstairs first, followed by a smirking Beltrand.
8.
Conall was exhausted and very hungry. His feet hurt, but he couldn't stop. He was lost in the forest and his legs were so weak... He slumped on a log and looked around for berries. He was thirsty too, but didn't hear any sound of fresh water. He wondered if Florence had made it. He was so tired... he slid to the ground, trying to stay awake, but fell asleep, oblivious of the dangers.
"Aren't you a little too young to hang out on your own?"
The voice startled him awake, and he sat up, terrified. A young man with long black hair and forest-green clothes stared at him with an amused smile on his clean-shaven face.
"No, sir, I'm almost eight," Conall replied, his heart thundering in his chest.
"Very old indeed," the young man said. "And thank you for the title, but I'm actually an outlaw."
Conall tried to back away, but found himself against a huge tree, trapped. The bandit laughed good-naturedly.
"You're starving more than I am, what are you afraid of?" he said cheerfully. "I've got better things to do than going around killing homeless orphans!"
Conall gulped but stayed silent. He wasn't going to tell an outlaw he was actually the heir to a castle.
The bandit sat near him and looked into his bag. He offered Conall an apple. "Are you hungry? This comes from Bear Castle's orchard."
Conall grabbed the fruit and started devouring it. It was delicious. "So you stole this," he said between bites, enjoying each and every one.
"You shouldn't insult someone you've just met," the outlaw chided. "Boy, you're starved. What's your name?"
"Little Brother."
"Mm, all right." The young man smiled. "I am Malcom, former gardener of Bear Castle. If I share my food with you, will you follow me to my camp?"
"Of course," Conall replied, nodding eagerly. "But I can't pay you."
"You look smart and fast-handed," Malcom said. "You could join us."
"I will, if you help me." Conall looked the outlaw in the eyes.
Help could come from the most unexpected places, after all. He'd rather save Florence than go to an unknown uncle to beg for protection. He didn't know how to identify himself at Tower Castle and maybe outlaws were his best cover and protection.
"I am helping you, and giving you shelter, if you work with me in return," Malcom said.
"I will, but I also need your help to free my sister. She's held at Hawk Castle."
Malcom frowned. "Are you sure it's urgent? There's going to be a lot of armed movement there real soon."
"Then it's even more urgent to free her, or they'll kill her!" Conall declared.
Malcom stared at the child, amused. "Fine, we have a deal, then."
"You have my word of honor." Conall threw away the apple core and raised his right hand.
Malcom chuckled. "Yeah, right, let's go."
He rose and took Conall's hand. The boy followed him, relieved.
***
The Naked Goblin Inn was a very small tavern with very cheap but good drinks and fairly-priced but good food. Adalbert and Benjamin had booked one of the small rooms upstairs where Adalbert had requested a bathtub.
Then they had gone back downstairs to the very crowded but unusually quiet main room. It was a dangerous-looking crowd, the vast majority of it openly armed and about half of the patrons drunk.
Benjamin and Adalbert had found a table in one of the dark corners, ignoring the active card game on the side of the counter, and had ordered dinner. They'd told the innkeeper they were looking for men to hire, and a small procession of scarred and mean warriors had taken turns at their table while they ate.
"These mercenaries are damn greedy!" Adalbert sighed as a thoroughly tattooed mercenary left their table with a grunt.
"Come on, one last captain," Benjamin said, patting his shoulder.
As usual, the young man didn't seem to eat much – or get dirty for that matter. Adalbert was still baffled by his young and unexpected ally who often sounded so much wiser than him.
Adalbert nodded, sipping from his cup, as Benjamin signaled to a tall mercenary in his forties, clean-shaven, who came over and sat at their table. He had only a small scar on his face, but his hands and arms were badly scarred – probably as much as the rest of his body, covered by light chainmail pulled over his sleeveless tunic.
"Have a drink." Benjamin poured the mercenary some ale. The man accepted it with a nod.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
"I need men," Adalbert said. "But all I can offer is to become the garrison of a castle, to replace the traitors I must get rid of."
"A steady job." The mercenary captain pondered. That proposal had made the previous ones curse or spit or just leave with a glare. "How much do you pay your soldiers?"
Relieved to have grounds for negotiations, Adalbert answered honestly. The captain's name was Teobald, and he eventually agreed to put his men under Adalbert's command to recover Hawk Castle.
***
Florence wore her female clothes, but she was a prisoner in one of the guest rooms. She might look like a lady-in-waiting again, but Waltrand wouldn't let her see the lady of the castle.
Tristan had joined her at sunset, when a servant had taken back her tray of food, and had been vainly trying to get through to her for the good part of an hour.
"You're still in love with Waltrand!" he accused her, peeved.
She glared at him. "No, I'm not," she snapped. "And I don’t want you either."
"I am respecting you, I want to marry you, not to keep you hidden from the world!" Tristan protested.
"Tristan, you're a gentleman, I give you credit for that." Florence tried to remain calm, but her stomach was churning again. "But after what your brother did, you can't expect me to trust any of you!"
"But I love you!"
"That's what he used to say..."
"I'm not my brother!"
"I know, Tristan, but I'm sick of love at the moment, so give me a break, will you?"
"Waltrand was right, I should have taken you by force," Tristan muttered.
He embraced her out of anger and frustration, kissing her passionately. She didn't resist, but didn't respond either. Tristan had always been the weak brother, depending on Waltrand too much. Sometimes she'd wondered if he had a brain or not.
He let her go and stared at her with a frown, but she looked away.
"I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you," he said, sounding apologetic for his outburst. "But you drive me crazy with your behavior. Are you angry with me?"
"Only when you use your brother's head instead of yours," she said. "I should have fallen in love with you."
"There's still time," he said, hopeful.
She rolled her eyes with a snort. "I've had enough of the whole family, believe me."
He stared at her while her thoughts drifted away. She wondered if Conall had made it to his uncle's, if he was safe. She hoped someone would beat Waltrand and stop him.
"Would you run away with me?" Tristan suggested shyly. "We could go to Xendaria and start a new life as man and wife..."
"No, thank you," she answered absentmindedly. He didn't insist and left.
Florence sighed. She went to look at her discarded men's clothes. She touched the fabric and decided she was more comfortable in them – especially if she wanted to try to run away from the castle.
She put them on quickly and checked herself in the mirror. Too clean, but at least if she had to jump or climb, she wouldn't be encumbered by a gown. She quickly braided her chestnut brown hair and looked
around the room, hoping to see her dagger although she knew Waltrand had it. She'd have to do without this time – or find another weapon.
She heard muffled sounds of fighting outside the room and stared at her door in wonder. It opened allowing in a dark-haired young man with a dazzling smile and a bloodied dagger in his hand.
"Hello," he greeted. "The way is free, if you'd like to follow me."
She moved closer to the lamp and he gave her a startled look.
"What are you looking at?" she snapped. "Never seen a woman?"
"Not in men's clothes, no. Let's go, my lady, we don't have much time."
In the corridor, she saw a guard lying on the ground, bloodied and unconscious. She looked at her savior who shrugged.
"You did this?" she whispered, surprised.
"Who else?"
"Who sent you?"
"Your Little Brother. Let's go."
She went with him without further objection. They easily slipped out of the castle and rushed to the cover of the trees. Florence wasn't too keen to be in the forest at night, but the young man seemed to know where he was going.
As the sun started to rise and she could see a little better where she was going, she managed to ask him a few questions. She was less concentrated on the walk and had more time to wonder. "Who are you?"
"Malcom. I found Little Brother exhausted and starving, but determined to save you."
"And what are you?"
"A bandit. A terrible outlaw."
With that dazzling smile of his, even in the depths of the forest, he looked anything but threatening. Florence smiled against her will.
"Now I'm terrified," she said. "Where are you from?"
"Used to work at Bear Castle," he answered. "Until a jealous lord chased me from his orchard."
"Why, what did you do?" she asked, puzzled, stumbling on a root and almost falling against him.
He steadied her. "Caught the lady's eye," he said, grabbing her hand to guide her better.
"Yeah, you're definitely more attractive than Lord Philip," she commented with a scoff.
"You know him?" It was his turn to be surprised.
"I saw him at my lady's wedding. I was a lady-in-waiting with Lady Romelia for years before things went awry."
"So I wasn't wrong to expect somebody different at the castle," he said. "I should have known Little Brother's sister could only be like him, though."
"Little Brother is more than what you think," she replied, amused. "And I'm wearing these clothes because I was considering escaping anyway."
"It's a pity, I'd have loved to see you in the attire that gentleman left you in," he said.
"You saw Tristan?"
"Yeah, but he didn't see me. Very gloomy young man, you must have been real hard on him."
"How dare you..." She freed her hand and stopped. The sun was high now, and even if she had no idea of where she was in the damn forest, she was determined to put him in his place.
"Calm down, we're here." He grinned and pointed forward. She could smell fire and food cooking, which made her stomach grumble.
Fuming, Florence followed him into the outlaws' camp. Before she could take it all in – the houses in the trees, the men and women camping in the clearing – Conall rushed to her with a scream of joy.
"Hello, Little Brother," she greeted, relieved.
"Now I think I can call you Florence," Conall said, hugging her. "What do you think of the shelter I found?"
"It's great, you've done a wonderful job." She squeezed him and let him go, feeling him squirm.
Conall turned to Malcom. "My name is Conall. Thank you for saving Florence."
Malcom winked. "It was almost a pleasure."
"Is he always so sarcastic?" Florence asked Conall, frowning at Malcom.
"He was kind to me." The child shrugged. "He saved me."
"But you'll have to repay me, boy," Malcom said. "Don't forget it!"
"And how is he supposed to pay you?" Florence asked, her hands on her hips.
"By letting me marry his sister, of course," Malcom replied.
Florence was about to reply "forget it!" then she remembered that Conall had two real sisters.
"His sister, huh?" She smiled wickedly. "I wonder what his mother will have to say about it!"
"I thought you were orphans," Malcom said, puzzled.
"We are. Aren't we, Sister?" Conall said.
"Oh, sure." Florence was amused by the misunderstanding and flattered by Malcom's interest. She smiled at him, but left him wondering what was actually going on.
"You know, if he's actually your son, it's fine too," he whispered as they approached the fires to eat some breakfast.
She smiled at him. "No, Malcom, Conall is not my son." She doubted Waltrand would ever consider her if she'd had a child with someone else, so she was surprised to hear that from a complete stranger. She must have made quite an impression on him. But she wasn't going to give away Conall's identity yet. Or hers.
9.
Beltrand was reading a manuscript and eating an apple when Waltrand stormed inside his room, furious.
"Find them," he demanded. "I want Florence and Conall at my feet!"
Beltrand smiled, putting away the manuscript and heading for the basin.
"I will bring them here," he said. "But I want the woman for myself."
"I'd rather waste her. But I hope you can keep her forever," he said through clenched teeth.
Beltrand scoffed. "Of course, I'm not as vulnerable as your brother."
He threw away the apple core and looked into the basin, mumbling his spell. Waltrand crossed his arms over his chest, frowning, as he waited. Damn Florence deserved to end her life with the old sorcerer!
***
Romelia looked up from her embroidery work, startled, as Tristan entered her room with a determined look on his face. Isabel and Eliza also looked up, but the ladies-in-waiting kept their heads down.
"My lady, I need to talk to you alone," Tristan said, stopping next to her with a curt bow.
She hesitated, then gestured everybody out, including Isabel who pouted but took her little sister's hand and left. She signaled him to sit as soon as they were alone.
"I'm listening," she said.
"My lady, forgive me for not speaking earlier, but I have been an accomplice in the wrongful deed and it took me some time to realize what I had done."
"What are you talking about, Tristan?" She frowned in worry. She'd never seen Tristan so serious and apologetic.
"Beware of my brother and his lies, my lady," the young man said. "He murdered your husband and will do everything to kill Conall too, as soon as he finds him."
Romelia gasped in shock. Her heart started beating faster. "Where is Conall?" she asked, anguished.
"I don't know." Tristan lowered his eyes, but then looked up again. "He managed to run away with Florence, but sooner or later Waltrand will find them and get rid of them, telling you some sad story of accidents like he did with your husband."
Romelia stared at him, horrified. Not by the young man himself, but by what he was telling her. The faithful captain of her husband's guard had plotted to get rid of Adalbert and take over the castle, and now wanted to kill her son too?
"I'll throw him into the dungeon!" she muttered. "The traitor..."
"You can't my lady," Tristan said. "Soldiers love him and Beltrand is covering him."
"The sorcerer we drove away two months ago?"
"He never left. Waltrand hid him in the cellar. He has real powers, unlike many others."
"That's why he came back so fast when Adalbert died!" Romelia couldn't believe she'd been so dumb. But she was mourning Adalbert at the time. "Offering protection when it was too late..."
"As I said, Beltrand never left," Tristan said. "Your husband didn't trust magic users, but Waltrand does. And I've seen what they both can do."
Romelia pursed her lips.
"What else did your brother lie about?" she asked, glaring
at Tristan. He should have spoken earlier. Although she knew Tristan adored his older brother and was his devoted subordinate. He must be really upset with Waltrand to speak out at last.
"He said he'd marry Florence, but it's you he's been after ever since," Tristan said gloomily. "He had captured Florence, but last night somebody freed her."
Romelia sighed. "I will be careful, then. But I want you to leave and find the most powerful wizard of the kingdom."
"I think I can steal Beltrand's power," Tristan said, determined. "It's all in a black liquid he keeps in a flask, it's with him at all times."
"Then I need you to become a thief."
He nodded. Romelia sighed again and shooed him out. He bowed and left, as she pondered what else she could do.
***
Adalbert reached Malcom's camp on horseback with Teobald and Benjamin.
"Are you sure your men won't get caught?" he asked the mercenary commander, a little worried.
"Your fief is in the Woodlands, there's plenty of hiding places," Teobald replied. "What are we doing here anyway?"
"Getting archers to back you up," Adalbert answered dismounting.
Malcom came forward to greet them. "Found your mercenaries?"
"This is Teobald, their commander," Adalbert introduced.
"Good. I've been to Hawk Castle in your absence," Malcom said, all business. "I checked the situation while I was there."
"Why did you go there anyway?" Adalbert asked, puzzled.
Malcom shrugged. "To help a little orphan."
Adalbert stared at him suspiciously, but before he could say anything, a childish voice startled him.
"Father, you're alive!" Conall rushed to him and Adalbert found him clinging to his waist, overjoyed.
"Conall, what are you doing here?" he asked, incredulous.
"Oh, Father, they told us you were dead, so I ran away with Florence before Waltrand killed me too!" Conall explained, excited.
Adalbert noticed the lady-in-waiting in men's clothes not far away and glared at her. She shrugged and averted her eyes. Malcom raised his eyebrows and stared at Benjamin who smiled back innocently.
"Gods, you've grown up," Adalbert said, caressing Conall's head that now reached over his belt. He hugged his overjoyed son, then turned to Florence. "And you... I thought you were Waltrand's lover."
Tales of the Northern Kingdoms volume 2 Page 23