[Tempus Fugitives 01.0] Swept Away

by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

  “Well, a very special welcome, little nun,” he said, leering at her naked breasts which were now almost completely free of her shirt. “And I thought I would have to find you.”

  He held her wrists in an iron grip, twisting them hard until she cried out and then twisting again until Ella thought he would break them both.

  “And where are the others, little one?” His face was a mask of hatred and lust. Ella couldn’t imagine she ever thought he was handsome. He was hideous.

  “No understand,” Ella said as she struggled. He released one hand long enough to reach up and backhand her hard across the face. The pain exploded in her cheek and she felt her mouth fill with blood.

  “Perhaps you will feel more like talking afterwards?” he said, leering at her, his eyes on her breasts.

  Ella fought to bring her knee up between his legs but he had her too securely beneath him. All she could do was squirm. Holding both her hands over her head, he ripped her shirt off and threw it behind him. Ella forced herself not to close her eyes, not to disengage. She knew she couldn’t give up, even as she felt his hand grasping her bare breast and twisting it.

  “I like it when you fight,” Axel said, breathlessly. “Don’t you know I like it better this way?” He gripped her other breast and began to slowly lower his mouth to her nipple. As she watched him, it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. As soon as his face was nearly touching her breast, she jerked her shoulders off the floor and took his ear between her teeth. She bit down as hard as she could. She heard him scream but she didn’t let go. He released her hands to punch her but she was ready for him. As soon as her hands were free, she pushed off him with her knees, sliding on the slick slate floor away from him. He allowed her to scramble under the bed.

  “Bitch!” he roared. “I’ll kill you for this! I’ll eat your heart with my dinner tonight!”

  Ella had one hand on the Taser and the other on the extra shotgun plug. She felt his hands grab at her under the bed. She tried to kick him in the face but he nearly succeeded in snaring her foot. While she was concentrating on trying to insert the second and last Taser barb into the chamber, he reached far under the bed and grabbed her foot. She twisted on her back, the Taser still unloaded, as he yanked her out from under the bed.

  Rowan was sure Axel had threatened to visit him again, but the morning had dragged on and nobody came. The poor woman’s screams had mercifully stopped. He tried not to think how she had been silenced. One thing Axel had unintentionally revealed to him last night was that all of the nuns had escaped safely. He had been given this information in conjunction with the blows that temporarily robbed him of his hearing, but it was a relief to him. The last time he saw Ella, one of Axel’s henchmen between them, was enough to make him go mad. Even when he was being dragged off to a medieval dungeon, he could see she was looking to him for direction. She had obeyed his order to flee. He thought of that look in her eyes that begged him to tell her that all was not lost.

  He was jarred from these thoughts by the clang of his cell door being swung open, letting in a shaft of blinding light. He tried to stand but could only get to his knees.

  “Get up, warlock!” a harsh voice shouted. “Today all of Heidelberg comes to watch you burn!”

  Rowan struggled to his feet. He could not tell who had come for him. It wasn’t Axel’s voice. “Who are you?” he croaked, his voice parched from lack of water.

  “Silence! This day, the lord of Krüger keeps the citizens of Heidelberg safe from the Devil’s emissary!”

  Still blinking against the harsh light, Rowan felt iron hard hands grab him and drag him through the cell door. The dull pain of his branded back leaped to a searing heat and he gasped at the shock of it.

  “Your chariot awaits you, Demon,” the voice snarled.

  Stumbling on the slick pavements in the cell, Rowan felt himself being dragged out of the dungeon and into a narrow passageway. When the two men who held him turned to the left to wind their way up to the outside, Rowan thought to himself, Ah well, I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.

  When Ella felt Axel loosen his grip, she didn’t waste the opportunity but kicked free and scrambled back under the bed. The bed was tall enough to allow her to sit hunched over on her knees. She brought the gun up to her chest, slammed the final barb in the chamber, and aimed the gun at his feet. Just then, Axel’s legs moved away from her, and she realized that someone else had entered the room.

  Axel went ballistic. “Get out! Who are you to enter my bedchamber?”

  “Herr Krüger?” a deep voice said. “Herr Axel Krüger?”

  Ella slid to the edge under the bed where she could see what was happening. Three men and Axel stood in the doorway. Axel was clutching a bloody rag to his mangled ear. Her heart was pounding hard and she prayed they couldn’t hear her breaths coming in terrified rasps.

  One man in the doorway was obviously the leader. “I am Magistrate Schwartz,” he said. “I have come to ask if you will deny that this is your handwriting?” He shoved a letter at Axel. “I must tell you that your own valet confirms it is your hand.”

  Axel grabbed the letter and ripped it into two pieces. He threw it in the man’s face.

  “Get out at once,” he snarled. “Or I will have you boiled in chicken fat.”

  “In this letter,” Schwartz continued, “you boast of committing unnatural acts. You relate how you are able to make the fires of Lucifer spring from your fingertips and how you can turn newborn babes into minions of the Devil himself.”

  “Is that against the law?” Axel said sarcastically.

  “It is against God’s law,” Schwartz said. He leaned down and picked up the pieces of the letter from the floor. “You boast in this letter,” he said, “that you are above the law, that your work is the bidding of the dark lord.”

  “I did not write that, you vermin,” Axel said.

  “It is in your hand, Herr Krüger,” Schwartz said.

  Axel held out a hand for the letter. Schwartz gave one small piece to him and added, “We must keep all evidence for the trial.”

  “What trial?” Axel said with a sneer. He glanced at the magistrate’s men and then at the letter in his hand. “I did not write this,” he said.

  “It is in your hand.”

  Axel held the piece of paper with both hands, letting the bloody rag drop to the floor. He looked from the letter to the magistrate.

  Not so sure now, are you, asshole? Ella thought.

  “Perhaps you don’t remember writing it?” Schwartz said.

  “Of course, I don’t remember writing it!”

  Ella knew what he was thinking and why he looked so confused. Without question, the letter appeared to be in his handwriting.

  “The Devil has many wiles and ways to seduce us,” Schwartz said, almost kindly. “Often in spite of ourselves.”

  “This is madness!” Axel said, waving the letter. “And lies!”

  The magistrate snatched the piece of paper from Axel and tucked it into his vest. He regarded Axel with hooded eyes. “We have another letter, received last week,” he said, “from an eye witness who claims he saw you create fire with your fingers and dance with the dead.”

  “An eye witness? Impossible! This is merely an enemy sent to discredit me. Letters make weak proof.”

  “Which is why I much prefer confessions,” the magistrate said with a smile. Then he turned to one of his deputies and said, “Look inside the drawer of the bedside table.”

  “How dare you? I forbid you to enter my bedchamber!”

  Ella held her breath as one of the magistrate’s men came close to the bed and jerked open the bedside table drawer.

  “I will have you burned in the square!” Axel shrieked. “I will have all your heads on pikes!”

  Ella saw that Axel was now being restrained from stopping the man by the bed.

  “Sir!” The man at the bedside table returned to his master, his arm outstretched as if carrying something highly
contagious. Even from her vantage point, Ella could see his face appeared flushed with fear as he held his hand out to the magistrate. “I found it.”

  “That is not mine!” Axel screamed. “That does not belong to me!”

  The magistrate took the item from his man and frowned.

  “What unholy treachery is this?” he said as he spun the tiny wheel on the lighter’s igniter with his thumb. It burst into flame. Schwartz screamed and dropped the lighter. He turned to his men. “Seize him!” he bellowed. “We will question him further in our dungeons!” Axel’s howls as he was dragged from the room rang through the castle halls. Ella waited until the sounds had faded in the distance and then counted to ten before bolting from under the bed. She grabbed her shirt and tied it on as best she could.

  She stood outside the bedroom and tried to gather her thoughts. Her iPhone had long since lost power but she didn’t need a digital timepiece to know they were cutting it close for Rowan. She also knew that the arrest of all the warlords in Heidelberg would not commute the death sentence of one lone warlock in the castle bowels.

  Greta stood at the gate to the castle. She had hoped she would find Ella immediately. She feared that not finding her meant that she was inside the castle. As she tried to decide whether to go inside or not, Krüger suddenly appeared in the courtyard. At first, she thought he was taking a walk or perhaps checking on his stable full of prized warhorses and racers. It was rumored that he never went anywhere alone so it didn’t immediately occur to Greta that the entourage about him wasn’t so much protecting him as escorting him. She didn’t recognize the men as Krüger’s. When the Sheriff of Heidelberg strutted out into the courtyard behind him, a wave of relief passed through her entire body.

  He was under arrest!

  She watched with delight as Krüger was marched to the end of the courtyard. The castle guards clearly did not intend to obstruct the Sheriff‘s purpose or defend their master. Krüger spoke briefly to his aide, then mounted the horse brought to him by the stable master. Greta could see that both his sword and dagger sheaths were empty. When he mounted, he turned and gave one last look to the castle. But before he turned his horse away with his escort of sheriff’s men, he saw Greta standing by the castle gate half hidden in the bushes. She thought she saw a brief expression of resignation on his craggy features. Then he turned away on his journey through the courts and to the gallows that inevitably awaited him.

  As soon as the group passed, Greta entered the courtyard. When she did, she locked eyes with the aide Krüger had spoken to in the courtyard before leaving. Before he could sound the alarm—if indeed that was his intention—they both heard and saw a screaming and struggling Axel in shackles being dragged into the courtyard and lifted onto the back of a mule. The magistrate and his burly men surrounded Axel as he was tied to his mount. Evidence of his refusal to come quietly could be seen in the blood pouring from his ear and his mouth. Greta watched as he continued to scream like a wild animal as the mule was led out of the courtyard and across the castle bridge into town.

  Ella allowed herself no time to rejoice that the plan had worked. Keeping her Taser out and ready to dispatch anyone who tried to slow her down, she raced down the hall to the line of family bedrooms. She knew there was only one way to save him now. Christof will either listen to reason or get the shit shocked out of him. One way or the other, she was not leaving the castle without her husband.

  She ran to the room where she had first taken refuge and flung open the door. Christof was again kneeling in prayer with his back to her. He stood when she entered. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and his left eye blackened, but he was very much alive.

  “Herr Krüger,” Ella said breathlessly as she entered the large cold room, “I am here to inform you that your father will shortly be arrested for treason. He is, I should also tell you, in the process of disowning your elder brother, who is being questioned by the church elders on the charge of being a warlock. You have the opportunity to put right many wrongs perpetuated by your family, starting with the immediate release of a United States Deputy Marshal currently being held in your castle dungeons at this very moment.”

  Ella gripped the handle of her Taser. It took every bit of restraint she had not to point it at him and force him to hand over the keys to the jail cells immediately.

  “A warlock?”

  “Really? That’s all you heard?”

  “Christof!” Greta appeared in the doorway and rushed to the young man. “It’s over, Christof!” she said, embracing him. “Praise God, it’s finally over. Your father has publicly renounced Axel. You are Lord Krüger!”

  Somewhere in the outskirts of the castle grounds, the agonizing sounds of a man’s screams reverberated up through the spiraling stone staircases. Slowly, a beatific smile spread over Christof’s face as he recognized the owner of the plaintive howl and realized what it meant.

  The reign of Krüger the Terrible was at an end.

  Long live Krüger the Kind.

  Rowan was tied to the cart by his neck and every limb. He was kneeling and could feel the cool wind on his face. When he looked up, he could see the beautiful blue November sky and he thought of all the days he had wasted not looking up. His knees were bruised and bloodied from the bouncing of the hard wooden cart along the cobblestone streets. He tried to focus on the sky. After spending what were probably the last twelve hours of his life in a dungeon, he decided to relish the feeling of the sun on his face.

  In the distance, he could see the fifteen foot pyre. It looked like the good people of Heidelberg had thrown chairs and tables on the stack. The villagers who ran alongside the cart were jeering and throwing rotten food at him. So stunned had he been by the whole nightmare, that he only now noticed them. He watched them out of his one good eye and wondered how in the name of all that is holy they could believe what they were doing was in the name of God.

  The man driving the little donkey cart twisted in his seat to look at Rowan, then spoke briefly to a nearby mounted castle guard. They came to a halt at the foot of the pyre. Rowan could see a stool jammed into the middle of it and was surprised. At least I don’t have to stand, he thought.

  One of the guards jumped down and began vigorously sawing with his knife at the ropes that bound Rowan. Rowan realized that at the rate he was going, the knife would slice into his flesh when the rope gave way. As Rowan watched the guard, wondering at the kind of man who could take such delight at causing pain, the guard startled him by suddenly looking at him, too. Then the guard’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he began convulsing, dropping his knife in the process. The crowd screamed and retreated from the donkey cart but Rowan knew what the man’s seizure had to mean.

  Ella!

  He twisted in the cart, one hand loose, and tried to see where she was. He needed to tell her to run, to not watch this, to get out. What he saw when he turned to look behind him was a half dozen castle guards on horseback coming up fast to the marketplace from the castle. He could see their black livery, the sunlight reflecting off the silver on their caps and bridles. One man on horseback was very close and had to jerk his horse roughly away to avoid colliding with the cart. That’s when Rowan saw her behind the rider in the saddle. She slid to the ground, her Taser held up and away from her as he’d taught her.

  He had hungered to see her beautiful face after so many hours of worry and anguished regret. But now his heart pounded with fear at the danger she was in.

  They were surrounded by guards.

  He watched her run and jump in the cart with him.

  And the guards did nothing.

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “It’s over, Rowan,” she said.

  The guards on horseback cleared the crowd of citizens away from the cart. The man whose horse Ella had jumped from dismounted and strode purposefully to the cart. He bowed to them and barked orders to the guards who had been Rowan’s escorts. The donkey cart driver watched with his mouth open as one of the g
uards stepped over the man who had been Tased and quickly cut Rowan’s bonds.

  Rowan looked at the horseman who offered him his hand out of the cart and then at Ella who still hadn’t let go of his neck.

  “We won?” he said.

  “We won, hero,” she said. “We fucking won.”

  Axel was arrested, Krüger was scheduled to stand trial for the plot against the Prince’s man and for treason against the state, and Christof was publicly recognized as his only heir. The very day that Rowan was rescued from the flames, he and Ella joined Greta at the castle to meet with the new Lord Krüger. Rowan tried to send away the castle physician but Ella and Greta both insisted he be seen.

  “Can’t we just click our heels together and go home now?” Rowan said to Ella as he eased himself into a hot tub, clothes and all while the physician waited outside.

  “Rowan, don’t get in with your clothes,” Ella said, starting to unbutton the rag that covered his upper body. “A servant brought you clean clothes to put on after you see the doctor.”

  She peeled the shirt from his shoulder and gasped.

  “Is it bad?” he asked. “I didn’t want to touch it. Is it as bad as I think it is?”

  Ella did not reply but just stared at the angry blistered brand of the letter K on his back.She felt such anger at what they had done to him, that her hands began to shake.

  “You’re scaring me, babe,” Rowan said. “It still hurts like shit. What is it?”

  “It’s the letter K,” Ella said softly. “Branded into your shoulder.”

  “Well, that’s just awesome. One great little souvenir of my truly wonderful adventure here in 16 fucking 20 Germany.” He saw her face and softened. “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “It’s not that bad.”