“No. There are worse fates than becoming a slave. There is no disgrace in service—especially in such a house as timna is privileged to serve.”
“Do you think Duke Vahn would accept me?”
“Master Vahn would, but—” She broke off suddenly as if what she had planned to say made her remember something. “timna has to go now, milady. She will come back to bathe you and ready the bed.” She sprung up and dashed out the door.
Keedrina had no time to thank timna for the food or the conversation. The farmgirl ate quietly, then found a hand pump in the inhouse and cleaned the plate. The pump arched over a huge oblong tub. Keedrina guessed it must be used to wash clothes. The healer’s wife had said the basin was too small. This was definitely large enough for a whole family’s clothes.
She pumped some water onto a washcloth and washed the same way she had at the healer’s home. She wasn’t quite as tired, so she took the time to sponge her feet and legs as well.
The mahogany featherbed with silk sheets and velvet comforter was just too pretty to disturb and Keedrina was wary of falling off. So she slipped into the trundle. She had slept in a drawer when she was very young, as had her sisters after her. The trundle had a nostalgic, homey feel to it. She blew out all the lamps, curled up in the trundle, and fell asleep.
Chapter 11
After her chores, timna returned to find the guest cottage already dark. She slipped inside, lit a candle, and moved quietly. She smiled when she found the clean supper plate. No other guest had ever washed the dishes before. timna chided herself for not having returned sooner to help the poor orphan.
Her regret turned to alarm when she found the bed untouched. Lady Keedrina was nowhere to be seen. Had timna neglected Master’s guest so much that she felt compelled to leave? Had she offended her when she didn’t believe the Itzi could read? Then timna spotted the trundle. She sighed with relief, changed into a flannel gown, and pulled a fur rug near the trundle to lay down beside her charge.
* * *
Both girls awoke early the next morning.
“Could I help you with your work?” Keedrina asked as she rubbed her eyes.
timna shook her head. “No, thank you. You are a guest here. Sleep a while longer if you like. timna will bring breakfast later.”
Keedrina sighed softly. timna dressed and dashed off to the keep. Keedrina made the trundle bed and put her clothes on, except the shoes. It seemed wrong to wear them to walk on fancy carpets and furs. Moreover, the rugs felt so good against her bare feet. Bare feet—another reason to envy timna. Admitting to herself that she envied a slave was difficult. Would Mother be scolding her from the grave for such thoughts?
She still had questions, but she couldn’t ask the duke. Even if every instinct told her she could trust him, she knew she could never bring herself to ask. Her heart had pounded away, her hands had sweat, her knees had trembled, and that was just an introduction! Furthermore, she was vulnerable and naïve. It would have to be an objective source—someone outside the duke’s household, someone who didn’t know her situation.
Much as she tried to think about other things, her thoughts always wandered back to timna and the duke’s house. She attempted to distract herself with books. It worked somewhat, but it also reminded her that she’d have very little hope of reading ever again if she returned to live in the henhouse.
With the windows closed, she didn’t hear the city bells that marked the hours. They were set in the lighthouse so fishing boats could hear the tolling. From her home to the south, she could hear them only if she were listening hard. She never paid much attention to time at home, other than awaiting Botlop’s release from work. Here, with nothing to do but read, the hours passed slowly. Keedrina opened a window so she could hear the tolling, as if hearing the hours announced would somehow hasten their passage.
Just after the tenth hour, timna arrived, frazzled and harried. She set enough food on the dining table for two meals. She transferred a copper kettle from a cupboard to the cast iron stove, then checked to be sure there was wood to use. She brought a silver tea set from the hutch to the kitchen. Once everything was in order, she sighed and turned to Keedrina. “timna may not be here for tea, milady. She wanted you to have everything you needed, just in case.”
Keedrina stared at the fancy meats and pastries with her mouth agape. “Thank you, timna, but I really don’t need all this. Please, don’t worry about me.”
“Master told timna to see you have everything you need. timna will return as soon as she can. timna wishes she could stay and keep you company, but...”
“...but you have work to do. Please, go ahead and don’t apologize.”
The slave smiled and bowed, then hurried out the door again. Keedrina was afraid to eat on the white tablecloth. If timna had stayed, she would have done it, but with no one watching, she took the plate into the kitchen and ate over the sink. The kitchen sink had a hand pump just like the inhouse. Keedrina just couldn’t get over all the luxuries. She washed all her dishes and stacked them carefully.
Chapter 12
The posse encircled the five fugitives who slept unaware in Fendrus Forest. Calla and Cana’s rays had just begun to penetrate the misty fog as everyone was in position. “Now!” cried the duke. His men shouted and charged forward. They bypassed most of the traps, purposely tripped others, clearing the way. In barely ten seconds, five groggy men stumbled to a defensive circle, disconcerted to be outnumbered and surrounded.
“Good day, my fine gentlemen,” the duke called sardonically as he rode forward with his rapier in hand. “I am Vahn Rebono, duke of Latoph.” In times like these, Vahn was grateful that the kingdom was named after the duchy. Foreigners usually assumed a greater asset than was actually his. “Might you direct me to the group of men who pillaged an Itzi farmhouse south of Ny two nights past? I have payment for them.”
“No, we don’t know anything about it,” sneered one of the ruffians.
Ah, the leader. He shall be mine. “No?” Vahn continued in a voice like honey-coated razor blades. “Such a shame. My men and I had hoped you might help us. You’re sure it couldn’t be you?”
“Yeah, we’re sure,” a few more voices sputtered out.
Vahn furrowed his brow and scowled at them. “Well, then I’m sure you won’t mind if our hounds have a sniff around, then, will you?” He ordered the dogs toward Patkus. The handlers unmuzzled the dogs and gathered them around the healer to sniff tiny scraps of clothing and handfuls of hair, then they dispersed to the fugitives and their saddlebags, barking and snarling.
The healer followed the dogs to the saddlebags. Within, he found a ripped shirt whose hole matched a scrap he had used for scent. “I have a match,” he yelled, holding the shirt and the scrap up for all to see, then moving the scrap in and out of the hole to demonstrate the fit.
Vahn was enjoying his little game. He pointed his rapier at the leader and yelled to his posse, “Add perjury to their list of crimes. By the way, what is on that list so far, my countrymen?” He sounded nearly jovial to the untrained ear. He waved his sword about in an encouraging motion.
“Rape.”
“Murder.”
“Arson.” The shouts came from different timbres and different directions.
“Torture of children.”
“Terrorizing a village,” one of the Itzi farmers added.
Patkus held up a scrimshaw pendant on a leather thong discovered in the bags. “Thievery!” he shouted. “This was Silla’s.”
The soft whoosh of metal against leather multiplied hundredfold as swords left their sheaths. Restless horses shifted under their riders, snapping twigs that littered the forest floor. The dogs barked loudly. Canine claws struggled for traction against their leashes. The owners had to pull them away.
“Sounds like some pretty grave charges,” the duke said coolly as he dismounted, approached the leader and leveled his sword at his neck. “Drop your weapons now, all of you.” The condemned exchanged surprise
d glances. Two of the five did as ordered. “Those two get quick deaths,” Vahn called. He motioned to the leader. “This one is mine. The rest are yours, my friends. Now!”
Mayhem commenced. Several dirks hurled from horseback struck the two unarmed men. They died quickly as ordered. Vahn engaged the leader, purposely removing himself from the other two still-armed men. It didn’t take long for 100 to 2 odds to relieve the criminals of their weapons. Not one of his men was seriously harmed.
Vahn fought with the leader for several minutes, just for the sport of it. He left a deep cut on the man’s shoulder and a gash on his thigh, while he himself barely broke a sweat. He easily parried the lunge for his heart and countered with a slash to the outlaw’s arm, tearing the sleeve and revealing the raven tattoo. He toyed with his prey only as long as it amused him; then with a twist of his wrist, he liberated the leader’s sword. The man fell to his knees.
Vahn glared at him, then addressed the knights who held the remaining prisoners at swordpoint. “Strip them and tie their wrists to a high branch, then bind their feet as well.” While the accursed men struggled, spat, and hurled insults, the posse carried out his instructions. Vahn recovered his whip from his saddle.
“I take no pleasure in this,” he announced when they were tied. “I do it for the blood of two girls and their mother. Innocent blood calls from the grave for the blood of the guilty.” With that, he lashed out, leaving a raw red stripe. Ignoring their screams, he whipped them haphazardly so they wouldn’t know when the next strike would come. Each flinched with every blow, even those of their companions, adding mental anguish to the torment. He kept no count of their lashes, for it mattered not.
When their backs were solidly bloodied, Vahn stopped and circled them. “I’m afraid that your punishments have been unfair,” he said, oozing false compassion. “The women you tortured were stabbed from the front. You should bleed from the front as well.” Again his whip cracked loudly and brought blood from across exposed pectorals. The captives screamed and tried to turn their faces to escape the whip’s flaming kiss, but Vahn made sure each had a taste of his own blood, besides chest and trunk lacerations.
Next, he directed Captain Shil to gag the prisoners. Their screaming and whimpering had become annoying and with what he planned, it should only get worse. Besides, gags would hinder breathing and hasten death. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.
Vahn taunted as the gags were applied, “This is what you did to helpless females, isn’t it? Covered their tiny lips with your hands to drown out their cries for mercy. Then you used what was sacred to deprive them of honor and life. Therefore I deprive you of sacred and life to return their honor.” He stepped in front of the first prisoner. With a quick unsheathing and skilled slice of his dagger, Vahn removed everything that made him male. Several men from the posse turned away, cringing, while the majority cheered.
The emasculated man screamed against his gag. The center criminal shook his head violently. A stream of muffled “no’s” escaped the cloth filling his mouth.
Vahn wavered, sickened by his own actions. He closed his eyes and imagined Lady Keedrina’s defenseless mother and young sisters. He summoned every ounce of fortitude he could muster to steel himself, inhaling deeply. “No?” he sneered. “Did the six-year-old girl cry, ‘no’? Did her mother not beg you by all that was decent to spare her? And yet you ignored her, therefore I ignore you.” He repeated his actions with the second criminal.
The third, the leader, also begged piteously, muffled by his gag. Vahn stopped for a moment, allowing him to squirm. “You know what is coming. You saw it happen first to the men you led. Tell, me, how does it feel to be helpless to stop a stronger power from torturing someone under your charge? How does it feel to know you will die painfully and not be able to stop it no matter how you plead?”
Muffled whimpers, pleading eyes, and a writhing body were the only answers. The leader was deprived of his male organs with a deft slash.
Vahn turned and walked away, wiping the blood from his hands with a kerchief. His men still ridiculed and taunted the prisoners. Some made suggestions for further torture. Vahn shook his head. Others volunteered to take over the task. He raised his fist until his men quieted. “This is not a sport. If we continue, we are no better than they are. Leave them to bleed until they pass out, then you may take their heads.”
Though the criminals still moaned and writhed in their bonds, the posse quieted after that. They gathered their equipment and remounted. Patkus attended to their cuts and scrapes. Within fifteen minutes, the prisoners’ bodies hung limp.
Vahn called Captain Shil. “Take the leader’s head and forearm to the king of Dronak. Tell him what you saw here. Tell him the rest of the heads will be on pikes outside Ny’s South Wall. The reward offered is five thousand silver. You will accept only enough to pay each man here ten silver, for two day’s lost wages, and you will ask for an alliance with me—not the duchy or the kingdom. Me.” Vahn removed his signet ring and extended it to Shil.
Shil nodded as he knelt to take the ring. “Yes, your highness. It will be done.”
Vahn studied his captain a few moments before releasing the ring. Shil tried it on his forefinger, but couldn’t get past the first knuckle. His burly hands were significantly meatier than those of his liege. He moved it to his pinky, where it fit securely. Then he cut the unconscious Gang leader down. With a single stroke of his sword, Shil removed the head. He severed the arm just below the raven and hoisted it up by the rope still tied around the wrist. Blood spilled from both appendages as Shil added the hair to his grasp. The captain mounted, then turned to the duke.
Vahn nodded his dismissal then addressed the rest. “I want the other four heads mounted on pikes outside the South Wall of Ny—where even the farmers may see. Leave the bodies to the wolves. Lieutenant Windrider, will you see to this?” he asked, motioning to the criminals. “I have an errand to do. I should be about an hour behind you.”
“Yes, your highness. I will be happy to,” replied the young Elva who’d led the western offensive group.
“I thank you all for your help,” Vahn called out loudly. “Together we have returned justice to the land. When Captain Shil returns, each of you will receive ten silver for your service to the duchy.” There was a hushed gasp.
Vahn rode off, trusting his lieutenant to carry out his orders. Meting out punishment had taken its toll on the young highborn. Only one matter stopped him from returning to the arms of his beloved wife: Terzak. It was too strange that they found the Dronak Death Gang in the Fendrus Sector of Latoph and not in their own country, or somewhere between there and the rural area they had attacked. Why had they escaped east and not south?
It was still early when Vahn arrived at Mors Manor. Marquis Terzak’s sentries denied him entrance until he ordered in the name of the duke of Latoph. The guards escorted him to the manor. Considering the reports he had, Vahn didn’t expect anyone to be awake yet. All the better. He wanted Terzak off balance. Vahn pounded on the door with a gloved fist.
An Elva in his fifties, ruffle-haired and wearing a dressing gown, answered the door and leveled a sword at Vahn’s chest. It took Marquis Terzak a moment to register just whom he threatened.
Vahn remained calm, raking his gaze over his defensive host. He was not amused.
“I’m sorry, your highness. I wasn’t expecting you,” Terzak said, lowering his sword and dismissing the guards with a nod.
“Surprise,” Vahn quipped.
Terzak shot a glance over his shoulder and cringed. He stood aside, revealing a dusty entry peppered with gloves, cloaks, and mismatched boots. Beyond was a den littered with goblets, plates of half-eaten food (one with a rat nibbling from it), scattered parchments, and several rusted scabbards. Terzak gave a forced smile. “Welcome to Mors Manor. Let us retreat to my office.”
Vahn stepped in, not hiding his triumphant smirk at catching the marquis with his figurative breeches down. “Housemaids have the day off,
cousin?”
Terzak frowned. “It’s hard to find any good servants willing to live way out here.”
“Poppycock. You could buy slaves. I bet three or four could handle this place easily. You’re just too stingy, no?” Vahn wasn’t about to let this one slide. He enjoyed the embarrassment evident on Terzak’s face.
Terzak acted like the idea had never occurred to him. “Slaves? I may just do that, thank you. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He gestured to chairs in his office.
Vahn eased into the offered chair. He steepled his long fingers, arched a brow, and watched Terzak expectantly. He’d had better manners as a squire than the elder marquis currently displayed. “I’ve been outside in the cold for a long while. Might I trouble you for some tea?”
“Of course, how rude of me,” Terzak answered. He stepped out of the room and headed to the kitchen.
Vahn kept his seat, looking over Terzak’s unruly desk. He had a great urge to rifle through the parchments and scrolls strewn all over, but he restrained himself.
Terzak hurried back with a tray holding two cups and saucers. Vahn frowned. His optimess wasn’t with him to test for poison. Even at home, where there was little danger, he always had her do it for the ceremony. Here, he wondered if Terzak might actually slip him something.
“Anything wrong?” asked the marquis, giving Vahn first choice of two cups.
Vahn hid his suspicion behind a carefully crafted visage. He chose the furthest cup then held it untried on the arm of his chair. “Actually, yes,” he said. “I just found the Dronak Death Gang in Fendrus Forest. What do you make of that?”
The marquis studied Vahn’s face a long moment, then collected the remaining cup with a jittery hand and downed steaming liquid in one gulp. Vahn’s lips curled into a smirk before he took a swallow from his cup.
“I know they’re wanted in Dronak,” Terzak offered sheepishly.
The Duke's Handmaid (Book 1 of the Ascendancy Trilogy) Page 5