by Barbara Bard
His footsteps were soft, as they needed to be if he was going to do everything he intended. He placed his hand on the rear of the cart and bend down, looking at the underneath. The axles looked sturdy, as they would have to be for the wagon to last this long. From a quick glance it looked as though there was enough room for a man to hide, if he was able to hold on for the duration of the journey. The estate wasn't too far off though, and if there was one thing in which Alastar had faith it was his physical prowess, since he had had little else to do during his imprisonment other than exercise.
The only problem was his sword. It would only dangle down from his belt if he was underneath the cart. The obvious solution was to hide it within the goods in the cart, but then there was the chance it would be discovered by the family. Given their situation he doubted they would give him the benefit of the doubt. Rather, they would alert Lord Flynn in the hopes of gaining his favor.
Even if they didn't give Alastar up they would most likely be accused of smuggling a weapon into the estate. Alastar's whole mission revolved around the protection of the innocents, so he did not want anything to put them in danger. They seemed like a hard-working family, who were simply trying to make their way through life. They didn't deserve anything too bad to happen to them.
But this, Alastar knew, was his best chance at getting into the Flynn estate. He measured the pace of the cart and prepared himself to get underneath. He took a deep breath as he placed his hand around his sword, knowing that giving it up would be a big loss. However, as his father had always reminded him, a man who was defenseless with a sword should never go into battle; one can only ever rely on oneself.
With a swift motion, he ripped a piece of cloth from his plaid and tied it around his waist, securing his sword there as tightly as he could. He cursed silently at the sharp sound the ripping cloth made and hoped that nobody had heard. The parents had not noticed, but the girl had. She craned her neck back and saw Alastar just as he was about to creep underneath the cart.
Time stood still as the two of them stared at each other. Alastar's breath caught in his throat. All it would take was one word from the girl and his plan would be ruined. He smiled at her, trying to use his usual charm, and then placed a finger on his lips. The girl giggled a little and mimicked him, nodding enthusiastically. Confident that she would like the thrill of keeping a secret from her parents, Alastar decided to go through with his plan.
He increased the length of his stride to keep pace with the ambling donkey and placed his hand on the rear of the cart. He then counted in his mind, until he was ready to lift his feet and slide them under the cart, where the rested on the axles. The wood ground against his legs, but his clothes prevented the wood from burning his skin. He tensed his muscles as he lowered himself to be completely hidden underneath the wagon, holding onto the slats for support.
For a moment he felt one of them give way as he took hold of it, and he was afraid that the entire thing would come crashing down. The last thing he needed was to destroy a cart and be buried underneath all their goods. He closed his eyes and prayed to the gods to keep him safe, to bless his quest.
The cart held together. He kept hold of the cart, straining his neck aloft as the cart trundled along. The bickering of the adults had faded, and they walked along quietly, when suddenly the woman looked around behind her and expressed confusion.
“Where did that man go?” she asked.
“What man?”
“The man we passed a little while ago.”
“I have no idea. He probably went into the forest or something.”
The girl giggled at this point. Alastar stifled a laugh himself.
He craned his neck around as often as he could to ensure that his muscles didn't get too tired. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he strained to keep himself aloft. The ground loomed beneath him. They weren't going fast enough that if he dropped down he would be injured, but in a way, he wished they were going faster so they would reach the estate sooner.
Alastar kept his eyes on the world passing by, finding the void within himself to give him the strength to hold on. Time lost meaning for him as he embraced the emptiness and waited until there was some sign that they were at the estate.
Soon enough the cart came to a stop. Alastar opened his eyes and saw pairs of boots surrounding the cart. They had been stopped at the entrance of the estate.
“What's your business here?” the guard said. Alastar couldn't see the face, but his heart thumped in his chest. All they had to do was look below the cart and he would be discovered, and likely thrown into the dungeon again, if he wasn't executed. He also had to hope that the girl would keep his secret. Keeping it from her parents was one thing, keeping it from formidable, intimidating guards was something else entirely.
Alastar listened intently, making sure that he was prepared for a fight if they discovered him. As long as he was ready to fight, he might be able to flee while they were dealing with the appearance of an intruder.
“We're merchants, selling our wares, looking for opportunities. We've heard rumblings of a war, and I thought Lord Flynn might be able to use a cart to carry supplies, keeping the army well-fed,” the man said.
“Oh, you did, did you? And where did you hear that?” the guard asked.
“Words are wind,” the woman said. “It's hard to keep news of a war quiet, if that was your intention.”
“Oh, I have no intention at all, and I wouldn't presume to know what Lord Flynn prefers. I'm going to have to search your cart though,” he said.
“Why?” the man asked defensively, moving in front of the cart. Alastar imagined that the guard arched an eyebrow. By now, Alastar's muscles were burning, and he badly wanted to release himself.
“Got something to hide, do you?” the guard asked.
“No, but I don't much like a stranger rummaging through my things. This is my livelihood, and I can't afford to take liberties with it,” the man said.
The guard snorted.
“If you think I'm in need of your trinkets think again. We're looking for escaped prisoners. I don't suppose you have any information. Have you seen anyone wandering the roads? Three people, two men and a woman. The men are Highlanders,” the guard asked.
Alastar watched nervously as two pairs of boots moved around the sides of the cart to the rear. The guards wearing those boots began to rummage through the sacks in the back of the cart. The girl giggled, but her mother shushed her.
“Highlanders? No, we haven't seen anyone like that,” the man said. Alastar felt the sweat creep along his brow and watched a drop hang and drip down. None of the guards noticed. “Are they dangerous?”
“They've killed men. You're lucky you've made it here safely,” the guard said.
“They're carrying nothing other than what they claimed. They're safe,” one of the guards who had been inspecting the carts said. The two pairs of boots towards the rear of the cart moved back to the front.”
“Right then, be on your way. You'll be directed to where you can park your cart. Enjoy the hospitality,” the main guard said. The man in charge of the cart thanked the guards, and they were soon on the move again. Alastar craned his neck back to watch the guards stand together. The cart turned a corner, and at the first sign of shadow Alastar let go of the slats and fell to the ground, rolling along the floor quickly to avoid being crushed by the wheels.
He stood up and pressed himself flat against the wall, then peered around the corner, taking stock of the estate. He smiled to himself, for he was one step closer. Now he had a lot of work to do.
Chapter 14
Rebecca returned to her chamber and found Elayne already asleep. Rebecca said her prayers and then climbed into bed. Her heart was filled with anguish for the future. She was already afraid of her prospects in life, but most of all she did not want anyone to be hurt because of the war.
Having heard Elayne's story, she was afraid that her companion would do something reckless to try and regain what s
he saw as her rightful position. Rebecca hadn't wanted to begin an argument with her, but she didn't see what was so bad about a life of servitude. She had a steady job, food every day, and none of the responsibility that came with being a noble. The only thing she really had to worry about was her own well-being, and that seemed far less of a scary prospect than having to carry the burden of an entire group of people.
The following morning, she was awoken by Elayne, who was much changed from the weeping figure she had been the night before.
“What's happening?” Rebecca asked, moving sluggishly.
“I have an idea. Today is the day I'm going to become near Lord Athelred, and nothing can stop me! I decided that it was no good for me to lament my woes, I simply had to do something about them. I'm going to serve Lord Flynn and then tell him my plight. He shall take mercy on me and be so taken with my charms that he will give me anything I want.”
Rebecca looked at her skeptically as she pushed herself up in her bed and rubbed her eyes.
“How can you be so confident that your plan will work?” she asked.
Elayne shrugged. “Lord Flynn is going through a troubled time. I'm sure he will appreciate someone to talk to, and a little bit of comfort.” Elayne's eyes were hooded and she smiled devilishly. Rebecca shuddered inside, hating the thought of being that close to a man like Lord Flynn.
In her mind such intimacy should only be shared by people who were in love, and feelings such as these should not be manipulated and used. She wasn't about to say this to Elayne though, for she did not want an argument, and she didn't think that Elayne could be dissuaded from her plan anyway.
At the dining table, Rebecca's hopes had been met. Everybody was so concerned with the impending war that nobody was speculating about how the prisoners had escaped. It seemed as though life was returning to normal and Rebecca could blend into the background, which was where she saw her place. Unlike Elayne she had no dreams of grandeur or desires for glory, merely to be happy in her own skin and fulfilled in her duty.
However, fate had other plans for her. After breakfast Ellen appeared, which silenced everyone from their speculation. Ellen cast her hawkish gaze over the table and twitched her nose. Everyone cast their gaze away, not wanting to be subjected to the scrutiny of her stare. It was obvious that she knew what they were talking about, and nobody wanted to continue the subject. Any opinions expressed in front of Ellen could well find their way back to Lord Athelred himself, and that would be very bad indeed.
“I see everyone is having a good morning. It's nice to see you all taking so much interest in current affairs. I hope that you're equally as passionate about your duties as the household will need to be run smoothly in the coming days, as the army is gathered. I know you are quite capable of this as you all worked hard when Lord Harold was organizing his levies, so I would ask more of the same of you please. Rebecca, you have been given a new assignment. Lord Athelred has requested that you be his personal handmaid. It seems you made quite an impression yesterday,” Ellen said, her mouth twisting into a malicious grin.
The color drained from Rebecca's face and she tried to hide her expression of horror. She looked to Elayne for support but was only met with a look of fury and betrayal, which Rebecca didn't understand as she hadn't taken any measures to make this a reality.
Ellen was already gone before she could argue. Rebecca reluctantly rose from the table and turned to Elayne.
“I shall try to get Lord Flynn to look favorably upon your proposal,” she said. Elayne wouldn't even dignify her remark with a reply. She merely crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back to Rebecca. Rebecca could do nothing at the moment, for she had to report to Lord Flynn.
Rebecca scurried through the estate and wondered what she had done to make such an impression. An impression was the last thing she had intended to make, and she was afraid that Lord Flynn suspected her of skulduggery. Perhaps he wanted to keep her close because he knew she was involved, although how he would know that was unknown.
When Rebecca went into the main hall, she saw Lord Flynn standing in the middle of the room. A table had been dragged in, upon which were parchments and maps. Lord Flynn was flanked with a number of other men, all of whom looked fearsome and strong. Lord Flynn was the tallest among them but was also the most slender. He leaned over the map as a god would loom over the world. It was a terrifying prospect for one man to have so much power.
Rebecca noticed that tables of drink and food had been placed against the walls of the hall. She picked up a tray and poured out some mugs of wine, then took them over to the table. The men took them without word, not even noticing Rebecca. She expected Lord Flynn to say her, but he didn't react to her appearance.
Part of her wondered if this wasn't actually a trick played on her by Ellen. The mistress would have observed how Rebecca had been stricken by anxiety upon meeting Lord Flynn the previous day and may well have simply wanted to torture her. It was well-known that Ellen did this from time to time, and it was part of the fear she inspired.
Since it didn't seem as though Lord Athelred actually did want her specifically, she began to clean up the food and she tried her best to keep the hall tidy and neat. She walked up to the table and refilled the mugs of ale, as well as taking away the empty plates, dishing out more food. The men were so entranced by their table that they idly picked up food without looking at it and chewed without enjoying it.
Rebecca peered over their shoulders now and then to look at what intrigued them so intensely. There were drawings of land, lists of names, and much of the discussion revolved around which direction they should travel. All the men seemed to have an idea of their own.
“We should go the way we did before. That worked out well,” one of the men said. Rebecca recognized him. He was one of the men who had been here when Lord Harold planned his attack.
“Not so well for Lord Harold,” another man said, chortling to himself until Lord Flynn glared at him. The man's mouth dropped open and offered a profuse apology. Athelred rolled his eyes but didn't pass any other comment.
“It worked in the sense that we were able to make it to the battlefield without any problems,” the first man said, looking smug that the other man had suffered the icy glare of Lord Flynn.
“But this time they will be expecting us. They will know that I plan my revenge. They will be prepared. We cannot use the same tactics as before Owen,” Athelred said. Owen placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, glowering.
“Why not? These barbarians won't know any difference. They'll just swarm down in their hoard like they always do, bloodthirsty and savage. It doesn't matter how we meet them, what matters is that we get there as soon as possible with as many men as possible,” Owen said, visibly agitated by this entire ordeal.
A thin smile crept over Athelred's face.
“Of course it matters how we arrive in their territory. I remember how they fought, and you do not give them the credit they are due. Summon as many men as you can because we shall need them all, but we shall strike swiftly, moving through the forests. We need to use their advantages against them. They have always been more familiar with the land than we have, but this time that shall not be so. We shall skulk through the woods. We shall be stealthy and end this war before they even know it has begun.”
He spoke with vigor and slammed his hands down on the surface of the table, making the map and the mugs on it shudder. Owen and the other man wore wry, evil smiles too. Rebecca stifled a gasp. When she looked at the men it was as though she was seeing serpents and could not believe that people would talk about killing so casually.
“Girl, more drink!” Owen cheered. Rebecca walked up to them nervously, hands trembling, and almost spilled the water. She could feel the gaze of Owen running up her backside. His hand reached out to stroke her rump and she stiffened, hoping that Athelred would not allow such behavior.
“Owen,” Athelred warned, and Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief.
“My apologies Lord Flynn,” Owen said with a dramatic bow, “I did not realize she was...special to you.”
Rebecca turned away from the table and returned to her corner, where she wished the floor would swallow her up into the abyss. War was coming. Many people would lose their lives, and she had no idea how to stop it. Not wanting to spend another minute in that room with those men, hearing about the war, she left the hall and made her way back to the kitchen, where she at least felt a little safe.
She passed out of the door and was walking back, her thoughts occupied with what she had overheard, frustration coiling inside her as she wished that she could simply walk away. Her head was bowed, and she was so consumed with her thoughts that she didn't notice the presence lurking in the shadows. A strong arm reached out and grabbed Rebecca, clamping a hand around her mouth, dragging her into the darkness.