She struggled, but after the tightened knots bit into her wrists, she gave up. Exhaustion and defeat fell upon her like two huge stones.
"Exactly as you desired, Great Lord," Rossmann said, in an obsequious tone. His tough hand caught Caterina by the back of the neck and roughly pushed her to her knees.
"Uninjured, I trust?"
"Yes, Great Lord and Cousin."
"And Graf von Hagen will be here at dawn," the Pasha smiled slightly. His eyes were black, fiercely intelligent, like Rossmann's eyes, but Cat thought his smile joyless as a serpent's.
"Yes, Great Lord."
"And I shall have my revenge. I shall steal his wife, I shall kill his men and then my torturer shall have him. He shall pay for what he did on the field of Isvestia."
The Pasha turned to his soldiers, said something bombastic in his own language. Perhaps it was the same speech, for they cheered and waved their swords.
The sun was dropping like a bloody ball below the plain, dying the bald, the men and their weapons in scarlet. Cat swayed, nearly fell.
Blood. More blood. Tomorrow she'd see another battle, more death—perhaps that of her husband. She would use the Protector and take one of them with her…"
"Rossmann! You devil!"
He had not let go of her hair, and now he jerked her back.
"I am Nijaz, a Ban, as great a Lord as your husband. From now on this is how you will address me. My Cousin Selim promises me many things for bringing your husband into his power—and you are the first of them." The smile that grew across his face became enormous, almost boyish. "You are nothing but an infidel and my slave, but if you give me sons, Caterina, I shall make you my wife."
There may have been more to the speech, but it came to an abrupt end when she spat. Rossmann returned the favor with an open handed slap which rang like a shot and sent her to her knees. Tears rushed into her eyes and she nearly fainted.
"Your husband comes," the Pasha sneered, "like a lovesick fool, right into our trap. Imagine risking one's life for a woman! He drew close and murmured, "Tomorrow he shall be on his knees before me. Before his torture begins, he shall know that you are a slave." Steely fingers on her neck, Rossmann directed Caterina down the slope to the mouth of the cave. Once there, he pushed her to the ground and then gracefully sat cross legged beside her. The yashmak that she'd left behind he fastened upon her again, now with a strangely gentle hand.
Armed men, swords tucked through their bright sashes, came to squat nearby. No fires were lit. Food was brought out of pouches, more dried fruit, dried meat and hard biscuit.
* * *
As the light died, the men ate; their language grated in her ears. The Pasha and Rossmann sat together, the Pasha sharing his food with Rossmann, a thing Ayhan had taught was a high mark of honor. After the men had eaten, Cat was fed, although her hands remained bound.
Rossmann himself put small pieces of fruit and biscuit into her mouth. When she spat out the first piece, the Pasha shouted, "It's the last time he'll be serving you, woman, so enjoy it. After tomorrow, you will serve him or you will die."
Rossmann, however, took her resistance calmly. "You had better eat. You will need strength for what is to come, Caterina."
How she hated him! His betrayal was a knife, but this time she opened her mouth and took the dried apricot he offered. She chewed it thoroughly and then swallowed.
He was right. She must be strong. She must be ready, ready to seize any opening. Tomorrow it was escape or death—there would be no second chances.
"Our ways are strange to you, but you will learn. If you obey me, I shall not pen you inside the harem. We will live in tents upon the plain. We will follow herds, those of my family. You will wear the yashmak, but you will ride, Caterina, ride with me."
Solicitously, he raised a dipper of water to her lips. She drank, but answered not a word.
"Tomorrow I shall take your magic," he said. "I shall lie with you beneath the Red Horse, in the heart of the cave. It is Kismet. From the moment I saw your beautiful mare and your power over horses, I knew you were the woman linked by magic with this place, the woman a Ban of my lineage must possess."
Cat tried to keep her face expressionless, to show no fear, but a shudder shook her, one which seemed to rise straight from some ancient, unremembered past.
"This is your destiny. Every step away from Heldenberg has been one towards me." He leaned close. Desire, intelligence—madness—shone in his pale, intense face.
She wanted to scream denial. Horrible to think that she'd been fooled into thinking he was a friend—a companion! Shameful to think that she had been weakened so much by need, by a stranger's flattery, that she had allowed herself to risk so many lives.
Rossmann hands traveled slowly, caressing her arms. The comfort he was intent upon sending came, despite her hatred.
Whatever he willed was always strong…
"There are many ways to give even a reluctant woman pleasure." He whispered close to her ear.
"I'd rather die."
"Silence, slave!" said the Pasha. "If you don't please Ban Nijaz, there are soldiers here who would—"
"Ah, Honored Sir, I beg you not to threaten her. It's not my way with either horses or women. She will obey me, just as they do."
"And your horses are always magnificently trained," the Pasha conceded. "Well, have your way. If she were mine, I'd flog her, teach her once and for all who is master."
"If I must, Caterina," Rossmann said, putting a hand beneath the yashmak to touch her chin, "I'll force you. Soon, beneath the red horse, you will give me your magic."
It was a long night, but somehow there was sleep. Exhaustion finally dragged her into blessed non-existence.
She awoke abruptly, jerked into consciousness by the awareness of his face close to hers. Pain made her gasp, every muscle aching from the bound tension in which she'd slept. "Come now," he whispered. Caterina drew her long legs close to her body, shook her head. "We'll go through the cave." He'd bent close and now he whispered against her ear. "Your husband and his men are behind the bald." As he spoke, Rossmann cut the silken bonds that held her hands, her ankles.
Once again he had set her free!
Cat was half asleep, limbs tingling numb, but she rose and walked. Rossmann's arm tightened as he guided her into the dark opening of the crawl space.
As before, the air was cold and foul. The distant gleam of a candle illuminated the way ahead.
"Is someone there?"
"No," Rossmann said. "Hurry!"
A knee-bruising traverse later, they reached the first candle. It was wavering on the floor of that apparently topless fissure.
As he moved unerringly towards the next passage, he said, "There are Croats and Hungarians outside. Your husband is with them. We all have scores to settle with Selim Pasha. "Now," he commanded, "crawl through here..."
It was pitch black, but finally, after rounding a corner, Caterina saw another light. She prayed for escape, but instead she felt the same rush of panic she'd had during her first hands and knees journey to this place.
Emerging into the painted cave, she saw not one, but three burning candles. Her arrival caused a draft, and the strange animals appeared to prance wildly upon the walls.
"You will be safe here. When the fighting starts, no one will find you."
"I'm not staying." She moved toward the pillar and the exit she knew lay behind it.
"Not yet. It's not safe."
Cat pushed past him, but he caught her just as she crouched to enter the dark shaft. The struggle happened in silence, for they were both afraid of attracting the attention of the soldiers.
A month in the harem had taken its toll. Although Rossmann lacked her husband's mass, he was extremely strong. It didn't take him long to get her down and wrestle her hands above her head. "We will be safe here while they kill each other. Some of Selim's men are mine. When the real fighting starts, they'll hide. Then, when Selim Pasha's soldiers are defeated by your hu
sband's men, they will kill the infidels. Either way, our escape will be easy. There will be plenty of loose horses."
Cat didn't move, hoping that he would be lulled by her docility and not bring out those terrible silken cords again.
"You'll ride, be my wife, not my slave." His lean, hard body forced itself against hers. "You will give me your magic..."
As if talking to a horse he'd taken down for a medical procedure he began a rhythmic murmur.
"Easy. Easy now, my beautiful Caterina."
From above came muffled alarms, rising shouts. There was the clash of steel and crack of gunfire. Cat was terrified, exhausted, mesmerized by the compulsion in his skillfully caressing hands.
"You know your fate." He brushed her lips with his. "You know your new master." His hands released hers, and moved inside her clothing. She trembled wildly, allowed him to touch, for the moment hadn't come.
"You won't be locked away from the sun. You will ride the wide plains, gallop with me on the finest horses. And I'll give you pleasure—greater than you've ever known."
Every fiber of her mind concentrated. The locket was in one hand, just as Aunt Teresina had taught her. Her fingers touched the clasp.
"Good girl," he whispered, nuzzling against the breast he had, without meeting any resistance, uncovered. She gasped at the silken intensity of his touch, fought off the response which some ancient mindless self was ready to make. Cold air raised goose flesh as his lips moved across her nakedness.
"I won't hurt you, not now, not ever. East and West shall breed up strong sons."
In knotted fingers Cat held it, sharp as pain. Fiercely, she pulled her thoughts away. There must be no sign, not the faintest suggestion ...
Rossmann's gaze declined, prizing the ultimate delicacy his fingers had begun to probe. That was when Caterina, in a fluid motion perfected by years of practice, drove the gleaming steel straight into his jugular.
* * *
Caterina's flaming red hair!
With no other thought, Christoph plunged into the thickest part of the melee. No one and nothing must stand in his way; death was an impossibility. Blood, severed limbs, and heaving, spurting bodies marked his battle passage.
He saw her gasping with effort, in a caftan drenched with blood. As he approached, his wife jerked a short Turkish sword from the body of a man she'd just killed. On every side was the clash of steel, gurgling of death.
"Cat!" he shouted, lifting his sword, for she had lunged at him, bloody sword raised, eyes wild as berserker's. There was deafening crash as he parried her thrust. His great strength threw her back, but although she hit the wall and staggered, in the blink of an eye she was on guard again.
"Caterina! Hold!" Her upraised sword hesitated. For one of those split seconds of battlefield eternity, Caterina stared. Suddenly, she cried:
"Rossmann's kin are waiting for you and Selim Pasha to kill each other!"
Plunging forward, he seized her arm and pulled her after him. "Come on!"
In a hurtling moment they were at the edge of the now fouled pool, where their path was blocked by a sloe-eyed enemy. Christoph parried the man's first blow; then struck like lightning, splitting his opponent's round head like a pumpkin. His skill smashed a path for them, and tall men roared and rallied to assist their escape.
* * *
On the plain she found Star, bucking in wild, tail high kicks. She was saddled but that was askew, betraying that someone had, without success, attempted to mount her.
Ignoring the danger Cat put her fingers in her mouth, whistled and then ran forward. "Star! Star! Komm!"
The ring of steel on steel, the flash fire of muskets, the shouts, were behind her now. The mare was standing about ten feet away, pawing and tossing her head, but not making any move to run. Apparently, she'd recognized Caterina.
"Caterina! Stop! Are you hurt?" Her husband caught her arm, spun her around. She looked up into his eyes, knew at once what he was really asking, all the layers of it, in and in and in, like an onion.
"It's not my blood." She gazed down at what covered her.
She had been forced to submit to Rossmann's hands. She was humiliated, sullied, as much as if he'd finished what he'd started.
"This is Rossmann's blood." Her knees shook as Christoph's arm came to enclose her. "The Pasha gave me to him, but I killed him. Then," she ended in a tone of wonder, "I killed those others."
The sword dropped from her hand. Raising her eyes, she gazed into her husband's face where she saw a swarm of fears. Cat felt sick to her soul.
"Rossmann said I had magic, said he would get it. Oh, if it hadn't been for Teresina, he would have."
She clung to her man, eyes spilling. She knew she'd never forget Rossmann's face as his life pumped redly away.
Oh, but hadn't his betrayal upon betrayal earned the deadly trick she'd played? His trap, of being her friend, her teacher, had been such calculated bait!
"Take me home." Her words came in a wail.
The next thing she remembered, she was on Star, galloping away, in company with Christoph and a crowd of men, wild Hungarians, fleeing from the nightmare, that bloodied place upon the gold and endless plain.
Afterward
When her eyes opened, they met those of a large, homely woman standing beside Christoph. Cat stared. Waking, since her return, was always strange, a lengthy sorting through a flotsam of memory.
"Time to wake up now, love." He spoke gently. "It's almost ten."
Since returning to Heldenberg, she'd found herself capable of sleeping through whole days. He sat down on the edge of the bed as Caterina righted herself and rubbed her eyes like fretful child waking from a nap. He patted her back.
"This is Trudchen. I sent a messenger to your father's and they have sent us this lady to replace our Elsa. Trudchen tells me she was raised on your Aunt Teresina's farm, that your Aunt taught her everything. She says she remembers you when you were just a child."
Trudchen. Cat searched her memory. Had there been a Trudchen at Auntie T's?
"I am the one who nursed you after you got the spider bite, Grafin. Or perhaps you remember 'Die Barin' better."
"Oh, Trudchen! Of course, I'm sorry." Now Cat did remember, especially the teasing nickname "She Bear." Even as a youngster, Trudchen had been a square block of fat and muscle.
"Now, my love," said Christoph, "here is a good woman to help you."
Herr Stocke, after the dismissal of the Walters, had stepped easily into the bailiff's role, but without a chatelaine in the house, even with Cat's best efforts, the housekeeping had been haphazard.
"Trudchen says that devotion to the Tannuci women is bred in her bones. Lucky your mama knew Trudchen could come to us."
The passage of years had not made Trudchen any more handsome. The plain face now had a moustache, yet high intelligence shone in her brown eyes. Cat remembered that this taciturn female had been among her Aunt's human favorites. Now she wondered if she had also been a recipient of Aunt Teresina's special knowledge…
As Cat's memory worked on the subject of Trudchen, she came across another reason for her mother's choice. She remembered that Trudchen had studied midwifery with her aunt. Although Cat had bled during their journey home, a future use for Trudchen's skills was not an unreasonable supposition.
* * *
Winter had come and gone again and now the spring moon grew round over Heldenberg. Beyond, in the misty paddock, she could see the horses and cattle, some standing, some sleeping. Somewhere among them was Star.
Caterina, waiting for her husband to come for dinner, stood at the triple windows in his room and admired the light that silvered the grounds. It seemed impossible that once she had looked through the bars of the seraglio into an exquisite garden, one that had bloomed equally with flowers and her despair.
She lit a candle, leaned against the window and gazed at the distended moon, tonight rising south and low. In the west the summer triangle was rising, blazing Altair and blue Vega, Denc
h in Cygnus the Swan, those star names that Rossmann had taught her only a year ago. Suddenly, Cat saw herself galloping upon a golden plain beside an upright, lithe man. She wore black, a yashmak modestly covering all but her eyes, riding astride in those loose pants. Rossmann would have had his other wives—but would she have truly cared? She would have had Star; she would have had the strange beauty of that endless sky. But Rossmann's bones moldered beneath the dancing red horses. He'd played a great game, for his honor—and for Red Caterina—and he'd lost everything.
And what, Cat thought, suddenly ashamed, of her husband, who'd come through such peril to her rescue? A true rake would have shrugged and left her to her fate, counted himself lucky to be relieved of trouble, made cheerful preparation to inherit the von Velsen lands without his bothersome cousin.
Overcome, Cat put her head in her hands and wept.
* * *
When the door opened and Christoph strode through, she went straight into his arms. She wore a beautiful flowing undress gown they'd purchased in Vienna, lavender silk embroidered with flowers, but instead of having her hair piled and intertwined with scarves as a Viennese beauty would, Cat's thick red hair was left flowing, an astonishing wealth which now fell almost to her knees. Two fine braids made of the front tresses held back the red torrent.
She raised her mouth and he kissed her warmly.
"Exactly the sugar I was hoping for."
Cat hugged him tight. There were no doubts anymore about the depth of his devotion. In Vienna, he'd gone straight to the Emperor and asked for permission to leave military service. At first the Emperor had been angry, unwilling to let such a successful commander go, but after he heard the young couple tell their story, he had relented.
"Sitting with just one candle?" Christoph studied her face with an expression of concern. "And what are these?" Long fingers touched her wet cheek.
"Don't worry. I, I was just thinking—and I shouldn't do that, I guess."
Red Magic Page 25