She wasn’t even sure Hugh could have defended the castle more ably than she had.
Josephine turned from the wall and walked back to her knights. Her usually confident self was damaged, but her pride still was intact. They were still arguing over the best course of action and she found herself sincerely hoping they would come up with a better solution than she did, because she most certainly didn’t want to surrender her virginity to Colin Dalmellington. The mere thought made her ill.
Returning to the table, she stood by her chair as her knights continued to debate the issue. She wasn’t hearing anything that seemed like a better solution to the problem but, out of the arguing, Sully’s voice could be heard.
“I may have a solution,” he said.
Instantly, the other conversations ceased, all eyes turning to him. But Sully only had eyes for Josephine.
“I believe the problem lies in the fact that we have lost so many men,” he said matter-of-factly. “In the beginning, when we were eight hundred men strong, we were only concerned with defending Torridon and not launching counterattacks. We assumed, wrongly, that Dalmellington would tire of his game. But he has chipped away and chipped away until we now only possess enough men to barely defend ourselves, to say nothing of a counterattack. Our villeins are fleeing and our remaining men are discouraged. What used to be one of the strongest fortresses in all of Scotland is now in shambles.”
The knights were silent. Sadness was reflected in their eyes. Josephine looked as if she were about to cry. Sully continued.
“What Torridon still possesses, however, is her last coffers of wealth,” he said. “Money is not lacking, so I contend that we hire a mercenary army to help us rebuild and launch an attack that will wipe out Burnton Castle and the Dalmellingtons once and for all.”
Josephine’s lips parted in surprise. Of course! Hire an army! Why hadn’t she thought of that before? With growing eagerness, she took her chair and fixed her eyes on Sully.
“Do you know of one?” she asked eagerly.
“Not personally,” he said. “But it is well known that The Red Fury is the fiercest mercenary in all of England and Scotland. He commands over a thousand men and there isn’t an army around that can best him.”
The Red Fury! Of course, Josephine had heard that name. Hardly a person in England and Scotland hadn’t. The man was English, she’d heard, but he did a great deal of business in Scotland fighting wars for Scottish lairds. It was said that The Red Fury could lick any army, anywhere. Most sane men feared him.
Was it possible she could hire him to defeat Dalmellington?
“Do you think he would assist us?” Josephine asked. “For the right price, of course.”
A lazy grin creased Sully’s lips. “My lady,” he said. “He would assist the devil himself for the right price, to be sure.”
Josephine’s mind was working furiously. It was an astonishingly simple solution and she was truly ashamed she’d not thought of it herself.
“How much will it cost?” she inquired, perhaps a little hesitantly. “Will it be expensive?”
Sully cocked his head, glancing at Etienne before answering. Etienne gave him a quick lift of the eyebrows.
“Perhaps ten thousand marks,” he said finally. “Mayhap more.”
Josephine’s mouth fell open in outrage. “Ten thousand ma…” she sputtered. “God’s Toes! I could buy half of Scotland for that amount of money! They shouldn’t call themselves mercenaries; they should just call themselves thieves and do away with the veil of deception!”
She threw herself against the back of the chair, her expression a cross between anger and disbelief. If the mercenary would really cost ten thousand marks, then hiring him would take everything they had.
“My lady,” Sully said, seeing that she was discouraged. “Ten thousand marks for a one thousand man army. That is, at the very least, worth the money. Think of the security and stability they will bring to Torridon.”
“But it will take everything we have,” she said passionately. “And that is not where it will end. We will have to feed and house them here with our people. My God, when I think of all of the bastards we shall have running around next summer, it makes my head spin. Oh, Sweet Jesus…!”
She put out a weary hand over her eyes in a gesture of despair. What Sully was proposing was the best possible solution and she knew it; they all knew it. Josephine had been in favor of the idea until she found it would cost her ten thousand marks. Mayhap it wasn’t as good an answer as she originally thought, but she seriously wondered if it was the only answer. A mercenary in their midst.
There was no other choice.
Josephine sighed heavily and looked at Sully. Her lips formed a straight line in a gesture of resignation as she came to the conclusion that they’d all come to; this was the only real solution. They’d already tried to fight off the Dalmellington forces themselves and they were near collapse. What they needed was a bigger army.
A professional army.
“Very well, Sully,” Josephine said finally. “If you feel this is the right thing to do, then… then I suppose we have little choice. Find The Red Fury and hire his army. Make it so.”
Sully had to admit that he was relieved to hear her command. He’d had his doubts. But even Josephine could see that it was their only answer, even if it would drain their coffers. But at least they’d have their fortress saved from the Dalmellington onslaught.
And a mercenary to save them.
“Aye, my lady,” he said quietly. “I will do what I can.”
The decision had been made. Josephine watched her knights leave the room and wondered if she made the right decision. Sweet Jesus, a mercenary army at Torridon! She’d have to make sure all of the valuables were hidden away, and that none of the women were ever alone or without an escort.
And then there was her sister.
Justine would be in her glory with all of the soldiers to tell fortunes to, but not if Josephine could help it. She wondered how Justine would react to being locked up in the tower indefinitely.
She snickered bitterly at the thought.
*
It was towards mid-afternoon on the day after the battle, and repairs were in full swing under a bright blue sky and soft winds. Seated in her solar and repairing a pair of her breeches that had been torn in a previous battle, Josephine heard a shout from the inner ward. Visitors were arriving, and she set her things aside and quickly headed out to the keep entry where several servants were congregating.
“Who is here?” she demanded.
A young maid with bad teeth and hair bound up in a kerchief snapped her head in her mistress’ direction and curtsied quickly.
“Donald Muir, my lady,” she said.
Josephine looked in the direction of the entry door as if to see the inner ward beyond. “Excellent,” she said, pleasure in her expression. “Find Lady Justine. Inform her we have a guest. I want the great hall prepared for a grand feast this evening. Now, run!”
The servants scattered and Josephine went to stand in the entry. Outside, in the inner bailey, the entourage of young Muir was just coming to a halt. Josephine smiled at Donald, who caught sight of her immediately from atop his silver-gray destrier. The wind caught her emerald silk surcote as she descended the stone steps, causing it to billow out behind her and revealing her pretty legs from the knees down.
Young Donald was pleased at the unexpected view of her legs but said nothing. He dismounted with a smile on his face, chivalrously extending his hand. Josephine placed her hand in his, and he flipped it over and brought the tender side of her wrist to his lips. She smiled reproachfully at the devilish look on his face. He was blond, tall, very handsome, and was two years older than she.
“Master Muir,” she said. “What brings you to my humble, if not slightly destroyed fortress?”
Donald removed his gauntlets and slapped the leather against an open palm. “I would say Torridon is more than just slightly destroyed,” he said,
passing a practiced eye over the ward. “We received word of yer attack late yesterday. Father sent me with one hundred men-at-arms to see if we could be of assistance.”
She smiled gratefully. “How I wish you had come yesterday,” she said softly. “But the siege ended at dusk. Your father is very kind to have sent you but, as you can see, the storm has passed. But you will stay, of course, and feast with us tonight.”
“Of course,” he said agreeably. “Ye do not think I really came to fight, did ye? I only came to gaze on yer beauty.”
He was arrogant, and a flatterer, but a good friend and Josephine liked him a great deal. Donald extended his arm and she took it, leading her off across the compound as his followers disbanded. It was a well-known fact that the son of the neighboring lord was wildly in love with Josephine, but she considered him nothing more than a childhood friend. Pity, too, for they made a handsome couple.
Sully entered the inner bailey from the stables in time to see Josephine and Donald stroll leisurely towards the opening into the outer bailey. He could tell that Josephine was showing him the damage. She was pointing to the destruction as Donald nodded his head. An expression of impatience crossed Sully’s face; as much as he liked young Muir, he felt a distinct twinge of jealousy at the sight of the two of them arm-in-arm. He knew Donald’s feelings for Josephine; everyone knew. Although she showed him no interest, the lad wouldn’t give up. Perhaps that’s what bothered Sully the most; the fact that Donald never seemed to understand Josephine’s position on the matter. He thought he still had a chance.
Foolish whelp.
Casually, Sully followed the pair just to make sure young Donald behaved himself.
*
Early in the evening, a sumptuous spread was served of roast venison, mutton, roasted pigeon in plum sauce, and waterfowl. Whatever problems Torridon Castle may have had, food was not one of them. With their own herds and gardens, they always had plentiful fare. Fresh loaves of bread with butter and honey crowded the tables.
The enormous great hall was warm and brightly lit. The servants moved among the boisterous diners, making sure their cups were never empty of sweet Spanish wine. A quartet of minstrels, who were actually soldiers from Torridon’s ranks, played lively music from one corner of the room.
Even though the feast had already commenced, Josephine was just finishing dressing. For this evening, she had selected a gown of red silk. The gown hung dangerously low on her chest, greatly accentuating the swell of her luscious breasts. The sleeves started midway down her upper arm and extended down to her tapered wrists. A large, white collar encircled the top of the dress and the sleeves were intricately embroidered with golden thread.
The silk clung to every curve, flaring just below the hips and gracefully encircling her. Resting on her hips was a girdle of finely woven gold that came to a “V” right before her pubic mound. The dress was absolutely magnificent.
To finish the picture, Ola had pulled her great mane back, weaving it into a loose braid. Upon her head, she wore a thinly-woven net of gold. A layer of beeswax gave her lips a glossy glow. As Josephine gazed at herself in her polished bronze mirror, she didn’t think she looked much like a woman who was killing men and wielding a broadsword only the day before. She looked like a true lady, a countess in fact, who ruled a prosperous earldom.
But it was all a façade; the beautiful picture masked the weariness, the hopelessness that she felt. The eyes that looked back at her couldn’t conceal the sorrow. Perhaps an evening with her friend, Donald, would change that reflection. She was hoping so, ready for some pleasantness after such terrible times. Rising from the stool she’d been sitting on, she heard an audible gasp from Ola.
“Oh, my lady!” she breathed. “You look lovely!”
Josephine smiled, with a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you.”
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Ola opened it and in swept Justine. But this was no ordinary appearance by Torridon’s self-proclaimed white witch. Josephine’s eyes bulged at the sight of her sister, and then she looked at Ola in disbelief. Ola’s face was a mirror of her mistress’ distress.
Justine was dressed in a black silk dress that was so sheer, that one could see her skin right through it. And she wore nothing underneath it. Some sort of strange silver girdle encircled her hips with odd occult markings on it. Over her shoulders, she wore a long, silken black shawl. Her long brown hair was pinned up in an elaborate style. Josephine circled her sister in disbelief.
“I will not allow you to wear such a garment,” she finally said.
Justine stiffened. “I will wear what I please, my sister, with no instructions from you.”
“Then do as you please,” Josephine said angrily, “but only in your own boudoir. Not in the dining hall surrounded by oversexed soldiers!”
“I am not ashamed of my body,” Justine informed her with self-righteousness. “It is as pure as the heaven and the earth, and to gaze upon it will bring them good fortune. And, in fact, there is not one man down there that has not seen a woman’s body.”
“Oh, God’s Toes,” Josephine rolled her eyes in exasperation, letting a hand slap her thigh. “Ola, send Sully to me immediately.”
As Ola slipped out, Justine flamed. “Sully cannot tell me what to wear, either,” she declared. “Hear me, Sister. I am very powerful and you would be wise not to a-flame me.”
“Spare me the empty threats, Justine,” Josephine said, unimpressed. “Your mind works in such mysterious ways that I cannot believe you and I sprang from the same loins. Just once – just one blessed time – I wish you would stop this pretending to be something you are not and assume your true position as chatelaine of Torridon. How on earth do you expect to find a husband if you continue acting like a brainless nymph?”
“Who wants a husband?” Justine seemed genuinely repulsed. “I must remain pure if my powers are to remain strong.”
Josephine scowled. “You will not remain a virgin if you continue to dress like that.”
Justine stepped into her sister’s face. “I am untouchable,” she said threateningly. “No man would dare touch me and risk provoking the powers of the universe.”
“Aye, Justine,” Josephine said as she put up a hand as if to push away her foolish sister. “You must be sure to remind them of that as they rip off your sheath and drive their manhood deep into your womb.”
Justine’s blue eyes flashed furiously and she opened her mouth to retort when the door opened and Sully calmly entered the room. Josephine turned to him, her face wrought with exasperation; she didn’t need to tell him anything because he’d already heard some of it. At Ola’s urgent message, he had raced from the dining hall in a matter of seconds and stood outside of Josephine’s door. The only reason he chose this moment to enter was because he was afraid they had reached the hair-pulling stage.
That had happened before.
“My ladies require me?” he inquired casually.
“Sully,” Josephine said, pointing a finger at her sister. “See what she plans to wear at dinner. Tell her that it is most inappropriate.”
Sully honestly hadn’t noticed anything about Justine; his eyes were riveted to Josephine as they always were. But after her statement, he managed to tear his eyes away long enough to give Justine the once-over. The first thing he saw was the dark thatch of hair between her legs, clearly seen through the sheer fabric. After that, he tried not to look any further but morbid curiosity kept his eyes where they should not be. He could not believe that Justine would actually wear the dress in front of hundreds of drunk, leering men. He crossed his arms and lifted a fatherly eyebrow.
“You intend to wear that… garment?” he asked.
Justine’s chin shot up defiantly. “I do.”
Sully cocked a thoughtful eyebrow before turning to an irate Josephine. “A word, if you please, my lady.”
Josephine cast Justine a triumphant expression as she went to the opposite end of the room with Sully. Justine,
in turn, cast her sister her very best evil eye.
Sully moved close to Josephine. “Will you trust me?” he whispered.
She nodded eagerly. “Implicitly.”
He looked her in the eye. “Let her wear it.”
Josephine looked stunned. “What?”
“Let her wear it,” he repeated patiently. “Let her see just how untouchable she really is. You can yell at her until your tongue falls out, but she will never relent because she believes she is right. Some people must learn lessons the hard way.”
Josephine looked at him dubiously, then looked at her sister, and back to Sully again. Her jaw muscles were flexing as she thought on his words.
“Very well,” she said reluctantly. “I would be in favor of that. But what if the situation gets out of hand? Will you save her?”
“Do you want me to?”
There was a twinkle of mirth in her eye. Despite her anger, she found herself fighting off a grin.
“I almost do not,” she said.
The subject of the conversation began to fade in Sully’s mind and all he could think of was the smell of Josephine’s rose perfume and the swell of her bosom. Why on earth should he think of Justine when this glorious creature was in front of him? But Josephine turned with a wink and was gone. That ended Sully’s daydreams.
Oblivious to Sully’s mental worship of her, Josephine walked over to her sister and looked the woman up and down. Hands on her hips, she faced off against Justine’s stubborn stance.
“Sully feels you should be allowed to wear the gown of your choosing,” she said evenly. “So be it. We will attend our guests now.”
Justine’s chin jutted out triumphantly and she stomped from the room. Josephine looked at Sully with uncertainty in her eyes.
“I hope you are right,” she said quietly. “Or I will have lost all control over her.”
Sully came over to her, a reassuring smile on his face. He offered her his arm and she accepted. As they descended the stairs, he didn’t say what he was thinking; he knew that Justine’s shocking costume would be quickly forgotten when Josephine, in all of her glory, entered the hall. Any normal man would look at her over her foolish sister.
The Red Fury Page 4