Captives: Homeward VI

by Barb Hendee

  Zupan Cadell stopped to take a lantern from the wall and light it from the flame of his own before handing it to Julianna. After that, he stepped onward, making room for everyone to follow. The space contained a door to the left and to the right while the wall straight ahead appeared to be a dead end.

  Julianna opened one door and Cadell the other. Silently, villagers filed off the stairs and entered one room or the other. Julianna took refuge through the door on the right. Blankets, water, dried foods, and several crossbows had been stored along the walls.

  This far down, it was nearly impossible to hear anything in the keep above.

  “Now what?” Julianna asked.

  Nadja entered and took a place beside her. “We wait.”

  · · · · ·

  Later that night, as Jan crouched by a fire, he tried to keep apart from the other Chemestúk captives. He wasn’t going to be able to help them, and he didn’t want any false expectations raised.

  After watching Cherock so callously beheaded, he could only think about himself… and his parents and Julianna. Closing his eyes, he pictured himself in the main hall of the keep, eating warm bread and drinking tea and teasing Julianna.

  When she’d first come to live with them, she’d been a gangly girl in a filthy dress who had been living on the charity other peasants. Nearly five years later, she’d grown into a lovely young woman with silky hair and an endearing matter-of-fact countenance.

  In all his life, Jan had only possessed two real skills: playing the violin and making women fall in love with him. He was very good at both.

  Julianna had refused to fall for his wiles and, after a time, had become his… friend. He’d never once thought of her like a sister, but he’d come to care for her. She was the only woman he couldn’t charm, though she saw him every day. For some reason, this meant more to him than he could explain. He missed her so much his chest ached.

  And with all the chaos in their world right now, Jan’s family needed him.

  No matter what he had to do or who he had to hurt, he was getting away from these Äntes soldiers.

  Looking around, he noticed Captain Oakes nearby, overseeing the final touches of the men setting up his large tent.

  “Captain,” Jan called, standing up.

  Several guards posted near the conscripts turned in surprise, and one dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword.

  Captain Oakes, however, squinted through the darkness and came walking over. By the light of the campfire, he took in Jan’s green shirt, longish hair, and silver rings. Without waiting to be addressed, Jan held up his violin case.

  “Do you think the officers would enjoy some entertainment with dinner?”

  Oakes glanced at the violin. “You’re the zupan’s son from Chemestúk, the tzigän?”

  Jan kept his expression still, not wincing at the verbal slight. “Tzigän” translated into “vagabond thieves.” His mother’s people called themselves the Móndyalítko—“the world’s little children.”

  Somehow, he managed a smile. “I can play music, do card tricks, read palms… and I’d much rather entertain you and the officers inside the tent than crouch out here in the cold.”

  To his surprise, Oakes smiled back and motioned him forward. “Come on, lad. I don’t blame you. This is all a nasty business.”

  Jan blinked. Were those last words some kind of apology? Did the captain regret tearing men from their homes and families? If he did, he’d made a good secret of his feelings so far. Not an able-bodied man had been left behind. Or perhaps as the son of the vassal of Chemestúk, the captain simply thought Jan deserved better treatment?

  Jan didn’t care. He had caught the captain’s attention and, once inside the main tent, he might win some trust to make himself appear as nothing more than a Móndyalítko entertainer who required little supervision. He wasn’t certain what he might be able to do with that trust… but it was a start.

  Oakes led the way through the open tent flap.

  “I’ve brought some entertainment,” he announced.

  Inside, Jan saw Lieutenant Braeden and five other men. With the exception of Braeden, he didn’t know their ranks or their names.

  The youngest man looked pleased upon seeing the violin case. “Music?” he asked. “Are you any good?”

  “My mother seems to think so.”

  Except for Braeden, the men laughed, but their tone was good-natured.

  Jan almost couldn’t believe the friendly treatment he was receiving, as if these men were in denial of their actions… in denial of Cherock being thoughtlessly killed for nothing more than trying to return home.

  A few regular soldiers carried in a table and chairs unloaded from a wagon outside, and Jan realized the captain and lieutenant meant to dine in some style. Within moments, goblets of wine were poured, and a plate of fruit was carried in and set upon the table, and Captain Oakes handed Jan a goblet.

  “Have a drink first. Then play us something lively.”

  The wine was good, and Jan drained the goblet. Something lively? In only a short time in here, he could see these men—except for Braeden—wanted to laugh. They were eager for their own escape… to pretend they were not destroying families and condemning a large number of men to death should it all come down to fighting the trained soldiers of the Väränj.

  If his actions could win their trust, Jan was only too glad to oblige them.

  He spotted two daggers on the table near the fruit plate. Perhaps later, he could pocket one without being noticed. Opening the case, he took out the violin, raised it to his shoulder, and retrieved the bow with his right hand.

  More food was carried in as the officers sat down to dine, and Jan began to play.

  The first song was a jaunty piece more suited to a large room occupied by people who wished to dance. However, it was complicated, requiring a good deal of finger work, and Captain Oakes watched him work the bow and strings, eventually nodding in approval.

  Jan kept this up until the men nearly finished with dinner and then added his voice to the strings. He sang a bawdy tale about a village strumpet who found herself “with child.” Each stanza recounted her unsuccessful efforts to pin the deed on yet another man.

  By the time he finished, Captain Oakes was laughing out loud, along with the other men—except for the lieutenant. Braeden sat with a politely pained expression, as if the entire evening was beneath him.

  “Very good!” Oakes called, still laughing.

  “Can you do card tricks?” another man asked.

  “I can.”

  In truth, this suited Jan, as it got him closer to the table. He pulled a tattered deck from the violin case, and he had a feeling these officers would prefer something simple. For a while, he just played “hide the queen,” by placing three cards face down—including one queen—and he moved them around on the table, letting the men take turns trying to keep visual track of the queen and pick her out. Sometimes he palmed and replaced the card. Sometimes, he left it in and allowed one of the men to point her out, to keep them from being discouraged. No money changed hands, and he focused more on keeping the men entertained.

  “Can you show me how you do that?” one asked.

  “Ah, no,” Jan answered. “I’d be giving away the secrets of my mother’s people.”

  Captain Oakes just watched, but he appeared grateful for the diversion. Jan was offered food and more wine.

  The earlier soldiers who’d delivered the table and chairs returned and started clearing away the remnants of dinner. The officers got up and made room for them. Jan remained seated as the men he’d just been entertaining began talking amongst themselves.

  However, one of the regular soldiers came close, eyeing him in a less friendly fashion than the officers.

  Jan swept his hand across table, and the fanned out cards slid smoothly together. While the soldier looked on in brief astonishment, Jan had already swept one of the daggers away behind his sleeve with his other hand. When he dropped the de
ck back into the case with the violin, it was easy to slip the blade up his sleeve.

  The dinner gathering began breaking up and the officers left the main tent. Captain Oakes glanced at Jan with an expression of mild regret.

  “Sorry, lad, you’ll have to sleep outside with all the others.”

  “Of course,” Jan answered. “Thank you for the wine and chance to play.”

  Oakes waved his thanks away. “I should be thanking you. It was good for the men. As I said earlier, this is a nasty business.”

  Indeed, Jan thought dryly as he took up the violin case, careful not to let the dagger slip out of hiding. On the walk back toward one of the campfires to sleep on the ground, he wondered what he had really gained tonight. Besides stealing a dagger and possibly winning the captain’s appreciation, he was no closer to getting away from these Äntes soldiers than he’d been at dusk.

  Surely, he must possess some skill, some talent he could use to escape. But what?

  His mother’s people had trained him in their ways, and he was a decent pickpocket. However, a palmed dagger wouldn’t do much good against trained soldiers with swords.

  He was adequate at card trick and reading palms. He was highly skilled at playing his violin and making women fall in love with him, but surely there must be something more? He’d always thought well of himself, and he could not be boiled down to those few capabilities.

  Had he been lazy?

  Mulling over his pathetically limited skills, he could see no way to use any of them to help him escape before the Äntes reached Enêmûsk… where he would find himself trapped inside a city wall.

  · · · · ·

  After spending the night and the next day in a crowded storage room below the keep, Julianna wondered what their next step might be. She was on the verge of asking when Zupan Cadell pushed through the crowded little room to the door and stepped out into the open passage.

  “We need to find out what’s going on above,” he said.

  There were about twenty people in the room, including Nadja and young Gideon, and everyone listened in silence. When Nadja rose to join her husband, Julianna followed.

  “What if all the men are still here?” Nadja asked, “and maybe one or more happen to be in the kitchen when one of us steps out and is instantly seen? We will have given ourselves away.”

  Julianna knew she was right, but they couldn’t stay down here forever. Sooner or later, someone needed to check the main floor.

  “Perhaps…” Cadell began, hesitating. “Perhaps someone can go up without being seen.”

  Nadja shook her head. “What do you mean?”

  Cadell sighed and glanced away. “There is a hidden passage inside the keep, down here. It leads up into a dead end… with a spy hole looking into the main hall.”

  Disbelief flooded Nadja’s lovely face. “And you never told me? Did you tell Jan?”

  He shook his head once.

  “How did you know?” Nadja went on, her dark eyes moving back and forth while absorbing this information. Julianna kept silent for now, just listening.

  “Lord Malbek knew and he told me,” Cadell answered, sounding deeply embarrassed. He and Nadja did not keep secrets from each other. “I’d almost forgotten, as I never thought we’d have need of it. When we first arrived, the place was so bleak and dark, I didn’t think to burden you with any more secrets about this place… and as time went on, it didn’t seem important.”

  “Well, it’s important now,” Julianna put in to move this along. “One of us needs to use this passage to see what’s happening.”

  “I’ll go,” Cadell said.

  “You?” Julianna breathed.

  The zupan was aging, his waistline thickening, and he sometimes puffed when climbing stairs. Nadja was still slender, but Julianna knew that she was beginning to have to problems with her knees—pain and stiffening. Either one certainly could take the passage up to spy on the main hall, but Julianna saw another option.

  “I could go,” young Gideon suggested.

  Julianna turned to him, noting his crooked teeth and cow-licked hair with fondness. He was brave but just a boy, and upon seeing the situation upstairs, comprehending all aspects of the situation would require adult thinking and adult decisions.

  “No, I will go,” Julianna said. “I can do this without being heard or noticed and bring back a report.”

  Nadja went pale. “Should you be caught… I cannot… I cannot think of what might happen to you.”

  “I won’t be caught,” Julianna insisted. “How could I be? Not if this passage works the way the zupan says. I’m quiet and quick on my feet, and you need someone old enough to understand anything seen.”

  The zupan was silent for a moment and then picked up a lantern. “Come with me.”

  Nadja appeared to bite back further arguments as Julianna followed Cadell down the rectangular passage toward the dead end. Upon reaching the wall, she expected him to stop, when—to her amazement—he appeared to walk into the wall.

  But he didn’t vanish. He stood there in plain sight, inside the wall.

  “Come, my girl,” he said. “There’s no real trick.”

  As she drew closer in following him, something strange caught her eyes. The dead end wall appeared to separate from the sidewalls, and she found herself looking through an opening beyond which the zupan stood.

  The stones of the wall beyond the zupan had been perfectly lined up with those of the passage’s sidewalls to create the illusion of a solid wall blocking the way. She now saw the side passage ahead to the right beyond Cadell.

  He stepped out, and she stepped in.

  “I don’t think you’re in any danger,” he said, handing her the lantern. “But keep quiet when you reach the top, and leave the lantern on the stairs. You’ll be at the back of the main hall. There is a small hole that looks like only a crack between the stones from the outside.”

  She nodded. “I won’t be long.”

  Gripping the lantern’s handle, she turned in and made her way up the stairs. The climb felt long, but she stepped slowly and lightly, hearing the voices of men before she even reached the top.

  “I told you I’d find us a good spot,” a deep voice growled. “What could be better than this? The kitchen’s well stocked and the ale casks are full.”

  At the top of the stairs, where the passage leveled out, she set down the lantern and crept toward a spot of light ahead. There at the hole, wider on her side than the crack in the pocket of stone, she leaned in to peek through the wall.

  Exactly as the zupan had described, she was at the back of the main hall with a full view of the room. What she saw made her stop breathing for an instant.

  About twenty filthy men had taken all the bedding and blankets down from the upstairs rooms—including her own—and spread them in front of the great hearth. Hams and wheels of cheese and a cask of ale had been taken from the kitchen and placed on the long wooden table.

  As Gideon had mentioned, the men wore no colors of any house, but they were armed with short swords or cutlasses or axes. Unshaved and unwashed, one of them tore off a piece of ham with his fingers and shoved it into his mouth.

  Resentment bubbled inside Julianna. She and Nadja had been saving those hams.

  The largest man sported a shaved head and a full beard. He wore a leather hauberk and a sword, and he swaggered when he walked, going to the ale cask and drawing himself a mug.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” he challenged, and she recognized the same deep voice from a few moments before. “I found us a right good spot.”

  “That you did, Argyle,” answered the man chewing the ham. “We can live like lords here. No sense in us trying to go home now. I got nothing to go home to.”

  Julianna went cold. They planned to remain, to live here? They were probably deserters who had once been conscripted. She counted the hams and cheeses on the table, knowing there wasn’t much more food in the kitchen. Once that was gone, these men would start looking fo
r more. Sooner or later, someone was bound to open the narrow door behind the kitchen and see the stairwell.

  At present, these men had everything they could want at their fingertips, but how long would that last?

  They weren’t ransacking the place for valuables. They were moving in.

  Turning, Julianna hurried for the stairs, grabbed her lantern, descending quickly to tell Cadell and Nadja what she’d seen.

  · · · · ·

  After a long day’s forced march, Jan stumbled behind the man in front of him, as the contingent entered a village. Women, children, and elderly men scurried aside to let Äntes soldiers and their conscripts pass.

  Jan assumed their younger men had already been taken. He expected Captain Oakes to lead the way out the village’s other side and find an open spot down the road to make camp.

  Instead, the captain took them down a side path, through about a hundred paces of trees, and stopped in front of a large two-story manor surrounded by a wall. Guards at the gate opened up, and to Jan’s surprise, the soldiers began herding the conscripts through. He found himself walking through a vast courtyard of light-colored tan stone.

  The manor was constructed from the same tan stone, and as Jan had never seen anything like it before, he assumed the stone had been shipped in from elsewhere long ago. The courtyard was so large that even with all the soldiers, their horses, and the conscripts, there was plenty of room to move about. An unfamiliar man beside him began to breathe heavily, as if in fear.

  Jan looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “This is the lieutenant’s family home. We’re only one day from Enêmûsk. What do you think they will do with us there? Put us up on the wall to take the first round of arrows?”

  Jan had no intention of finding out.

  He watched Captain Oakes and Lieutenant Braeden dismount and pass off their horses. Carefully, he moved through other conscripts to get as close to the manor as possible. The front doors opened and four women in fine gowns came out. A middle-aged woman with a kind face nearly ran to the captain, gripping his hands in affection.