A River of Orange

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

"...Meav,” Rule finished for him. He inhaled sharply. “And she would not have revealed that information unless she knew she was about to die."

  It was then that the other two men came up from below.

  "Nothing in the dungeon but a bunch of dried up flowers,” Ustin reported.

  "Tons of them are littering the floor,” Olin added.

  "They could have been taken to the torture chamber,” Rule said, hoping against all odds that Meav still lived.

  "Can we get there from here, my lord,” Bulwark asked.

  "Nay ... not through here,” Rule said, coming to the landing. “Have your weapons ready, men, and brace yourselves against the wall. On the other side of this partition we might have much to contend with."

  Reaching out he pulled down on a sconce and the wall in front of him opened. To Rule's surprise, no one waited. Cautiously he entered the room that was once his father's study. Cherry wood bookcases lined the walls, the shelves holding stacks of books Stefan had loved to read. A large writing table sat in the corner. Rule remembered the nights his father sat at the desk, engrossed in the volumes of history, many times reading aloud to Rule about battles and victories.

  Guardedly, with his sword and shield drawn, Rule continued through the adjoining area and into the Queen's chamber.

  The room was empty ... and filled with a stench that could turn the strongest stomach.

  The men instantly covered their noses with their hand and began to gag.

  "What is that smell?” Ibrehem said.

  "Stinks like piss,” Bulwark choked.

  "Nay ... ‘tis more like death and rot,” Olin added, turning away and heaving.

  Rule walked over to the queen's bed. With the tip of his sword he pierced the wet dress that lay upon the soaked satin sheets and raised it for the men to see. “'Tis Devora's gown."

  "Looks to me like she was scared right out of it,” Ustin remarked.

  "Where could she have gone?” Olin said.

  Rule flicked the material off his sword and let it drop back onto the bed. “I have no answer to that, Olin. But as much as I want Devora dead, I cannot take the time to search for the witch now. My main concern is for Meav and the others."

  "If Devora knew enough to flee, why then were her men not waiting for us?” Ibrehem said.

  "'Tis what ‘tis, my friend ... Devora betrayed her own men. Cared only about her own hide and left them here to fight and die,” Rule concluded. “Fortunately for us she did. We still have the element of surprise on our side."

  'Twas then that a commotion could be heard below.

  "The others have stormed the main floor,” Rule said. “Let us secure this level and meet them ... from the great hall we can make our way down to the torture chamber."

  With that Rule swung open the door and made his way out into the corridor. There, he encountered two sentries. Plunging forward he raised his sword and ran through the first soldier with a force he had not expected. The weapon and shield seemed to have a power all its own.

  Ibrehem finished off the second man.

  Olin saw a third sentry come from the opposite direction, and with lightening speed felled the man with his rapier before he could reach Rule.

  Bulwark eliminated two more as he descended the stairs to the great hall.

  With blades clicking, Rule's men fought bravely, wiping out Devora's army with a vengeance Rule had never seen before. This war was personal, their victory essential.

  With each enemy he dropped, Rule felt the supremacy of the weapons he used. Stronger he became, feeling an invisible wall of protection surrounding him. He sensed the spirits of his ancestors and the heart of his mother close by, and it gave him the courage to walk into the thick of the battle with confidence.

  Only when Ibrehem shouted, “We are victorious ... all are slain,” did Rule lower his blade. Looking amid the dead bodies that littered the floor of the great room, Rule silently fumed. Devora's high sentry, the one called Shell, was not among the men. ‘Twas then he knew who helped Devora escape. Shell had left his men, left his military post to safely escort the queen from the castle. The thought of the two fleeing from a fate they both deserved angered Rule.

  "Come, my lord,” Ibrehem called, breaking through Rule's thoughts, “to the torture chamber."

  Rule quickly shook the rage from his heart and made his way down the stairs. Again he led his men; weapon raised and ready to deal with the sentries that might be below. Ready for them ... but not for what might have happened to Meav and the others. With this thought most forward in his mind, Rule inhaled sharply and willed himself to meet his enemy with the power that had gotten him this far.

  "Charge!” Rule commanded over his shoulder and took the set of steps two at a time. He was met with opposition halfway down the stairway, and again he felled each foe with the same authority. His men backed him, their bravery unyielding. All of Devora's men went down, breathing their last on a blood-washed floor.

  'Twas the sound of Meav's scream that for an instant stopped Rule's heart. He bolted into action, quickly running down the corridor and to the room where the shouts came. With one sweep of his eyes he took in the scene before him. In one corner Meav and Zailia sat on the floor, Zailia holding Tobiah's limp and bloody body in her arms. In the center of the chamber two sentries were engaged in a sword fight.

  Ibrehem arched a brow. “What do you make of this, my lord? Devora's men cannot even tolerate each other. Should we let them finish their dual and take the winner?"

  Rule glanced again at Tobiah ... the old man was in bad shape and needed to be tended to. “Nay, there is no time."

  Rule and Ibrehem leaped into the fight, each one taking on a sentry.

  Ibrehem swiftly overpowered the taller sentry. The man fell to the floor and gasped his last.

  Rule was about to end the other's life when Meav screamed ... “Nay, do not harm him, milord!” She lunged ahead and grabbed for Rule's arm. “Spare him ... he is a friend!"

  Rule slowly lowered his arm but held his shield between them. “He is one of Devora's men."

  "Aye, he is, but he was helping us escape,” Meav quickly explained. She tightened her grip on Rule's arm. “Without him we would be dead by now."

  Wesley dropped his sword and raised his hands above his head. “I mean you no harm, my lord."

  Rule lowered his shield and backed away. He looked down at Meav, his eyes glistening with relief that she was alive. Dropping his shield and sword to the ground he embraced her and lifted her off her feet. “Lass, this moment I prayed for."

  Meav wrapped her arms around Rule's neck. “As well as I, milord.

  Rule captured her mouth and kissed her with urgency. When she responded to his bold display of affection, a surge of heat coursed through every fiber of his being.

  Ibrehem ran to Zailia, who by now was crying and rocking her father's battered body in her arms. Gently, he released her hold.

  Rule motioned for Bulwark and Olin to take Tobiah.

  Ibrehem pulled Zailia into his arms and showered her face with kisses. She did not resist, burying her face in Ibrehem's neck and holding him tight.

  "'Tis over now, lass. All of Devora's men are dead.” Rule called out to her, tightening his hold on Meav.

  "'Tis true, Zailia,” Ibrehem reassured her. “No one will ever hurt you again and I will never leave your side."

  "He is dying, Ibrehem,” Zailia sobbed. “My father is dying."

  * * * *

  Rule wasted no time in having Wysteria brought to the castle. She came bustling into the great hall, a satchel hanging from her arm filled with herbs and potions. Quickly she was ushered up to the king's chambers, where Tobiah had been brought. There she administered healing to the old sentry. Zailia and Meav helped. The three women worked the entire night to bring Tobiah from death's door.

  As the sun shone through the window, Meav woke to find herself sleeping on a quilt that had been spread on the floor beside the large, canopied bed. Slowly she stood,
finding Zailia resting at the foot of the bed and Wysteria asleep in a chair by the fire.

  Meav reached forward and gently felt Tobiah's forehead. The fever had broken. This was a good sign. She smiled, relieved, and arranged the coverlet around the old man's shoulders. On tiptoe she made her way to the door as quietly as she could, opened the squeaky portal and made her way down to the great hall.

  Along the labyrinthine maze of stone corridors she took in the splendor of the castle, admiring the rich tapestries hanging on the wall, and the beautiful, large, stained glass windows that allowed the morning's light to fill the interior. It seemed she and the other women were not the only ones working throughout the night. The dead bodies had been removed and the floors were washed clean from the blood.

  Meav, directed by men's voices, found the great hall. Slowly she entered the room, finding Rule and his men sitting at a long table, eating and drinking, and talking about their victory.

  Meav watched Rule take a bite of the meat. He seemed to savor it as he chewed, his eyes closing slightly with pleasure. Meav was delighted his curse had been broken, happy for him, that he was finally home. She smiled to herself. ‘Tis the first cooked meal he has had in a decade.

  She decided not to bother him, and instead find her way to the kitchen for her own breakfast. Just as she was about to turn and leave, he called her name.

  Rule stood and made his way toward her. “Nay, my lady, do not leave me to eat my first civilized meal without your presence."

  Meav raised her hand, gesturing to the men gathered around the table. “I do not want to interrupt, milord."

  "You are not, my lady ... anyway; I was just about to come upstairs to fetch you. I would much rather gaze upon your face across the table then some of these burly mates.” He enclosed his hand around hers, and pulled her along with him to the table. “How is Tobiah doing?"

  She sat in a chair he pulled out for her. “The fever has broken, and he is resting comfortably."

  Rule sat beside her and raised his mug. “To Tobiah."

  The other men around the table raised their mugs as well, cheering the old man's name in unison.

  A young woman several years older than Meav sauntered up to the table. Her light brown hair hung in a braid down her back, and her large brown eyes twinkled. Placing a pitcher of goat's milk on the table, she smiled at Meav.

  Meav reluctantly returned the smile. There was something about the lass that did not set right with Meav, though she could not pinpoint what it was. Perhaps ‘twas because the young woman's smile looked forced ... stiff, the merriment not quite reaching her eyes. Meav sighed, maybe ‘twas just that she was tired, felt dirty, awkward, and very hungry.

  "And now, down to business,” Rule said. He turned to Bulwark and Ibrehem. “I want the passage leading from the garden to the queen's chamber blocked off. With Shell and Devora still around, I dare not take the chance of them secretly being able to enter the castle."

  Both Bulwark and Ibrehem nodded in agreement.

  The young girl took her time pouring the milk in a mug for Meav, listening all the while to what the men were saying.

  Meav felt uneasy. She shifted in her seat, silently wishing Rule would not be as cavalier as to what his plans were in front of the maiden.

  Rule directed his next words to Wesley. “And you, my new found friend, I will knight."

  Wesley shifted in his seat. “There is no need for that, my lord."

  Rule frowned. “Then how else can I repay you for saving my lady and the others?"

  Wesley met Rule's gaze. “By granting me permission to leave. I would like to go home, to my family."

  Rule sat back in his seat. “Where have you family, soldier?"

  "The mountain region,” Wesley explained, “where my folks have a goat farm. To spare them losing the property, I worked for Devora.” He sighed. “Now that she is gone, I would ask you lift the remaining tax. Then I would like to return to my home.” A small smile curved his lips. “And to my own love, Becka, who waits patiently for me."

  Rule nodded. “What you ask is done, Wesley."

  Wesley beamed. “Thank you a thousand times, my lord."

  "I only wish for you to stay till after my coronation ceremony, and join the feast that will follow,” Rule said.

  Wesley tipped his head politely. “It would be an honor to see you crowned."

  Meav had been watching the young woman carefully, as she fussed over filling Meav's plate. She smiled again at Meav. “Would you be wanting anything more, my lady?"

  Meav looked at the food that filled her dish. “Nay, all I could want is here."

  "After your meal, then, I will be glad to help you bathe,” the girl whispered.

  Meav blushed, suddenly humiliated at the way she must look ... and smell, but she did not need this slip of a girl to call it to her attention. “I do not think I need anyone to help me bathe."

  Rule overheard the women's conversation. “'Tis the way of it, my lady. Lorna will be your handmaiden now, and will help you do whatever ‘tis you women do."

  Meav looked around the table. The other men had now stopped stuffing their mouths and were also listening. Meav's blush deepened. “I am no one special, milord. In fact, I should be helping in the kitchen ... so much company ... ‘tis only right I lend Lorna a hand."

  "Oh ... nay, my lady,” Lorna gasped. “'Tis not your place."

  Meav frowned, looking over at Rule. “I do not understand."

  "Your place is with me, Meav ... I am soon to be king, and you will be my queen."

  Meav swallowed hard to clear the buzzing sound that now grew louder in her ears. “Queen ... me a queen?” she mumbled. ‘Twas then her arms and legs grew numb ... then everything went black.

  When she opened her eyes she was in a small room. ‘Twas furnished with just a bed, a nightstand with a washbasin on top and a writing table by the large window. Before the crackling fire stood a large tub ... ready and waiting for her. She looked over to find Rule sitting at the edge of the bed, his amber eyes showing his concern.

  Gently he removed the damp cloth from her forehead and dipped it into the basin, squeezing it before he replaced on her brow. “What in thunder happened to you, lass?"

  Meav touched her hand to her head. What had happened? She closed her eyes, slowly recalling the events of the morning. Queen ... he said she would be his queen. Meav opened her eyes wide. “Me ... a queen?"

  He chuckled lightly. “Aye, ‘tis what you will be after we are wed."

  She could feel herself going out again, the arms, legs, all tingling. Nay ... she must stay focused ... the man mentioned marriage. She took a deep breath. “Have I accepted your proposal, milord?"

  Rule cast his eyes down. “Forgive me, my lady ... I just assumed ... the Prophecy and all ... that if you loved me enough to break the curse, you loved me enough to want to marry me."

  Meav reached out and gently stroked Rule's face. “Do you love me enough, milord, to want to marry me? Or are you asking out of honor and duty."

  Rule looked deep into her eyes. “There is much honor in my asking, my lady, but ‘tis not out of duty.” He reached for her hand, turned it over, and tenderly kissed her palm. “I love you, Meav O'Shay ... I have since the moment I set eyes on you, though I was too stubborn to admit it.” He placed her hand over his heart and held it there. “I want to wake every morning with you in my arms, and go to sleep every evening with you by my side. I want to make wee ones from our love, and grow old with you."

  Meav drowned in the tenderness of his gaze, and her heart danced with excitement. “Oh, milord,” she whispered breathlessly, spreading her fingers out over his masculine chest.

  "Oh, my lady,” he countered in the same manor.

  Meav suddenly found herself completely conscious of his virile appeal. Her palm burned where he had kissed. Mercy, the very air around her felt charged with an energy she could not explain.

  His hand slipped up her arm, pulling her into his embrace.
He whispered into her hair. “Can you forgive me, Meav for the way I acted ... for the way I mistrusted you?"

  She put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his throat.

  His grip tightened. “You have unlocked my heart and soul, lass, made me human again ... and I can only hope that in time you might love me as I do you."

  Meav pulled back, drowning in the pool of his eyes. They glistened with tears. “I do love you, Rule. I love you with all that is in me."

  Rule face burst with joy. “Then you accept my proposal?"

  Meav felt her own happy tears spill over and slip down her cheeks. “Aye, milord, I accept."

  * * * *

  Zailia awakened with his gentle touch upon her back. She stirred, pushing a golden curl from her eyes.

  Ibrehem smiled down at her. “Come downstairs for breakfast, lass."

  Zailia sat up and quickly looked over at her father. “I dare not leave him."

  Ibrehem stroked her face. The softness of her flesh soothed the tips of his fingers. “Wysteria sits only a few feet away, by the fire. She will heed his call should he wake."

  Zailia moved to sit at the edge of the bed. “I want to be here when he opens his eyes."

  Ibrehem nodded in agreement. “Then I will have something brought up here for you to eat ... and for Wysteria as well."

  She smiled warmly. “Thank you, Ibrehem.” She reached out and touched his hand. “But you need not worry about us any further. Papa and I will be fine now."

  Ibrehem knelt before her and buried his face in her lap. “Zailia, please, do not push me away again. Let me take care of you."

  She buried her hands in his thick hair. “I have taken care of myself for so long, I do not know how to let someone else do it for me."

  He raised his face to hers. “Then you take care of me."

  She looked deep into his eyes. “I do not understand ... in what way could you need me?"

  Ibrehem nervously cleared his throat. Right now, this slip of a woman had him on his knees, and if what he was about to say drove her away ... he would come undone. “In every way, lass,” he began, his voice shakier than he had liked. “I find my life incomplete, lonely, and empty without you."