A River of Orange

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  Zailia blinked baffled. “You could have any lass you want."

  He placed both hands at the base of her spine. “I do not want any lass, Zailia, I want you."

  She raised her chin defiantly. “Only because you pity me ... feel some sort of honor toward my father.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I do not want to spend my life with a man who feels sorry for me."

  He spoke in a suffocated whisper. “Is that what you think ... that I feel sorry for you?"

  Zailia gave him a taut nod, than lowered her eyes.

  Ibrehem raised her chin. “Look at me lass."

  She resisted.

  He cupped her face with his hands and brought her gaze to meet his. “I want you to look deep into my eyes when I tell you this, Zailia ... so you will see I say it with all truth and sincerity."

  Her voice trembled when she spoke. “I am listening."

  He gently rubbed a thumb over her lips. “I love you, Zailia ... there is no question about it. I want you for my wife and I will not have you denying me ... us ... the happiness I know we can have if you will just give me the chance to prove it to you."

  The tears now slipped down her cheeks. “You love me?"

  Ibrehem chuckled lightly. “Aye, lass, I do, with every fiber of my being."

  "Really and truly?"

  "Really and truly.” Gently he tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Now I would know, lass, if you could love me."

  "I have always loved you, Ibrehem Chancelor."

  He stood, pulling her up with him and covered her lips with his.

  His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, sending shivers of desire through him. Raising his lips from hers he gazed into her soft, brown eyes. “Will you marry me, lass?"

  She melted in his embrace. “I will, Ibrehem Chancelor ... I will."

  Tobiah cleared his throat with authority. “'Tis bloody well about time."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Devora lay on the worn out cot in the tiny hut. Every bone in her body felt exposed. Her nightgown, though the material was light, chafed her flesh. Pain gripped her each time she breathed. Slowly she looked around the shabby dwelling, her eyes stopping on Shell and an elderly man sitting on a rug beside a fire pit. She groaned.

  Immediately Shell went to her, kneeling beside the straw filled bed. Taking her fragile hand in his, he forced a smile. “Well, now, ‘tis about time you decided to join us."

  "What is this place?” she choked.

  "'Tis the Shaman's hut in the Jabri Valley ... I have taken you home ... to my home, Devora."

  Devora cast her gaze to the old man, long white beard hanging from his chin, skin tanned and creased like old leather. “I need to speak to him ... alone,” she added, turning to look back at Shell.

  Shell nodded in agreement. Reluctantly he motioned for the Shaman, then stood and left the hut.

  The old medicine man knelt beside the dying woman, gave her a toothless smile. “I am Cumbezzer,” he said, sprinkling powder over the top of her head.

  "Can you help reverse this ... this spell,” Devora whispered, pain shooting through her body with each word.

  Cumbezzer's watery gray eyes looked deep into Devora's. “You and I both know this is no spell."

  Devora forced the words from her throat. “Blue flowers ... I drank a potion made from the blue flowers growing in the castle dungeon."

  Cumbezzer's face fell. “Flowers that grow in darkness, that make old turn to young?"

  Devora's eyes widened. “Aye ... you know of this herb?"

  Cumbezzer nodded. “Grows in a cave not far from here."

  Devora placed a hand on the old man's arm. “You must pluck them quickly and bring me the blooms."

  Cumbezzer shook his head.

  Devora's mouth twisted with her pain. “I will die without them."

  Cumbezzer narrowed his eyes. “Then you will die."

  "Nay,” Devora gasped. “You must help me."

  Cumbezzer shook his head again. “I cannot ... to open the cave, remove the flowers, would mean sudden death to all in the Jabri Valley."

  Devora dug her nails into the old man's flesh. “No one would have to know about the flowers but you and I ... not even Shell."

  Cumbezzer shook his head harder. “No can do ... flower evil, herb of the devil.” He sprinkled the powder on Devora's head. “You sleep now, death come easy when you sleep."

  Tears welled in Devora's eyes and slipped down her bony cheeks. “I do not want to die,” she sobbed, remembering the horrid way her cat Gotham had expired from lack of the youth brew. “Nay ... do not want ... to die...” her voice trailed off, her eyelids grew heavy. And then she saw all the colors of the spring melt together in her mind's eye. The smiles and laughter she shared with Meridith and Wysteria ... her mother and father. She felt joy at healing a little rabbit, sorrow when she could not help a tiny bird. ‘Twas all still there, deep inside of her; waiting for her to find her way back to the goodness life held ... and now, when it was too late she finally had.

  I'm sorry, she heard her heart cry. For all the wrong I did, for all the hate and evil, she sobbed. But there was no one that could hear her. She thought of Shell. He loved her in spite of what she was, what she had become. How different could things have been if they met in the right way ... loved with pure intent. Devora would never know this and it hurt worse than the pain that now enveloped her body. She tried to open her eyes, see Shell's handsome face one more time ... even now, on her death bed, she longed for his kisses, to feel him inside of her. And with that thought the pain ceased, the sadness lifted, she felt her body floating ... floating ... away.

  Shell watched Devora take her last breath, and to his horror, her body slowly dissolved right before his eyes. There was nothing left of her but dust.

  He fell to the ground and wept, vowing he would avenge his lady queen. The red-haired maiden had put a spell on his woman that caused her death. Shell could not let the bitch live on when his own love was gone.

  Forcing himself to focus on what had to be done Shell stood; wrapped Devora's remains in a blanket and carried them outside. The Shaman began to chant as Shell set the blanket on fire. Together they watched it burn.

  Cumbezzer picked up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over the ashes. “She is gone, and you must go now too."

  Shell nodded, turning away and walking to his father's home. He needed the wisdom and comfort of his family ... to feel the love and acceptance ... and their help in ending Meav's life.

  * * * *

  Lord have mercy, her new handmaiden was drying her between the thighs, and a tad rough at that. Meav covered herself awkwardly with a towel and moved to sit on the bed. Again a disturbing feeling about Lorna surfaced. She shivered.

  "Cannot be having you catch a chill now, my lady,” Lorna advised. “Let me finish drying you."

  "I am dry enough, Lorna."

  "So sorry, my lady. A scullery maid by trade I am ... not schooled in the fine ways, or how to assist a queen.” Her eyes widened. “But give me a chance, I beg of you. ‘Tis agony, ‘tis to spend my life rotting below, scrubbing pots till my fingers shred.” She bowed politely. “Real happy and grateful I am to have this chance to better my position and serve you.” She searched Meav's face. “And sorry I am if I have spoken out of turn or hurt you in any way. I must remember I am not scrubbing pots."

  Meav forced a smile. “'Tis not your fault, Lorna,” she lied. ‘Twas best she played along, acted like she suspected nothing. But the next chance Meav had she would speak to Rule about her feelings toward the handmaiden. “I am a farmer's daughter, brought up in a humble but loving home, and I am not used to being helped with me bath.” Meav sighed. “The whole thing is rather strange to me ... I have been bathing and dressing meself since I learned to walk ... why would I need help now?"

  "'Tis because you are royalty, my lady. Doing for yourself is a thing of the past.” Lorna explained.

  Meav shrugged. “'Tis just ... new way
s take time to get used to."

  "Aye, but ‘tis best you do, my lady,” Lorna said, extending a hand. “Now off with the towel so I can rub on the oil. And then I will open the trunk and get you dressed pretty for your betrothed."

  Meav cast a quick glance at the trunk in the corner. Rule had Bulwark fetch it from Wysteria's cottage last eve when he brought Wysteria to Tobiah's aid.

  "Such beautiful garments inside,” Lorna went on.

  "Aye,” Meav agreed, not quite liking Lorna being able to rummage through the chest's contents. “They are very precious things that belonged to Rule's mother."

  "And now they are yours, my lady. Come,” Lorna coaxed, moving closer to the bed.

  Meav stood, reluctantly dropping the towel to the floor. She closed her eyes while Lorna rubbed the oil on her neck, across her shoulders, and down her back. Though the girl's message felt good upon her flesh, Meav still could not relax. What was it about Lorna that bothered her ... what indeed?

  * * * *

  Shell smelled trouble. As he took the road from the Shaman's hut to his father's dwelling, he had not seen one Humbler at work. Jabri Valley was maintained by the Humblers, short in stature but strong in muscle. Hard working, indentured servants that made life easier for the higher ups ... the aristocratic Jabrians, like Shell's family. Humblers worked the fields, toiled and brought to fruition all of the valley's wealth. They lacked reason, stumbled with words and common sense, and therefore feared fighting for their freedom. ‘Twas easy for Jabrians to oppress the Humblers ... they just kept Humbler children from learning the things Jabrian children learned. In this way the Humblers remained slaves, happy only for a morsel of food and a dry place to sleep.

  Shell opened the large oak door to his family's home. At this hour, the Humbler women would usually be bustling around, doing the wash and scrubbing the floors. But the house was quiet.

  Shell made his way to the garden. No Humbler men worked the fields or chopped wood. Instead, Shell found his father trying to lift the ax and his mother on her hands and knees, picking vegetables.

  "What goes on here?” Shell shouted.

  Magna raised her sun burnt face, a smile spreading her lips when she spotted her son. Quickly she stood, and ran into his arms. “My boy,” she sobbed. “'Tis the happiest I have been in months.” She pulled back to look at him. “Are you hungry, how was your journey, how long can you stay?"

  "Let the boy have a word, mother,” Kinnely chastised his wife, dropping the ax and making his way toward his son.

  Shell looked from one to the other. How he had missed them. His mother, wiping her tears with the end of her apron, looked worn. Her green-gray eyes feasted on him, her chubby face gleaming with a mother's love. And his father, gray-haired and gray-bearded, shook his hand with a slighter grip than Shell remembered.

  "What goes on here? Why are not the Humblers doing the work?” Shell probed.

  Kinnely meandered over to a chair and set his plump self down. “They are gone. Every last one of them ... the ungrateful idiots."

  Shell frowned. “Gone? Gone where?"

  "Back to the mountain region, their ancestral home,” Magna added.

  Shell stared at his mother, baffled. “I always thought Jabri Valley was where they originated from."

  Kinnely grunted. “Were you asleep in history class, son?” The older man sighed heavily. “Humblers were captured centuries ago by Jabrians and brought to the valley to work. The lot of them was so dumb; they would have died if left to their own devices.” He hammered at his chest. “Why we saved their lives, we did, teaching them to plant and harvest, build homes and hunt for food. And what thanks have we gotten for all our trouble?"

  Shell's eyes widened in astonishment. “But how did they rise above the Jabrian Elders?"

  Magna's mouth puckered with her annoyance. “Oh, ‘twas not their own doings.” She shook her head. “Mercy nay ... they could not free themselves from seaweed."

  Shell's voice was harsh with frustration. “Then who did free them?"

  "Stefan's military,” Kinnely snapped. “The whole troop of the blooming buggers, led by Ibrehem Chancelor, marched in here about a moon ago, fought for the Humbler's freedom, and won."

  Magna nodded in agreement. “And now they are gone ... back to their homeland in the mountains."

  Shell stiffened. “Why did you not send word to me and my sentries?"

  Kinnely stroked his beard. “None of us could get through the pass, son. The military had every road blocked. Must have been planning the attack for a long time, they knew every in and out of the valley.” He sighed exasperated. “If only our castaway had arrived a few nights sooner."

  Shell moved closer to his father. “What castaway?"

  "The one that survived the ship wreck,” Magna said. “Took him in, we did. He helps with the labor in place of his food and lodging."

  Shell frowned. “What good would one, half drowned man do against a whole army?"

  Kinnely yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “'Twas not so much him, but what was in the crate he came a floating on that would have helped us, son."

  Shell combed his fingers through his hair. “And what might that be, Father?"

  "Something called firearms, son ... and a whole lot of something else called gun powder ... the thing what makes the firearms deadly. If we had these weapons when Stefan's men attacked, we would have easily won the fight and the Humblers would still be here doing the work."

  "Why, we were just speaking about you,” Magna exclaimed.

  Shell turned around to find a tall, thin man with a balding head and round, black eyes standing in the door frame.

  "This is my son, Shell,” Magna gleamed with pride.

  The man extended his hand to Shell. “I have heard so much about you, lad, I feel like I already know you."

  Shell shook the man's hand. “I am sorry, sir, I did not catch your name."

  The man smiled, exposing a gold tooth. “'Tis McGreary, lad ... Hollister McGreary."

  Chapter Twenty

  Shell narrowed his eyes. “Ship wrecked you say?"

  Hollister's expression became serious. “Aye, and the only survivor."

  Shell's mouth curved into an unconscious smile that soon widened to consume his entire face. “What would you say if I told you that another did survive ... a young woman."

  Hollister jumped on the soldier's words. “One with fiery red hair and eyes of blue?"

  "Aye, that be the one,” Shell confirmed.

  Hollister eagerly moved forward, his mouth twisting upward. “Then I should want to find her immediately."

  Shell raised his hand. “One moment, sir ... I would know first what the lass is to you?"

  "She is me wife,” Hollister lied, seeing a way to re-capture Meav. No one here needed to know the little bitch tried to escape from his proposal or that he had murdered her family. When his informants learned she took refuge on the Sea Dragon, Hollister followed. Having many friends aboard the British ship, he was able to board the vessel. For many days he searched while out to sea, but never found her. He then angrily assumed his contacts were wrong.

  "And why were you both on the ship,” Shell probed.

  Hollister's voice cracked. “We had just been married in Dublin, and on our wedding trip."

  Magna clapped her hands with delight. “What a joyous day for you, Mr. McGreary. Your bride is alive and my Shell was the one to bring the good news."

  Hollister dipped his head politely. “Aye, dear lady, a fine day ‘tis."

  Shell placed a hand on Hollister's shoulder. “Mr. McGreary, I have much to tell you.” He motioned to the path that led from the back of the house to the water. “After you."

  The two walked in silence, each taking a moment to ponder what they learned.

  Hollister's casual strides masked his excitement. If Meav thought she would escape him, she was sadly mistaken. Playing the loving husband, anxious to be reunited with his wife, would make the young so
ldier lead him right to her. He faked concern. “Where is she? Is she well?"

  "She has been captured by Rule Thornton, a warrior in Stefan's army,” Shell lied. “He has killed the queen, taken over the throne and claims your wife for his own."

  Hollister's eyes bulged with his rage. “Then we need to gather the men of this valley and unite for battle. Stefan's army has done a great injustice to the folks here by liberating the Humblers ... and now they have kidnapped me wife.” He stopped walking and looked Shell square in the face. “I have firearms ... and will teach you how to use them. Together we can conquer these rogues."

  Shell saw a plan developing that would work exactly to his liking. Let Hollister McGreary believe that Shell was helping to reunite him with his wife. After Hollister and Meav were together, Shell would kill them both. The Jabrians could then use McGreary's firearms to kill Rule and his men, opening the throne for Shell. He smiled to himself ... aye, he would be king.

  Shell spoke with deceptive calm. “I still have a contact within the castle walls. I know where she goes each night to bathe. I believe she would help ... deliver your wife right into our hands."

  Hollister's eyes gleamed. “And once we have brought Meav safely back here, we can return with the village men, armed with me weapons, and will take the castle."

  Shell extended his hand to seal the deal. “'Tis a glorious plan ... we will all be victorious."

  A slow smile spread across Hollister's face. “Aye, gloriously victorious."

  * * * *

  Lorna inhaled the night jasmine, a light breeze played with the tendrils of hair that framed her face. She looked content coming to the tiny secluded spot by the river to bathe.

  Loreli watched the young woman strip off all her clothes, stretch her arms above her head and do a little dance. This one loved being naked ... fully enjoyed freeing herself from the worn garments she wore.

  The mer-woman had watched the young woman's bathing ritual many nights, and took much pleasure in the way the earth-bound's full breasts had bounced as she frolicked to and fro beside the water's edge.

  Loreli could wait no longer. Tonight she would claim the maiden, pull her down into the depths of a mermaid's world and own her. Slowly she submerged herself into the black waters, silently swimming closer and closer to the water's edge, waiting for her chance to spring forth and capture her prey. But she sensed another human lurking nearby, and instead lay still beneath the water.