by Robert Beers
“Flynn! Neely! You're alive. You're alive!” She buried herself into their embrace, and began to cry with release.
Flynn's meaty hand patted her on the back. “There, there, miss Charity. It's all right now.”
Neely, for some reason he was forever at a loss to explain, kept his eyes averted from what his friend was holding. He was never embarrassed, the very idea shocked him, but there it was.
He coughed. “Uh, Charity. We needs to be goin'. I mean, you coulda just now roused the whole kitchen, if you catch my meanin'.”
Flynn held on to Charity, like a bear protecting his young. “Aww, Neely, give the girl a break, you know as well as me what she's been through.”
Charity pulled out of Flynn's embrace, and looked at them, wide-eyed. “You know? How? I mean, how could you?”
Flynn chuckled deep in his chest. “The whole castle knew, miss Charity. Neely an’ me, we peeled spuds under the Earl's window to check on you.”
Neely broke in when he saw he her eyes widen further and a flush creep into her cheeks. “We figgered it was you at work when the screams started up, so we did a bit of detecting, as it were.”
He reached behind himself, and pulled out a bundle, and handed it to her.
“My clothes! My bow and quiver! How ... where did you get them?”
Neely grinned from ear to ear. “Truth be known, I've had me hand in a couple o’ thevin's now and then, you know? Well. I just put me talents to work. Let's leave it now, and could ya do an old tracker an’ thief a favor?”
Charity looked up from her inspection of the bundle. “What? Oh, of course I will.”
“Could you put some o’ those clothes on, lass? I mean, you're a fine lookin’ specimen an’ all, but I think I prefer seein’ ya with coverin's.”
Charity hurried into her clothes, blushing furiously while trying to ignore Flynn's comments of agreement with Neely on how fine a specimen of womanhood she'd truly become.
Either the balance of the kitchen staff were sound sleepers, or they'd chosen not to investigate the sound of her greeting Flynn and Neely. This made for an easy path out of the kitchens into the small yard that connected the stables with the Palace wall.
Neely cracked the door that led to the yard, and peered out with one eye. He pulled back a bit, and said over his shoulder. “Cloudy night. Couldn't ask for a better chance than this.”
“Awfully quiet.” Flynn muttered. “I'd have expected the Earl to have roused the whole castle by now.”
“You needn't worry about the Earl,” Charity said, with a tone of finality that raised Neely's brows.
He looked at Flynn, and raised an unspoken question. Flynn answered with a silent don't ask me.
“Well, come along, then.” Neely led them into the small yard and along the wall where the shadows were the deepest. The moon obliged them by staying behind the clouds and adding to the gloom.
The door to the stables was unguarded as expected, but it was barred, on their side. Flynn lifted the bar out of its blocks, and Neely pulled open the door. A smell of hay, manure and horses wafted into the yard.
Charity edged around Neely, and tiptoed into the stables. A family of mice scurried out her way into deep hay. A few of the horses wuffed in their stalls as the three escapees moved past them.
A pile of tack lay slung over a railing across from the stalls. Charity stopped and fingered one of the blankets.
Neely fidgeted and hissed at her. “Come on, miss, we've got to get a move on.”
Charity looked at him with an arched brow. “Wouldn't we move faster with horses?”
Flynn and Neely froze in their tracks. A broad smile spread across Flynn's face.
“There's a thought. Why didn't we think o’ that, Neely? What with all these horses here an’ all?”
Neely glared at the horses from beneath his brows. “Because I can't ride.” He muttered under his breath.
“What do you mean, you can't ride?” Charity hissed back at him. “All you do is climb onto their back and let them walk. Anyone can do that.”
“Well, I can't.” Neely turned away from her.
“I forgot, Miss Charity.” Flynn rubbed the back of his head.
“Flynn!” Neely cautioned him in a whisper.
Flynn ignored his friend's admonition. “You see, Neely's afraid of horses, ‘e is.”
“Oh, come on. Horses?” Charity smirked.
The tone of her question touched a sore spot in Neely, and he barked at her. “A man's got to be afraid of something!”
“Huh? Wuzzat? Who's there?” A sleepy voice drifted out of what they had thought was an empty stall.
“Now you've done it. You woke up the stableboy.” Flynn pushed Neely on his shoulder as he whispered the accusation.
Neely pushed Flynn back. “So what! I'm not crawlin’ on top of no bleedin’ horse.”
“Ohhh, deity! Barbarians in the stables.”
They all turned at the voice. It belonged to a boy a couple of years away from his teens, and he was staring at them with a look that spoke volumes. He was certain he'd be killed, kidnapped, raped and plundered, in that order.
Flynn took a step toward him, and he squealed and back-peddled back into his stall. A couple of the horses shifted in their stalls uneasy with the disturbance.
“Easy, sonny. I ain't gonna hurt you none.” Flynn eased towards him, but he only scrabbled further back into the stall.
“Ease off, Flynn. All you're doin’ is scaring the kid more.” Neely pulled Flynn back out of the stall, and turned to Charity.
“I think your touch is needed here, Charity.” Neely jerked a thumb at the stall.
Charity moved around Neely, and stepped into the stall. The stableboy edged back against the fall wall of the stall. As Charity knelt down in front of him, the moon came out from behind a cloud and cast a beam across her face.
“I ... I know you. Y ... you were with Sire Morgan.”
Charity's smile hid the pain of that name. “Yes, I was.”
“I used to watch as you walked around the yard. You were so pretty in that dress.” A tentative smile crawled across his face. “What are you doing in the stables? Do you want some horses?”
Charity reached out and patted the stable boy's knee. “Why, thank you. Yes, I'd like three horses, if you can spare them.”
The stableboy climbed to his feet, and walked out of the stall to look closely at Flynn and Neely. “You're not barbarians.” He said it almost accusingly.
Flynn and Neely looked down at the boy.
“No. They're not barbarians. They're my friends.”
The stableboy gave Flynn and Neely another look that told them what he thought about Charity's choice of friends, and then he crossed behind Charity to the tack on the railing.
He picked up three of the blankets, and turned to face Charity. “What horses would you like, Milady?”
Charity looked up and down the line. She had no idea what made the difference between a good horse and a bad one. “Tell you what. I'll let you pick them out for me, ok?”
The stableboy beamed at being placed in such a position of trust.
He grabbed three halters, and rushed down to the end of the stable. “Thank you, Milady. I'll get them for you right now, Milady.”
“Our Charity's made an impression on the young lad,” Neely remarked to Flynn.
“That she has,” Flynn chuckled, all thought of the earlier quarrel forgotten. “That she has.”
Charity whirled on them. “Oh, do be still.”
Flynn nudged Neely with an elbow. They'd both seen the look of pleasure in her eyes.
The stableboy did quick work, and with a practiced eye, he picked out a horse suited for each of the would-be riders.
For Charity he chose a dapple-gray mare with an intelligent look in her eye. “She's a real lady herself, um ... Milady,” he said as he handed Charity the reins.
“Thank you ... what can you tell me about the other two?” She looked at Flynn and N
eely with their horses.
He pointed to the draft horse next to Flynn. “He's the strongest one in the stable, Milady. Even that one won't wear him down.” He pointed at Flynn.
“And the other one?” Charity pointed to the buckskin that Neely stood nervously next to.
“That's old Wilbut. You won't find an easier soul in the stable. A baby could sleep on Wilbut's back, she could.”
“A gentle horse, is she?” Charity looked at Neely.
“Oh, aye, Milady. Gentle as the day is long. Born that way, from what I hears. Old Malt, the stable master? He allus gives Wilbut to the Nervous Nellys, he does.”
“I see.” Said Charity. “Will that satisfy you, Nelly, I mean, Neely?
Flynn's chuckle threatened to become a belly laugh.
Neely growled. “One thing I'm not, is a Nervous Nelly. If Flynn can ride that great gray beast, I can ride this one.”
“Good.” Charity turned to the stableboy. “You've been most helpful. How can I ever thank you?”
“Aww, you needn't do that Milady. It was me pleasure.”
“Will, I think I should, anyway.” Charity reached into the purse she had when Cloutier took her prisoner in front of the restaurant. To her amazement, the coins were still there. She flipped a silver to the stableboy.
He caught it, and flipped it back at her.
Charity caught the silver, surprised at the boy's rejection of the coin. “Can't you use the money?”
“Oh, aye, that I can, but, if I go flashing a silver, they'll either take it from me, or accuse me of thevin'. A silver's too much for a stableboy, Milady.”
Charity dug into the purse, and pulled out a half dozen coppers. “Here.” She poured the coppers into his hand. “Don't toss those back at me, because I'll let them hit the floor. You hide what you think is too much, and save it for later. No one is going to accuse a stableboy of stealing a copper now, are they?”
He smiled shyly at her. “No, Milady. I guess not.”
They led the horses out of the stable, and mounted up. Neely had to try a couple of times, but Wilbut stood patiently there while his rider fought his fear and climbed into the saddle.
The stableboy waved goodbye as they rode into the city of Berggren, the horses’ shod hooves clopping against the cobblestones.
A shadow detached itself from the alley between two houses, and followed them on silent feet.
The city's windows were, by and large, dark and silent. A very few had lights behind their curtains, but no faces filled the windows to see the three riders pass. The streets were empty just outside the Palace wall except for a few stray dogs and two very drunk Palace guards trying to hold themselves up by clinging to each other. The song they were singing was very inconsiderate to royalty.
Berggren's street twisted like a vine as they descended from the palace hill into the city below.
When they reached the level below the Palace, Charity leaned towards Neely, and asked, “How are you doing?”
“Just fine, miss. Just fine.” Neely looked about as tense as a man could be without exploding.
Flynn eased his mount up next to Charity on her left side. “Might be good to take his mind off the horse, Miss Charity.” He whispered in her ear.
She nodded and leaned toward Neely again. “What happened to you two after the fight in front of the restaurant? I lost all track of you.”
Neely's mouth quirked in a little smile. “Well, now, miss. Flynn an’ me, we was knocked about some in that fracas. I expect you saw that bit of it.”
Charity nodded her head in the affirmative.
Neely saw the nod. “Thought you did. Well, we woke up in a cell. Been in worse, at least this one had friendly rats. Didn't stay there long, the gaoler, he saw right quick Flynn an’ me was men of quality, an’ give us jobs in th’ kitchen. We was in charge of, uh ... well it was somethin’ important, I can tell you that.”
Charity turned to Flynn. “Was it really that important?”
Flynn nodded vigorous agreement. “Aye, Miss Charity, Folks don't like their spuds peeled poorly. Me an’ Neely was the best spud peelers they ever seen. We was told that.”
Charity turned back to Neely. “Spud peelers?” She laughed.
Neely puffed out his chest. “Like he said, miss. We was the best they ever seen. Told us so, they did.”
“How did you get into the Palace?”
Neely rubbed the side of his nose. “Well ... me an’ Flynn like our grub, you see, an’ I think it got a mite expensive keepin’ us there.”
Charity let out a silvery laugh. “Are you telling me you two ate the gaol out of house and home?”
Flynn grinned shyly, and scratched a grizzled cheek. “I reckon he is at that, Miss Charity.”
“Marvelous. And for that they put you in the Palace? Why not just on the street?”
“They said we had to work off th’ bill for our keep. Flynn an’ me got a cot in the helps quarters and a spot in the kitchens.”
“Let me guess. Spuds?”
“Like he said, Miss Charity. We was the best they ever saw.”
Charity finished the last half of the sentence with Neely, and then turned to Flynn.
“How did you know I was in the Palace?”
Flynn took the question. “We saw you, miss. Walkin’ with the Captain. You was across the courtyard, hanging’ on his arm. It was so good to know you wasn't killed. Me an’ Neely, that's when we put our heads together to try an’ keep an eye on you.”
“How? How could you do that? There were guards everywhere.”
“They'll let a man peel spuds nearly anywhere, iffn’ he's not in th’ way.” Neely looked a new man on the horse now.
Charity felt an inner glow at the accomplishment. “So, you just moved around, peeling potatoes, until you found the right window to camp under?”
Flynn nodded. “Aye, miss. That's what we did.”
“And the Earl's rooms? You said the whole Castle knew?”
Neely coughed. “You tickle a chambermaid or two, you can learn a lot about the inner goings on. In a castle, I mean.”
Charity looked at Flynn. “You, too, Flynn?”
Flynn shifted his bulk in the saddle. “Now, miss Charity. What chambermaid would want to play slap an’ tickle with a lump like ol’ Flynn?”
Charity reached out to touch him in sympathy.
“Me. I learned it from the cooks.” He chuckled.
The touch became a slap. “Flynn!”
Flynn rubbed his arm. “What was all that screamin’ about, miss Charity?”
Charity flushed. “You don't want to know that.”
Neely really wanted to know, now. “Hey, now. I told you about peelin’ all them spuds. The least you can do is tell us about a few screams. Uh ... it wasn't you doin’ the screamin', was it?”
Charity couldn't help smiling at the memory. “No, it wasn't me.”
“Who was it then?” Neely pressed for an answer.
“You really want to know?”
Flynn clicked his tongue, urging his horse to keep up with the others. “I'd like to know too, Miss Charity.”
Charity sighed. “Ok. Don't say I didn't warn you.” She then told Flynn and Neely about her being taken to Cloutier's chambers, and his ripping her gown from her shoulders.
“Bloody swine.” Neely muttered. “I'd like to get my hands on him. I'd tear his manhood off and feed it to him raw.”
Charity's smile was hidden in shadow. “Then you'll like this next part.”
She continued her tale, taking them through the Earl's fondling of her, and her desperate anger at what he was planning, to do to her. She told them of her own plan, and how difficult it was to bring herself to do it. When she got to the execution of that plan, Flynn and Neely reacted strongly.
“Oooowwww! With your teeth?”
“Bardoc save us all! Uuuugghh! I'm not gonna sleep for weeks after this. Stuffed it in his mouth!? How could you, girl?”
Charity suspected the only
thing that kept them from crossing their legs was the saddles. “You just said, Neely, that you'd like to do that very thing to him. I heard you, and Flynn heard you. What's the difference?”
Neely looked at her. Even in the moonlight she could see how pale he was. “I ... just ... said it. You ... you ... oh, I can't say it. I can't. You tell her, Flynn.”
Charity turned to Flynn. “Flynn?”
Flynn wiped his mouth. For some reason he felt very vulnerable just then. “Things ... like that are just said, Miss Charity. You never actually do them.”
“Are you saying I should have let him get away with all he's done?” Charity was beginning to feel a little angry at this lack of support.
“No ... I'm sure he had it coming, miss.” Flynn temporized. “It's just ... you know, knowin' it was done ... You know...”
Neely began to chuckle. “Bet it was a bit of a surprise, though.”
Flynn joined in, “A lady whose bite is worse than her bark?”
Charity stopped the coming gales of laughter with a sharp whispered, “Hsssh! You want to bring the entire guard down on us?”
Flynn and Neely swallowed their chuckles as they looked over their shoulders. Flynn turned to look at Charity. “So, how d'we get past them guards at the gate then?
“Come on, Flynn!” Neely hissed the imperative around the corner where he'd flattened himself against the wall.
A cloudy night sky helped by providing the gloom they needed to get past the gate guards. The guardhouse was a tollbooth-sized structure set against the city wall. One of the two guards leaned against the outside of the house, a rollup smoldering between his lips, and both hands stuffed into his trousers. He occasionally looked to either side, but his primary interest seemed to be what was in his pants.
Flynn sidled around the corner to Neely's side. “Miss Charity's got the horses held steady. They seem to like her.”
Neely growled. He still preferred walking to riding horseback. “I can only see one guard. Where've you been?”
Flynn sounded smug. “Puttin’ th’ other one to sleep.”
“Oh.” Neely's nerves wouldn't let him feel grateful. “All right, then, let's do this one.”