The maidservant’s manner had been decidedly odd. Where the landlord oozed geniality, her gaze had been hostile, and she had tried to mask her malevolence by keeping her gaze low and refusing to meet anyone’s eye. It was hard though, to imagine her a sympathizer to the Northern cause. For surely if that had been the case, she would have been more amenable when serving her?
Her ruminations were interrupted by an unexpected squeak from the wood paneling at the foot of the bed. Una looked toward that spot and was alarmed to see movement there. She had been lying with her eyes open, so her vision was already adjusted to the dark. Lifting her head off the pillow, she craned her eyes and fancied it was a portion of the paneling swinging open into their room. She slid her arm along the mattress to grip Armand’s upper arm, digging her nails into him cruelly. She felt his breathing hitch and his head rustled on the pillow, as to her horror, Una realized someone was swarming across the floor to her side of the bed. It was a figure crawling on all fours. Opening her mouth, she screamed loud and high.
Other figures, large and bulky were now coming through the paneling. Pausing to draw breath, Una felt Armand sit upright in the bed, and leaving him to deal with the intruders advancing upon him, she turned to the floor by her side of the bed, where a shadowy figure seemed to be rising to its knees. Reaching to the small table by her side of the bed, Una clutched the water jug and brought it down with a heavy swing in a vague approximation of the figure’s head.
The jug made contact and shattered, and Una saw the figure reel. Throwing back the covers, she leaped from the bed, and keen to take advantage of her momentary upper hand, she fell upon the figure, seizing its shoulders and bearing it back to the floor. From the size and shape, she rather thought her adversary was a woman. Grabbing her head, Una slammed it back against the floorboards, attempting to stun her further.
Behind her, she heard a scuffle and a bellow and could only hope that Armand was managing to hold his own. His sword she remembered was hanging on a chair at the foot of the bed. If she could only reach it, maybe she could help him, for she fancied he was contending with two or three to her one.
Suddenly, the figure beneath her seemed to recover her wits and started struggling wildly. It was all Una could do to remain astride her. She reached for her wrists, but only managed to catch hold of her left, for the right was swinging wildly and Una realized with a flash, that she held some kind of weapon in it, most likely a dagger.
Una redoubled her efforts, but it wasn’t easy for the female had an undoubted wiry strength. “Jeb!” she started screeching. “Get off me you bitch! I’ll kill you!” She slashed wildly at Una who let go of her left hand, to concentrate her efforts on securing the right, which held the real threat.
Dimly, Una heard someone crashing down to the ground behind her. She muttered a prayer that it was not Armand, as she finally caught hold of the hand with the knife. The woman beneath her gibbered incoherently with rage as they both exerted all their strength against each other. It was a close-run thing for Una feared they were very evenly matched in muscle. The dagger was now between their two bodies, and when she felt the blade against her ribs, she felt a new surge of strength born of fear.
Was she really going to end her days in some squalid inn, the victim of what she could only guess was a gang of murderous thieves? She, who had so many times faced death during her short, beleaguered life. Pushing desperately against the other woman’s shaking fist, she heard her give a startled grunt, then felt the sickening give as the sharp blade found its mark. Warm blood surged over Una’s fingers and she blinked in the darkness as the other woman turned limp.
There was another crash behind her, and an oath, who she relieved to discover was Armand. “Una?” he shouted.
“I’m here,” she answered shakily.
Then the door burst open and someone stood there with a candle. “Una?”
She recognized Otho’s voice before she saw his face and felt a wave of sickness wash over her. Surely Otho was not at the bottom of this?
“Halt!” shouted Armand. “Do not come any closer,” he warned, “Unless you want to suffer their fate.” In three strides, he was over the bed and kneeling beside her. He ran his large hands over her arms, feeling her for injuries.
“Nothing ails me,” she assured him. “I’m not hurt.” He had to help her to raise, for her knees were shaky and felt grazed from the floor. “I killed her,” she said numbly.
“Hush, you did well,” Armand soothed her.
“Why did they attack us?”
“I don’t know yet,” he answered grimly, slipping an arm around her waist to support her, and turning back to her brother. “You were also attacked?” he asked, and Una noticed for the first time that Otho was dressed for bed in a nightshirt, which bore splatters of blood across it. It seemed he had hastily pulled on his boots to come in search of them.
“You are hurt, Otho!” she blurted.
“It’s nothing,” he responded dismissively. “Are they dead?”
Una craned her head over her shoulder to see the two bodies lying on the floor on Armand’s side of the bed.
“Yes,” Armand answered shortly. “How many came for you?”
“The landlord only.” Otho shrugged. “It seems they thought you more of a threat than a mere pilgrim.”
Armand grunted at that. “Very likely. We need light. I want to see how they gained access to our chamber.”
“It was through the paneling there,” Una said, pointing to where an open panel swung open. Otho came into the room and touched his candle to the wicks of the unlit candles until the room was illuminated in a yellow glow.
Armand pulled on his breeches and boots and grabbed a blanket from the bed to drape it about her. “Here,” he said, and Una noticed she was clad only in her thin shift. Her surge of fear had inured her to the cold. “Take a seat here, Una, in this chair, while I take a look.” Picking up a candle, he advanced on the open paneling and lifted it high to peer in.
Una turned to her brother who was examining the bodies, turning them over with his foot. “This one’s the stable-hand,” he pronounced, moving onto the other fellow. “But I don’t know this one.”
“It’s the cook,” Armand said, his voice drifting back to them as he stepped inside the paneling.
“Be careful, in case there should be any more of them concealed there,” Una called anxiously.
“If this is the maidservant,” Otho said, walking over to the dead female, “then this is likely the entire household.” He peered down. “It is she.”
Una took one look at the knife handle protruding from her chest and had to look away.
“You did well, sister,” Otho said gruffly, and Una looked up in surprise. Otho had not permitted her to call him brother for many years, not since they were children and he decided it was unfit for a princess to acknowledge her bastard-born sibling.
“You too, brother,” she replied. “Thank you for coming to our aid.”
“That was for your sake alone,” he answered, his lips flattening into a thin line.
“I am aware.” She had started to shiver now and noticing it, Otho exclaimed.
“I should find you some brandywine,” he muttered. “But I don’t like to leave you alone in this chamber of death.”
“I confess, I do feel a little shaken, but I would be happy to sit here and wait for your return.”
He hesitated. “You’re certain?”
“Oh yes.”
He looked grimly satisfied. “You’re stout of heart, Una. The Blechmarsh dragon is strong in you.”
She gave him a wan smile. “And in you, Otho.”
He smiled a little at that, and then turned and left the room in quick strides. She sat alone for five minutes or so, her eyes fixed on the paneling and away from the grisly remains before she heard Otho’s stride along the passage outside. He reappeared carrying a stoppered bottle and two cups.
“Here,” he said pouring some out for her. “This wil
l restore some color to your cheeks.” She accepted it gratefully, and he poured himself a liberal measure and crouched down beside her. “He should not leave you alone like this,” he muttered. “Not after the upset you just suffered.”
“I am not alone,” she pointed out. “For you are here.”
“He does not take care of you as he should. As a Northerner would,” he insisted.
“Being treated as a princess is the last thing I want,” she said in a low steely voice. “For I am no longer one.”
“In the North you will always be the last of the Blechmarshes!” Otho said hoarsely.
She looked at him in despair. “None of you ever listen to me or what I want,” she said bitterly. “Why can I not just be your sister, Otho? Why must you insist that I occupy some exalted position I do not want? Am I not good enough, if I am not royal?”
He looked startled by her words, his mouth falling open. “Where has this kind of speech come from?” he spluttered. “Have those Southerners indoctrinated you into their false beliefs?”
“Otho, please listen to me. I do not want a crown, I never have. I know you all looked up to our father as some godlike figure, but to me he was a tyrant and a cruel, unfeeling man.”
He stared at her. “Una, this is treason!”
“Never did he give us one scrap of fatherly affection. I feel no loyalty to him, Otho. None whatsoever.”
He looked pale and distressed. “You do not know what you are saying,” he said shakily,
“For the first time in my life, I am speaking what is in my heart,” she said simply. “I bore no love for the Northern King. Every day I spent in his household was one of misery for me. It seems,” she continued sadly, “that you do not really care for me as your sister, Otho. Like all those other poor fools who followed his banner, you just see me as a figurehead for our father’s cause.”
He staggered to his feet. “That is not true,” he said, passing a hand over his brow.
“If that is so, then you will not keep trying to divert me from my current course. I am a married woman now. My name is Una de Bussell. If you can’t accept these facts, then I must ask you to part company from us on the morrow,” she said gravely.
He swallowed and opened his mouth, but quick footsteps approaching made him close it with a snap and he reached for his sword.
“Hold!” Una said sternly. “It is my husband who approaches.”
He lowered his hand with some reluctance and Armand appeared, climbing out of the paneling. “Our fortunes are made,” he grinned, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s a labyrinth back there, but there’s plenty of gold!”
Otho grunted. “Ill-gotten gains,” he grumbled. “Anyone who touches it will be stained with the blood of their victims!”
“I’m not fussy,” Armand answered, rubbing his hands together. “Better we benefit from it, than they.” He nodded at the corpses littering the floor. “What I suggest is this. We split it three ways, cart the loot out and load our horses with it and clear out before first light. With a bit of luck, there will be a couple of nags in the stables we can use as pack horses.”
“So now we steal their horses too?” Otho said sourly. “What about giving the bodies a proper burial and alerting the authorities?”
Armand shrugged. “Why cause ourselves a lot of unnecessary bother? I don’t mean to be insensitive, but this is a rural area and sure to have a lot of prejudice.”
“You mean the word of two Northerners would not stand for much?” Una interjected, and Armand pulled a face.
“Exactly. We could be stuck here for days protesting our innocence.”
Otho nodded, his expression grim. “There is something in what you say,” he admitted grudgingly.
“There! I knew you would see sense!” Armand replied, his eyes gleaming.
“I’ll help you load up the horses, but I want no part of the treasure,” Otho said staunchly. “I ask only that you take me into your service so that I may serve my prin—” He broke off his words awkwardly. “So that I may serve the Lady Una.”
Armand’s eyebrows rose. “Una?” he asked, turning to her. “What say you to this handsome offer?”
Una hesitated, but after all it was the first time her brother had addressed her as “Lady Una.” “If Otho wants to journey with us until he is satisfied that I am comfortably situated, then I am agreeable.”
“Well, there you are then.” He turned to Otho. “Follow me. We’ll start hauling it out. Una, you get dressed now, there’s a good girl.”
She nodded, though she could see Otho was rattled by Armand’s informal address. She watched them both disappear into the wall as she stepped over the dead maid to retrieve her clothes. She dressed in a hurry, pinned her hair up and added her veil, and then started packing her things up. Then she set Armand’s tunic on the chair and packed his things, which admittedly, were not much. Then, not feeling she could stand another minute in the same room with the bodies, she carried her own things out and down the stairs.
Setting her pack down on a long table in the dining chamber, she wandered through to the kitchen in search of some food to take with them on their journey. The room was filthy, and she wrinkled her nose as she stepped across the dirty floor to reach the pantry. Inside she found two loaves of bread and the remains of the roast pork from the night before. Extracting these, she took them over to the table and then went back to find the butter.
By the time Otho came hurriedly into the room, she had washed the table down with water and soap leaves she had found, sliced the pork and picked out the choicest cuts. She had then added the meat with the loaves and the butter into a clean sack she had found along with an untouched wheel of cheese.
“There you are!” he breathed a sigh of relief. “We came out of the passage to find you missing!”
“Hardly that, Otho. I merely did not wish to remain in that room with a pile of corpses. Can you blame me?”
He murmured at that and turned to survey the room with a disgusted expression. “This room isn’t much better,” he pointed out.
“Well, true,” Una agreed. “Now I have packed us some victuals, I will come and wait for you in the dining chamber. Have you gathered the spoils now?”
“Nay, for there is a good deal of it,” he said shaking his head. “Your husband is still dragging out sacks even now.”
“That much?” said Una a good deal startled.
“The villains must have benefitted from the previous good name of the place,” he said. “Here, let me carry that.” Una passed over the bag of food and led the way through into the next room.
“You did not bring down your brandywine,” Otho remarked. “Shall I fetch it for you?”
“No, brother, for it makes my head swim. A few sips sufficed.”
Otho looked troubled. “You should not call me that, you know. I am aware I slipped first, but that was in the heat of the moment. Now I am to be your attendant, you must not address me as such.”
“Otho—”
“If you hold any regard for me, you will respect my wishes, Lady Una,” he said with emphasis.
She sighed. “You were the only one of my siblings I held any affection for. It seems very hard that I am now expected to deny the bond.”
He looked shocked. “What of Forwin?” he spluttered, mentioning their older brother.
“I heartily detested Forwin. He was a vile bully, the most like our father out of all of us.”
Otho’s color drained. “You should not speak thus, Una. It is not right.”
“We both know it to be the truth. He was cruelest of all to you and Umrey.” He flushed at this. “I’m sorry, Otho,” she said gently. “But I will no longer mince my words and pander to lies and blatant falsehoods.” She paused, but he did not speak. “If you wish to join our household, you had better get used to how things now stand.”
He pursed his lips and ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair. “Aye,” he said throatily. He glanced her way mee
ting her eye squarely. “It does not bother you, how this husband of yours besports himself above? The light of avarice burns in his eyes. He cares not how evilly this treasure was amassed. He means to have it.”
Una faced him squarely. “Otho,” she said seriously. “You were a soldier in our late army. You know how that army was supported in the last stages of the war. The looting of churches and the stripping of shrines—”
“That was done for pure necessity sake!” he burst out, turning bright red. “Not for personal gain.”
“I doubt that mattered much to the poor friars and abbots who were thrown to the ground and trampled.”
“No men under my command—”
“Maybe not, but you forget that I also was dragged around with our father’s forces and let me assure you, I saw many atrocities. It was not merely holy places that were sacked. Crop stores were also stolen from villagers. I saw the death of many men merely trying to defend their livelihoods and feed their families.”
Otho looked away, swallowing painfully. “You should not have been subjected to such sights.”
“I? And what of the wives who were left to pick their dead husbands out of the mud? I think they suffered more than I did.”
“Don’t, Una,” he burst out. “In times of war, many wicked things happen that would never occur in times of peace and plenty.”
“Peace and plenty,” Una said bitterly. “Our father did not care one whit for his subject’s well-being, and you know it. All he cared about was conquest and fame. If he had been content to sit in his throne at Menith, his people would have known peace and plenty, but that was not good enough for him. He wanted the South.”
“He wanted to unify all Karadok,” Otho corrected her.
“Well, it is now unified,” she told him lightly. “So, in a way his greatest wish was granted.”
“Under the Argent King’s standard!” Otho burst out.
“Yes, indeed. King Wymer’s golden lion defeated the green wyvern, and the sooner you accept that Otho, the better your life will be.”
The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok Book 3) Page 10