Chapter 3. Insult to Injury
Anora lost track of time as they rode in the darkness along a series of winding paths through the forest. She almost fell asleep several times, and would have fallen off the horse if Michael hadn't held her tightly. It galled her to realize that his grip on her waist had actually saved her from a fall.
After about an hour, Michael removed her gag, but neither of them spoke during the entire ride. Anora wanted to ask him why they had abducted her and why they had insisted on calling her "Majesty," as if she still was Queen, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of talking civilly to him.
It was almost dawn when they reached the clearing where the outlaws had their camp. The outlaws in the camp hooted and cheered as they rode in. Some came crawling out of their tents, roused by the commotion. Many of them clustered around Michael and Anora to gawk at her.
"Back off!" Michael shouted and the men pulled back. "We're the Black Griffons, not some peasant rabble."
The men seemed to stiffen at Michael's command and slowly formed ranks.
"That's better," Michael said and smiled.
Then he jumped off the horse and held out his hand to Anora. She glared furiously at him, but after a moment's hesitation, she accepted his help. Her hands were still tied, and falling on her face as she tried to get off the horse in front of all of these outlaws would simply be too humiliating to bear.
"Your Majesty," Michael said, and made a mock bow, smiling at her when she was down on the ground.
"What is the meaning of this, villain?" Anora demanded.
"Why, I thought that it was perfectly clear, your Majesty. We've abducted you and you're now my prisoner. What exactly about your present status is unclear?"
"I know that, cretin. I'm not stupid! But who are you and what do you want?"
"As I told you before, I'm Michael Cousland of Highever, or at least recently so. You may not remember me, but I was at the ball in Denerim four years ago. I believe you wore a blue dress, but I'm not that good at remembering such things."
"You send armed men to abduct me from my own castle in the middle of the night and then you talk of what dress I wore at a ball. Are you insane?"
Anora gaped at him as if he were a lunatic. She'd heard of a Michael Cousland before. He was Bryce Cousland's wild younger son. Supposedly, he had died at Ostagar. But even if he had somehow survived, this made no sense.
"Why are you doing this? If you're indeed Michael Cousland, then you are by rights Teyrn of Highever now. Why in the Maker's name are you here in Gwaren as some sort of brigand?"
"Don't act like the fool, your Majesty," Michael said, his voice suddenly harsh. "Your father, Loghain, is a traitor and has seized the throne unlawfully in your name. His right hand man, Howe, massacred my family and I intend to claim vengeance from both of them. "
Anora shook her head disbelieving.
"Don't you know anything? My father is dead and I'm no longer Queen. Maric's bastard son, Alistair, has been elected King and now leads Ferelden against the Blight."
Michael halted and frowned.
"What crazy talk is that? Alistair? I've heard about a bastard son to Maric, but he was never acknowledged as heir, and as far as I know he was a servant or chantry ward. Are you trying to make me believe he's suddenly become King? That's ludicrous."
"I couldn't agree more," Anora said through clenched teeth. "Believe me. But it's still the truth. My father is dead and I've sworn fealty to King Alistair now. "
Michael regarded her silently for a long time, and then he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but that story is just too preposterous to believe without evidence," he said finally.
"What proof do you need?" Anora retorted angrily. "Shall I conjure Alistair with crown and all out of my pouch? Everybody knows about it—at least everybody except your band of lack-witted louts. Now release me and return me immediately, and I'll let you get away with a flogging."
"You'd better go easy on the empty threats as long as you are my prisoner. I'll send men to find out the truth in Gwaren, but until then you're my prisoner, and I advise you to behave yourself."
"Behave myself?" Anora said as her eyes narrowed in fury. "You abduct me, a Teyrna, out of my home, throw me on your shoulder like some common harlot, and you dare tell me to behave? I'll have your head for this!"
She raised her hand to slap him, but Michael caught her blow. She tried to tear her hand free, but he held her wrist in a steel grip. When she ceased struggling, he slowly released her hand and let her go.
"Don't do that again or I'll slap you myself next time," he said, holding her eyes with his glare.
Anora clenched her fists and returned his glare. For a moment she almost tried to strike him again, but she tossed her hair and turned away from him instead.
Michael made a slight mocking bow and turned to Ser Gavren.
"Get a tent for the Queen or Teyrna or... whatever she is, and her chamber maid. And put two guards on her."
Ser Gavren nodded, and after some grumbling protests, got two men to vacate a tent to make room for Anora and Erlina.
Michael showed them to the tent. Anora went to the tent and sat down on a box outside the tent opening, glaring at the outlaws. Erlina, however, remained standing next to Michael.
"Excuse me, Ser Michael," Erlina said, looking distressed. "I need to... relieve myself."
"Oh! I mean... of course," Michael replied, and suddenly looked embarrassed.
"Jenna! Taris!" Michael called loudly.
"What do you want, boss?" a woman clad in dark leather armor said. She and another female outlaw emerged from the group and walked up to Michael.
"You two will have no guard duty until further notice. Instead you are to be on call in case either of our two... guests needs something. The ladies are our prisoners and not to be left out of sight without armed guard, but we want to be as civilized as possible. There's no need to embarrass them by forcing them to wash or relieve themselves in front of the men."
"Thank you, ser," Erlina said gratefully to Michael, before leaving with one of the women.
"One more thing, Jenna," Michael called after Erlina's escort.
"Yes?"
"I'm your Captain, and I expect you to address me as such. Is that understood?"
"Yes... Captain," Jenna answered with a sigh.
"Good, carry on."
During the conversation, Anora had watched Michael carefully trying to take his measure. She couldn't make head or tails of him. First he acted like the most insolent peasant imaginable and the next moment he tried to be chivalrous.
Suddenly, she saw him look at her and come walking towards her. She looked away angrily.
"My lady, can we talk?" Michael said.
Anora pursed her mouth and looked at him.
"What about?" she asked haughtily.
"I'm prepared to give you and your chamber maid certain freedoms here, if you can give me your word you won't try to escape."
"What would be the point?" Anora snorted angrily. "You're a bandit and an outlaw. No one can expect me to keep my word to someone like you."
Anora noted with satisfaction that her words made Michael angry.
"Listen, Anora," Michael said grimly, "if you are indeed only Teyrna of Gwaren now, then I outrank you. My family has been one of Ferelden's noblest families since before King Calenhad, while you, Queen or not, are the daughter of traitorous peasant. "
Eyes blazing with fury, Anora slapped Michael.
"Don't you dare speak like that about my father!" she hissed. Then her eyes widened as Michael raised his hand.
"You wouldn't dare," she said with a touch of alarm in her voice. The next instant her cheek stung as he hit her with the flat of his hand.
She stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. No one had ever done that to her, not for fifteen years, when her father, for the last time, had chastised her for almost setting fire to a barn with a candle once.
"I warned you, Anora," Michael said through his teeth. "Hit me and I hit back." Then he turned and walked away briskly, without looking back.
"You'll hang for this, bastard!" she screamed after him. "I'll see you flogged and quartered!"
If Michael had heard her, he didn't acknowledge it.
