Chapter Nine
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Sir Robert contemplated the state of undress of the young men without surprise, having seen Missouri throw their outer clothes into a tub of soapy water. He was in their exact same position, his clothes having suffered an identical fate.
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Dean grinned at him. "Got to you too, did she?"
The only response from the older man was a rueful grimace.
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Dean would have expected them to go the spring which flowed past the house, but to their surprise Robert led them in the opposite direction towards the rock-face, where a little grotto opened into an underground cave, complete with a pool of bubbling water, from the surface of which wisps of vapour drifted lazily into the air.
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"This is Missouri's most prized possession, a pool replenished by an underground hot-spring. Just be careful and keep to the edges as in the centre the water is scalding," Robert warned.
The princes gingerly immersed themselves in the liquid, marvelling at the feeling of relaxation that the bubbly warm water imparted.
Dean had to elbow his brother a few times as he watched Sam slip ever so slowly under the surface, his eyes closing drowsily.
"Hey, Sammy, for someone who has problems with getting a good night's sleep, you sure do doze a lot," he teased. "The next time you slide under, I'm just going to let you drown."
Sam scowled and disregarded him completely, knowing full well that Dean's was an empty threat.
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While Sam was warping in and out of sleep, Sir Robert filled Dean in with some information about the couple that inhabited the valley.
"They were two misfits who ended up in the same troupe of wandering players. Missouri told fortunes and Frank performed magic tricks and sold potions to attract audiences for the plays."
Dean wondered at the strange couple the the robust, vigorous Missouri and the odd little Frank made and said so.
Robert shrugged, "They do say love is blind. Anyway, once married they left to go off on their own, and while passing through Lawrencia were attacked by thieves. Luckily my men and I were in the vicinity and came to their rescue. In thanks they offered us herbs and medicines, all of which were very effective. By blind fortune they stumbled across this valley and settled here, and we gradually became friends.
When you were gored by the wild boar, your parents were desperately afraid that you were going to die and if not for Frank's potions you would surely have!"
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Dean had been so engrossed in the conversation that he hadn't seen Sam slip down once more into the water and was only averted to the fact by his brother's frantic splashing; legs and arms thrashed about, his survival instincts kicking in as the water invaded his nose and mouth.
"Sammy, you all right?"
Dean's initial anxiety faded as he saw his brother had only swallowed a little water which he was already coughing out, and he started to laugh when Sam looked daggers at him, his long wet hair plastered to his face, with only his eyes and nose poking through.
"I swear you look like mother's favourite little bitch Trixie; you have the same scrunched-up face as that dog, and the hair too."
These words made Sam intensify his expression and Dean laughed even louder. "You're a little bitch, that's what you are, my brother."
Sam bristled with righteous indignation. "You nearly let me drown, Dean. I trusted you to watch over me!" he spluttered.
"You are a ...a…a…"
"Jerk" volunteered Sir Robert straight-faced.
"a …a...JERK!" Sam repeated with emphasis. "What's a Jerk?" the teen turned to Sir Robert, never having heard the term before.
"I'm not quite sure," replied Sir Robert a smile playing about his lips. "But I have heard the Lady Missouri use it occasionally towards her husband, especially when she is annoyed with him. I believe it means a fool or idiot or perhaps cheat as I have also heard her using it during our card games. You should ask her."
Sam turned back to his still guffawing brother.
"You Dean are a jerk!" he repeated with conviction, and with that he pulled himself out of the water, picked up his clothes and stomped out of the cave with as much dignity as he could muster.
Sir Robert met Dean's watering eyes and the laughter he'd been holding back in Sam's presence erupted with gusto, echoing through the grotto.
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By the time they had calmed down, dressed in the simple dark green homespun tunics and hose Missouri had given them, Sam had already reached the house and as they approached they could see him talking with another man of the same dark colouring as she.
Dean threw an enquiring glance at Robert.
"It's only Rufus, Missouri's half-brother. Now and then he turns up like a bad penny," he scowled. "He's a good man but he's the most annoying human on the face of the Earth"
"Wow, you two have some history, I'll wager!" Dean grinned.
"No! He's just a pain in the buttocks" was the exasperated reply.
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John
John pulled at the shackles surrounding his wrists; it was an instinctual movement for though he was a strong man, he knew he'd no hope in Hell of getting them off without the key.
Robert had improved on their design and they were escape-proof. He'd have to thank him for that when, and if he ever saw him again, he concluded dismally.
He had been convinced Azazel was going to killed him, but he must still have some use for him if he was still alive. He didn't know whether to be gratified or not about that.
He cursed himself for his inattention to the security of the realm, he should have sent out more spies, kept a closer watch on what was going on outside the borders of their land; but no, he'd been lulled by the years of peace and prosperity and now look at the mess they were in.
His kingdom and his wife in the hands of that monster, and his sons; God knows where!
At least they weren't in the dungeons keeping him company. To think that only a few days ago he and Mary had been baiting them about marriage and heirs!
It seemed odd that Mary had recognised the invader, he mused. She must have met him in her younger years for he had no memory of ever having seen him.
She was still a beautiful woman and he trembled at the thought of her at the mercy of such a man. The lascivious glances he'd thrown her way weren't lost on him and he feared for his queen.
The scuttling of a rat in the corner caught his attention.
"We will have plenty of time to become good friends Ser Rat," he quipped ruefully as he tilted his head back against the wall.
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Mary
Mary had watched from her window as Azazel's men looted and ravished, her heart heavy for the brave souls who had put up a fight and had fallen under the swords of the conquerors.
She knew that John was still alive in the dungeons, though word had been put out to her subjects that the King had been executed and she wondered apathetically why Azazel hadn't killed him.
She was an intelligent woman and it scared her that the only reason she could think of was because, in that manner, he would have a hold over her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the chamber door. She didn't have to turn round to know who it was.
"Mary, my dear." The unctuous voice made her skin crawl. "As you can see, law and order has been restored to the Castle. Now it is time to celebrate and pay homage to the new king. I'm sure you will be happy to pledge your loyalty along with the rest of your courtiers. Those that are still alive of course," he sneered.
She kept her face turned to the window. There was nothing to say. She was ready to die. Her kingdom had been taken, her husband in the dungeons, and she had no news of her beloved sons.
"My sweet," Azazel continued as if they were having the most civil of conversations, "I have set my Coronation and the subsequent banquet for this evening. The sooner the better, don't you agree?
My daughters will be arriving before noon and I'm sure they will be eager to meet their new stepmother. The wedding will take place along with the Coronation to better economise on the expenses of the Royal Treasury."
She wondered who the unfortunate woman was. Whoever she was, she felt pity for her, consigned to this fiend. Nothing good had happened to the mother of the daughters he had mentioned, she was sure of that.
He continued to babble on while she was lost in contemplation, paying no heed to his words, until she seemed to hear him ask if she had a suitable gown to wear.
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"Gown? " What are you saying?" she asked confused.
"For the wedding, of course, my dear," he replied easily.
"If your bride-to-be does not have a dress, she is welcome to take any of mine."
"I'm sure you will be beautiful even if you wear sack-cloth, my soon to be wife," was his complacent reply.
She stared at him in abject horror "Are you mad? I am already wedded to John!" She suddenly found his face two inches from her own, all traces of friendliness gone.
"Bigamy is a minor sin, my lady and your worthless husband will be kept alive only as long as you behave. I had thought to cement my hold over your kingdom by the marriage of my two daughters to your sons but as for the moment they seem to have disappeared off the face of the Earth, I will have to forego that plan until later.
You are still of child-bearing age, and if you provide me with an heir, the people will accept him as the future king. I will send in my daughters' lady-maids to attend to you as soon as they arrive, but until then I will leave you in the company of my guards.
We wouldn't want any accidents to happen to my future bride before the ceremony now, would we!"
He gave her arm a painful twist before exiting the chamber and leaving her in the depths of despair.
The two guards took up position, never taking their eyes off her, knowing full well what would happen to them should they be remiss in their duty.
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Azazel was giddy with triumph. He had conquered the richest kingdom on the continent with a minimum of loss; he was going to take the woman, who had scorned him in his younger days, to his bed and he was about to be crowned king.
He descended the stair-case basking in dreams of glory. This petty little kingdom wasn't enough, soon he would conquer the whole continent.
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"My lord," a servant's voice disturbed his reverie. "Your lady daughters have arrived."
He quickened his step. Having two female daughters was very useful, especially as they were well versed in the art of witchcraft.
He had seen to that himself and it didn't waste that they were both beautiful.
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"My dear daughters, My Lady Megan, My lady Ruby. I trust you had a comfortable journey."
"My royal father, it pleases us that you have accomplished your task. We are impatient to celebrate your coronation." Megan mouthed insincerely, for there was no love lost between the three of them.
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"That you shall, my dears and also dance at my wedding."
"Who is the lucky bride?" Ruby enquired sarcastically.
"All in good time, my sweets, all in good time!"
TBC
