Chapter 20

~~~~~~Char

Upon consultation with my party, we brought our mounts and gear and paid to have it stabled a short walk from the palace on the road out of town. This would afford us a quick exit if things got out of hand or if we found Ella and needed to leave with her immediately. Kieran and Dirick, still deeply mortified, opted to stay with the beasts and out of sight, promising not to jeopardize our mission again by indulging themselves and to be vigilant for any signs of danger.

In most other nearby countries, the proclivities which they had been exercising today were mostly not talked of at all, people pretended that it wasn't something that happened. Drinnen's new religion, however, had embraced full knowledge of these sorts of things and in an almost sick fascination with the nuances of "sins of the flesh" had enumerated specific and heinous punishments for every variety of so called perversion.

For my part, I was admittedly more curious than disgusted and though their actions had jeopardized us to an extent, my own actions in the same vein were the catalyst that had brought us here in the first place and I certainly was unwilling to cast stones within my glass house. I was stern with them, but not unkind, I hoped.

Soon after leaving them, the other men, Mandy and I were presenting ourselves at the front gate of the palace.

The men on guard there took in our appearances and accepted our invitations for inspection before allowing us entry along with a group of other young men, who seemed to be already half drunk. This coincidence was fortunate as these fellows were very well versed with the mazy confines of the castle and in following them, we swiftly joined a boisterous group of other young people playing party games and drinking while lively music played in the background. Mandy saw us ensconced then made her silent way to locate gossip amount the service staff.

Looking about I quickly noted Alverston ensconced on a plush divan with the Lady Almaviva enjoying the games. My other men were nearby and clearly trying to work out the nuances of the game and the gambling surrounding it despite the barrier of the lack of a common language with the players and other spectators. I approached Almaviva and Alverston and engaged in some niceties before asking after Lord Breitwulf and Sir Peter.

"They are not here," Alverston advised with an annoyed twist of his mouth, "apparently it is fine to take messages all week and demur about your Lord's whereabouts while being completely certain that he and his guest are nowhere in the palace." He was clearly annoyed at this, in Frell, this sort of behaviour would be the height of rudeness. Servants who were told not to tell where their lord was would still tell you he was out. This juxtaposition was clearly something of a culture shock for Alverston. Almaviva, shrugged, clearly bored with the topic.

"The whole world is looking for the girl as it is, what good would they be in the palace except to fret about." Alverston and I just stared at Almaviva, dumbstruck. We had agreed to keep the explicit purpose of our trip from her. If we did have to steal Ella out of Drinnen in a wedding dress, the more time it took for people to put the pieces together, the better. On deeper introspection, I realized, she would have figured it out immediately from the focus of our questions and the direction of our seeking. This was also the first we had heard of searches taking place for Ella and that she was, for certain, not hidden away in the palace.

"Did you learn where Sir Peter and Lord Breitwulf have gone?" I asked them both.

The lady's eyes lit up with malicious humor, "they have gone to survey the damage done at that dwarf infested mine-head. They will be here for the festivities later today, though." She looked as if she would relish inspecting a gruesome battleground herself.

"Who is it that is looking for the lady, then?" I asked, trying valiantly to keep my tone light.

"Guards at the gate, and patrolling the street. Sir Peter gave them a complete description of her; a noblewoman, tall and thin, dark straight hair, blue eyes and fair skin with freckles on the nose and cheeks, speaks flawless Frellan, may be travelling alone or in company." She quoted.

"She has green eyes," I said before I could stop myself. The lady let out a start and a deep shudder, making a religious sign against evil.

"Sounds just like a Rusalka witch, probably why he changed it to blue," she sneered, losing interest in the conversation completely and turning back to the game, which was coming to a noisy climax behind us.

Alverston's mouth twisted in a grimace and he mouthed an apology to me as I turned to gather my men. I herded them into the hallway, though Vance seemed disgruntled at missing the outcome of the game. Quickly I outlined what we had learned and assigned them tasks. Vance and Henry would take Gehorg for translation and find every gate guard the palace had and question them about seeing a girl with green eyes, not blue, possibly a girl who was not dressed prosperously. They would also locate Mandy and see if she had had any success. Lorne and I would ride out immediately and try to meet Sir Peter and Conar Breitwulf before they reentered the palace and try to learn what had happened. I would press my suit to Sir Peter and make my case given sufficient time alone with him. If any progress was made in locating Ella, Vance would be sent to intercept us.

~~~~~~~Ella

What felt like days later I awoke groggily in the small cell. My body was extremely stiff from my beating and I was experiencing shooting pain from my empty belly, tempered only by bouts of unbelievable nausea. I groaned as I tried to peel myself off the floor and became suddenly aware of a presence in the cell with me. In fear, I righted myself and pushed my tangled hair and ragged clothes out of my face so I could make out the figure seated in the corner of my cell. It was one of the adherents of the temple in the dark robe of their kind. His head was balding and his face had the beneficent gaze of a kindly grandfather. He watched me curiously as I huddled into the corner furthest from him, trying to get as far away from him as possible. I did not need another beating today.

When I was safely as far away from the man as possible, I examined him. I noted he had a heavily laden tray that was steaming in the cool air of the cell. With a moment's thought, I could detect the rich smells over the reek of the cell. My stomach growled loudly.

The man gave a kindly chuckle and motioned to the tray, giving a gentle sermon in his unintelligible language.

"I'm very sorry," I said, pressing my hands to my stomach, "I do not speak your language at all." I watched as he frowned deeply then went on at length in his tongue.

I shook my head regretfully and said, "Frellan." Very firmly patting my own chest. He looked very concerned then beckoned me to come close, offering the tray. I scooted over closer to him, getting cautiously to my shaking legs. Quick as a striking snake he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a beam of light from outside. He used his other hand to hold my chin and examined my face. I was very afraid but tried not to struggle against him. His withered frame was surprisingly strong. He looked deep into my eyes and his brow furrowed in concern once more. He let me go abruptly and I sat down hard in the straw, letting out a cry of pain for my bruises. He got up and exited the cell, a look of dismay and perhaps a bit of fear clouding his face. I only saw a glimpse of his expression, however, because he had left behind the food. This took up all of my attention for some time.

When I had finished the meal and every lingering smear of gravy and crumb of bread had been devoured, I subsided back to the mat, wondering dully what would happen next. Perhaps I had said the prayer correctly after all and someone would come release me. I wasn't left alone for long. My first visitor returned with another man. The new man was also garbed in the long robe but wore a thick cloak caked in snow as well as if he had come from outside. They did not enter my cell, only looked down at me from the opened door and spoke to each other in low voices before closing the cell again and walking away. Not long after, the guards who had first detained me returned. They came bearing a length of heavy chain and hauled me into the middle of the cell before clasping a heavy manacle about my throat. Then they led me by the chain into the hallway and back into the now deserted sanctuary.

The doors had been closed but the huge hall was still icy. I saw younger looking men toiling to clean the boot marks off of the floor from the flood of parishioners earlier in the day. Everyone took notice and stopped what they were doing to watch me be hauled into the middle of the floor and chained there. Huge rings that I had not noted before were lifted out of recesses in the floor and my neck chain was tightened down to them. I cried out as I was forced to my tender knees. I tried to push myself upright and found that the chains were so tight that I had to stay crouched. A heavy door out of my line of sight banged loudly and several men walked swiftly over taking seats in a row in front of me. This was eerily reminiscent of my trial by the dwarves. Was that only a few days ago? I shook my head trying to focus on my current predicament.

Some loud statements were made by a man directly ahead of me, dressed in a much richer version of the heavy dark robe before he sat with the other men. I wondered if he was addressing me. I had to crane my neck at an awkward angle to see them with how I was chained down.

Another man stood and spoke at length. It seemed to be the man who had initially called the guards on me.

After him, the man who had brought me food spoke, much more briefly. I heard the word Frella and hoped the message had gotten across that I didn't speak their language.

Last, the man who had come to look in the cell at me spoke briefly then walked over to me, lifting my face up at a painful angle.

"Are you Frella?" He demanded in heavily accented Frellan.

"Yes," I croaked, "I am Frellan." He nodded tersely freeing my face and continued with his diatribe, pacing around me and railing at the assembled men. He was a lot younger than the other two men who had spoken but was also balding. His face was not kindly at all, very angular and without the laugh lines of his older companions. He seemed very serious and very passionate. It took a long time before he sat down.

Following his statements arguments erupted throughout the room. What seemed like civil disagreements swiftly devolved into shouting matches. I quickly realized that though only four men had spoken, everyone had been listening and now everyone was shouting to be heard. I put my hands over my ears to try to close out the noise, trying not to cry with the terror of the unknown that gripped me.

Eventually one voice shouted down the others until only low grumbles of dissent were still heard. The last man who had spoken walked swiftly over to me once more and grabbed roughly me by the chin again. I looked up into his unlovely angular face with tears blurring my vision.

"You are said to make lies during confessions, how do you say?" I looked up at him blankly, unable to understand what he meant. He shook me when I did not answer right away, "you say to father Gardnam that you get drunk and hit your wife then use a whore, why do you lie?" Still dumbfounded, I began to cry. He shook me again, clenching his jaw in anger, "you have wife, little girl," he taunted, shaking me again. I tried to say no but I choked on another sob.

"Answer," he yelled. I saw madness in his face.

"I have no wife," I cried.

Suddenly, as if he was a completely different man, he gently let me fall back, patting me gently on the head. He then addressed the room at large, calmly making his case. He then called for something, waving his hand in the air and the guards who had chained me down returned with a large wooden crate held between them. Two of the other men, one the richly dressed man and one the man who had called the guards, father Gardnam, were presented with the box and each took out different implements. Father Gardnam took out a switch and the other man removed a glittering scepter of some kind.

The angular man returned to my side and the men came before me, brandishing their implements and looking grim.

"You have choice," the angular man said, "you say 'I am liar' and take twenty switches or you say 'it was mistake' and you put hand on relic to test for….." he faltered, looking for a word before settling on, "...badness." He nodded to himself then said, "you must tell truth."

I sat up as far as the chains would allow, wiping my face on my filthy sleeve. My curse would only allow one course, but I was fine with that. I did not fancy taking twenty switches.

I reached out for the golden scepter and realized with a shock that it was a thigh bone covered in gold leaf. I hesitated for a moment, but I had been ordered to choose and I had not intentionally lied, so I had only one choice.

I grasped the thigh bone in the middle, lightly laying my hand on it. Fire blossomed in my nerve endings and seared up my arm. I snatched my hand back screaming in agony as my flesh seared. I screeched and cried until I blacked out, toppling onto my face in the centre of the circle of stunned men.

~~~~~~~~~Char

Lorne and I rode for about an hour into the countryside on the advice and directions of the palace guards relayed to us through Gehorg. We encountered the troupe of soldiers, weary and spent from their short campaign and the days' long march and were swiftly directed to Sir Peter and Conar Breitwulf. Sir Peter did not look pleased, his mouth tightened into a thin line when he saw me and his brows drew together. Conar looked to be in excellent spirits by contrast and was laughing heartily at our approach.

"Princeling," Conar boomed when we were only a few horse lengths away, "have you come to steal my wife!" He laughed uproariously at his own joke. Sir Peter looked strained. I wondered what I had walked in to.

"Have you located the lady, then?" I asked, trying not to give away my anxiety.

"She will be there," Sir Peter interrupted tersely, his eyes boring into mine.

"Unless you have a confession to make!" boomed Breitwulf. "Have you hidden the girl away, then?" he laughed again, riding up and clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to knock me half out of my saddle.

I essayed a grin, "I would hardly have to trouble you if I could make off with her." Conar's good humor drained away instantly, leaving an unpleasant sneer and I saw the man who might beat a wife to death in a jealous rage. I coughed, looking away from him and examined Sir Peter.

Ella's father looked well, better than at his own wedding. He had put on a few pounds that stress had chewed away and he was richly and warmly dressed like a Drinnen native.

"I have been trying to reach you to ask after the search but learned today that you have not been at the castle." I watched them carefully and saw the evasive sideways glance Sir Peter made. Conar had recovered his temper and was all bluster. He gave tongue to the lie with the ease of someone who has never faced consequences.

"Pardon us, we were engaged in matters of the nation's sovereignty and did not know you had come."

"Quite understandable, I apologize for my unorthodox visit. I would have sent word, but, unfortunately I would have just outpaced it." I held my hands out, indicating that they were tied. "No choice but to fall on your mercy."

"Good thing I am known for my deep and abiding mercifulness, eh, Peter?" Another booming laugh rang out and my horse flicked his ears in distress. I patted him soothingly.

"Wonderful, I am delighted to hear it." I forced some lightness into my tone and held onto my smile with grim determination. "I was hoping to speak to Sir Peter alone…" Conar cut me off, the calculating humorlessness back in his face.

"And let you buy my bride out from under me without a counteroffer, I think not!" he growled. Sir Peter looked like the cat that ate the canary, his trader's heart anticipating a bidding savoring the potential gains.

"Lord Breitwulf is correct, I have already laid terms with him, I could not negotiate with you in good faith without including him." Smug self-satisfaction glowed forth from him, though he didn't crack a smile.

I held on to my smile with an effort, grinding my teeth.

"Of course, an honest trader like yourself would never renege on a deal already fairly struck." I laid it on thick. "I would love the opportunity to make a counteroffer and to sit down to a meal with you both. I propose that we take lunch together in an establishment of your choosing on my tab. I will call for my companions from the palace and we will negotiate new terms in good faith. Once the deal is made, we will each abide by it and we can celebrate together at this evening's festivities at the palace. Does this suffice?" Conar and Sir Peter put their heads together, and made a hurried conference.

"We will take up your offer of lunch, but we do not concede that the agreement will necessarily change. If you do not make an appropriate bride price, I reserve the right to take Lord Breitwulf's first offer." Conar did not look pleased at this turn of events and wheeled his mount to go chivvy his tired soldiers without saying anything more.

We made our slow way back into the city, our pace curtailed by the speed of Conar's foot soldiers.

Once within the walls our pace slowed even further due to the press of the festivities. I thanked my good sense that I had sent Lorne ahead of us to gather up my companions so they could meet us at the restaurant that had been chosen.

We broke off from Conar's regiment at their barracks and reached the establishment shortly before noon. It was a tall, square building with the peaked roof common in Drinnen. A discrete sign was hanging over the door showing a pheasant and a bunch of grapes surrounded by a crown. Inside, the restaurant showed high backed booths with deep cushions and a murmur of sub-audible conversation drifted out with the pipe smoke.

"This is the officer's club," Conar told us over his shoulder, his normally booming voice uncharacteristically lowered. His face was serious but his eyes glittered intensely. "Your man will not have been admitted without me here," he smirked and turned back to the maître d' who had approached unobtrusively from an obscure antechamber. He growled at length in his own language to the man while stripping off his outerwear and weapons and piling it atop a second attendant who had appeared as unobtrusively as the first. Sir Peter and I followed suit and were quickly led to a private dining room on the second floor. Hot wine and cider were served and warm bowls of astringent water were brought to wash our hands before Alverston was shown in. He looked tense and unhappy and took his seat stiffly.

Though I was the ostensible host of this meal, Conar took full charge of the proceedings, even ordering our meals for us. All talk was of inconsequential topics; the festival, the weather, court, his campaign against the dwarves. Anything closer to the actual purpose of the meeting or attempts at a side conversation between myself and Alverston were cut off immediately. The first time, when I asked after the rest of our company, was with a resounding smack to the tabletop causing everything to jump, including us. Subsequently, he needed only take on a deeply disapproving look to return us to approved topics. We each did our best to rise to the expectations of this uncomfortable meal and Alverston spoke at length about the goings-on this morning at court as well as general impressions of the other young nobles who surrounded the Lady Almaviva. When this topic petered out I gave a long winded account of our travels. Sir Peter was openly surprised that we had made it so swiftly even though the pass had been closed and listened raptly to my descriptions of the horrible weather and the waypoints we had taken shelter in. Both he and Conar found it extremely funny that we had been forced to bed down with animals.

We then endured a ridiculously long account of the campaign against the dwarves. The stories of measures taken to eradicate the population had been extensive, but behind the bravado, I was certain that they had been unable to get the better of the dwarves completely. I kept my silence on the topic and slanted my eyes at Alverston to be sure he would do the same. For his part, Alverston looked slightly nauseated at the stories and was picking at his plate.

At length, food ceased to flow through the door and warm drinks were brought again as well as another bowl of the astringent water. Following Conar's lead, we washed again and took up our mugs and sat forward to speak of our actual reasons for meeting.

At this juncture Conar ceded the first commentary to Sit Peter who pulled out a sheaf of pages from his doublet.

"Lord Conar Breitwulf has extended to me an offer of a great deal of gold as a bride price in exchange for the hand of a young woman to be delivered before the winter solstice festival. I had thought to offer my daughter, Ella of Frell as she is young, spirited and at the moment, I did not have a dowry to offer to a prospective husband." He choked a bit on the admission but quickly rallied. "As a result, this bride price was a circumstance under which I could offer her hand in a short timeframe, which was attractive to me for a number of reasons." He paused and cleared his throat, I was surprised to hear it laid out so plainly. Perhaps the rumors that I had heard and Ella's offhand comment about her father marrying Dame Olga for her fortune were wholly true.

"Circumstances, I believe, were arranged to the satisfaction of myself and my Lord Breiwulf," he waited for the nod of confirmation from Conar before continuing, "however, things have changed substantially." He gave me a steely look. Next to me, Alverston shifted uncomfortably in his chair before drinking more of his cider.

I took a breath to start outlining my proposal but never started because Conar cut me off in a voice so low it was barely audible.

"Because she is missing." His glare was so forceful it stole my breath. His low tone and casual posture belied completely by his intense gaze.

I gasped in my suspended breath, "you said she would make it! You said you weren't concerned!"

Conar slammed the table so hard with his hand that the pitcher overturned. Swift as a striking snake, he reached over the table and grasped me by my lace neckerchief, hauling me out of my seat.

"You have stolen her, you and your weak southern-born perverts! You hid her away so you could have her for yourself!" He roared, spittle flying and a mad rage burning in his contorted face. "Though you may traipse around your own county cuckolding men, it will not be done here!" From beneath the table, he drew a concealed blade with his free hand and dragged me onto the wine spattered table. I scrabbled at his fist with both my hands to no avail and kicked wildly to try to drag myself away from him, but I was pinned to the table like a bug to a card. He raised his sword with a roar then stopped in shock, an unbelieving look crossing his slackening features. Sticking out of the armpit of his sword arm was an eating knife. Conar looked over as Alverston wrenched the blade free, a spurting flood of dark crimson blood pumping after it. Conar tried to stem the tide, dropping his sword to take up a crumpled napkin but slumped to the floor senselessly only seconds later.

"Fuck," said Sir Peter succinctly.