AUDEAMUS
Chapter 19
The start of 1795 was an exceptionally cold one. The winter snows bore harshly down in the north at the start of December and began spreading across the land until reaching Cadherra in early January. However, Hayes did not see the return of Bella Swan until February. Her stay in Zafra had been a most pleasant one. She had delighted in daily excursions to neighboring towns and rides out in nature. Jasper had some close friends in Zafra which they would visit every so often, and she became enamored with the county. The Cadherran valley could be cold and harsh during winter and the trio had escaped the icy tendrils of the cold in the pleasant mildness of Zafra.
While sitting by the fire, in the elegant salons of Zafran aristocrats, they would speak of much, even going as far as mentioning politics across the waters and inland. Cullen's crusade had gained fame across Angloa and his fight against the garrison and bandits was the talk in every salon or drawing room of note. The romantic portrayal of the ghost of Raven's Grove had ladies fanning themselves and sighing loudly. It made Bella wrinkle her nose, for she knew more than well what a despicable and impudent man he truly was. She could not say that he had almost dropped her into a pond or insulted her horse, for it would give away her connection to the blackguard.
The word 'Audeamus' was now the backdrop for villagers who wished to rise up against their local administration and demand justice. A wave of change was slowly extending about Angloa, and Hayes was the source which it stemmed from. Whatever happened in Hayes, would most likely determine what happened in the rest of the island. Thus, Collins, Wilson, and Forster felt the pressure from the Cadherran provincial council and Safeira—even from the king himself. Yet no more soldiers could be spared from the Royal Guard. They were alone in their endeavor, until such time that truly required more forces to be sent in.
In the north, some towns had bundled together, and their villagers demanded a more just treatment, all supported by some choice generals and other officers who felt that the wind of change had to touch their beloved country as well. Tension was rampant throughout the island, but few commented on such things. The gentry and nobility wished to live as they always had, and Bella even noticed it down south. Even in the royal palace of Aldea in Safeira, there seemed to be no wish to give in, to allow the farmers and other workers to have their say in society. And if Angloa did not sober up, Bella suspected a revolution might come, regardless of what happened in Hayes or not.
Eventually, their carriage took the Hales and Miss Swan up the flatlands of the southern Cadherran border, passing the town of Maesir and continuing on the king's highway to Hayes. What alarmed the small traveling group most of all was the news that Forster had once more started exerting his dominance over the people of Hayes in an attempt to quiet them. November and December had been relatively tame, but January saw several imprisonments and even execution. Collins had not spoken out against Forster to everyone's astonishment. He had gone as far as defending the vile actions of the much-despised captain, presenting each case with rather clear evidence of why each person was sentenced a thief or in liaison with the bandits of the Grove. Collins thus made it seem like Forster's sentences were just and in rule with the law—when most knew it was not so. It angered everyone—even the richer families of the county. Collins was soon shunned by the same society which had so admired him a few months earlier.
After a few weeks, Cullen had snuck into the major's personal chambers—trying to unearth what had happened. Collins was more silent than a grave. It was enough that Forster knew of his secret, he would not have the bandit of Raven's Grove blackmailing him or judging him as well. When he brushed off his misconduct, it had outright angered the masked man to such a degree that he made it perfectly clear he no longer trusted Collins. Their alliance had been short and fruitless. That same night, in his chambers, Cullen had said as much. Indeed, allies did not threaten each other. Collins had grown rather ashamed at the situation he found himself in, but his hands were tied by the blackmail Forster held over him. He would never admit to anyone—even less to someone like Cullen—what Forster knew.
When Bella Swan's presence was once more announced back in Hayes, the major went to call on her the second day of her return. At first, Bella would not believe all the things the maids and Dory had gossiped to her about Collins.
He had stood in their grand entry, rather nervous. He held his hat under his right arm and straightened the dark green uniform. Collins had taken great care in arriving with a polished appearance. Charles Swan had allowed him entry, but not before regarding the major with judging eyes. Collins had not yet been abandoned by all in Hayes. Emmett McCarty still found time to cross swords with him once a week. But it now had to be done at the garrison as the proud Carlisle Masen would not allow the major entry into his townhouse anymore.
Bella skipped down the stairs in an elegant navy-blue gown with a gathered back and high waist. Over it, she had on a white coat lined with fox fur and a black bonnet placed over the gathered chestnut curls. "Major Collins, it has been too long!" Bella exclaimed as she walked up to the man who was courting her.
"Miss Swan," he bowed, giving out a sigh in relief that she had not turned her back to him. "You look lovelier than when you left. Zafra has done you well, I believe," he said in his charming voice as he took her hand and kissed the back of it. A blush crept its way up to her cheeks.
"You flatter me, sir," she said. Bella had a wish to get away from the judging eyes of her father and some maids who kept to the top of the stairs. Charles could not forbid her to see Collins for he had no grounds to do so. Collins was not entirely shunned liked Forster, and he had accepted that he could court his daughter, after all. But that did not mean he had to now accept that Collins had turned his back on Hayes for whatever reason.
"Come, I thought we might ride down to the promenade and regard the stream when it is frozen," he told her with a flashing smile. "I took the liberty of asking one of the servants to saddle your mare," he told her.
"That sounds delightful, major. I have missed April and our rides. Sharing one with you in this breathtaking snowy landscape shall be a delight," she breathed as they walked down to the stables. There she spotted Sgt. Thompson and some other lancers waiting for them.
"I did not know we were to have an escort," she said, unable to hide the slight frown.
Collins' jaw tensed and he looked apologetic. "Forgive me, it is a temporary measure for not only my safety but yours as well. The uniform does not inspire as much sympathy as it once did and a certain scoundrel of Raven's Grove has been seen various times by that stream," Collins said.
Bella kept her face neutral, not wanting Collins to see how alarmed she had grown. "Cullen is after you, major?"
"He goes after anyone wearing the uniform," one of the soldiers responded.
Bella pressed her own lips together. While riding into Hayes in the carriage, she had taken note that several posters had been placed in the larger squares and meeting places—posters with a vague sketch of Cullen that asked for him dead or alive, with the promise of a grand sum: one thousand golden crowns. It was a lot of money for those who barely had enough for winter. After all the taxes, Hayes found itself in constant poverty. Even though Cullen had broken into the treasury time and again and redistributed the money, Forster always found new ways to take it away from the people. And neither Wilson or Collins came down on the captain. It was at that time that Collins realized Forster had to have a hold over Wilson as well.
"Miss Swan, how good to see you after all these months!" Thompson glowed once he caught sight of the chestnut beauty. She did not catch Collins releasing a sigh of relief, happy he did not have to further answer her inquiries.
A servant came up with April saddled and ready. Bella had to keep yet a neutral face as she noticed it was a side saddle. She was not used to riding it as she always rode astride. She saw Collins beaming. Did he not know she rode astride? Had he not seen her seating April multiple times?
She was helped up on her horse and took the reins. "I hope Lucy has been treating you well enough, sergeant?" she asked as they left the side courtyard and made their way out of town.
Thompson beamed. "Oh yes, miss, most kindly. And Dory has even offered me some meat pies while you were gone—by her own accord!"
"Maybe Dory has grown a fondness for you," Bella said without turning around, smiling slyly at Collins. She could practically feel the heat of Thompson's cheeks as they grew red.
The snows had stopped falling for the past week, but still, the valley was almost drowned in the white flakes. It had a white blanket drawn over it and the rooftop of Raven's Grove. Hayes was so different in the brightness of the snow, a quiet landscape that reminded of the clouds that graced the skies. The puffy white smoke would rise from the chimneys more often during winter as more wood was cast into the fireplaces to keep warm.
The broad flatlands toward the stream were inviting to her as they passed the outskirts of Hayes. Bella's eyes widened with renewed ardor. She had not seated April in months and was certain her mare needed exercise. She noticed it in the eager way the horse longed to stretch her legs.
As they trotted through the high snow, a sleigh neared them. It was a most handsome sleigh, unlike anything she had ever seen before, in sleek black with many furs placed over the people who sat in it. As it neared it slowed down until stopping by her. Rosalie McCarty sat with an elegant white fur hat atop her blond, gathered locks and a thick coat in pink wool and white rabbit's fur matching her hat. She arched an eyebrow as she caught sight the youth seating her horse. The man she traveled with turned around.
Bella and Edward's eyes crossed, and she expected the usual bored and arrogant look. He had a dark scarf over nose and mouth to guard his face against the cold, thus she was only met by his eyes. Bella's heart skipped a beat as she beheld their intensity. Emerald green orbs sought her out and burrowed deep into her. She soon found the usual glazed expression in them as they regarded her.
"Mrs. McCarty, Mr. Masen," she inclined her head in a slight bow. She recognized Edward from his frivolous clothes; otherwise, she would have been oblivious who hid beneath the scarf. "Tis a good day for a ride, is it not?" she asked them. Masen had a very fashionable fur-felt top hat that tapered toward the end with a buckle in the front. His coat was of wool and fur as well, in a bright screaming blue that scraped at her eyes.
"A very agreeable day, I should say, Miss Swan," Rosalie acknowledged. She did not, however, direct a pleasant word to the major who shortly joined them.
Her eyebrow arched as she watched them, bundled in the soft and warm furs in that sleigh. Indeed, a sleigh was more comfortable, but it would never give the same thrill of riding a horse across a bare country. She turned heftily to Collins and a smirk spread on her lips.
"I'll race you to the stream, major," she urged as she dug her heels and whip into April, sending her mare off into a fast gallop.
Rosalie rolled her eyes as she turned around to see the white horse dart for the tree-line. Collins darted after her. "Wait, Miss Swan!" he cried behind her. There was no sound of merriment in his voice, only worry.
"How tiresome," Rosalie mumbled. She did not receive an answer from Masen. Instead, his eyes trailed after the brunette, fixed entirely on her atop her horse.
April tore up the snow as her mistress let her run loose. Bella soared, free once more. She could hear Collins and the lancers close in and she urged April to run faster.
In the midst of a few seconds, the valley rang loudly as a shot erupted violently through it. April reared, grown afraid of the sound and Bella panicked as her mare turned wild. Indeed, having been cooped up in the stables, with too much energy, April was more difficult than usual to handle. The mare turned around and darted back. But what had before been a controlled canter was now a frantic run as the horse tried to get away from the sound. Another shot echoed their way, someone in the tree-line was aiming for the lancers, not mindful of the young woman and her horse. Or maybe, they were aiming for the young woman herself?
Bella had never been on a runaway horse in her life and she thought she would fall to her death. The side saddle made it harder for her to stay on and she gripped at the mane of April as the reins had fallen. She was flat forward in the saddle and thought she would fall should April rear again.
They neared the sleigh and April jumped hastily to the side. Alas, Bella Swan was not quick enough to follow in the sudden movement. In the increasing speed of her mare, she flew off the saddle in an impressive arch. Before even having hit the ground, she saw one of the figures in the sleigh push past the coverings of the furs and rush to her. Bella's breath hitched in her throat as she landed, her left shoulder taking the weight of the impact, followed by her back and legs. The snow took most of the hit and softened her fall, but her head still hit against it harshly and Bella bit her teeth together at the instant pain.
Collins had watched the horse run away in horror with Bella on it. Without hesitating, he had darted after her while sending Thompson and the lancers to the tree-line. He thought he would get to her first, but it appeared Mr. Masen had darted out of his sleigh before the major could approach her.
Bella lay on her back with her chestnut hair fallen out of its pins, spread about her. She stared up at the steel sky with wide eyes. Her breath came out in a cloud of white smoke and she saw the alarmed eyes of a man as he leaned over her.
"Miss Swan!" a rough, worried voice growled in her ear. It was a voice she recognized from somewhere and which she might have pinpointed, were it not for the dizzy spell that increased. Edward Masen came to kneel next to her and his emerald orbs gazed down into her chocolate ones. "Miss Swan," he urged once more, worried as she did not respond. "Can you move at all?"
Bella worked her limbs and drew a sharp breath in pain as she moved her left shoulder. "M-my shoulder," she slurred. She tried to sit up, but a gentle hand pushed on her other shoulder.
"Wait, we need to make sure nothing is broken," he said through the scarf. It was only then that she registered who this man was. Those were not the usual characteristics of the Edward Masen she was accustomed to. Much of the drawl and the thinness to his voice had completely subsided. There was a genuine concern in his orbs she had not before beheld. Maybe it was enhanced because his lower face was still hidden by his scarf.
She tried to say something to him, but the dizziness grew until her eyes rolled back into her head and Bella fainted. Collins got to her just as she lost consciousness. He threw himself off his horse and was about to cradle her head when Masen stopped him.
"That is…enough, major. We need to get her inside and warmed up. I shall take her to my house as it is closer than hers." There was a strain to Masen's voice which Collins had not heard before. It was as if the fop was exerting great control over it. Edward was a millisecond from screaming at Collins for his folly and it took great self-restraint not to do so. But the underlying anger interlaced with his quick and sure commands could not be ignored. The thinness and drawl had returned somewhat, however.
"Edward, is she alright?" Rosalie inquired, genuinely looking worried for the young woman.
"I did not think they'd shoot at me, much less her!" Collins said flustered as he beheld the closed eyes of the young woman. Despite it all, she looked peaceful, with her pale skin and ruby lips she was truly an apparition to both of them.
"No, neither did I," Edward muttered under his breath. "You should go with your soldiers, Collins," he said. There was a silent reprimand in his eyes that Collins could not ignore. Even the vain Edward Masen seemed to judge him for having turned his back on Hayes.
"I will not abandon her—"
Edward bent and picked her up with ease, surprising both Rosalie and Collins with his hidden strength. "There is little else you can do for her, major," the irritated voice drawled under the scarf. Collins could not read Masen's expression in his face, but he could hear the vexation the other man held with him. "I am taking her in my sleigh, she needs a physician."
With little ceremony, he carried her to the sleigh while Rosalie made some room for her and helped to place the fainted woman next to her. Despite their distaste for one another, Rosalie warmly placed some furs about Bella as her head rested against her embrace.
"Come, Joseph, let us be off home, and make haste!" Edward ordered. Rosalie pressed her lips firmly together; she had never seen her brother so decisive before. "Major!" Masen drawled with a bothered air, turning around in his seat. "Make sure the road for us is secure going into town and see if one of your lancers might catch her horse."
The sleigh moved at an impressive pace toward the town and Collins stared in defeat as it became smaller and smaller against the backdrop of Hayes.
Bella only knew the dull ache at the back of her head and the weight pressing against her form as she struggled to breathe in the suffocating heat. In a gasp she opened her eyes, quickly regretting such an action. The more clarity she gained of her situation, the more she became aware of how uncomfortable she was. Her whole body ached, and she remembered how she had flown through the air, only to land with a harsh impact in the snow.
Her left shoulder ached severely, and she noted that someone had placed it in a sling. Under the mound of covers, Bella started realizing she had been quite underdressed and only found herself in her shift. The rest—from her fur hat to her corset—had been removed.
Bella strived to open her eyes once more, to find out where her surroundings were. She was met by the light blue damask canopy of an elegant bed and furnishings of a similar room to match. Right in front of her—past the ottoman that had been placed at the foot of her bed, trailing past a blue rug and a quaint exquisite sofa from the past decade—was a tall window that let in some of the remaining light of day as the sun set. To her left, in the heart of a white fireplace, roared the heated flames—no doubt the source for the pressing warmth that seemed to suffocate her. On a white rococo chair next to the immense bed were her clothes. Bella discerned the white coat she had worn.
She had not an inkling as to where she was. The last thing she could recall were two piercing green eyes looking down at her with worry seeping into them. And a voice, so present in her mind, so delicious against her ear, making her limbs quake as it spoke.
A voice she had to recognize, but that did not fit at all with the man she supposed it belonged to. Maybe her jumbled brain had imagined the voice that had come out of his mouth.
The tall door further to her left opened, bringing with them a severe draft that soon emptied the room from the worst of its heat.
"Goodness gracious me, it is positively stifling in here," she heard a familiar voice mumble to itself.
Bella recognized it as Alice ventured into her room and was partly illuminated by the fire. When she saw the young woman's eyes open, Alice rushed to her.
"Bella? Oh, sweet Isabella!" She came to check on her, everything from her temperature to her lips to see if they were parched. "I shall vent out some more of this stuffy air." Alice placed down the candle she'd been holding and opened one window so that it was slightly ajar. After a few minutes had passed, Bella felt as if she could breathe again.
"Where am I, Alice?" she croaked. Alice had taken a stool to sit by her and proceeded to pour a glass of fresh water into a cup. She gently helped Bella to sit up, with the aid of many pillows and cushions to rest behind her head. The brunette flinched in pain as she had moved her shoulder too quickly.
"At my family's home," Alice answered, gently helping Bella drink some water. As soon as the cool liquid touched her lips, the young woman felt rejuvenated. "There, some more. Good," Alice cooed like a mother hen. "Your fever is almost gone now."
Bella settled back in the pillows, the mere act of drinking a cup of water had done wonders for her. "How long have I been here?"
The cup was placed back on the tray and put to the side. Alice settled down on the stool, ready to answer any questions thrown her way. "More than half a day. Your parents are downstairs, we have given your mother a room while your father runs your house. Shall I alert them to—"
"No!" Bella groaned, pressing her right hand across her eyes. She had not the strength to deal with her parents at the present. "Maybe in the morrow."
Alice settled back down and understood. "It caused quite the stir when you arrived. We all heard the shots echo through the valley and thought a skirmish between the lancers and Cullen's followers had erupted.
Bella had no mind to ask who Cullen's followers were, but she could make herself an idea based on the information she already retained. "Rosalie seemed especially worried for you," Alice leaned in with a grin. "Oh, but we all were... until Dr. Blake came and saw to you, saying you would be alright."
"My shoulder," Bella started. "It is very sore."
"It was dislocated, I am afraid. You will have to keep it up like that for at least a fortnight. Doctor Blake will come tomorrow as well, to see on your progress."
Bella smiled. "I have a vague memory of your brother carrying me to the sleigh," she mumbled.
"Rosalie would speak of nothing else. She was quite impressed with Edward's surprising gallantry; it is so unlike him, but I am glad he was there when he was. She said he acted with a cool head and had he not brought you here so quickly, you might have taken for worse."
"I am sure she exaggerates. But she is right, Mr. Masen was very gallant," Bella agreed.
"I do not think it will last, he kept bothering Dr. Blake with how you should be handled. Father finally kicked him out of the room," Alice sighed. She stared at the flickering flames of the fireplace. The open window that had previously caused a pleasant draft, now brought on too much chill and she went to close it. "But it was Emmett who carried you inside the house and to this bed."
"In the morrow, I should like to thank him and Mr. Masen especially," Bella sighed. "I am glad he was there, your brother, despite…" she trailed off, stopping herself. Bella had wanted to remark on how vain Edward could be, but, alas, she could not. Something in his eyes, in his voice, had thrown her off. Now that she was clearer of mind, she remembered again the powerful commands he had given, how the drawl had all but disappeared. She remembered the way he had looked at her with such genuine worry that she herself had worried for her wellbeing. But what had thrown Bella off most of all, had been how safe she had felt in his embrace, in the way he so gently had handled her. She remembered fainting and slightly coming too as he carried her and then drifting off again.
"I will have the cook prepare you some broth and then I will let you rest, for nightfall is soon to be upon us and I imagine you are still tired," Alice said as she stood up.
"Indeed," Bella mumbled, her eyes still drawn in by the fire. She did feel a general strain and fatigue, her body still ached. But her interest was piqued. Would she find a different Edward Masen tomorrow?
Deep within the tendrils of Raven's Grove, where no soldier or bandit would venture, merriment could be heard as men warmed themselves inside caves around fires of their own design. The little group following Cullen that had consisted of Jacob and Jonah had grown to two dozen the past three months. As more men had fled from the tyranny of Forster in Hayes, or persecution by the captain, they found themselves joining Cullen's cause. Jacob eventually took the role as second in command once Cullen noted that keeping such a group of young men in check would be difficult. They were people with strong convictions and ideals that needed to be supervised, lest they commit stupid acts. Jonah helped as well, and together, the three of them directed the group to perform good acts in aiding the citizens of Hayes.
Jacob was good at keeping the men in check. Sometimes they would aid Cullen in redistributing the reclaimed money from the treasury back to the people. Sometimes they would play pranks on Sgt. Thompson and his troops whenever they ventured into Raven's Grove. But, mostly, they would keep the woods clean from any bandits. The problem had but all gone away, which was probably why Forster had once again attacked the people with new and different taxes.
As more had fled Hayes from persecution by the hated captain, their camp had to grow. It was no more some flimsy sheds next to a rock formation. Jacob and Cullen had together scoured the forest and eventually found a large network on caves to the east where they settled. There the men could keep dry and warm as the snow raged on, and they could store food that the villagers would smuggle to them.
Those in Cullen's resistance—people who chanted Audeamus on a daily basis and lived by such words—knew it was a temporary measure and that Forster would have to be taken out eventually. But they realized that Cullen needed time to unmask the man for what he truly was. A small town could not overthrow an administration, nor the power of the Royal Guard in a single night. And many did not wish the same anarchy they had witnessed in France during the reign of terror.
Jacob Black walked through the camp, removing the soaked furs as he entered the main cave, guarding himself against the blizzard that temporarily raged outside. Night had just fallen as he returned, and he was met by cheerful men as they saluted their second in command. Most had gathered around fires that dotted the vast interior of the cave, eating their supper that had been cooked by the only three men who knew anything about preparing food. The general air in those caves was always jovial and some had burst out into a cheerful song that echoed against the stonewalls.
Alas, Jacob did not seem cheerful in the least. As he made his way to the heart of the first cave, many started murmuring about the dark look set upon his features. Jonah came up to him. "How goes it, Jacob? You seem rather upset," the bandit stated as he handed him a cup. "Some spiced wine and venison shall better your mood. Ben and Jimmy caught a stag this morning and we have been preparing the meat. You shall have a fresh stew tonight!" Even Jonah was gladdened. It appeared that the vast amount of meat was the source for such cheerfulness. But the news did nothing to wipe the frown off Jacob's features.
"Gather the men, Jonah. I must speak with all of them," Jacob said through gritted teeth.
"Has something happened in Hayes?" Jonah asked. He paled slightly. "Another execution?" The moment the word was uttered, those closest quieted down and lent their ears in Jacob's direction.
"Gather the men. I need to make sense of things before Cullen comes and has all of our heads," he mumbled with sunken shoulders. Jacob seemed to be suppressing a growing rage and worry.
Jonah frowned. "I…will do so, of course," he said. And as Jonah gathered the men, Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea how to go about such news. Throwing accusations against his men would not be a pleasant task.
Soon, the cheerfulness of that cave died down. People put down their wine and meat and came to stand before Jacob as he regarded the lot. Indeed, he could never imagine anyone of them would go against his orders or wish ill against one of their own. He cast a glance to the side of the cave, where all of their weapons were stored. It looked relatively untouched.
"I have just returned from St. Nicholas and from a most disheartening conversation with Friar Nathan," Jacob began. The young men before him grew severe and concerned expressions.
"Is it another imprisonment or execution?" they asked worriedly.
Jacob took in the twenty or so faces, none of them seemed to be nervous; acting like they had done something wrong.
"Earlier today," he began. "A small troop of soldiers escorting Major Collins and Miss Isabella Swan was shot upon from someone in the tree-line," he said. "Miss Swan took an unfortunate tumble and is as of now bedridden. I have not heard more concerning her state, yet Friar Nathan assures me he will inquire in the morning and keep me informed."
Silence settled in the cave, such a silence that one could hear a pin drop were it not for the crackling fires. They all understood what Jacob was insinuating, yet he could not bring himself to ask it. He looked at the men and did not wish anyone of them to have foolishly gone to the tree-line and shot at Collins and Isabella.
"I do not wish to believe that anyone of you might be involved in such an incident," Jacob stated. Jonah, together with most, held a stern expression. "But I come in good faith, wanting to hear what you have to say."
"Mr. Black, we have not ventured even close to the valley or outside the forest. All of us have been here today, either hunting or preparing the stag once it was brought back," Ben, one of the men who had caught the stag, said.
Jacob nodded. "As I myself thought."
"We may all not have a personal acquaintance with Miss Swan, but we know of her and we'd not hurt a hair upon her head. She is a beloved citizen of Hayes," another said.
At first, Jacob thought the men might have shot at her due to the fact that she was courted by Collins. But Bella had just returned from Zafra, she could not yet have been informed or even have seen how Collins behaved. He was certain that once she realized the man Collins truly was, she too would turn her back to him and sever their unfortunate connection.
"But if none of us attacked them, then who did?" asked another man. As they had been speaking, another shadow had crept into the cave unbeknownst to them. It was a man they all admired, even if they had never seen his face. He had been keeping to the darkness for the past few minutes and captured most of the conversation, listening intently, not wishing to disturb it by alerting to his presence.
Jacob pressed his lips together and squared his jaw. "That is what I would like to find out as well," he told them.
"You don't think Forster is sending his own soldiers to impersonate us and giving us a bad name?" Jonah inquired. "It would be just like that blackguard," he spat, revealing his utter hatred for the captain.
Jacob stood in the flickering light of the fires and looked pensive. "I do not wish to speculate when I am not yet certain."
"Maybe Cullen should sneak in and ask the good captain, eh? It has been some time since he genuinely embarrassed the man. I think Forster needs some reminding on who he should be fearing around here!"
"Hear, hear!" came the jolly shouts of the other men as they delighted in the thought of having Forster once more bested by Cullen. They delighted in the fact that Cullen enjoyed toying with the captain, but they had never actually seen it in action. The last time Cullen had crossed swords with him had been during summer and it was time again, thought many.
Jacob and Jonah could not help as they chuckled. He was about to speak up when a dark and rich voice called out from further inside the cave.
"Jacob, come with me if you please," it said. Many jumped, alarmed as they caught sight of him.
Some truly believed he was a ghost, from the way he could simply appear among them. They all liked Cullen immensely, he always had a witty remark and insightful conversation. He treated each man as a true equal and there was a gallant way about him; a chivalry the more superstitious acclaimed as to him being from a different era. Yet, now, the voice had grown more severe, rougher around the edges. He must have heard most of their conversation and many looked as Jacob Black walked to the shadows, to the inner network of caves.
He saw Cullen disappear, the black form entirely swallowed by the darkness. Torches lined the passageways and he knew where Cullen was going. The principal cave—the opening—was largest in both roof and width, it was the place where they stored their food and weapons. Some would sleep there to guard in case the soldiers ever found their haven. If one ventured further into the cave, there were a few passageways, leading to smaller so-called rooms. In total, they had found three "rooms", all connected by larger passages. In two of those rooms, the rest of the men would sleep as it was dryer and more protected from the chill. In the final room, they kept maps and plans of their missions on the garrison and Hayes. Four barrels with thin wooden planks suspended amongst them made up a table where all their information was kept. That was where Cullen would often speak in private with either Jacob or Jonah. That was where he now took Mr. Black, to have a private word with him.
Jacob had to bend down as he entered through the small opening, finally catching sight of the black-garbed man in the well-lit room.
He stood before him in a tranquil manner, but Jacob felt the intensity of his eyes as they regarded him behind the mask. While Cullen was usually good humored and encouraged jokes and laughter, he now grew somber and utterly threatening.
"I ask you to trust me, while I don't show my face. It is only fair that I should place the same blind trust in you," Cullen's strong voice boomed across the room. Somewhere water trickled deeper within the network of passages, a stream that had not entirely been frozen.
"You heard the men, sir. If they say they did not do it, I believe them."
"I do too," the masked man said as he walked to stand behind the table, leaning over it with extended arms, showing a sign of irritation, worry, and slight fatigue. Jacob knew better than most, he knew Cullen was no ghost—not that he would encourage such a thing among the men. It was good for some to be slightly superstitious, it made fewer of them question the man.
"But then we remain with the crucial question of who attacked Major Collins," he said. "Or Miss Swan."
"Tis evident: this reeks of Forster," Jacob growled.
The dark eyes regarded him for a while. "But, Jacob, did Forster attack Major Collins or Miss Swan?"
"Does it matter?"
"Well," the velvety voice spoke in dark and rich tones. "Major Collins has been letting Forster do more and more as he pleases lately, which could mean that he also stands behind this attack, in an attempt to discredit us. However, it could also mean that Collins has had enough of Forster and reprimanded him, thus making Forster try to get rid of him by having some of his more trusted soldiers pose as us."
"You said you tried to warn Collins about Forster—and that he is…was a good man," Jacob said. He saw the exposed lips of the masked man press together as he squared his jaw.
"I think he still is," he said, looking back up at Jacob and locking eyes. "I think he wishes to be, but something might stand in his way. And he would not tell me what it was last I spoke with him."
"Blackmail?"
"Aye, Forster has some hold over Collins. It must indeed be severe if he lets the captain do as he pleases. Have you not noticed that as soon as Collins gave Forster leeway to once more start claiming extra taxes in Hayes, the attacks of the bandits have died down?"
"We already knew the bandits of Raven's Grove and Forster were connected," Jacob stated.
"This is further proof of that," Cullen nodded.
Jacob shifted and scratched the back of his head. "And what if Forster was targeting Miss Swan instead? If he is blackmailing Collins as you say, then a way to make him bend to his will is by threatening the woman he is currently courting."
"That is what I believe as well," Cullen agreed. He would not share his other theories. He somehow feared that his own connection with Isabella Swan had been discovered—that he had given her the note and brought her into this whole mess. No indeed, it made more sense to him that Collins was blackmailed and had grown tired of Forster's little tirade in Hayes and spoken up against him.
"If such is the case, what can we do?" Jacob asked and felt hopelessness extend within his chest. "For this will not end until whatever Forster has over Collins disappears or until Miss Swan breaks her connection with Collins," he said. "She is a kind and gentle soul, but stubborn. She will try to see the good in Collins and wish to help him. If I urge her to cut ties with him and explain why she will only want to help him further."
Despite himself, Cullen chuckled. He knew exactly what Jacob referred to, Bella would spend more time with Collins out of spite. "Thus, we must urge Collins to see reason," he said.
Jacob smirked. "I think Forster needs a lecturing from you too, he has grown too cocky."
Cullen chuckled again. "I will not cross swords with Forster for your amusement, Black." The masked man crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, yet the smile on his lips spoke differently.
"You will need some able-bodied men to secure the garrison while you speak with Collins," Jacob said.
"That I will," the other blinked. "Not too many. Gather those you think discreet enough for such a mission."
"Wait, we are going now?"
Cullen had already started heading to the opening, the broad shoulders that had previously been tensed were now relaxed. He turned around with an arrogant smirk. "Yes, now, Black. When did you think I would go?" he asked, bending down to get out of the room.
"Well, I don't know!" Jacob exclaimed as he went after him, growing giddy. He had never before actually seen Cullen in action, only heard about it.
He awoke to shouts echoing across the courtyard. It was after midnight as he cast a glance at the small clock he kept to the other side of the room. Collins cursed—it had to be another one of Cullen's pranks played on the soldiers. It was growing tiresome to the point where he wouldn't actually mind seeing the man caught. The soldiers would always dart after him with glinting eyes, thinking this might be the time they caught him and received the money for his capture. Collins suppressed a shiver as he went for the oil lamp in the corner. He could barely see anything, despite the brightness of the full moon.
Something glinted in the darkness and he felt the icy steel tip of a sword press softly against the side of his throat.
"I wouldn't," the rough voice growled. Collins froze and suppressed his own growl. The fool had quite the stomach, to simply waltz into his garrison—he was still its commanding officer.
"I shan't have any more of these affronts, Cullen," Collins spat. "You go too far—"
The sharp tip pressed further, and he saw the dangerous eyes of the outlaw dig into him. Collins stifled a shiver at the eerie presence in his sleeping chamber. He swallowed hard and kept perfectly still. "Tis very peculiar, my good major, that I should hear some bandits shooting at you from the tree-line earlier today—"
"Your own men, you mean," Collins snarled as a flash of anger glazed the icy blue eyes. "I did not think you should stoop so low, Cullen. But I do not know why I expected more from a coward who hides his face."
He saw the shadow of a smile on the outlaw's face. "Those were not my men, Collins. I do not know what hold Forster has on you, but maybe you should deal with your own subordinates before accusing mine?"
"Do you honestly expect me to believe your men were not shooting at me and Miss Swan?"
"I expect you to believe Forster's men were shooting at Miss Swan, to get you to submit to him," Cullen cut him off and Collins felt the tip of the sword shake slightly.
His eyes narrowed. "You will not even as much as breathe her name," he growled. "She has nothing to do with this!"
Cullen closed in, his good humor completely gone, replaced by a fearsome snarl upon his lips. "If you care about Miss Swan, you would do well in cutting ties with her—lest Forster goes after her."
Collins arched an eyebrow. "What designs do you have on her?" When Cullen kept his lips firmly shut, too slow to give him some witty remark, Collins in turn smirked. "Oh, but this is rich," he chuckled. "Do not tell me the great Cullen has an interest in Isabella Swan? Like from the tales of old?"
"You seem more amused by your false claims then the safety of a young woman. I heard she almost lost her life today, yet the thought does not appear that alarming to you—"
"That girl means more to me than you could ever begin to understand!"
"Good! Then you will see reason and cut ties with her, Major Collins. And if you are so inclined, maybe let me know what Forster holds over you so that I might—"
"I will not cut ties with her, and I will not let you continue insinuating Forster is blackmailing me!"
"Then you allow me and the rest of Hayes to believe you are an accomplice of his in this deeply rooted corruption," the masked man growled, growing irritated with the major. "Truly, major, I did not think you would stoop so low."
For the first time, hatred was blatant in Collins' eyes—a violent rage that seeped into his orbs that echoed some suppressed madness. Cullen had struck a nerve, that much was evident.
"Guards!" Collins shouted. With such an action, he had effectively removed any chances the masked man might have of helping the major back on the path of redemption and once more do good for Hayes, as he had before.
The coals of his own eyes sparked with a vibrant fire of disgust. "You will find the garrison empty—out searching for who they think is me," he growled. "You have committed a mistake this night, Collins."
The major was sweating, overcome by his own emotions. He dared lean forward. Oh, if only he had his sword! He knew he could best Cullen! "I will remove that silly little mask from your face. No one insults my character!" He was about to leap forward but Cullen was faster, sidestepping him and dealing a hard hit at the back of his neck with the hilt of his sword. It knocked the major out effectively. He stared down at the lifeless man for a moment and wrinkled his nose.
"Pity," the rich voice whispered to himself.
Lucy kept eyeing her patrons as midnight gave way to the small hours of the morning. A great turmoil had erupted when almost the entirety of the garrison had rushed through the gates as they chased after a lone man seating a great black horse. She, together with all her customers had stared with their mouths open as they saw more than thirty men rush after who they presumed to be Cullen. A few hours had passed since and the garrison was still practically empty.
She pushed the graying strawberry-blonde locks away from her face, into their cap from which they had escaped. Her tavern died down from the commotion and soon only a handful of patrons were still awake downstairs. "This town will be the death of me," she muttered angrily as she served another drink.
"Go' any food, Lucy?" one of her regular customers asked.
The burly woman frowned at him. "Cook's sleepin' ya idiot. Ya'll have to wait till mornin'."
"Bu' I'm hungry, Lucy."
"It's one in the mornin', Tom! There ain't no food, lest ya wanna have stale bread."
The man named Tom leaned forward with a grin, revealing some missing teeth. "That'll do," he said.
Lucy sighed, her careful eyes surveying the interior of her tavern. She would have to close the bar and shoo most of them out if they didn't leave of their own accord. Most weren't spending more money and she had to rise with the sun in a few hours. She gave the patron some stale bread left over from dinner and had him pay.
The interior of the dining area was quiet, someone smoked in the corner while a group of men played cards. At the table under the stairs sat a small lonesome shadow she had not noted before. Lucy was about to inspect further who it was when the clopper of hooves alerted her that the soldiers were back in Hayes. She wrinkled her nose and muttered under her breath. She had a mind to lock her door, knowing Sgt. Thompson might make a visit in a moment. She had no mind to serve him this night.
Lucy was about to ask her patrons to leave, when the door burst open and Captain Forster, followed by two other soldiers, stepped in. He rarely visited her tavern, unless it was to inquire or get a glass of mead before retiring. Lucy had no choice but to serve the captain as refusing him would make him release his wrath over her. This night, however, he did not seem to be there to quench his thirst.
The impeccably dressed soldier walked in with a proud head, dragging in half of the snow and muck from the street. Lucy sighed irritated under her breath as she watched him dirtying her freshly cleaned tiled floor.
Forster held up a poster so that all could see. It was a vague sketch of a man whose face was obscured by a black cloth. The only visible parts of him where two charcoal eyes and a thin, rough-set mouth curled in a snarl. "This man," he started haughtily, in an icy voice. "Has this man passed by here?" he demanded.
Lucy arched an eyebrow. "My good captain, look about yerself. Half of the men here are drunkards, the other half are practically asleep already. Hayes could burn down and most of them wouldn't notice," she chastised. It felt good to off-hand insult him thusly.
Forster cleared his throat. "Then surely, you must have seen something," he stated. "Or have you been taking to the bottle too?"
Lucy scoffed. "I keep a clear head when I stand behind the bar, Captain Forster. And no, we do not keep outlaws harbored in the Goose," she said forcefully as if severely insulted by his presence in there.
"Well, Major Collins is in his chamber nursing a nasty blow. He says he was threatened by Cullen some half an hour ago and that he could not have gotten far as he did not take a horse."
If Lucy was surprised by Cullen having threatened Major Collins, she did not show it. "I cannot leave the front lest someone steal the liquor," she snapped. "I have not been to the back."
"Search the tavern," Forster exclaimed to his subordinates. "All the rooms." His three soldiers rushed from behind him while Forster waltzed to the bar and leaned against it. "I shall require some mead," he said. "A soldier's work his hard."
Lucy poured a cup and refrained from insulting him. She wanted to exclaim for all to hear what she really thought of him. The front of the tavern had gone completely still. The previous ease and comfortable silence as guests played cards or sat silently by their cups had subsided. Instead, there was a strange tension from the presence of the captain. He enjoyed their fear, letting his gaze wander as he saw all men refraining from making eye contact. This was true power, he felt, and he savored it like one would savor fine wine. Forster chuckled at his own grasp of the town and took a sip of the mead which they made from the fresh honey at St. Nicholas.
"Dreadful weather we are having," a quiet voice came from the back of the room, from the seat beneath the stairs. The figure speaking seemed a short fellow, bent forward. His voice was hollow, tired. Lucy's eyebrows reached her hairline as she beheld the events unfolding before her. Who on earth was stupid enough to try to make silly conversation with the captain?
Forster must have been thinking the same, for his face twisted into an irritated frown as he took another, larger gulp from his cup. "Mhmm, yes," he echoed, still waiting for his men to return. Their footsteps could be heard as they went from room to room, ransacking them in search for Cullen.
The rest of the guests sat frozen, thinking that if they didn't move, Forster would refrain from picking on them. Yet, many could not help but lend their ears and eyes to the strange conversation now taking place.
"I quite like this place," the voice from the small man said again, now more jovial, as if having gained further strength. "I have not tried much of the food here, however. Except for the stew." There was a pause, and many were sure that if they could have seen the man with the hollow voice, they might have caught him shaking his head. "I do not know what it is about this dish, but I cannot leave it alone. Oh, it's very good, very refreshing. Do you get my point, captain?" it asked once more.
Forster was now quite irritated by this strange man. "No," he muttered as he fully turned to the man in the shadows. "I do not quite get your point."
The man, many noted, spoke in a northern accent, quite thickly pronounced as he continued. "I suppose," he continued. "It is because I did not pay for it. You see, I was hungry, and snuck into the kitchens for a bite. And there it was, a whole cauldron filled to the brim with cold stew!"
"Hey!" Lucy shouted as she threw down her rag on the bar with an insulted expression breaking through the tension.
Forster put aside his own cup and tried to discern who this funny little man was that admitted to having just stolen some old and cold stew. "I do suppose," the voice continued, now dropping and growing fuller as the accent became hard to place. "Things might taste better when we take them as we wish?" Forster paled as he now recognized it. "At least, that is what I am trying to understand. But I can for the life of me not find any joy in eating this food when I have not justly paid for it." They all heard the impact of some metal coins hit the wood of the table.
"Step out into the light!" Forster demanded. "Now!" The other guests turned to the source of the voice and many gasped as the shadow rose to a height no one had expected. He stood utterly tall and threatening. The light of the wax candles caught the glint of his teeth as he grinned, and all shifted away from the piercing eyes as they flickered with fire.
"Lancers!" Forster shouted for his men.
The man sighed. "I am afraid that they will not be joining us, captain." He pushed the chair aside and walked with a sure step into the light. "You are long overdue a visit from me, it seems. I have grown curious to see how much you have learned since our last encounter. Clearly, a lot, since you seem to be boasting it to the four winds."
General Cullen, the ghost of Raven's Grove, stood in the light of wax candles with defiance in his stance. He rested the tip of a hilted sword on the tiled floor and regarded the captain with an undertone of amusement.
Lucy and her guests thought their eyes might pop out of their heads. Here was the man of which had been spoken and gossiped so much for the past half year. Despite all the descriptions they'd heard of him, seeing the real man was surreal. Truly, some in there believed they were in the presence of a specter. Some men made the sign of the cross and prayed that the devil by the stairs had not come for them. Indeed, he had not. He had come for someone else.
Forster unsheathed his sword. His pistol was still in the confinements of his saddlebag and he mentally swore under his breath at his own folly.
"This time, you die, Cullen!" he spat.
The masked man's head tilted to the side and had his mask not been in the way, they would have seen his brow frown with a confused amusement. "Poor and unoriginal choice of words, my dear captain," the rough rasp sounded. "Have you been brushing up on your villainous speech as well?" he chuckled.
Forster raged and shot forward. Those in the crossfire jumped away as the captain charged with murderous eyes for the man in black. Cullen awaited him patiently and side-stepped the lunge as soon as it reached him.
"I see you have yet to master your anger. It will not do to let your emotions run wild when fighting someone, captain." He deflected some blows as Forster lunged, fighting in an offense style like last time.
Lucy stared in defeat as the interior of her tavern was being taken down in shambles. Forster was throwing chairs and pushing tables left and right. Her guests pushed to the walls. Some feared for their lives, others could not believe their luck in witnessing Cullen in action. On the upper floor, some men peered down—Cullen's own men who had taken care of the three soldiers and now wished a peek at the action. Jacob was one of them and he could not help a small grin as he saw the flustered Forster fence like a novice with the more experienced opponent.
Again, Forster lunged. "Your coupé has been refined, captain!" Cullen encouraged as he let out a devilish laugh. "Has Collins not taught you more?" He parried the attacks easily, for he was already familiar with the captain's fighting style. Forster tried to get his anger in check, but whenever he thought he had it controlled, Cullen delivered some insult his way and the ire blossomed up once more.
Finally, Forster was disarmed swiftly, and Cullen pinned him down to a table. He jabbed a knife left over from dinner into Forster's right cuff and pressed down on the right arm with his hand. The tip of his sword was right before Forster's nose. The playfulness in Cullen had completely gone away and the captain of the Royal Guard was forced to stare up at the eyes of a demon as he peered down on him. For the first time, Forster grew truly frightened of the masked man. Never up until this point had he feared for his life. He could not read anything except the harsh line in Cullen's lips or the squinted eyes.
"Let it be the first and last time you and your soldiers ever impersonate me or use my name, Forster," he growled like a wild animal, ready to strike. Forster's heart skipped a beat and, despite his bests efforts to control his bladder, it would not hold, and he felt his breeches grow wet as he released his urine. The tip of the blade pressed into his forehead and Forster hissed. He felt the steel drag across his skin, slicing into it until he could sense the sickening smell of blood and feel its wetness drip along his temples.
"This time I mark you, captain. Next time, I'll kill you," the dark voice whispered into his ear. It was such an action that made it clear to Forster that this was no trickster, but a dangerous man that meant every word which he spoke. He much preferred Cullen when he was playing jokes on him or insulting him.
Cullen let go of Forster's arm and delivered a harsh blow into the center of his face. His nose started bleeding immediately and the force of the blow knocked the captain out cold. Cullen straightened up and looked about the room, taking in the terrified faces and the destroyed furniture his little fight had caused. Lucy grew more ashen when the ominous eyes redirected their attention on her. She was a large lady and had always been accustomed to some amount of respect from her patrons. One look was all it took from her part to silence any scuffle. However, with this man, she did not dare as much as utter a sound lest he pounce on her as well.
The heavy echo of his boots hitting the tiles was all that filled the tension of the room. One of the brass chandeliers had been knocked during the fight and it still swung slowly, casting strange shadows about the room. The outlaw came to stand before her in all his glory and all Lucy could do was look up at him.
He reached into his sash and retrieved a small and robust coin purse, casting it atop the bar with a small and charming smile. The threatening presence that had almost killed Forster before was all but gone, but the aftermath of their scuffle could still be seen behind him. It made for a nerve-racking and confusing sight.
"For the damages," he told her with a gentle bow of his head. His smile was genuine, and Lucy shook her head slowly in a hesitant nod. She dared not speak. The masked man was about to leave, sheathing the sword when he abruptly turned to her and spoke again.
"As for the stew," he told her. "I truly meant what I said. My compliments to your cook," he smiled. The chandelier kept swinging, though it slowed down its pace.
The ghost of Cullen gave a small and pleasant nod to the patrons of The Laughing Goose, as if all was normal, and went to the backdoor. As soon as it closed, the inside of the tavern was kept quiet for a while. They all had yet to take in what had just transpired. Lucy took the small purse with shaking fingers and saw that Forster's cup of mead was still on the counter. In one swig she emptied it, for once breaking her rule against drinking while behind the bar.
She took in the damages and gave off a shaken and irritated sigh. "This town will be the bloody death of me," she spat and went to get her rags to clean up.
A/N: FYI, last part of this chapter was my favorite to write! :D
Cheers,
Isabelle