Chapter 28
"Put your weapons down!"
Bella's eyes were wide. Her arms, stiff and sore, went limp when the child wiggled free, tumbling to the floor with a hard smack of knees on wood. He scrambled through the legs of the soldier in front of them before Bella could grab him back, and in an agony of terror Rosalie plucked him up, stumbling when he threw his full weight at her.
"Put your weapons down!" shouted Emmett again and he rounded on his men, filled with a hot ire. "Put them down at once!"
Slowly, as if in dreadful reluctance, Bella heard the scrape of swords in their scabbards. She stared about the room, shaking with fright, at the five lively faces about her, each trained so determinedly on Rosalie that it made Bella's blood run cold. Anger, icy and fresh, marred the face of the man nearest Rose and he glared at her so fiercely that Bella saw her shrink away. The youngest soldier, the one called Ruben, was pink with surprise, looking for all the world like a puppy among a pack of dogs— trembling, excitable, and too eager to please. The two others seemed passive— they rested against the wall once their weapons were sheathed, their arms crossed over their armoured, metal chests— but Bella was not fooled. There was a wariness in them, as there was in all the others, and it made them vigilant and stiff. Emmett was frowning, sizing up Rosalie and Finn with careful appraisal, but to Bella's infinite relief, he threatened no violence.
Finn was weeping again, his feet digging into Rose's spine, and when the sound rose in a sharp crescendo Emmett's concentration was broken.
"This is news, indeed," he sighed. "Grave and strange news…"
Rosalie seemed as if she might fall and Emmett saw it too, so he urged her gently onto the wooden chair she'd abandoned just minutes before. Emmett leaned across the table, resting his arms atop the wood, and watched her carefully, making sure she would not slide off the chair in a dead faint. The child did not move again, so stuck was he to his mother's side, and Rosalie did not pry him away this time. She glanced at Bella, her eyes liquid and soft, and for the first time Bella saw a vulnerability in Rosalie that had not been there during their trek through the trees.
Rosalie had known what to do while they were out in the wild. She'd known which paths to take, how to set up traps and snares to get them food. She'd been confident out there, in her own element, but she was frightened here, uncertain and lost, and it made Bella's heart throb with sudden, molten pity.
"She helped me." Bella spoke softly but the sound was loud in the hush and all heads, minus Finn's, swung around to face her. The soldiers watched her with a simple kindness that they did not spare for Rosalie, and it made anger spark in her heart. "She helped me escape. I'd be dead without her."
Rosalie bit her lip, saying nothing.
"Indeed," said Emmett finally, turning back to the forlorn figure before him. "Indeed, I believe it…"
The angry soldier bristled.
"You'd not have needed to escape had she not been on your tail in the first place," he growled. "She brought the danger with her and so should not be heralded a saviour."
Bella bit back her ire.
"She helped me," she repeated. "The men may have sought her, this is true, but I'd have been lost in those trees for certain."
The surly man fell silent.
"I walked in circles, I'm sure of it," said Bella quietly. "It's hard walking out there, and there are many things to avoid…"
Ruben, bright-eyed, nodded in agreement.
"She's not wrong, Joro," he chirped. "The wilds near the mountains are treacherous…"
"It took us almost four days to escape the trees." Rosalie spoke for the first time, and her voice was thin. "We had to move slowly, or else we'd find ourselves at the bottom of a crevasse, or so deep in the trees that we'd lose the light. I admit, we were lost for a time…"
Bella was shocked by this revelation, her eyes snapping up at once, and Rosalie watched her with an apologetic trepidation.
"But I righted our path again the day after. I had intended to bring us out to the north of the Miner's Cave, but alas, circumstances did not allow…"
"Circumstances?" Emmett leaned forward and Rosalie, surprised, pulled back instinctively. Her fingers tightened around Finn and he squirmed, and Emmett, taken aback, leaned away.
"We were…" Rose glanced at Bella again. "The men…"
"They found us," said Bella softly. "We were resting— or I was— and they came upon us in the night."
"And there was… struggle?" said Emmett softly, his angry gaze raking over her injuries again.
"Yes. But we won out."
The soldiers, glancing carefully at Rosalie again, murmured.
"Did you, now?" Emmett stood, stepping back to Bella. He pulled her around to face him, looking for all the world as if he'd like to hear the whole tale, and watched her face with disconcerting seriousness. "And how did you manage that, little one?"
Flustered and flushed, Bella eyed the knife at his waist. Rosalie, standing once again, hugged Finn even closer.
"I killed him," said Rose in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. "He had her," she jerked her chin at Bella, "with a knife to her throat. Finn had run off. He was going to kill her, if I didn't surrender, and so I killed him."
Emmett's eyebrows rose so quickly that Bella almost missed the movement.
"You killed a man?" he demanded, his voice low and serious. "You killed a man?"
Rosalie shifted, her pride flaring at the sound of his disbelief.
"Yes," she said. "I stabbed him, twice, and his body is there still, in the jungle."
Emmett blew out a long, harsh breath.
"By the treeline?" he guessed quickly, and Bella's head snapped up. "By the wheat fields in the west?"
"Yes…" said Rosalie slowly, and Bella shook her head. "Yes, by the treeline…"
"He's been found, then," said Emmett shortly and the soldiers bristled once again. "They've found him. It's why Edward left the city…"
At the sound of the King's name, Bella felt a pang of nervous energy.
"She had to kill him," said Bella at once, though her words went unacknowledged. "She had no choice, Emmett, for he would have killed me, and then her, and then the baby…"
Finn wiggled again, refusing Rosalie's request to put him down, and continued to cling to her like a monkey.
"Killing carries weight," said Emmett after a long moment of silence. "You understand, Mistress, that you may not walk freely through the city with that crime over you?"
Rosalie paled, her lips trembling.
"She had no choice…"
Bella's hot, angry words were cut short when Emmett brought his hand up for silence. Bella bit her tongue, staring at Rosalie's agonized face, and when Rose reached out to hand Finn back to her, she stepped forward at once.
The boy, petrified, screeched until his mother lost the will to dispatch him, so she kissed him instead, her eyes bright with tears.
"Am I under arrest?" she asked quietly and Emmett, troubled and heartsore, considered her for a long moment before he spoke.
"I think you must be," he said. "It's not within my authority to grant you freedom when you so clearly admit your guilt."
Rosalie began to cry now, her face crumpling like wet paper. She kissed the top of Finn's head, breathing in the scent of his hair and Emmett, growing more and more troubled by the minute, shook his head.
"You are a Lady," he said quickly, "and so will be treated gently."
Rosalie said nothing. Emmett turned instead to Ruben.
"You will take her to the lower chambers," he sighed. "Put her in the southern rooms."
Rosalie jumped up at once, her face pale with grief.
"Not my son," she gasped, shaking her head so violently that the hair around her face came loose. "Not my boy…"
She tried to shove the child at Bella again, and Bella did not protest, but the child would not be moved. He clung to his mother like glue, and no amount of crying or coaxing from his mother could dissuade him.
"You aren't going to a dungeon," placated Emmett. "The rooms are above ground, and not so mean."
"He's only a baby," she whimpered. "Surely, you will not imprison a child!"
"He's not imprisoned, and neither are you," Emmett said gently. "You are a Lady of high rank, and…"
"He'll not be free to leave!" said Rosalie, and Bella heard the anger in her voice even if Emmett did not. "We're to be locked up, and he's just a baby…"
"The child will not be contained," soothed Emmett. "I don't know how it is in the West, but here, we are not in the habit of putting children in cages."
Rosalie shook her head again. Emmett, sighing, stared at her wearily.
"If you demand it, I will take the boy from you," he said softly. "I could take him, and he'd be housed and fed as is the right of any child in this Kingdom, but tell me…" He glanced at the boy again, who had clasped his fingers together at the back of her neck. "Do you think it would be more hurtful to him to stay with you, where he will be fed, and cleaned, and clothed, or for him to be torn from you, when he's so obviously heartsore and frightened?"
Bella, taken aback, felt her anger melt away. Rosalie too seemed similarly affected and she stared at him, her cheeks aglow with moisture.
"How do I know you're truthful?" she asked lowly. "How do I know you won't throw us in a dungeon and wash your hands of us? I don't care if you imprison me… I'd deserve it… but I will not let you lock my baby up."
Emmett's head fell back and he let out a long, exasperated sigh.
"We do not mistreat children," he growled again. "I have control of this city while the King is away, and so I have the power to take prisoners as I see fit, but you are not a danger. Indeed, you've been a help…" He glanced thoughtfully at Bella, his lips pursed. "But it is not in my power to change laws."
Rosalie said nothing, looking bold. Emmett's lips twitched, as if he might laugh at her, but he stopped himself before he could.
"Our laws here are clear," he explained. "We do not imprison children, no matter what their origins. No matter their crime, for that matter…"
He shook his head again, distracted, and faced her with renewed energy.
"The King will return by dawn," he continued. "It is his decision to make about what we should do with you, and his alone. You will be treated gently, as I've said, and your boy will be cared for, as is our custom. It is your choice to make, Mistress…"
Rosalie stared at him, torn between disbelief and terror. She did not speak for a long while and the silence drew out, and Emmett, growing impatient, broke it first.
"So what will it be?" he asked. "Will you tear that child from his mother, where he is so desperate to be, or will you let her keep him close, where he might be safe and loved?"
Rose's face fell at once, and she nodded her head minutely.
"Good," said Emmett, and he turned to face his men. "Take her to the southern rooms and see that they are washed and fed. Light the fires and seek out bedding, if you must, and tell no one that they're there. They're not a spectacle to be goggled at. You are to guard the door until I send you a replacement, and you will tell the King of this meeting when you are summoned on the morrow."
Two soldiers— Ruben and an unnamed companion— guided Rosalie from the room. Bella watched her go, her stomach roiling with unspoken fears and worries until she saw them through the window on the main road, making their slow, careful pilgrimage towards the great, towering castle in the distance.
The room was filled with deathly silence in their wake and only when Bella felt her knees weaken did anyone move. She sat quietly on a stool, her head in her hands, trembling and white with shock.
Emmett's attention was on her at once.
"Are you hurt badly?" he asked, more gently and softly than he ever had before. "I didn't even think to ask… did that brute do you any great injury?"
Bella shook her head.
"No," she said. "No. Only what you see, and a few extra bruises in places you can't." She felt itchy and stiff with grime. "How long will Rose be held?"
Emmett sat back, thoughtful.
"That's Edward's decision to make," he repeated. "I can't make that choice for him."
Bella frowned, sad and troubled.
"She had no choice, Emmett," she whispered, shaky. "She had no choice but to do what she did. She was protecting herself and her boy… and me, for that matter."
"Hush." Emmett patted her hair, awkward and unsure. "Hush now. I know."
"And she's pregnant," said Bella suddenly, the recollection making her start. "She's…"
"Shh…" Emmett shook his head at her. "I figured as much. Her top stretched when the boy grabbed her, and it was plain, even to me."
He reddened with sudden discomfort, as if he didn't like to be caught looking, and Bella fell silent again, her body heavy and sore.
"You must get to the castle," said Emmett after a long, quiet pause. His gaze lingered on her throat, where the wound itched and pulled. "That scratch looks like it might fester, and I don't like to sit idle while it does."
Bella frowned and glanced down to the floor, her heart suddenly throbbing.
"And I expect," he continued gently, "You'd like a meal." The very thought made her mouth water. "And there'll be a bath for you, too…"
Bella shivered in anticipation.
"Come," he said. "The road is long, especially at night, but I think my horse will not be so shy, this time, and is more than able to hold two."
Bella followed him out of the tower, her feet tripping down the narrow, stone steps.
When they reached the gates after a long, punishing ride, Bella felt like she might burst into tears at the sight of the tall, red castle, towering up over the high, buttressed walls. Emmett's horse ran quickly and the great portcullis was raised for him in a moment, and they jogged through into the yard where the stable master waited, his worn, lined face alight with a grand smile.
"Safe at last!" he cried and reached up to help Bella down. She would have fallen, stiff as she was, had he not caught her, setting her gently on her feet. The man shook Emmett's hand, beaming, and stepped aside.
"She'd do better for a meal and a wash," said the man appraisingly, and Bella's cheeks flamed. "And I declare! She's as skinny as she was when the King first brought her!"
Emmett chuckled, shrugging.
"Alive is what matters most, Marco," he replied. "Alive, and well enough to tell her tale…"
The old man squinted at her, taking in her injuries with concern before Emmett shuffled her behind him to spare her the indignity.
"Where is the Lady Esme?" he asked and Bella, lip between her teeth, glanced anxiously at the castle. "Have someone fetch her, Marco, and tell her of our news."
"The Lady is gone," said Marco regretfully. "Left on horseback nigh on two hours ago, with three guards and a groom."
"Whatever for?" demanded Emmett. "We never saw her go!"
"Took the back channels, if you please." Marco glanced towards the great, sprawling yard, which had been eaten up by the night. "The palace guards let her through. I know little of it, Sir, but I gather she was off to find her husband."
"She'll be miles away!" Emmett frowned, surly. "Why did she need Carlisle?"
"She woke without him, and with both her nephews gone," he said. "The servants told her why the King had gone, and she went to see for herself if it really was the Lady they'd found."
He bowed gently towards Bella, who felt her stomach twist.
"I suppose, then…" Emmett peered at her speculatively, "that we must send for Marta."
"Indeed, sir."
"Have you a groom nearby?" he asked. "Or a page?"
"Aye…" Marco glanced over his shoulder where a child, no older than 12, was standing awestruck in the shadows. "Come here, boy!"
The boy scrambled forward, his face alight and eager.
"Roberto," said Emmett in mild surprise. "Good, good…"
"Sir." The child bowed to Emmett. "My Lady…"
He bowed even lower to her, and Bella cleared her throat.
"Fetch me Marta, child," said Emmett gently. "Go as quick as you can. Tell her the Lady is here, and is in need of her services."
"Yes, sir." The child bobbed again. "Shall I also fetch a bird?"
Bella frowned, confused.
"Bring one to the Western end," said Emmett quickly. "You're right, Roberto. I must send the King a missive."
Her heart hammered again.
"In the meantime," said Emmett, "I will take the Lady up myself. Have Marta meet us there, would you?"
"Yes sir!" He nodded quickly. "Yes, of course…"
He glanced at Bella again, his boyish face aglow.
"Welcome home, My Lady," he said, and Bella's cheeks flushed pink. "We've missed you."
And with that the child was off, running on long, nimble legs towards the door in the stone, which slammed shut with an echo behind him.
"Take the horse and feed him well," Emmett said, patting his chestnut mount on the rump. "I'll take the Lady upstairs. When Roberto returns, be sure to send him with your quickest bird."
"Aye, sir, of course…" Marco took the reins with ease, ignoring the beast when it shook its long mane in his face. "Of course. Rest well, Lady. The King will be overjoyed to see you."
Bella thanked him quickly as Emmett took her arm, wrapping it gently through his own as he led her down the cobbled path to the door.
They walked with dizzying swiftness through the dark, empty corridors, and though Emmett was mindful of her weakness, he urged her on more quickly than she would have liked. The castle was dark. Doors left ajar on landings of cool stone opened into darkened rooms, their contents and occupants left in obscure mystery. Oil lamps, wrought from iron and plated with glittering glass glowed far up on the walls, interspersed every now and again with great, flaming torches. Their footsteps echoed beneath them, bouncing off of the walls to echo in the high cathedral ceiling, and it was a better herald than a trumpet. They passed servants' quarters where doors opened to reveal pale, sleep-stained faces, peering out into the gloom with curiosity and concern. The women— maids, by the looks of them— bowed and scurried away when they saw Emmett, but the footmen, butlers, and waiters, all tousled and wrinkled, stared curiously after them, nodding briefly to Emmett when he passed, Bella in hand.
The murmurs in their wake made Bella blush.
"We're not far," said Emmett eventually, leading her around another corner that opened into a long hallway that ended in the throne room. "Just up and around and we'll be there."
When they passed the spiral staircase that led to the blue rooms in the northeast, Bella faltered, frowning.
"Not there tonight," Emmett said gently. "Those rooms aren't prepared, and he'll want you close when he arrives."
"Who will?" Bella stumbled after him, her legs aching. "Who wants me near?"
Emmett didn't answer, but ushered her instead through another set of towering wooden doors.
"Just up and around," he said gently, urging her on. They walked in silence for another few minutes before they reached a staircase and Bella, exhausted, lagged behind.
"I'm sorry," Emmett said, glancing warily around. "I know you're tired…"
Bella found her fortitude, or what little of it she had left, and immediately began to climb, following Emmett's punishing pace until they reached the top, whereupon she was graced by the sight of a long, high landing.
"I've never seen this part," she said, breathless. "Where are we?"
"The western half of the castle," said Emmett quickly. "Beneath us are the throne room and the council chambers."
Bella glanced out a window, which opened up to a view of the distant mountains. The city, which lay to the south, was just visible by its twinkling lights if she craned her neck, and she noted with only slight concern that the landing was dark, unlit by any candle or lamp.
Emmett didn't seem to mind. As if he'd been here a hundred times before, he moved steadily towards the end of the hall and threw open the only door on the wall, stepping aside to let her through.
The heat and light was marvellous and Bella, falling short at the door, blinked in the sudden brightness.
The room was made of a light brown stone, like tea doused with cold, creamy milk. Tall diamond-paned windows looked north and south, their sills laden with wild, potted plants. The sashes were pulled back, red velvet tied with ornate golden string, and a burgundy rug with golden accents was laid out before the hearth. The floor was made from a warm wood stained so dark it was almost black, and a similar wood had been used to make two tables and six chairs, which were scattered liberally about the space. One table beneath the southern window was laden with parchment and books bound in soft leather covers, and quills with inky nibs had dripped onto the floor. Near the hearth, which was made of the same stone as the walls, were laid a long sofa-like piece of furniture and two cushy armchairs, all upholstered in the same red as the curtains. They called to Bella, who felt her weariness beating her down, so close to a reprieve.
"Marta is coming," said Emmett gently, nudging her further into the room. She went without complaint. "She will set you up with a bath and some food, and then you can sleep."
"Where are we?" asked Bella again, admiring the room as he sat her at the empty table near the door. "Whose rooms are these?"
He grinned at her, his head cocked.
"Edward's," he said simply. "These are the King's rooms."
Bella felt suddenly shy.
"I shouldn't be here," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "It's not…"
"You absolutely should," said Emmett at once. "There's nowhere else on Earth that he'd rather you be."
"It's a bit… invasive, no?" she queried. She began to kick her feet beneath the table, her shoulders hunched. "It's not… proper."
Emmett brushed her off at once.
"Edward, bless him, is too proper for his own good," he assured her. "You'll come to no harm here, I can promise you that."
Bella shook her head.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly. "I know he wouldn't… hurt me."
"Then what?" Emmett leaned back on his chair, bringing the front two legs off of the floor. "You'll be comfortable here."
"It's his space," said Bella quickly. "Not mine. I don't want to intrude."
Emmett barked a laugh.
"You're not intruding, I promise," he said. There was a noise from outside, and he let the legs of his chair fall back to the floor. "Just… relax."
"Where did you put Rose?" she asked softly. "Is she in the castle, too?"
"She's downstairs," said Emmett gently. "Perhaps not arrived yet, as she is on foot."
"Downstairs?"
"In the guest quarters," said Emmett. "Where Edward puts the Councilmen who stay overnight."
Bella, slightly mollified by this, nodded.
"She will be treated well," said Emmett again. "She is not in a dungeon."
"And Finn…"
"Will be given every courtesy," said Emmett softly. "He is barely out of babyhood, and will be given everything he needs."
"Will she be allowed out?" Another noise, footsteps this time, rang from the hall. "How long will you hold her?"
"Until the King sets her free," replied Emmett. "She's the King's prisoner, not mine…"
"But…"
Emmett sighed, watching her with pitying eyes.
"She is your friend, I know," he murmured, "and she has done well by you."
"Yes, she has." Bella's vehement agreement was cut short. He raised his hands, begging for silence, and continued once he got it.
"But she is a… unique case. I don't know what this all means."
"What what means?" Bella asked. "She told you everything about her."
"Yes," Emmett nodded patiently, "but I do not know what is to be done with her, given who she is."
"Who she is?"
"She is the wife of the enemy," said Emmett quickly, and his eyes were sharp and shrewd. "The boy is our enemy's son."
"He's an evil man…"
"I don't doubt it," said Emmett at once, cutting her off. "It's difficult, trying to make a decent life in the West, and I don't doubt for one minute that that woman's husband is unkind."
"He's more than unkind," said Bella hotly. A knock sounded on the door. "He's downright cruel."
Emmett listened, frowning.
"He strikes her," said Bella quickly. "He hits her, though she carries his child, and she fled when…"
He raised an eyebrow.
"She fled when he hit her son." She whispered the words, as if they were swears, and the knock sounded again. Emmett rose from his seat. "He hit Finn— left welts on his legs from a belt— and she ran in the night to get them both away."
"And she risked her other child in the process," said Emmett, tired and sad. "That is how I know she's honest… no good woman would risk her baby so recklessly unless she had no other choice."
The knock sounded out again, and Bella heard a plaintive voice behind the door.
"Commander?" It was the child, Roberto, and Emmett took the latch. "Commander, I've brought…"
Emmett swung the door open, startling the child and a woman, who stood behind the boy, arms laden.
"Marta," finished the boy shyly. "And a tub. And a bird."
Emmett stepped aside without comment and a flurry of activity rose in the room at once.
The boy, carrying a stately, green parrot, moved towards the King's desk, setting the animal down on an ornate, wooden perch that Bella hadn't noticed. Bella admired the creature, watching it ruffle its tail and begin to preen, drawing its hooked, orange beak through its feathers and fluff. The woman scurried in behind him, moving quickly to the fireside, and two footmen that Bella hadn't seen in the corridor carried a massive, wooden tub between them, setting it upright on the rug beside the fire.
"That will do, gentlemen, thank you," said the woman, and both bowed to Emmett and Bella before they took their leave without a word. "Thank you, Bertie."
The child, Roberto, grinned up at her impishly.
"Go off to bed now, before you keel over," said the woman kindly. "You'll be exhausted come morning, and His Grace will likely call on you at dawn."
"Yes ma'am." He turned to Bella, beaming. "See you tomorrow, probably."
Bella, grinning despite herself, thanked him gently. Emmett sat himself at the desk without another word and began to rifle for a clean parchment, ignoring the gentle chirp of the parrot, who watched him curiously.
"My Lady?" Bella started, wheeling around when the woman spoke. "My Lady, come to the fireside… goodness me! Such wounds! And you must be famished… look at how thin you are!"
The lady, who was surveying her with kindly brown eyes, had taken Bella's hands in hers. The woman was older than Bella might have thought when she'd first arrived— her hair was a solid, steely grey, tied back in a tight knot at the back of her neck, and her hands were wrinkled and spotted with age. She was thin and wiry, without a scrap of fat anywhere on her, and she urged Bella forward with a strength that she had not expected. Her face was long, though not witchy, with fine features and wide, open eyes. When Bella studied her face in the light, she thought she must have been called pretty in her youth, but that girlish beauty had melted into womanly grace and she looked stately now, and held herself tall and straight.
"My name is Marta," said the woman softly, ushering Bella onto the sofa. "I'm the Head of Household in the castle. I take care of the staff— most especially the maids— and oversee the kitchens, the storerooms, the larder, the buttery, and the laundry."
"I'm Bella," she replied softly. "I'm…"
"Oh, duck, I know who you are," said Marta fondly. "We all know, don't we, Master Emmett?"
Emmett, jolted from his writing, glanced up at her with a grin.
"Sorry to wake you, Marta," he said easily, glancing over the short message he'd scribed. "I know its late."
"No harm, young Sir… no harm at all."
She took Bella's face in her hands, her lips pursing as she inventoried the bruises she found.
"This little duck was almost caught, I think!" she announced, releasing her face. "I sense a story to be told, though it shall not be spoken tonight. No…"
Bella kept her mouth shut, feeling thoroughly mothered.
"No. Tonight, a bath, and a good, hot meal, and then perhaps you'll let me comb your hair and we can put you right to bed."
"Where will you put her?" asked Emmett quickly. He was tying the message to the bird's leg and the creature held it out, still and serene.
"There are no aired rooms ready," said Marta at once, "but I think the King will not mind?"
"Absolutely not," agreed Emmett. "He won't mind a bit."
"Good." Marta shuffled Bella towards the tub, which was as dry as a bone. "Good…"
Bella stared into the wooden basin, her legs itching to get in. Emmett said nothing as he cracked open the window, setting the bird on his hand, and releasing it out into the dark, cool night, where it shone like a great flying emerald until it vanished, chirping noisily, into the blackness.
Marta said nothing and did not move to touch Bella again, staring pointedly at Emmett who had seated himself comfortably at the desk again.
"If you don't mind, Sir," she began testily, "the Lady would like to bathe."
"Oh." Emmett, embarrassed, rose to his feet. "I'm sorry…"
Marta, raising an eyebrow, looked pointedly at the door.
"I know, I know…" He glanced at Bella, frowning. "Will you be alright?"
"Yes," she said swiftly. "Yes, Emmett. Thank you."
"You're quite welcome," he returned. "Quite welcome…"
"She'll be right as rain once we get her to bed," said Marta swiftly. "It's just a pity the Lady Esme isn't here to see her off! She'll be cross with herself come morning, and that's a fact…"
"I'll send two men to guard the door," said Emmett, turning towards the exit. "You won't be disturbed, Bella…"
"And if you'd be so kind," said Marta swiftly, "you can also send for Imi, the scullery maid. Tell her that the linens in the King's chambers need changing, and the Lady needs some clothes."
"Yes ma'am." Emmett bowed to her. "Anything else?"
Marta paused, thinking.
"I don't think so," she said finally. "That's all, good sir. Now if you would…" She jerked her chin at the door.
"I'm off!" he said at once, raising his hands in defense. "No need to shoo me, Marta…"
She flapped a towel at him, pushing him out into the hallway.
"Don't forget, now," she ordered. Her finger waggled in his face. "Fetch me Imi, and fetch me those soldiers."
"Aye, aye!" He saluted her jokingly and Marta smothered a smile. "I'm off!"
He waved once at Bella before he disappeared down the steps and Bella was left alone with Marta, who surveyed her quietly from the door.
"Now, little duck, you set right there until we get this tub sorted, eh?" She crouched at Bella's knee, patting it softly. "You just rest, and let us make it right."
Bella, unable and unwilling to argue, said nothing in protest.
Four maids, as young and fresh as Alice, began to filter in with steel pails full of hot, steaming water. They carried them two-by-two, as the great weight was too heavy for one, and Bella sat an hour by the fireside, picking dirt off of her trousers, while the tub slowly filled. The water smelled sweet, as if it had been perfumed by some floral oil and the wet heat made her drowsy, so she rested her eyes.
Marta woke her with a gentle shake, helping her up off of the sofa. To Bella's astonished embarrassment, she began to strip her of her soiled, stinking clothes.
"Nothing new to us, little duck," she said busily when Bella brought an arm to her chest, shielding herself. "We used to help our late Queen bathe all the time…"
The girls by the wall, all staring politely at the rug, frowned in unison at the reminder. When Bella was fully naked and shivering, one of them brought a pail of water to the fireside, in which rested a clean, soft cloth.
"We'll sluice you down first," said Marta, "to get the worst of the dirt off. By the heavens, child, your feet!"
Marta had caught sight of them, now, and they were red and raw. She shook her head, troubled and disgusted, and sat her back on one of the wooden chairs.
"Wash gently," she ordered, handing Bella the cloth. She took it gratefully, dragging the white linen over her arms and hands. The water in the pail turned murky at once when Bella dipped the rag back in, and it was as brown as soup when she finished, dabbing painfully at the wound on her throat.
When Marta, satisfied that the worst of it had been cleaned away, helped her into the tub, Bella sunk into it with a gasp.
Warmth and perfume surrounded her like a quilt. The scent, which reminded Bella of lavender, wafted up in plumes of steam, seeping into the pores of her face. She rested against the side of the tub, sinking past her neck in the hot, clean water, and before she knew it she'd closed her eyes again, her ears muffled by the water at her face.
She felt the gentle, soft hands of a maid drawing her fingers through her tangled hair and she gasped, her eyes snapping open, when she brushed the sore, hairless spot.
"I'm sorry," gasped the girl, jumping back in alarm. "I'm terribly sorry, My Lady…"
"Not your fault," Bella said, sitting up straight in the tub. She brought her own hand up, rubbing gently at the spot. "It's alright…"
But the child had stepped away, stricken, and another had taken her place. This one seemed older, perhaps in her mid-teens, and she brought a bar of hard, white soap with her. The girl didn't speak as she ran the bar down the part at the centre of Bella's head, and lathered her hair from roots to ends in minutes.
"Mila, go and see if you can find Bora," said Marta softly. "He sleeps next to the footmen, in a chamber at the end of the hall."
Mila, the smallest and youngest of the maids, bobbed a quick curtsey and bustled off, her skirts rustling all the way down the hall.
"Bora is a healer," said Marta gently. "He's neither as skilled nor as experienced as Lord Carlisle, but he is capable and trustworthy. I want him to see to that wound on your neck… it looks very raw."
Bella, brushing it gently with wet fingers, felt the wound flare when the soap touched it.
"Does it hurt badly?" Marta, taking up another cloth, began to dab at the bruises on her face. The girl at her head poured an ewer of water over her hair and Bella saw the bath run brown.
"Not so much," she lied. Her hair was lathered again. "It's been worse."
Marta tutted, reaching down to her feet.
By the time her whole body had been scrubbed and scoured, Bella's fingers and toes were wrinkled and pruny. The water, which held only some of its prior sweetness, was a dull, murky grey-brown, and though it had been deliciously hot at the start, it had grown tepid and cool. When Marta declared her clean Bella was shivering, and she rose from the tub with a self-conscious tremble, clutching the edge to keep from falling.
Before she could make so much as a peep Marta had her wrapped in a thick sheet that had been hanging before the fire. The warmth seeped in to her at once and she sighed, pulling it tightly around her.
"We've brought clothes and underthings," said Marta gently as she coaxed her onto a low stool. The girls began scooping water out of the tub, and Bella watched as they poured it carefully out the window, letting it splash to the empty, verdant grass below. They worked swiftly, untired and uncomplaining, and only when Mila returned with a stranger at her heels did Bella turn away, blinking.
"My Lady." The man bowed to her, his young, thin face alight with concern. "Marta."
"Bora," smiled Marta. "Come, come… sit here and have a look at our girl."
Bora kept his gaze politely from Bella's nakedness, which was still shielded beneath the sheet, and turned her towards the fire that glowed merrily in the grate. He surveyed her bruises with professional concern and pressed gently around her eye to test the bone beneath. Bella kept still while he did, flinching only when when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, and he seemed satisfied that there would be no lasting wound.
"Mila tells me you've got a cut," said Bora softly, tapping her chin. Bella glanced up at the roof, raising her head enough for him to see, and he adjusted her head so that the firelight fell across her throat, tutting angrily.
"A fine mark," he said sharply. "A deep mark… did you bleed?"
"Yes," she said, swallowing. The skin stretched tight.
"A lot?" His gaze and words were sharp. "Did you faint?"
"No," said Bella swiftly. "Not from that…"
He watched her, frowning.
"He… choked me," she said lamely, and when his fingers brushed over the cut again, she felt a thrill of recollected horror. "After he did it…"
"Indeed, I see." Bora brought his face close, his fingers brushing over the bruising there, too. "I see that he did just that."
His fingers matched up perfectly with the stubby, blackened marks and he pulled away at once, his lips drawn in a tight line.
"It'll need a salve and a bandage," he decreed. "It's not so dangerous as Mila feared, but it is, indeed, a concern."
Bella relaxed at once, letting her chin fall to her chest.
"Carlisle will want to see, no doubt," he said, rifling through the bag he'd carried in with him. "He'll want to check you over again for himself, but this will do for now."
He brought up a pot of yellow, pungent ointment. He opened the jar with care, making Bella grimace, and scooped a bit onto the end of his finger.
"Alcohol to cleanse, with calendula, arnica, lavender, honey, and beeswax," he explained, brushing it over her neck. It stung only a little and she made sure to hold still. "A simple salve, yet powerful to aid in healing. You'll have a scar, I think…"
Bella winced.
"Though, with any luck, not a great one," he finished. When Bella's neck had been thoroughly coated he wrapped a length of soft, thin cotton around it. He tied it at the side— to keep the knot out of her way while she slept, he said— and then began to tend the other wounds, which required far less attention.
Bruises were pressed and cuts were examined. The salve, which he seemed to have in ample supply, was quickly depleted as he dabbed this wound and that cut, making sure to massage it deeply into the torn flesh to stop any bleeding and dull some of the pain. The cut on her leg from the battle at Terosankta was cleaned and wrapped, as it had already begun to heal, and her feet were tied in tight, careful bandages to keep them out of the way of friction and further irritation. He splinted her wrist, which he was sure she'd rebroken, and ordered Marta to keep it above her heart to reduce swelling, and when he finally sat back, sighing with satisfaction, he gave her one last once-over.
"She's well, Marta," he soothed gently. The old woman had been hovering, the thumbnail on her right hand bitten down to a stub while the younger man worked. He looked exhausted now and Bella felt guilty when he yawned, but he smiled brightly at her when he caught her gaze, shaking his head.
"It is my job to come at all hours, and I'm happy to help," he soothed. "Do not worry after me. I'll sleep well in the morning."
"Thank you," said Bella at once, shifting uncomfortably on her stool. "Thank you for coming."
He rose, smiled at her, and bowed deeply, backing away without turning. Bella watched him go, fiddling with the splint on her wrist, stopping only when Marta took her hands and held them fast.
"You must eat," she said, "and then, to bed. The food is heating in the kitchens as we speak, and while we wait, I shall untangle your hair."
"Oh, you don't have to…" Bella spied a brush on the table by the door and was ready to rise, but Marta glared so sternly that her protest quailed and died before she could.
"You sit right there, little duck, and don't you move an inch." She snapped her fingers and Mila, rushing forward, snatched the brush and handed it to her. As Marta picked up the ends of her long, tangled hair, the girls began the laborious task of wheeling the tub through the door. Bella watched them idly as they rolled it carefully over the smooth, cold stone.
Marta's hands were gentle and Bella, silent and meditative, said nothing at all while her hair was brushed and smoothed. It snagged in some spots, making Marta pause and apologize, but Bella never said a word, and focused on the great relief she felt when her hair, damp and soft, lay across her shoulder in a loose, long plait.
She fingered it idly, running her hands down the smooth, brown locks, and thanked Marta heartily.
"Oh hush," she said, waving Bella off with pink cheeks. "Hush now, little duck, and get your night dress on."
She helped Bella with the ties, which were difficult with her hand wrapped and splinted, and by the time her food arrived, steaming and hot, Bella was thoroughly and completely relaxed.
A plate of eggs had been brought to her with a seedy bread on the side and three pieces of thick, glistening meat that Bella could not identify. Two oranges in a bowl, peeled and sectioned, were brought in too, and before she could stop herself, she scarfed one down in a rush.
"Easy, child," warned Marta, twitching the bowl away. "Go slowly or else you'll be sick…"
But Bella's stomach had erupted with ravenous hunger and she slowed only slightly, stopping to at least chew the food before she swallowed. Everything was exquisite— the eggs perfectly seasoned and the bread loaded with thick, creamy butter. The oranges broke like starbursts on her tongue and even the cup of hot, spiced wine did not burn as it might have, filling her from the inside out with a bright, generous warmth.
She finished the meal with satisfaction, the edge and substance of her hunger sated, and fell back against the chair, her eyes closed.
One of the maids took the dishes, whisking them away at once, and Marta snapped her fingers, making Bella's eyes creak open.
"Come, duck," she said softly. She pulled Bella up by her good arm. "Imi's changed the sheets while you were in the bath, and the bed is fresh and warm."
Bella rose, her wrapped feet unsteady beneath her, and followed Marta to the rear portion of the chamber. A dark, wooden door that matched the floors was slightly ajar and Marta took the silver handle and pushed, guiding Bella into the spacious chamber beyond.
Another hearth glowed, a little lower than the first. A trunk lay open at the window, a myriad of clothing spilled idly over its sides, and a tottering pile of unreadable books rested on a chair by the bed. Marta shook her head, glancing nervously at Bella when she did, and guided her quickly to the large four-poster bed at the centre of the room. The stone walls were draped with tapestries— delicately stitched sceneries from tales she did not know— and she had only a moment to admire the fine handiwork before she was lowered onto the bed, which had already been turned down, and installed carefully on a large, plush pillow.
It was like sinking into a cloud, and at once, Bella felt very sleepy.
"I am sorry for the mess," said Marta regretfully, and Bella cracked an eye open again. "His Grace is very particular about when this room is cleaned, and by whom, and so if often goes untouched when he's out of house…"
Bella shook her head, sighing.
"No mess," she said drowsily. "It's wonderful, Marta. Thank you…"
The woman tutted again, but happily, and brought the thick, heavy covers up over Bella's body.
"You sleep now, child," she said gently. The candle burning by the bedside, which cast a light, airy glow, was snuffed. "Sleep now, and take your rest."
Bella's eyes closed.
"Sleep," said Marta again. "Your family will be here when you wake…"
Her family, Bella mused. What a strange and comforting thought.
A/N: More coming soon!
PRONUNCIATIONS:
Imi — EE-mee
Joro — YO-ro
Bora — BO-ra
Mila — MEE-lah
Also, for those of you who haven't seen my Tweet, there is a new document on my Weebly site pertaining to this story. As a bit of a world building exercise, I created a list/chart to help explain the hierarchy and titles of different groups of people in the story. It might be of interest to you, if you're really following closely, and for those of you who are confused about who is a Lord, a Lady, or a Prince, or Princess, it might help clear things up.
The only one who doesn't fit in that system yet is Bella, who is called "Lady" without any real royal or noble background. But she is a special circumstance. If you DO decide to check it out, please note that I forgot to mention that the Lord and Lady titles of royal in-laws do NOT carry down to their children (Esme and Carlisle's kids, if they'd had any, would not have titles, even though both parents do through Esme's relationship to Elizabeth).