Chapter Two
Darien de Varray moved through the tap room of the inn, his midnight colored eyes warily watching the other occupants as he searched for the table his friend had secured for them. The dregs of society patronized the establishment from landless knights, to the most desperate of thieves. A waving hand drew his attention, he looked in the direction and stifled a sigh as he moved to the table. Darien joined his friend at the table smiling tensely at the pair of bar wenches that sat on either side of him. He leveled a cool look at the women remaining silent, he watched as they shifted uncomfortably where they sat before standing and flouncing off.
"For all your good looks, you do seem to scare away the wenches." Andrew la Fontaine said gulping down the ale from his tankard and slanting a look at Darien.
Darien eyed the blonde, noticing the fine burgundy velvet long tunic and black surcoat embroidered with a silver crouching lion over it held in place by a beaten silver belt at his waist. A curved spanish sword hung from the belt and the jeweled hilt of a dagger rested on the opposite hip. He raised a jet black brow a smile tugging reluctantly at his lips.
"For sooth I do not have your way with the ladies, nor do I wish too. I have naught the time to spend my days with them."
A deep chuckle emerged from the blonde as he slung a leg onto the now vacant bench reclining as he swirled the ale around in his tankard, "No one has asked you to spend your days with them." He took a drink green eyes dancing over the rim, "Only your nights."
Darien waved for a tankard for himself and laughed at his friend, "I have less wish or time to spend my nights with them. I would wake up to find myself poor as a pauper or worse, I would not wake at all."
Andrew sputtered sending droplets of ale across the table top, his hand came down hard on the table as he laughed uproariously at his friend. "And that is the truth of it, I oft find myself slipping with a dagger under my pillow and with my clothes still on when I bed the wenches."
Darien casually wiped spittle and ale from his face giving his friend an annoyed look, "Take heed, you may just find yourself at the tip of your own dagger."
Andrew nodded still grinning like a jackal and clinked his tankard to Dariens before taking another long pull and settling more comfortably on the bench. "I fear your uncle has it in for us, we could be off on a crusade or at a joust or tournament and he has called us home for your cousins wedding."
Darien encircled his tankard with his hands staring into the amber depths of his ale, "Aye that is the truth of it. I fear he intends to marry us off as well, my poor cousin had no choice in the matter. Since uncle has remarried he seems to think everyone should have to suffer his bliss."
Andrew lazily watched as a small group of people moved toward the innkeeper before moving up the stairs to the rooms above. His eyes drawn to the smallest of the group who had a cloak covering them from ankle to neck and the hood pulled up so that their face was buried in shadow. He watched after them until the disappeared from view and turned back to Darien an idle smile playing around his lips.
"I do not think that he intends for us to suffer, but I will wager you that there will be heiresses aplenty at this wedding feast two days hence."
Darien shifted uncomfortably on his bench and nodded at Andrew, "I fear you are right. And I have less desire to go now than I did before."
Andrew released a bark of laughter and smacked the rump of one of the wenches as she passed by. He sipped at his tankard and then lifted it in mock salute to Darien, "To your uncle. May he find us well-endowed heiresses with lots of land for us."
Darien suppressed a shudder at the thought and took a long pull of ale from his tankard, his eyes once again warily watching the other occupants of the inn.
****
Serena moved slowly into the room they had procured at the inn, she couldn't help but wish Sach was at her side. Her movements were hindered greatly without the wolf to guide her around obsticles, she cast her hands out finding a chair and lowered herself into it. Across the room she could here Nathaniel and Artemis moving about preparing for bed and unloading one of the saddle bags that held their clothing for the next day. Fatigue pulled at her body, the ride to the inn had been grueling, she lifted her hands humming softly under her breath as she pulled the leather thong securing her hair and ran her fingers through it shaking out the thick tresses. A loud thump near the bed startled her and she half stood turning her head in the direction of her two friends.
"What was that?" she asked worry in her voice, she inhaled deeply through her nose and wrinkled it at the slight sickly smell.
Artemis turned at the sound and his pale eyes widened at the sight of Nathaniel crumpled on the floor. He moved to his brothers side reaching out to help him up and drew his hands back with a hiss, Nathaniel was burning with fever. Artemis cursed himself under his breath for not checking the bandage around his brothers shoulder, he looked toward Serena who was trying to make her way blindly across the room.
"Nate has a fever, I can only assume it is from the wound he returned to camp with," He explained as he struggled to lift the older man into his arms and haul him into the bed.
"Injury? He told me 'twas naught but a scratch," Serena said stumbling over a foot stool in her haste to reach the bed.
Artemis carefully unwrapped the bandage from his brothers shoulders and drew in a breath at the severity of the wound. It appeared to be a deep stab wound, poorly tended and bandaged. The edges of the jagged flesh were inflamed, carefully Artemis placed his fingers along the outside of the injury and pushed. At once thick white puss seeped from it and the smell filled the room, he was sure Nathaniel had told Serena it was naught but a scratch to keep her from worrying. He stared down at his brother unsure of what to do, he turned to tell Serena to wait in the room while he went for help and his mouth hung open as the door closed behind her. He cursed and moved to follow her when Nathaniel thrashing about on the narrow bed brought him back to his brothers side. He only hoped that Serena could find someone to help, and not one of the brigands they had passed below in the taproom.
Serena stumbled blindly down the stairs of the inn to the tap room, her hair hanging loose down to her waist. She paused at the edge of the room then worry for Nathaniel caused her to square her shoulders and slowly feel her way to one of the tables. He finger tips came into contact with the coarse material of a mans tunic and she gripped his shoulder in a bruising hold.
"Sir could you be so kind as to help me?" she asked struggling to keep her voice steady.
The man growled and looked up then his jaw fell slack as he saw the beauty that was clinging to him. He stood and wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her close to him.
"Aye, lovey I'll help you." he said lowering his face to her neck and nuzzling it, goaded on by his friends leering looks and coarse comments.
Serena held her breath as the smell of unwashed flesh and rotting teeth invaded her senses. She pushed her hands against the mans chest attempting to angle her neck away from his face. Her heart began to beat rapidly as the thought that she had made a grave mistake in coming for help filled her mind.
"Please sir, my friend is ill and needs a doctor," she said struggling in the mans grasp.
"Aye I be sure that you could nurse any sick man to health," he captor said as he held her closer.
Serena had the distinct impression of other bodies closing in around her and began to struggle in earnest. The man holding her was running his callused palms down her waist an over her buttocks. She held her breath trying not to breath too deeply as she pushed ineffectively against the wall of his chest.
"Please," she said turning her head in the direction she knew other men were standing. "He is ill and could be dying. Wont one of you send for a doctor?" Loud laughter and a squeak from one of the serving wenches as a man pinched her buttocks answered Serena's plea.
"Come lovey, we will see to your friend later." The man holding her tight said as he tried to sit once more on the bench and pull her into his lap.
Darien looked up from the game of dice he was playing with Andrew and frowned in the direction of the stairs. There was a commotion occurring and it seemed to be growing in volume. Many of the occupants of the tap room were jeering at another man and a struggling woman held in his arms. He glanced at Andrew then raised a brow as he stood, he turned and walked toward the group his heavy boots thumping hard on the wooden floor.
"Is there a problem here?" He asked towing behind the man with the struggling woman.