By Redhawk
Disclaimers: See disclaimers in Prologue.
Part 2:
Being clean again certainly feels wonderful, Katerin thought, tugging at the unfamiliar skirt. Gemma had been a near perfect fit for the princess, the waist and length of the clothing being of a size she could wear comfortably. The blouse belonged to Lucinda, however, the dark woman's bosom not quite as small as Gemma's. Beside her, Ilia kept pace in a gown borrowed from the redhead. A bit baggy in places, it fit well enough.
Willem returned to his escort duties when the pair was declared fit for viewing. He guided them towards one of the wagons in silence.
Still busy with activity, the clearing looked much different than it had earlier. A large tent had grown in the center and the men were tying down the last of the ropes. The wagons created a crescent around the main entrance, each an advertisement for the available acts. Pictures depicting brightly dressed clowns, a lion tamer, graceful bodies flying through the air and jugglers teased the eye. One wagon sported bars instead of a painting, a large animal curled up in one corner.
Katerin stopped her wool gathering and focused on a wagon they neared. Ros was lounging before it, idly watching them approach, feet upon a stool. On a rough wooden table beside her were several familiar items. Ilia's gasp matched the princess' sudden recognition of the few items they'd been able to steal away from the castle. Instantly furious, Katerin marched forward, passing Willem to plant herself before the relaxed woman, hands on hips. "How dare you go through our personal things!" she growled.
"How dare you disrupt the lives of all these people," was the response. Ros stood, towering over the smaller woman. "Do you realize the danger you've put us in? Whoever those men were, one wore the insignia of the Invader. You can imagine he'll not be happy at the death of his personal guard."
Blinking in surprise, the dark woman's anger faded. She's right. It's not these poor people who are at fault. Katerin dropped her hands and gaze, properly chastised.
Taken aback at the sudden change of demeanor, the blonde sucked in a breath, quelling her irritation. "What's done is done," she finally said, sitting down. Waving to two other stools, she continued, "Please, sit. We must speak."
"Do you need me to stay, Ros?"
"No, Willem," the woman answered. "Though perhaps you could have Sati bring breakfast to these fine ladies…?"
Willem smiled. "Aye, Ros. I'll do that," he agreed, walking away.
Waiting for the women to settle, Ros studied them. Once she had their attention, she said, "As you've no doubt gathered, my name is Ros and I own this fine circus where you find yourselves. You've stowed away and stolen our food. The Invader is chasing you for gods know what reason and two men are dead. Is there anything else I should know?"
With a sigh, Katerin shook her head. "Nay, I think not. That's more than enough."
"Then the next question is what I should do with you?" An interminable silence followed, broken only by the people around them going about their business. Sighing heavily in irritation, Ros said, "What do you think will happen to two women such as you if I sent you away?"
Recalling the very unexpected recent events, Katerin raised her chin. "We'll be dead or worse inside a fortnight."
Mouth turned down, the blonde agreed, "Aye. And it's the worse you should be worried about." She eyed them shrewdly. "I'll not have your deaths on my head, despite the pain in my arse you've become."
Katerin ignored the flash of anger, instead considering her immediate future. There's nothing left for me - my family is dead, my people ruled by another. Looking at her handmaiden, she made a decision. "Ilia is a fabulous seamstress. I'm sure you could find a use for her," the princess said, leaning forward on her stool in earnestness. "And, should you have a lute about, she plays it very handily."
"I see. So you would have me hire your servant?"
"Aye," the princess nodded. "She has a pleasant demeanor and is loyal to a fault. You could do no wrong in taking her on."
Ros crossed her arms, one hand stroking her chin in thought. "And what of you?"
Looking away, Katerin swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I shall be on my way."
"Your Highness!" the handmaiden whispered. "Nay!"
"Ilia!" the dark woman snapped, cutting her off. She glared intently at her companion, warning her. "It's for the best." Returning her gaze to Ros, she searched the woman's face, hoping she hadn't caught the royal title.
The blonde's face remained serious, her hazel eyes revealing nothing.
Stifling a relieved sigh, Katerin continued. "What say you?"
Ros was slow to respond, eyeing them both in contemplation. With a reluctant nod, she said, "I've one open bunk right now. I'll hire Ilia at three coppers a week. She'll help with costuming, play the lute at showings and learn to clown." To the servant, she continued, "You'll be sleeping in Lucinda and Gemma's wagon. They've an additional bunk now that Tilly's gone off to have a babe."
Katerin felt a heavy weight lift from her shoulders. At least Ilia will be safe now. She won't have to follow Hector beyond. She refused to look at her handmaiden, hearing the gentle weeping, not wanting to be caught up by the emotion.
"And what of your qualifications?"
Surprised, the princess' dark eyes latched onto the circus owner. "Me? I have no qualifications. Not for any task you would have here."
Ros sat forward, taking the smaller woman's hands in her own, studying them. "Aye, I can see that you're a stranger to hard work. Your hands are too fine for menial labor. Do you play any instruments? Sew? Cook?"
The remarks stung and Katerin yanked her hands from the other woman's. "Nay. None of those." She rose to her feet. "I ask for your generosity in supplying me with one meal and I'll be on my way."
A slow, impish smile crossed Ros' face as she stood as well. Her face took on a decidedly wicked appearance as her eyes roamed the smaller woman's body with a lascivious familiarity. "I think not," she said. "I could… use a woman of your breeding."
It took a moment for Katerin to comprehend what was being insinuated. When she did, she blushed furiously. She's a… a… a sapphist! she thought, shocked. Taking a step back, she shook her head. "Nay. I'll be on my way." The princess turned, preparing to leave the clearing and her handmaiden behind when Ros' next words froze her blood.
"Then take Ilia with you. She'll be of no use to me while she's pining away at your loss."
Katerin swallowed, eyes staring blindly at the clearing and it's occupants, weighing the choices of another death on her head against prostituting herself for both their survival. Hearing her handmaiden hastily rising to follow made the decision for her. She spun around, holding out one hand to stop Ilia. Tentatively, she looked at the circus owner, heartened to see the leer had left her handsome face. "You have me at a loss, madam." With a swallow, she drew herself up. "I'll stay."
Ros nodded slowly, an expression of grudging respect in her eyes. Gesturing to the table, she said, "Sort through your things. We've no other bunks; you'll be staying in my wagon." She looked to one side, waving a dark complexioned woman forward. "And eat the breakfast Sati has made. We've a long day ahead of us. Rehearsal is this afternoon and there's much to do." The woman strode away from them, dismissing their presence as she headed for the now finished tent.
Watching her go, the princess bowed her head. A sapphist harlot or a princess with a death warrant on her head, what more could I ask for?
Reaching Ilia, she hugged the taller woman close. At least my handmaiden will not die, as well.
Ros circled the tent, her practiced eye scanning the structure. Occasionally,
she'd pull on one of the thick ropes, checking its tautness. Despite her apparent
attention to the task, Ros went over her conversation with the strangers.
The Invader's personal guard and an obvious man at arms dead, she mused sourly. As if we've not enough trouble surviving in the midst of a neighboring war. Ros kicked at a thick iron tent peg, grunting in satisfaction as it remained firm in place.
During a normal season, the troupe would have spent some time in the Dulce kingdom. Ros had diverted from their usual route when word of the Invader's activities had reached them.
And now we've a blasted royal in our midst! Growling to herself, Ros ducked beneath a flap of canvas, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkened interior. The lack of light reflected her attitude. Again she circled, pushing against poles, noting where more logs could be added for seating, ignoring a handful of her people rigging the backstage area.
Ilia's comment was not lost on the blonde, though Ros hadn't reacted. The title was an immediate give away. A Dulce princess. And the Invader rabid as a wolf, no doubt.
Notorious for hunting down all heirs to any throne he stole, the Invader stopped at nothing to attain his goals. Neighboring realms, their leaders already nervous of the potential threat, would now be doubly paranoid until the princess was found or an innocent substitute was executed in her place to appease the tyrant.
Ros and the circus had had the misfortune of occasional dealings with the Invader in the past. The blonde could still remember the terror of her childhood when this same thing occurred. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the child had been discovered, her head delivered to a displeased new monarch.
Sighing in frustration, Ros left the tent and stood in the main entrance, scanning the small encampment. She spotted the women in question, their breakfast finished and returning to Lucinda and Gemma's wagon. I can't very well leave them behind. Hazel eyes lingered on the dark one, a mixture of sorrow, sympathy and dull anger in Ros' heart. Life's never easy, is it?
Dominic awoke, shivering. With a curse, he pulled his cloak tighter and attempted
to go back to sleep. Every pebble and root made its existence known as they
pressed into him. After an interminable time, the aide yielded to nature with
utter gracelessness and rolled out of his makeshift bier. Quiet surrounded Dominic;
he heard only his heartbeat, breath steaming in the chill gray of early morning.
He had been roaming the countryside for two days, irritated apathy his only companion. Remaining within the Dulce capitol was out of the question as long as the Invader was in residence. Still uncertain of his future, Dominic was loath to leave the area. Better to be near. Just in case. In case of exactly what was a mystery.
With no fire to give away his tiny encampment to roaming brigands, breakfast was a distasteful affair. Dominic sniffed at the meat he'd taken from the castle larder, suspicions confirmed by the faint sweet odor. Grunting in disgust, he tossed it into some nearby bushes and proceeded to nibble at a crust of bread, his thoughts filled with sumptuous royal feasts. Once finished, Dominic brushed uselessly at his travel stained clothing. An internal debate rose - move on or remain here for the day? A check of his water bag solved the dilemma and Dominic hefted his pack onto thin shoulders.
By now, the light beneath the trees was golden, the sun finally breaching the eastern horizon. Regardless, the air was still cool and Dominic groused as he plodded along, holding his cloak tight about his neck. That bastard will pay for this! he promised himself.
Just how the Invader would be punished for his infraction was unknown. Dominic was painfully aware of his odds of finding Princess Sabine; if she was giving experienced soldiers and trackers difficulty, there'd be no way he could locate her.
The sound of running water interrupted Dominic's thoughts. At nearly the same instance, he stumbled upon a tiny game path and froze. Several moments of silence passed before surrounding insects and birds felt comfortable enough to continue their racket. Relieved, the aide turned right and followed the trail, searching for the source of sound.
A few strides away, the game trail opened up to reveal a small clearing with a creek. Dominic dropped his pack, retrieved his water bag and, after a moment's consideration, removed his cloak. Cold and filthy or cold and clean - one is preferable to the other. He crouched shivering upon the bank and began filling the bag. Shortly thereafter, the aide hissed as he splashed icy water on his face.
In mid scrub, Dominic froze, peering between his fingers. Directly across from him along the edge of the clearing, one of the small deer that lived in the forest nibbled at tender new growth. The aide's eyes lit and he reached for his belt knife, mouth watering at the thought of fresh meat.
Suddenly tensing, the deer raised its head, looking about with wary intensity. Once again Dominic stilled, mentally cursing at whatever was disturbing his future meal.
An arrow seemed to sprout like magic from the animal's ribs. Startled, the aide fell backwards onto his butt with a grunt even as the deer leapt and crashed away into the forest. Before Dominic could do anything, more noise was heard as the hunter pursued his prey. The stranger could be seen rushing forward just inside the tree line, a flash of metal and green.
Dominic blinked. That was one of the royal guard! They should all be dead! Leaping to his feet, he barely had time to grab his pack and cloak as he chased after the soldier.
Does the princess have a guardsman with her?
After breakfast the new arrivals sorted through their meager belongings, collecting
the few items that belonged to Ilia. The remainder was returned to the carry
sack and set under the table. Katerin wasn't willing to step foot into the now
ominous wagon where Ros lived until necessary. They then returned to Lucinda
and Gemma's abode.
Properly pleased at the new additions to their troupe, Lucinda gave them both a boisterous hug. "Here, now!" she exclaimed, leaning back to peer at them. "Why the long faces? Surely it's better to be here than where you were?" Seeing the women's reticence, she dismissed the question. "No, don't answer. You'll discover soon enough that Ros only bites when she's backed into a corner. Now go inside, Ilia, and Gemma will show you where to stow your things."
Only after receiving an encouraging nod from Katerin did the handmaiden obey. Silent and solemn as was her nature, Gemma waved the blonde into the wagon.
"Why does she look so grave?" Katerin asked, once they were out of earshot. "Why doesn't she speak?"
Lucinda's eyes became sad in reflection. "She's had a very difficult life for one so young. When Ros found her, she was near dead from her injuries." The redhead looked into the open window, watching her friend. "Her tongue had been cut out."
Katerin's hand flew to her mouth in shock. "The poor woman!"
"Aye," Lucinda agreed with a nod. "It's a good thing Ros found her when she did. Someone else might have left her for dead." With a gentle shake, the redhead forced a smile onto her face. "Enough sadness! You're both here and alive, new sisters added to our family!"
Nodding reluctantly, the dark woman forced a small smile. Lucky me. A flash of Ros' leering gaze, her low voice ringing in the princess' ears, and Katerin swallowed a sudden thrill of dread. To distract herself, she asked, "What do you do here?"
Lucinda's smile widened. "I
dance." With a provocative look, she raised
her hands over her head with feline grace, her belly undulating seductively.
Seeing the other woman blush, she laughed merrily and dropped her stance. "I
sing, as well. And play the tambourine. But the men don't care of that."
Unsure of what to say, Katerin murmured, "I can imagine they'd not."
"What can you do?" the redhead asked in curiosity.
I can run from danger. I can get loyal servants killed. I can fade away in obscurity as a harlot. "Nothing," the princess said. "I've no skills that you talented people could use."
"Well, no worries there," Lucinda said, patting the smaller woman's shoulder. "I'm sure Ros can find something for you." She looked to the wagon as Ilia and Gemma stepped out of it, failing to see the troubled expression cross Katerin's face. "All done then?"
Gemma nodded as the blonde woman beside her looked to Katerin.
"Let's take you visiting then, shall we?" the redhead asked cheerfully. "I'll introduce you to the rest of our fine troupe."
"Certainly," Katerin said politely, nodding. "Lead on."
With a happy excitement, Lucinda led the way towards another wagon.
Names and faces whirled about in Katerin's mind as she entered the large tent
with the rest of the circus. The tour of the wagons had been short, there being
only a score of performers, but meeting them all at once was baffling. She doubted
she'd be able to remember one in three for the next fortnight. They were of
all colors and sizes, old and young. Wilm was the baby at a tender four years,
Daiki the eldest at fifty-six - though he appeared hardly older than thirty.
Around her, people laughed and joked as they entered the tent's cool interior. Eyes adjusting from the direct sunlight, she saw Ros standing in the center awaiting them. Several logs had been felled and trimmed, laid out in a rough circle. Outside the circle more were placed in semi-neat lines.
"What are those for?" she asked Lucinda, pointing.
"Seating for our guests," the redhead confided. "And the center is the boundary for our stage."
Ros gestured for the entertainers to settle down. Even little Wilm was in attendance, though the black and white monkey he was playing with distracted him. Once everyone was assembled, their leader clapped her hands to gain their attention.
"You've all done wonderfully on short sleep. We're all weary from our travels and toils, so there'll be no show tonight." Grinning at the applause and whistles, Ros ducked her tousled head in acceptance. "Rehearsal this afternoon, as usual, and we'll take the evening off." More cheering with a few groans were interspersed.
She should smile more often, Katerin mused. It eases the stern lines of her face.
Ros's expression turned serious. "I'm sure the reason why we left in such haste has reached your ears. I'll not lie to you; two men are dead, each killing the other. We've enough problems without the added headaches of dealing with a feud." She waved the two new arrivals forward. "Ilia. Katerin."
Startled at the candor the circus owner was showing her troupe, the brunette rose and stepped before the audience. Her handmaiden followed timidly, wringing her hands.
"You've probably already met both of them, if Lucinda's had her way," Ros said with a grin, standing between them and placing a hand on each woman's shoulder.
"Aye," a black man called from the rear of the gathering. "And when does Lucinda not have her way?" Laughter was his response.
The woman in question stood and whirled about, hands on her hips. In a scolding tone, she said, "You're just jealous, Usiku, because I haven't had my way with you!"
Katerin wasn't certain which was more disconcerting - the warm hand placed so proprietarily on her shoulder or the bawdy humor of the crowd laughing and teasing each other in such a manner. She could feel her face heat up as she blushed.
"Be that as it may,"
Ros called out cheerfully, regaining the people's
attention, "this is Ilia and Katerin." She indicated each with a nod.
"For whatever reason, they found their way into our cook wagon. I've decided
to keep them on. Ilia will be our seamstress and can play the lute. She'll train
with Gemma and Minkhat as a clown."
"Can you do the Russian Swing?" a swarthy man questioned Ilia.
The blonde gave a half shrug and a shake of the head, uncertain as to what it was.
"For now it's not necessary," Ros interrupted. "Should she decide to remain longer, she'll have the opportunity to learn." Indicating the brunette beside her, she said, "And I've hired Katerin as my personal attendant."
Guffaws of laughter rippled through the small crowd, several of the men making colorful remarks. One or two women joined in or glared in mock anger at the raucous comments. Katerin stared at her toes in embarrassment, feeling the initial flush suffuse every inch of her skin. That the circus owner didn't disavow any of the comments didn't help matters.
Chuckling at some of the observations, Ros held up her hand to gain their attention once more. "Again - be that as it may…" she trailed off at the laughter. "We now have two more mouths to feed. And a potential danger." Her face became solemn. "As far as anyone need know, these women have been with us since we stopped at Aimsbury near a month ago. Understood?"
There was a general rumble of agreement.
"Good." The owner's hazel eyes scanned her people with practiced ease, making contact with each individual, calculating. "We're in this together - have been for many a year. I trust you all with my life, as you trust me with yours. Trust me in this."
"Aye, Ros!" a woman called. "We're better together than apart. You've said so yourself. We'll stand by your decision."
Again, the sound of several voicing their approval.
With a slight bow, Ros said, "Thank you, Sati." A smile returned to her face. "Rehearsal after lunch. Eat light and until then, enjoy the morning."
The performers dispersed, chattering at their good fortune. Katerin attempted to join them, but the hand on her shoulder tightened.
"Stay," Ros ordered.
Swallowing the bile in her throat, the brunette fought with anger and fear as she nodded hesitantly. She watched as Ilia was urged to follow the rest, giving a false smile of encouragement. When they were alone, Katerin was relieved when the hand fell away.
"I'll not lie to you, either," Ros said. She walked away, turning to straddle the first log she came to. "May I speak frankly, lady?"
The brunette blinked, surprised at the clear gaze directed at her. "Of course," she answered softly.
"I may be a sapphist, but I do not condone rape." Seeing the small woman blush, she looked away. "You'll be as safe in my bed as you would in your mother's arms."
Flustered, it took a few moments for Katerin to respond. "I… Thank you."
"The Invader's not someone to play lightly, however," Ros continued, still not looking at the brunette. "I'll get you away from his clutches and you can stay as long as you wish, but you must make the decision when to leave my troupe." With that she rose, dusting woodchips from her breeches. "Lunch is promptly at midday. As I said, eat light. We work hard at rehearsals."
Katerin watched her stride from the tent, puzzled yet intrigued.