By Redhawk
Disclaimers: See disclaimers in Prologue.
Part 3:
Ros certainly didn't speak in jest, Katerin thought, wiping a sweaty
brow on the sleeve of her blouse. She watched as half a dozen of the troupe
performed feats on what they called Chinese Poles. Two tall poles were in the
center of the 'stage', a series of ropes holding them upright in their bases.
On each were three of the clowns, leaping and bouncing from one to another,
passing each other by mere breaths. At one point, the brunette could only gasp
as the performers levered their bodies parallel to the ground below using only
their arms.
Ros clapped. "No, no!"
Pausing, all eyes and ears were focused on the owner. Those on the poles shifted their stances, locking their feet and arms about the wood and giving her their attention.
Stepping into the ring, the blonde continued, "Minkhat, your timing is off. Is your shoulder still paining you?"
"Some, I'll admit, Ros," the swarthy man who had asked Ilia about the Russian Swing said. He rolled one shoulder with a wince. "I can still have a go."
Ros shook her head, her tone and face brooking no argument. "No. Pain means it's not healed. Hop down - we don't want you to do further damage."
Slightly disgruntled, Minkhat did as ordered, pushing away from the pole, flipping into a backwards somersault and landing on his feet below.
"Katerin, do you know any of the healing arts?"
Startled at being called upon, the brunette blinked in response. At the irritated look she received, she quickly spoke up. "Aye, a bit."
"Good. Have Sameer show you where our herbal supplies are and see to Minkhat's shoulder." Dismissing her new charge, Ros returned her attention to the performers. "Let's start from the top. Gemma, Sati, close up the gap and we'll try it with five people."
Sameer, the troupe's only dwarf, put down the length of rope he'd been repairing. Climbing off a log, he ambled toward Katerin with an awkward gait. "This way," he ordered, his voice surprisingly mellow compared to his craggy appearance.
The princess followed, Minkhat trailing slightly behind.
Bright sunlight met the trio, the muggy warmth of the tent chased away by a mild breeze. Sighing, the brunette wiped sweat from her forehead, enjoying the cooling wind. Arriving at the cook wagon, Sameer clambered up the three steps and began struggling with the latch.
Katerin watched for long moments, becoming concerned as she watched him fight with the simple mechanism. He was obviously not quite tall or strong enough to open it with ease. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the swarthy man would be of no assistance as he gazed idly back at her.
Vexed, the brunette tsked. What was Ros thinking? she demanded. The little fellow can't do this! Stepping forward to intercede, she felt a hand wrap about her upper arm, pulling her back. Head whipping about, black eyes fearful and frustrated, Katerin saw Minkhat holding a finger to his lips and shaking his head. As her heart slowed, she heard the latch finally give way and the dwarf's lusty sigh of satisfaction.
"There we go," he said, a wide smile creasing his face as the door swung open. In moments, he was in the wagon, shoving boxes and rough-hewn sacks aside as he rummaged about.
Minkhat released the woman, winking at her as he pulled up a nearby stool and settled down.
Still uncertain, Katerin kept her expression neutral as Sameer found what he was looking for. Wood grated on wood as he pushed a medium sized chest towards the door. Opening the lid, he waved at it with a flourish and bowed. "All of our healing supplies - at your disposal, Lady Katerin."
Despite irritation at forcing the dwarf to work so much harder than a normal man, the brunette smiled, dropping into a curtsey. "Thank you, kind sir." His answering chuckle caused her smile to widen.
Sameer climbed down the steps. "That's all we have. We've not had anyone skilled in the healing arts for some time. If you need anything else or would like to restock what we have, let Ros know," he chattered. "She'll purchase what we need at the next village."
"Thank you for your assistance, Sameer," Katerin said. "I shall go over what we have."
Minkhat finally spoke. "Thanks, Sammie," he said with a wave and a sardonic grin.
The dwarf's eyes flashed in feigned anger. "That's Sameer to you, 'Minkie.'" With a final wave at the pair, he returned to the tent.
When he was far enough away, Katerin turned and glared at the man on the stool. "Why wouldn't you let me help him? He was obviously unsuited to the task; it would have been far easier to do it myself."
Holding his hands up and leaning backwards, Minkhat said, "Because he'd have been insufferable for the remainder of the day. And you," he continued, pointing at her, "would have made an enemy."
The brunette blinked, trying to comprehend. Finally, she murmured, "I don't understand."
"Obviously," the man muttered. At her sharp glance, he shook his head with a smile. "No, I mean no insult, Katerin." Warm brown eyes studied her. "You've not spent much time with commoners, have you?"
Swallowing, Katerin looked away, not wanting to give the man any more information than he could already discern.
"No matter. Let me tell you the way of it with people such as Sameer." Minkhat's eyes became unfocused with thought. "You spoke truly that he wasn't suited to the task at hand. But do you believe he'd enjoy being treated as a child his entire life? Would you?"
"What?" Surprise lit Katerin's eyes. I'd not thought of it in those terms. "Certainly not." She considered Sameer, how life would be for a commoner of that stature, how her life would have been in his place. To always be looked down upon as less, regardless of intelligence or skill - a tedious existence indeed. And to forever be denied the opportunity to prove myself…
Seeing comprehension, the swarthy man smiled. "You understand how he would be insufferable for the remainder of the day?"
The brunette grinned sheepishly. "Aye. I can."
"And how you've brightened his day considerably with your acceptance?"
"Again, aye." With a slight bow of her head, Katerin said, "Thank you for my lesson. I'll not forget it."
Minkhat raised an eyebrow, keenly studying her until he realized she was amused rather than annoyed. "You're welcome," he responded, nodding.
"Now, turn about on that stool and take off your shirt," the woman ordered in a matter-of-fact tone.
Obediently, he did as he was told.
From the welcome shade of her awning, Ros watched her troupe in the waning light
of afternoon. She'd long since removed her black over tunic, the pale blue shirt
sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neck lacings open. Her long legs were propped
up on the stool before her, feet crossed at the ankles, and she held a rolled
up parchment in one hand.
Supper was being served and her people were clustered about the central cookfire, chattering and laughing. Despite Minkhat's stubborn injury, it had been a decent rehearsal and merited cheerfulness. The dark man had reported that Katerin had been gentle and knowledgeable in her treatment of his shoulder.
Her hazel eyes lighted on the new arrivals, studying them. Ilia was still uneasy, she being the less gregarious of the two. The blonde's smile was hesitant, her movements gentle and understated. She seemed to have been a gangly youth, all elbows and feet, her adult form still awkward and clumsy from adolescence. Katerin, on the other hand, appeared to be dealing well with the heady mix of the performers, treating each with pleasantness.
Watching the brunette's face melt into a laugh at something said, Ros' lips twitched to match it. Aye, she's a beauty. I'll give her that. It's too bad she's… Shaking her tousled head, she banished the thought. Enough of that! You've got much more on your trencher to deal with.
Sighing, Ros considered her next step. She'd already begun with integrating the pair into her troupe, insuring that the score of people would insist they were from Aimsbury. Now, to get Ilia firmly established with the clowning and lute, to lend respectability to the lie with her obvious experience. Katerin was going to be tougher, though. Perhaps she'd allow her hair to be cut, to aid in her disguise.
Her stomach rumbled. Aye, perhaps. But not now. Slapping the rolled parchment against her leg, she dropped her feet from the stool and rose. With a negligent toss, the paper landed on a nearby table, unfurling to show a portrayal of a woman billowing fire from her mouth. Supper first, a night of enjoyment with my family. Tomorrow's another day and another show.
Ros left the shade beside her wagon, striding towards the fire and food, smiling and returning the calls of her friends.
It was dark when Katerin returned to the owner's wagon. She'd waited as long
as possible, drawing performers out in conversation as she attempted to stall.
That Ros had told her she'd be safe didn't help ease her heart. It was the obvious
weariness of her handmaiden, Ilia unwilling to leave her mistress' side, which
finally decided the brunette. With a gentle smile, she urged the blonde to bed,
walking her part of the way and watching until she was safely inside her wagon.
Katerin inhaled the night air deeply, turning to scan the encampment. She could see only Abdullah, a hulking beast who played the circus strong man, on first watch at the fire. He sang quietly, his voice a sweet alto that belied his size, as he poked at the fire. Everyone else had gone to bed.
Her dark eyes finally reached Ros' wagon and her heart thumped. The owner had left the fire long before and the wagon was dark. Katerin hadn't even seen the interior, not wanting to step foot inside when she'd had the opportunity earlier. Now, she'd be a stumbling fool. Probably trip and break something, she mused. A thought occurred to her, the worried expression on her face fading. "I'll just sleep out here on a chair."
Pleased with her idea, she stepped closer to the shadows of the awning. Katerin's eyes widened and she gasped in shock at the dark form seated there. "Ros!" Patting her chest, she said, "You scared ten years out of me."
"My apologies, lady," the blonde murmured, rising to her feet. "I have an unfortunate tendency to brood at night, as my friends will attest." She yawned, politely covering her mouth. "Are you ready to retire?"
Katerin swallowed nervously, her heart beating double time. She tried to stutter an answer, but her tongue betrayed her.
Amused, Ros raised an eyebrow. "Come with me, lady. I'll not ravish you yet."
The sardonic tone lit the brunette's anger. Before she knew it, she stepped forward to glare up at the older woman. "You'll not ravish me at all!"
A wicked smile grew on the owner's face. "True," she said with a nod. "Not until you ask it of me."
Gasping at the audacity, Katerin could only bluster at the woman's gall.
Ros, her smile turning genuine, wondered how many shades of red the smaller woman could turn. Perhaps if it was light out, I'd become truly informed. Rather than remain outside the entire night, she stepped closer to Katerin, towering over her, her face returning to seriousness. "I've told you, lady. I do not condone rape."
The words were ice water on her anger, leaving Katerin gaping in the aftermath.
Relaxing her aggressive stance, the owner stepped back, studying the shocked brunette before her. "Come, Katerin," she said, brushing past and opening the wagon door. "Bring your things and we'll find a place for them."
Left standing alone, the smaller
woman collected herself, anger and
uncertainty warring within. She could hear Ros rummaging about inside the wagon
and she shivered against the cool air. Moving to the table, she located the
sack she and Ilia had carried for so many fright filled leagues. Katerin sighed,
face somber, and squared her shoulders before approaching the wagon door.
The interior was lit, Ros having a hooded lantern within. Gathering her skirts, the brunette stepped up inside. It was cramped and cluttered, as was to be expected. On the right was a row of cupboards, spanning the length and height of the wall. To the left were the shuttered window, a small table and two chairs beneath it. The bed against the far end looked soft and comfortable, a quilted blanket decorating it.
Katerin's body ached for that bed, regardless of her situation. Just the sight of it made her bone deep weariness come to the fore and she could feel herself sway at the sudden rush of exhaustion.
Digging in the cupboards, Ros pulled a handful of items from one and stuffed them in another. "You can put your things here, Katerin," she said, stepping back in the cramped space to allow the smaller woman access.
Quelling her fear at the close proximity, the brunette slipped past Ros and stashed her bag within. She closed the cupboard quickly and spun around, not liking that her back was turned to the owner. At the blonde's knowing smile, she blushed but raised a challenging eyebrow.
Ros' smile widened and she gave a slight bow in acknowledgement. "If you'd like, I can step outside while you change for bed…?" she asked gallantly. Opening another cupboard, she pulled out an oversized shirt. "You can wear this until we've had time to outfit you." Not waiting for an answer, the owner turned and stepped out of the wagon, closing the door behind her.
Katerin blinked, holding the shift in one hand. She didn't know what to make of Ros - honest and honorable one moment, a cad the next. Sighing, she shook her head. Best get changed quickly then. No telling when she'll decide to pop back in here. The small woman turned her back to the door, lest her knight in shining armor decided to catch a peek of her attributes, and removed the blouse she'd borrowed from Lucinda. Pulling the shift over her head and smoothing it down, she could see that it dropped to mid thigh and felt a bit easier.
When she was finished changing, Katerin folded the clothing and looked about the wagon for a place to put it. Shrugging, she opened her cupboard and placed the items inside, adding her shoes to the pile. There was a knock at the door just as she closed the cupboard.
"Are you decent, lady?"
Swallowing against the familiar thrill of fear, the brunette nodded and called, "Aye, I am."
Ros stepped inside, eyes flickering over her charge. She noted the embarrassed blush but chose to ignore it. "If you'd like to get into bed…?" she asked, beginning to remove her overtunic. "You can sleep on either side, I've no preference."
The smaller woman paled as she turned to look at the bed. If she slept on the inside, against the wall, she'd be trapped. On the other hand, sleeping on the outside would mean that Ros would have to climb over her. Katerin chewed her upper lip in consternation. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the owner was naked from the waist up and untying the drawstring on her breeches. Gods! she exclaimed to herself, jumping into the bed and scooting as far away as possible. Does she have no modesty!?
Aware of the other woman's discomfort, Ros couldn't help but smile as she kicked off her boots and breeches. She paused long enough to blow out the lantern and open the shutters a bit before climbing under the covers herself. Sighing in pleasure, she stretched and settled comfortably on her back. Beside her, she could feel the waves of tension radiating from the other woman. "Good night, Katerin. May your dreams be sweet."
Dark eyes wide in the darkness,
the brunette listened to the fluttering
of her heart, Ros' nearness agitating her no end. "Good night," she
finally whispered. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the other woman moved
in the bed, quelling her fear when she realized that Ros was simply rolling
over onto her side. For some reason, having the owner's back to her helped her
to relax.
Despite the panic, her body eased into the mattress. Well fed and warm for the first time in days, weariness took over and Katerin drifted off to sleep.
Cold sweat, chattering teeth, thunder and jolt of hooves. Warning yell, clash
of metal, screams.
With a shuddering gasp Liam awoke, struggling to get to his feet. Sharp pain lanced through him, a strangled gasp forced from his over dry throat as he fell back, writhing in agony.
"By the gods! He's awake!" a voice exclaimed. There was a thump and assorted noises. "Get that witch in here!"
Uncertain of his fate or surroundings, Liam opened his eyes, relief flowing through him as he recognized the face above his. He tried to speak but nothing would come.
"Hush, my liege. You're as dry as sand. Be still while I get water."
Nodding weakly, he shut his eyes, hearing the trickle of liquid being poured. More noises, shuffling, and a hand was helping him partially sit, holding a wooden mug. Despite more pain, the water was ambrosia to his parched throat and he drank what little was given him with qreed.
"That's enough for now," Dominic said, pulling the cup away, "until the witch has a look at you. You've given Sim and I a scare, Majesty. I'd rather not take any chances."
Majesty? My liege? It took two tries before Liam was able to voice his question. "My brother?"
Dominic's face became somber. "No, Majesty. Of the royal family only you have survived. The rest of them have gone to the afterworld."
Before Liam could form a response there was more noise; a door opening, voices speaking low. Another hovered over him, face craggy and gray, toothless mouth drawn into an intent frown.
"How do ye feel, lad?" the old woman asked. She pulled back blankets to peer at his chest, ignoring the burst of protest from Dominic.
"Keep a civil tongue, witch! This is your king!"
Grimacing, the old woman glared at the interruption. "Nay. He's a lad and one that should count himself lucky to be breathing 't all."
Their squabbling made Liam's head ache and he raised his hand, shocked at how heavy it weiqhed. "Please, don't fight. It's all right, Dominic. She means no disrespect."
Dominic's eyes narrowed in
warning at the witch before softening as he looked at the teenager. "Aye,
Majesty. As you wish."
With much muttering, the woman examined her patient. Surprisingly, her touch
was gentle, causing little pain as she removed bandages from Liam's chest.
In an attempt to distract him, Dominic leaned closer. "You're a very lucky young man, my liege. Had the Invader's blade been a finger span off, you'd be in the afterworld, as well."
"How long has--" Gasping at the sudden sharp pain in his chest, Liam ground his teeth. "How long has it been?"
Dominic left off glaring at the witch to answer. Face saddened, he said, "Four days, Majesty. Your guard, Sim, was knocked unconscious and left for dead. When he woke, he found you still breathing."
Try as he might, Liam couldn't remember the cause of his pain. There had been war, his family fleeing the Invader. Shaking his head, he admitted, "I don't recall."
"And doubtful ye would, lad," the witch stated with a grin. "Ye'd been spitted like a pig for feast. If'n your man hadn't found me, ye'd be feedin' the ravens now." Finished with her ministrations, she laid a clean cloth over the wound. "Ye need to drink this, lad."
A stinking cup was held to his lips and he recoiled.
"Drink it, Majesty," Dominic urged. "Your kingdom needs you whole and hale." Watching the young man obey, Dominic smiled. "When you're well, we'll begin the task of returning you to your riqhtful place."
Prince Liam Dulce Caesar Alfric, heir to the Dulce throne, drifted off to sleep as Dominic held his hand.
Waking was a slow process, muscles languid from sleep. The urge to stretch too
much for her, Katerin followed her body's instruction. Sighing, she luxuriated
in the feel before cracking open dark eyes. Vague light filtered through the
cracked shutter, reminding her where she was, what had happened. Dread filled
her heart and she searched for the cause.
Ros was no where to be seen, the blankets on that side of the bed tossed to one side, a hollow on the pillow where she'd laid her head. Sounds from outside were heard - quiet movements of camp just awaking, low voices as people talked quietly while others slept.
Rising from bed, the brunette breathed a sigh of relief. You're being a ninny! Ros hasn't hurt you in any way. Katerin shook her head, moving to the shutters and peeking through the crack. She could see the circus owner by the fire, talking with some of her troupe, reaching out to tousle Wilm's head. It presented a very familial picture and a smile crossed the small woman's face as she watched. Cad or no, she has a wonderful way with her people.
Reminded of the owner's less than proper remarks and looks, Katerin stepped away from the window. "Time to get dressed," she murmured, "before Ros comes looking." She opened her cupboard and pulled out the borrowed clothing. In minutes, she was dressed, tucking the blouse into her skirt. The brunette looked back inside and removed her shoes and the sack.
Settling on the bed, she rummaged among her meager belongings and removed a brush. After several minutes, her hair appeared somewhat normal. She pulled it back, tying it into a knot before returning the brush to the sack. Katerin paused, fingers finding her doll within and caressing the flaxen hair. It had been silly, grabbing Isabella the night of the attack. Should have grabbed food. Or another weapon. Shaking her head, the brunette pushed away the need to cry, thumb running along a porcelain cheek. "Now's not the time," she said, clearing her throat against the knot.
Briskly, she closed the sack and returned it to the cupboard. Sniffing and blinking against stinging tears, Katerin slipped on her shoes and purposefully made her way to the door.
Sunlight had yet to make its way into the clearing, only the tops of the surrounding trees aglow. That hadn't stopped a good number of the performers from waking, however, and the clearing was abuzz with activity. A handful was around the fire, drinking tea and watching one of the men stirring something in a pot. Others were at their wagons, doing any number of odds and ends chores.
As Katerin made her way to Ilia's wagon, she received several calls of greeting. She smiled and waved in return, heart warmed by the honest welcome. Upon her arrival, she found her handmaiden throwing two balls in the air and concentrating on Gemma who was juggling three.
"Good morning, Ilia."
The blonde, startled, caught one ball but dropped the other as she whirled to curtsey. "Morning, Lady," she murmured, looking at the ground in deference.
Horrified, Katerin rushed forward. "Nay, nay, Ilia!" she said, grabbing the taller woman by the shoulders, forcing the bowed head to look at her. "You mustn't curtsey any longer or we'll never survive the coming weeks." She looked at Gemma, finding hazel eyes watching curiously.
"Of course, Katerin," Ilia responded, chagrined. She almost curtseyed once more but stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Lady!" she exclaimed, blushing.
Pulling the handmaiden into her arms, Katerin held her close. "Nay. You've no need to apologize. I surprised you." Feeling the need to gloss over the incident, she released Ilia and stepped back. "And what are you doing this fine morning?"
"Learning to juggle, though I fear I'm making a mess of things," the blonde said, ducking her head, face tinting.
Gemma shook her head vigorously, giving them a thumbs up signal. She held the three balls she'd been tossing about in one hand with a fair amount of ease as she stooped to pick up the one Ilia dropped. Tossing it to the woman, she again began juggling, nodding at the blonde to resume.
Katerin stepped back. "I believe Gemma thinks you're doing a fine job, Ilia," she soothed. "I'll go see about breakfast while you continue your lesson."
"Aye, lady," the handmaiden responded, already distracted as her eyes concentrated on the clown's movements. Her hands twitched in mirrored reaction before she began tossing her two balls back and forth.
Attention diverted from her, the brunette eased away lest she disturb the lesson once more. Looking about the clearing, she found there was really nowhere else to go but the fire. With a resigned sigh, Katerin approached the central gathering place of the circus, hoping the others would keep Ros distracted and deter further discourteous remarks.
"Good morning, Lady," the owner welcomed in smooth tones.
Perhaps it was only imagined, but Katerin thought she detected a note of mocking humor. Raising her chin in cool defiance, she said, "Good morning, Ros." Smiling at the others, she greeted them with a bit more warmth. That they appeared amused didn't faze her, aside from a slight blush.
The man who'd been stirring the pot waved a wooden spoon at her. "Would you like some breakfast, Katerin?"
"Very much, thank you…" She tried to recall the dark young man's name to no avail. Her eyes reflected her embarrassment as she stammered.
"Amar," he supplied with a chuckle. He scooped porridge into a bowl and handed it to her.
Accepting it, Katerin gave a small curtsey. "Thank you, Amar," she grinned.
"Eat well this morning, Katerin. We've a busy day ahead," Ros interrupted. To the others gathered, she asked, "Who has the midday meal today?"
"T'would be Gemma, if I don't miss my guess," Lucinda announced, looking up from a shirt she was mending.
Calling to the juggling woman, Ros said, "Remember, Gemma. We work today - make the meal light and easy to carry."
Gemma nodded, eyes never leaving the balls she juggled in her hands. Eyes begging the question, Katerin looked about the fire.
"We'll be eating afoot today," a woman with skin as dark as night explained. "Once breakfast is complete and we're preparing for our pageant, Gemma will fix our midday meal."
"Aye," a blond man agreed with a wink. "And we'll pack it with and eat when hungry until the show's over and our guests go back to their homes." He leaned forward with a ready smile. "Be sure to get plenty. It'll be a long day."
Ros interjected, "Of course, Cristof eats like he's never had enough. Which is why we make him last in line for meals." As everyone laughed, including the blond, she added, "Else there'd be nothing left for the rest of us."
Unable to help but laugh with the others, Katerin watched as the blond patted his belly, his skinny form contrasting the gluttonous look on his face.
Clapping her hands together, the owner gained the attention of her troupe. "Time to prepare!" she called, her voice reaching all in the clearing. "We leave at midday for the township of Hodsin down the road. Gemma, the fire's yours. Ilia, you'll need to stick close to Minkhat and Sameer for the remainder of the morning. Lucinda and Katerin, I need to speak with you at my wagon when you've finished eating." Rising from her stool, Ros smiled at her troupe. "Today we give our guests the best show ever!"
There was a rousing cheer as the clearing became industrious. Ros, her manner that of a proud and indulgent parent, watched over them a moment before striding to her wagon. Caught up in the excitement, the dark princess watched her go, mind puzzling over what motivated the owner.