Chapter Three #2

opened, and Lara went quiet as the captain walked in, nodding to

her and Sophie as he strolled over to the chests at the foot of the

bed. She lowered her voice. “Why would he do that?”

“He said he wanted to be

there when the man came to.”

Lara glanced over at the captain, who

was rummaging through the chest that held his clothes. “No doubt to

get the man’s account of what he will say happened

first.”

“What did happen,

Lara?”

“I went to the stables to

wait for you. The soldier, Fulrad, must have already been there,

sleeping his drunk off in an empty stall, because I never saw or

heard him until he was right behind me.”

Sophie’s brows knitted together. “What

were you so distracted by that you let a drunkard sneak up on you

and catch you unawares?”

Lara shrugged for an

answer.

“Where was

Wolf?”

“Outside, begging treats

from Berta.”

Sophie pressed her lips together and

shook her head, her way of chastising Lara for not waiting for

Wolf, for walking into the stables alone when there were twenty

strange men about. For doing exactly what Sophie had taught her not

to do her whole life. “Couldn’t you have called out for

help?”

“I asked him to leave me

be.” Lara leaned in close. “But he wouldn’t heed me. He was drunk

and determined to have his way. I tried to get around him, to get

away, but he grabbed me and pulled me down into the straw. I fought

him and managed to get back up, and I stepped on his knee.” A

shiver ran down her spine at the crunch of knee giving way beneath

her foot, the snap of bone breaking. “He screamed, and Wolf came

running in and took him by the throat. I was afraid Wolf had killed

him, and I panicked. I ran.” She glanced at the captain, who had

pulled a pair of leather breeches from the chest and was inspecting

them. “The captain chased us down and brought us back

here.”

She sat back, expecting to get an

earful from Sophie on how she had once again acted rashly and

gotten herself into a mess for it. Sophie let out a long, slow

sigh.

“I saw this soldier, this

Fulrad, lying drunk on a bench outside the stables when we rode

in,” she said. “I saw him ogling you then and didn’t say anything.

I should’ve warned you to keep an eye out for him. I’m getting

old.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “My sixth sense is

slipping.”

“Your eyes are still hawk

sharp, Tante. I too saw him outside the stables when we rode in,

but not inside the stables, not until he was on me.”

Sophie nodded and patted Lara’s hand

on the table, then she narrowed her eyes at the captain sitting on

the edge of the bed, lacing the breeches he’d pulled from the

chest. “What does the captain plan to do about it?”

“He’s determined to be a

good soldier and follow the king’s law to the letter, which means

he intends to take me before the count, next Mallus.”

“Before Nithard?” Sophie

hissed.

“Yes.”

“We must get you free of

this place,” Sophie whispered in the cleric’s Latin, the language

they used when they didn’t wish to be understood by others. A

language Sophie had been taught by nuns, and Lara had learned from

Sophie. “Get you to the Hollow until this troop packs up and

leaves.” She took in Lara’s torn, dirt-stained gown. “Perhaps

Ber—the cook could offer to escort you to the bathing house.

There’s a window to the river’s side if I remember

right.”

“You remember right,” Lara

answered in kind.

Sophie squeezed Lara’s hand. “I’ll

speak with the cook on my way out. You ask the captain for a

bath.”

Lara took her first full breath in

almost a day, smelling fresh air and freedom. The captain folded

the breeches and put them back in the chest, seemingly oblivious to

their whispers.

“He’s neat,” Sophie

said.

Lara nodded.

“And handsome.”

Lara shrugged.

“And spellbound by a goat

herder with the longest, tannest legs a man ever laid eyes on, I’m

told, who sliced his hand with her dagger in the river the day

before yesterday.”

Lara swallowed, hard.

“By all the saints, of

which I should be one—” Sophie’s look scolded. “—you’ve met the man

twice in two days and have left him bleeding both times, and you

wounded and likely crippled one of his men.”

“I only protected myself

against his drunkard of a man, whose injuries are a result of his

own actions,” Lara said in her defense. “And though I did slice his

hand the first time, it was the brambles that made the captain

bleed the second time.”

“Aye, while chasing you

down.” Sophie looked long and hard at the captain, who was now

rummaging through the other chest. “You be careful, Lara. There’s

more to him than meets the eye.”

Lara scoffed. “He’s a man like any

other,” she said, knowing she was lying as she said it. He was a

man like no other she’d ever met, handsome without being vain, neat

without being prissy, a warrior who could’ve easily killed Wolf,

yet chose to only lay him out, then carried him half a league back

to the keep. A jailer who could’ve forced himself on her, yet had

slept on the floor and offered her the bed. “I can take care of him

as well as any other man.”

“As well as you took care

of the count’s son?” Sophie challenged.

“I thought I took care of

him quite well.”

A loud slam made Lara jump in her

seat, and she turned to see the captain scowling at them from his

closed chest. He strode over to the table.

“I have business to attend

elsewhere,” he told them. “And I’m tired of your whisperings. So….”

He addressed Sophie. “Your visit is over, madam.” He looked to

Lara. “If you have any requests, ask them now.”

“Let me go?” Lara gave him

her most ingenuous smile, and it was hard to tell which was louder:

his snort or Sophie’s tsk.

“I meant personal

belongings,” he said. “Clothes, necessities, that sort of

thing.”

“Wolf could use an outing,

he isn’t trained to a chamber pot as well as I,” she said, and the

corners of the captain’s full mouth twitched up and then clamped

back down. She smoothed her dirty hands down her tattered skirt. “I

could use a bath.”

He stared hard at her with those steel

gray eyes of his, then dipped his head. “I’ll make

arrangements.”

***

Lara stopped her pacing at the sound

of voices beyond the door. The outside bolt was thrown open and she

stood back as Wolf came bounding in, looking none the worse for

yesterday, followed by the captain and two men carrying a wooden

bathing tub. The captain directed the men to set the tub in an

empty corner of the chamber, then proceeded to pull the draperies

down from around the bed while two more men, each lugging a heavy

wooden post nailed into a base, set them at an angle and tied a

rope from one post to the other. The captain hung the drapes across

the rope as Berta bustled in with Lara’s blanket from home and set

it down on the bed. Berta waved her over as she unfolded the

blanket to reveal Lara’s nightshift, a clean tunic and skirt, her

best gown of dusty blue linen, her brush and comb, and a bar of her

favorite rose-scented soap.

Lara ruffled Wolf’s ears. “So that’s

what took you so long.” Sophie must’ve gone home and packed up her

belongings.

“The captain,” Berta

whispered to Lara. “He told Sophie you weren’t leaving this chamber

until Mallus. And then only under armed guard.”

“Hmmph.” Lara glared at

the captain’s broad back as he opened and closed the newly hung

drapes. “We’ll simply have to think of something else.”

Berta said nothing, though her pursed

lips spoke plenty.

“What?” Lara snapped. “You

don’t think I can outsmart an oafish soldier?”

Again, Berta said nothing, and Lara

swept up her blanket and belongings and strode over to the hearth

and plopped down on Wolf’s pelts, where she watched as house

servants carried buckets of steaming water and poured them into the

tub. The two men who’d carried the posts in came back with a cot

piled with bed linens they set against the far wall by the newly

made bath chamber as the house servants returned with more buckets

of steaming water for the tub. At a look from the captain, Berta

shooed everyone out. He stood before Lara, who sat back on the

pelts and glared at him.

“God’s blood,” he

muttered. “It’s akin to treeing a…” He stopped and held her angry

gaze for a moment before clearing his throat. “A hot bath and soft

bed are luxuries I’ve come to appreciate after years on the march.

Enjoy yours while you’re here.”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.