Chapter 36
Kneeling on the mattress, Kassandra sighed heavily, watching through the thin slats of her window as another magnificent sunset torched the western sky.
The sun was a glowing orange ball, then a crescent, sinking beyond the distant plains, finally fading into the shimmering horizon, awash in startling hues of crimson, violet, and gold fire.
She had never seen such beauty, nor felt such piercing desolation.
She had counted ten sunsets so far, marking the passing of ten interminable days, each one taking her farther and farther from the man she loved.
Where was Stefan? What was he thinking at that moment?
Of her, perhaps, as she thought only of him?
The same questions had tormented her every hour, every minute, since she had awoken in this dingy cabin.
She had no relief from her questions, nor did she want any.
Strangely, they gave her hope amidst the despair that settled over her, a despair she continued to fight against, even as one day melted into the next, the numbing sameness of her routine broken only by her wretched meals and her afternoon walks upon the deck.
Kassandra leaned away from the window, settling on her haunches. She smiled, recalling the feeling of the wind in her hair that afternoon, her face lifted to the warm sun.
She had closed her eyes, for a moment nursing the illusion that she was free, free of Frederick, free of the boat and its leering crew, free of what lay ahead for her, free of everything.
Yet her reverie had been shattered at the sound of Frederick’s hated voice, telling her it was time to return to her cabin.
Kassandra shifted her legs and settled into the corner, drawing her knees up under her chin and arranging her plain cotton gown about her slippered feet. She rested her forehead on her arms, Frederick’s words coming back to haunt her like unbidden ghosts.
They were never far from her mind. She had gone over and over them, analyzing, debating, wondering, hoping to gain some spark of insight into her predicament.
Frederick had said little else to her since that first day, only inquiring after her health, so she had nothing new to go on.
It seemed he purposefully avoided her, except for escorting her to and from the deck, which was fine with her.
She wanted as little to do with him as possible.
She knew now they were traveling south along the Danube, passing through Hungary. Simple geography had told her that. As to their destination, she still had no clue.
She had also decided the strange series of accidents that had plagued her in Vienna must somehow have been related.
She could not forget the image of the dwarf’s face, staring out at her from the carriage, and the blurred visage looking down at her after she fell from her mare.
Were they one and same? Yet when she tried to imagine who might be at the center of this plot, she always drew a blank, the same questions tormenting her.
Who could hate her so that they would wish her dead?
She had wracked her mind anxiously, sorting through every memory for any slight she might have committed, any inadvertent insult, but there were none.
Her lips drew into a faint smile. The only person she had insulted time and again was Stefan. And to reward her, he had given her his love!
“Stefan…” she murmured, closing her eyes tightly, conjuring a vision of him in her mind.
She shivered, remembering his touch, his kiss, the stirring sensation of his piercing eyes upon her, his rugged features, his body so gloriously male…
Sweet Lord, she could not bear the thought that she might never see him again.
“If only I could escape,” she murmured, lifting her head.
Her door was constantly locked, the window totally impenetrable.
Frederick had taken the precaution of boarding it up still further on the outside, in case she might manage to break through the slats.
Whenever she was escorted from the cabin to the deck, she not only had him by her side, but two sailors as well, one posted in front of her and one following behind.
She had no more chance of escape than a nightingale in a cage.
Kassandra grimaced. Her only other recourse, her plan to make her captivity as difficult as possible for him, had gone awry on the second day.
She had refused her meals, railing and cursing at whoever entered her room to deliver them, on one occasion even dumping the disgusting contents of her bowl on the sailor’s head.
Her belligerent behavior had brought Frederick’s wrath down upon her more quickly than she had imagined.
He had threatened to suspend her meals for several days, which hardly caused her to blink.
Then he warned her that he would tie her hands and feet to her bed for the duration of the journey, to lie in her own filth if need be, if she did not curb her actions at once.
His threat had been so coldly uttered, she did not doubt for a moment he would act on his word.
She had immediately relented rather than face such degrading humiliation.
A key suddenly grated in the lock, startling her.
She slid to the edge of the mattress and leaned against the window, as far away from the door as she could possibly be within the confines of her cabin.
She held her breath as the scrawny sailor she had nicknamed Jack stepped through the door, bearing her supper tray.
He nodded to her, throwing her his usual crooked grin that reminded her more of a grimace, then turned his back to her while he set the tray on top of the armoire.
Kassandra’s gaze darted to the open doorway, the key still in the lock and no other guards in sight.
Seizing the unexpected opportunity, she sprang from the bed and rushed to the door, slamming it shut behind her and turning the key.
She barely heard the sailor’s startled cries of alarm as she raced down the empty hallway, blood pounding in her ears, and up the wooden stairs leading to the deck.
Darkness had fallen. The deck was lit by oil lanterns set here and there.
Several sailors were standing nearby, engrossed in low conversation, their backs to her, and she held her breath as she crept stealthily to the side of the boat.
She knew it would be only a matter of moments before Jack’s disappearance would arouse suspicion, if his howls for help hadn’t already.
She ducked her head, dodging rigging, and jumped over coiled ropes and piles of netting as she made her way quickly to the stern.
All the while her lips moved in fervent prayer, hoping against hope she had not been seen.
She was almost to the stern when she heard her name called out in Frederick’s commanding voice.
Kassandra’s heart skipped, but she paid him no heed, hoisting herself up on the railing and swinging her legs over the side.
She hesitated for an instant, staring down into the black river.
She knew it would be a long swim, but she had to chance it.
The alternative was too frightening to contemplate.
“Before you jump, Kassandra, you might consider what you’ll find upon reaching the shore. We are passing the homeland of the Tartars, have been all day.”
Kassandra froze at Frederick’s words. Tartars! She had heard stories of these wild tribesmen from Stefan. They fought alongside the Turks and were known for their ferocity and cruel bloodlust, rumored even to feast on raw horsemeat. She gripped the railing, indecision wracking her.
Frederick inched closer. “If you manage to reach the shore, without drowning from the undertow for which this river is legendary, let me tell you what will happen to you,” he murmured quietly, not taking his eyes from her.
“You may manage to evade them for a day, maybe longer, but eventually they will find you. They ride like centaurs, hardly a match for a young woman struggling through unknown terrain on foot.”
His voice grew to just above a whisper. “When they find you, Kassandra, despite your rare beauty, every man of that particular band will bed you, to sample the wares for which he will bid. If you survive such handling by ten or fifteen strong men, they will cast lots to see who will possess you. You will become a slave to be brutalized at a whim, worked or ridden to death before you see the year’s end.
” He stopped just a few feet from her, sensing her fright and uncertainty, a palpable presence between them. “Jump…if you dare.”
Kassandra’s blood froze in her veins at his taunt, and she quickly made up her mind.
Bastard. She would take the risk! Nothing could be worse than the fate he most likely planned for her! She closed her eyes and pushed off from the railing, screaming painfully as Frederick caught her by the hair and one shoulder, hoisting her back up and over the side of the boat.
She struggled and kicked, tears blurring her eyes as she flailed at him, striking him furiously with her fists, but to no avail.
He lifted her easily and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her cries and curses as he carried her back along the deck and down the wooden ladder to the cabins below.
He grunted in pain, one of her fists finding its mark along his ribs, but kept going, striding into her cabin and tossing her onto her bed.
Then he kicked the door shut and whirled to face her, his fair features twisted in rage.
Fear swelled within her and she edged away from him until she could go no farther, her back up against the wall.
He merely grabbed the hem of her skirt and dragged her toward him, catching her about her narrow waist. He brought her up against him so hard that the breath was wrenched from her body, and she gaped at him in stunned surprise.
“You have tried me sorely this night,” he said, his eyes searing into her widened gaze. “I tell you, I will not have it.” Suddenly his mouth crushed down on hers, his tongue forcing entry between her bruised lips. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast, his hands cruelly gripping her face.
Kassandra began choking, cries of protest caught in her throat. She struggled against him, his tongue filling her mouth, her body awash in fear and loathing. With all of her strength she brought up her hands and violently pulled his blond hair, then she raked her nails down his face.
Frederick sucked in his breath at the stinging sensation, tearing his lips away. He swiped his hand across his cheek, his eyes widening at the vivid blood staining his fingers.
“Bitch!” he yelled, striking her across the jaw. She fell onto the bed with a moan, her head reeling from the shock of his blow. Yet she forced back the blackness that was threatening to overwhelm her and leaned up on her elbows, her breasts heaving against her bodice and her eyes narrowed.
“If you come near me again, I swear I will kill myself,” she whispered vehemently. “Then you will have nothing to show for your pains.”
Frederick pretended he had not heard her threat.
“For this, you will remain in your cabin until we reach Belgrade,” he spat.
He turned abruptly, wiping his hand on his breeches, leaving bloody fingerprints, and pulled open the door to storm from the cabin.
He ground the key into the lock with a vengeance.
Kassandra dropped back onto the bed, staring blindly at the planked ceiling and the lamp, swinging back and forth, back and forth.
She could have cried, but she had already spent her tears. There was nothing inside her but a desolate emptiness, and one word searing into her mind.
Belgrade. So at last she had learned her destination, and she knew her fate was sealed.
Belgrade was in the hands of the Turks. God only knew what Frederick was planning to do with her there.