Authors: ID Johnson
The face was a familiar one, the same redhead she had seen in the castle just the day before yesterday. Katey’s eyes widened with recognition and she was actually happy to see a familiar face.
Rose found her reaction almost comical, but it worked to her advantage. Let the princess think they were friends. What harm could it do? “Listen,” she whispered, “I know how uncomfortable you must be without any clothes. I just don’t feel it is right that a member of the royal family should have to go, uh, nude. So, Your Majesty, will you please allow me to give you my dress? I will gladly wear the robe on your behalf.” Katey was startled at such an act of kindness. She really didn’t know how to react. She was moved by this unselfishness but she didn’t feel right taking the young woman’s clothing.
Rose didn’t give her the opportunity to say no, however. Before Katey could even respond, Rose was undressing. Almost everyone else was asleep, the male guards were
nowhere to be seen, so Katey felt like she could probably manage to switch clothing without too much detection. Rose, on the other hand was stark naked beside her and seemed to care little who saw. Eventually, the two women were able to switch clothing. Katey made a gesture to Rose, hoping she knew it meant, “Thank you.” Rose smiled in return, placing her arm around Katey and snuggling her head into the crook of her neck.
“No, thank you,” she thought as the princess began to doze off again.
Now, she just needed a way to get that ring off of Katey’s finger.
***
There was not a lot the Clovington army did right in the battle to save Castle Blackthorn. However, as Noel explored the castle, attempting to find the opening to the tunnels drawn on the map, he discovered there was one thing they had done correctly. There was but one stairwell that led down to the catacombs. Somehow, the remnants of Philip’s army had managed to collapse the supports, causing the floor above the opening to cave in, cutting Noel and his men off from the entrance to the tunnel system. Now, the Arterian forces would not be able to simply navigate the tunnels until they discovered which one Matthew had taken, where it let out, and, hopefully, the location of the king. Perhaps Philip had a bit of intelligence after all. This was certainly going to hold Noel up and prevent them from the most efficient way of finding Matthew.
***
It was the same dream he had every night for the last six months. Only the ending was different. He was back in Castle Ringley, back with his beautiful wife Maggie. Even if he had not dreamt of that evening more than a hundred times, he would still remember every detail.
They knew that the Clovington forces were advancing. Plans for their escape had begun. But, they felt that they had time. And Beatrice was not ready to flee.
They were also aware that Philip had infiltrated the castle. It was the only way he could have so closely anticipated their every move. It wasn’t until that night, at dinner, that they realized the identity of the infiltrator
. They knew that this was quite possibly one of the last meals they would have here, at least for a very long time. Their head chef, Berkley, whom had been preparing meals for the royal family since Maggie was a little girl insisted on making the queen’s very favorite dish, roasted lamb chops. It just happened to be Beatrice’s favorite as well and they all sat down to enjoy a feast together.
As they had finished their appetizers, Maggie was concluding one of her hilarious anecdotes. She had a way of making him laugh like no one else could.
As the main course was served, Matthew was attempting to regain his composure, laughing so hard he felt like his side would split.
And so, he did not try the lamb when the women did.
And he did not begin convulsing immediately.
He did not foam at the mouth or cough up blood. His eyes did not roll back into his head. He did not lose consciousness. He did not die a horrible, painful death beneath the dining room table.
But his mother-in-law and his wife, his beautiful, precious wife did.
He remembered that split-second before the full realization of what was happening sunk in. That moment when he wasn’t sure if she was still laughing or choking, or something else. He went back to that moment often, trying to dissect it, to manipulate it, to change it or to prevent the next events from ever happening. But as much as he dwelled in that moment, there was no stopping the march of time.
He had called her name, a question at first, and then a demand. Though he could see Beatrice struggling next to him, he had to choose whom to run to and it had to be his wife. He sprinted around the table, catching her as she tumbled out of her chair. By the time he had reached her, she was spewing blood, white flecks of foam dripping from her mouth. Her eyes, those beautiful emerald green eyes, had rolled so far back into her head that he could no longer see any color but white.
As he held her,
screaming her name and begging her to stay with him, he began to call for help. There were servants near-by, one of them was holding Beatrice’s head on her lap and crying. He thought he saw one duck out of the room and he had hoped that it was to fetch the physician.
Just then, there was a loud
noise and a barrage of soldiers filled the room. He realized very quickly what was happening. They wore Clovington uniforms. It wasn’t a large force. Clearly, they had either been given access to one of the tunnels beneath the castle or they had been let in.
H
e also saw Berkley, huddled against the wall near the corner, shaking. He could tell by the expression on his wrinkled face that he was to blame, that he had committed these murders and that he had done it on purpose.
Philips men might take him, but he would not go quietly and he was going to make sure that Berkley paid a steep price for his betrayal. Just as the first soldier reached him, Matthew gently released Maggie’s head, laying it back to the floor. He was quite sure she
had already drawn her last breath. He stood, dodging a blow from the first attacker. With a quick step to his right, he was able to swing around behind the soldier, evading him and the man behind him. Berkley seemed frozen in fear against the wall. “You bastard!” he yelled, drawing his dagger from its sheath and stabbing him in the neck. Though he was grabbed from behind and dragged from the room, at least he was able to see Berkley fall to the ground in a pool of blood. Though knowing his wife’s murderer had paid the ultimate price for his sin brought little satisfaction. It could not bring Maggie back. Nothing could do that.
Ultimately, it was Philip who was responsible for Maggie’s death and he was still alive, which meant that Matthew’s work was not yet done.
Last night’s dream had been much the same as every other night. He would reach the point where he cradled Maggie’s head in his arms, shouting her name, pleading with her not to go, and then he would be violently shaken awake, the sound of his own screams bringing him back to reality. In his dreams, he never had the satisfaction of killing Berkley, nor did he ever have the chance to tell her good-bye, which was an echo of reality.
But last night was different. Just as he had dreamt that Maggie’s eyes had flown open the night that he had solidified his plans to escape
, his newfound freedom allowed another variation in the dream. This time, as Maggie’s emerald green eyes had flashed open, he sat back, staring at her in disbelieve. The blood was gone. The blue hue of her skin had subsided and she was the same creamy-white she had always been. Her head was resting on his lap and, no longer were they sitting on the floor beneath the dining table. Instead, they were in a rolling meadow, Castle Caine in full-view in the distance. She was wearing a snow-white dress and she was laughing.
“Maggie,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly might make her fade away, “You’re here. You’re alive!”
“She reached her hand up and gently caressed his cheek. “Matty,” she replied, oh how he had missed hearing her say his nickname, “I’ve always been here. I’m not dead.”
When he awoke, he was still sitting in the tunnel, her laughter ringing in his ears. As real as the dream had seemed, it was nothing more than a dream. Maggie was dead. He had seen her die. But at least, with the freedom of escaping Philip’s clutches, he was once again at liberty to dream happy dreams.
Matthew had spent most of the day hunkered down in the tunnel, listening intently to the noises of the forest around him. For most of the morning, he could hear the beating of hooves, some in the distance, some close by. He wanted to make sure it was safe before he attempted to open the rusty grate so he waited until the sun was setting, thinking he would have a better chance at evading any enemy forces nearby under cover of darkness. Though he also had to consider that Caleb and his army might be beginning to withdraw from the region, making it more difficult for him to reach assistance. Nevertheless, waiting seemed the lesser of two evils and so he tried to rest the best he could in the uncomfortable and apprehensive situation.
Toward late afternoon, he decided it was time to try his hand. He listened intently for several moments, hearing nothing but the chatter of some forest creatures and the cries of some
birds overhead.
Clearly the tunnel had been closed tight for quite some time. Removing the
latticed cover was not an easy job and it took Matthew several minutes. Luckily, he still had the knife that Angel had given him and he was able to use it to work the most rusty pieces loose. Finally, after much work, he removed the cover and then paused, making sure that there was no one near-by. Hearing nothing alarming, he hoisted himself up, straining to maneuver his shoulders through, keep his balance, and pull himself out all at the same time. With one final heave, he twisted his hips through the opening and found himself, at last, a free man.
He was able to see from the direction of the
sunset, which way he needed to go in order to head back to Arteria. However, he felt like the tunnel was much longer than he and Angel had estimated. Granted, some of the extra time had been spent finding ways to wedge himself through narrow or partially blocked sections of the tunnel. Some areas had also contained anywhere from a few inches to several feet of water. He was hopeful it was either rainwater or runoff from a swollen creek, but the smell was evidence that, at least some of it, may have been from another source. He had dismissed those ideas and pressed on. Thankful that, though the tunnel was narrow and hard going, at least he was able to perceiver and find his way, at last, out of Castle Blackthorn.
He was very
grateful he had not tried to bring a horse.
Breathing in the fresh air of the forest and stretching the cramped muscles in his back and shoulders, he surveyed the area. It appeared he was in more of a thicket than a forest. He could actually see a clearing in the distance, the same direction he believed he needed to go. His knowledge of the northwest region of Clovington was limited but he was quite sure the heavier forests lay to the south and east. If he could not reach Arterian forces by the time he reached the Lowetian Forest, it would be difficult getting through the swampy expanse by himself. In the meantime, he should be walking out of a hilly area, known for it’s rocky terrain, with scattered trees and not as much cover as he would like. He was glad that the clothing Angel had brought him was a dark green tunic with brown trousers, which would make it a little easier to blend in, should he need to hide. He also had a long brown
cloak, which would protect against the cooler night air, should he be forced to spend the night out in the open.
One thing was certain
, he could trust no one. The citizens of Clovington were not his friends. It was because of him that their kingdom had been invaded and now they were left with no ruler, no kingdom, and no hope. Many of them had most likely lost family members as well. They may have lost their homes and their livelihood. No, he would trust no man, unless he was wearing an Arterian uniform and even then he would need to be cautious. Running across a frightened sentry in the dark was a pretty good way to find a sword in one’s gullet.
He walked on, proceeding with caution, listening for any noise that seemed out of place, pressing forward, toward Arteria, and hopefully, his awaiting Angel.
***
To the west, an angry queen began to prepare her own forces. She had avoided conflict these last
fifteen years, her entire reign, believing negotiation and compromise were always better suited to achieving one’s political goals. However, word of the Arterian domination over Clovington had spread quickly, leaving her with several unanswered questions, such as: What was the current state of affairs with her soon-to-be ally? Was Leopold preparing his army to battle Arteria and if so was her kingdom also threatened? However, the most important question that she demanded to have answered immediately regarded the location of her sister. Where was Princess Katherine?
Upon receiving word of the fall of Castle Blackthorn, Nichole had sent a rider to Leopold to ascertain if Philip had arrived safely and if Katherine were with him. That had been yesterday mor
ning and now, a day later, she had yet to receive a response. It should be any moment now. If Katherine had been harmed, there were at least three kings, perhaps four, who would soon feel the wrath of Queen Nichole.