Rueben emerged then, holding three loaves of bread and a large lump of cheese, hardly enough to feed two people for a week. He had taken as much as he could without sentencing the inhabitants to death, and yet Arabella could not help eyeing it sadly. The small takings meant they would be going hungry again. Rueben handed one of the loaves to her and they slowly walked back up the trail to the group, leaving the sleeping, frost covered town behind them.
***
Braelyn sat cross legged on the hard ground, cooking a small rabbit that she had caught whilst hunting with Jareth and Theodore. They used a primitive form of hunting, stunning the rabbit with a rock and cutting its throat before it had a chance to awaken, as they did not have access to bows and arrows. In reality she knew the catch was more down to luck than any instinctive hunting skill, but Jareth and Theodore had been so impressed she did not argue when they praised her. She turned the stick, which the meat was impaled on, over so the meat was cooked thoroughly. Beside her Theodore was slicing the bread and cheese they had stolen from the town with a small pocket knife. Arabella and Rueben were scoping the town again to see if they could steal more supplies; Wynn and Griffin were fetching more firewood.
Braelyn stoked the fire, content just to watch the dried leaves drift into the air from the heat, spiralling off into the night. Jareth watched her with fascination, she wasn’t classically beautiful; her eyes were wide and her cheeks always rosy, too often he had seen beautiful girls forced into the whorehouses, used and admired in equal measures purely for their beauty. They broke in those conditions, but he could tell instantly that Braelyn would never break.
A loud crash interrupted the silence; they looked up, then down at the pile of logs had been thrown in front of them. Wynn was dusting her hands as Griffin threw more logs onto the fire.
“Rabbit?” Griffin asked happily, the smell wafting pleasantly around the camp. Braelyn nodded as she stoked the fire and felt comforted by Griffin’s warm and thankful smile. The silence stretched comfortably between them as they waited for the meat to cook. Each had their own thoughts to deal with...
A small distance away Arabella stopped by the stream that flowed by their camp. They had found only a few more loaves of bread and Arabella had been loathed to search further and spend any more time with Rueben. She had tried to send him back but he insisted on accompanying her and now as she washed her face slowly in the stream he watched her. The cold water was both pleasant and uncomfortable against her skin, and she splashed it onto her face ambivalently. She was free to bathe and relax, or relax as much as she could with Rueben insisting on following her. Rueben could not help but stare at her, Arabella listened to his thoughts angrily, he thought she looked like a dream, kneeling over a glistening stream with the moonlight dancing on her face from the reflection of the water. The trees surrounding them seemed to cut them from the world. Rueben’s heart beat faster once more and it was as though his mind was not his own.
Arabella allowed her hair to fall over her face, separating her from Rueben. His thoughts had grown increasingly alarming and she knew now was the time to talk to him, she opened her mouth to speak when Rueben interrupted her.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
Arabella stood up and turned her head to look at him; her brown eyes searching his face. He let her search; he would have sacrificed himself for one more moment in her eyes.
Arabella smiled weakly and walked over to him, “Rueben, I must... remind you again that a weak willed man is most susceptible to me. I thank you for the compliment, and I am deeply flattered but you must understand that my heart will never belong to another. You need to fight these feelings of ‘love’ for they are nothing but magic.”
“You do not understand –”
“I understand perfectly well Rueben, I hear everything you think and feel everything you feel, what you are experiencing is not love, it is a mockery of the emotion. It is a defence that Gypsy women have, that moment of weakness in a man is all we need to defend ourselves, you have fallen for it and you need to fight it. We can never be.”
Rueben faltered, unsure how to react. He knelt down to wash his face and felt tears prickle uncontrollably at the rejection. The world seemed to stop; nothing existed save his desire for Arabella. He could not quite see how far his feelings for her had changed. It had been a gradual thing, noticing her beauty day to day, but the raid had opened his eyes to exactly how exotic, mystical and completely unattainable she really was. He swallowed past a lump in his throat; he had opened his heart and she had stabbed it.
“Let’s go back,” Arabella said quickly, hearing Rueben thoughts and feeling his desire for her. Rueben followed her obediently, his head swimming with the rejection and the need to love Arabella. Arabella was silent as they walked, but her face changed swiftly from pity to anger as she sensed and felt Rueben’s changing emotions.
The group looked up when Arabella and Rueben returned, Wynn kept her eyes lowered and focused on feeding the fire. Arabella sat next to Griffin. Rueben sat slowly down opposite her watching her every move. She sat silently, her arm innocently brushing Griffin’s as she helped stoke the fire. Rueben picked up a twig and snapped it in anger. Why was Griffin near Arabella? Rueben fed the fire with a few more logs to fill the silence and try to ebb his anger.
“Arabella I just wanted to...” Wynn began, turning to face her.
“Save your breath,” Arabella interrupted, ending the conversation. Wynn sighed and watched as Braelyn took the meat from the fire and began cutting it with Theodore’s pocket knife. The silence stretched painfully between them as they ate. Wynn could not help ponder how different they all were, and yet they were stuck here, hiding in the forest, refugees, wanted by the kingdom. If they were caught all would feel the force of the army. The females would most likely be forced into a brothel, and the men murdered.
Griffin finished his meal and threw the plate down indifferently onto the leaves, followed by Jareth and Theodore. Rueben ate his meal slowly, watching Arabella, anger clawed his stomach and his heart ached.
“Griffin,” Arabella said softly, her eyes flickering from Rueben to the fire, “Can you come with me while I search for some more firewood, we can talk?”
Rueben’s mind clouded and his anger turned into hatred. He could not control himself; his world was confusing and painful, “Why are you talking to him!?” He yelled suddenly, throwing his plate down, it smashed dramatically on the stones beneath him.
Arabella raised her eyebrows, and turned back to Griffin. Rueben clenched his fists, “Well, you dirty witch?” He screamed, demanding an answer.
Arabella sighed, “I told you I didn’t feel the same way Rueben, my heart is mine and mine alone.”
The group watched the pair, transfixed. Griffin scowled at Rueben knowing then what Arabella had wanted to talk to him about. Rueben was weak and had fallen for Arabella, despite her rejection, despite every single warning. Magic had bewitched him and he was too far gone to fight it.
“But I love you,” Rueben said softly. The forest bristled in the wind, Rueben’s hair whipped his face, and tears stung on his cheeks.
Arabella shook her head, “You do not know the meaning of the word. Save your breath and clear your mind. You were warned countless times that weak and naive men are susceptible to my magic.”
Rueben stared at her, raising his hand unconsciously, looking for all the world as if he was going to strike her, but instead he turned on his heel and stormed off into the night. His thoughts and emotions were confused and hard to read, Arabella tried in vain to decipher them but nothing was concrete and she certainly found nothing dangerous, she dismissed it. When Griffin was sure Rueben was out of earshot he turned to Arabella.
“You had nothing to do with this?”
Arabella’s eyes widened, “That is why I wanted to talk to you, to warn you, Griffin I am cold, and I am a killer, but I would not break a heart that does not deserve to be broken.”
Wynn felt a stab of pain as Arabella thought of a painful memory, a faint picture painted itself before Wynn’s eyes. Arabella crying, her hands held out before her, the figure of a man walking away in the distance. The sensation quickly disappeared and Wynn breathed an unconscious sigh of relief, uncomfortable that something so personal had been revealed to her. Arabella’s eyes snapped to Wynn as she in turn felt the pain that her memory had caused Wynn. It was an uncomfortable and awkward stream of information. Griffin stood up and helped Arabella with him; they picked up the rest of the plates and took them to the stream.
“I fear what Rueben will do,” Griffin said slowly to Arabella as they bent over the water, using a stone to scour away any remaining food. Arabella knelt down beside him and was silent for a long moment, thinking.
“I sensed no threatening urges or thoughts,” she responded softly, “I think what we saw was nothing more than a wounded ego. Truly Griffin, what’s the worst that can happen?”
***
Bryon opened his eyes blearily to find his hands tied painfully behind him. His body was strapped to a chair and as he looked around him he realised he was surrounded by the army. The smell of mead and sweat was heavy on the air and Byron knew exactly where he was, he had been there throughout his childhood and now it held nothing but painful memories for him. Woodstone's tavern, the meeting place of the army; he breathed a sigh of relief that he was not far from the Manor. From the darkness of the tavern it was clear that night had fallen across the town, the only light came from the faint dazzle of the moon. In the silver light the General circled him, egged on silently by his men, their faces contorted in a fever of bloodlust and contempt. Byron's face felt heavy and bruised.
He knew he only had a few moments to clear his head and ready himself before the General turned on him again. He struggled past the haze trying desperately to see clearly. He ached but it was bearable, and he focused on that, he was not dead.
Yet
, he corrected himself, he had no idea what the General's plan was, he had to remind himself he was at the disadvantage, it would not be easy to escape.
“Where is she?” The General hissed, brandishing a dagger in the air, forcing Byron to focus. He lowered his eyes but refused to answer, clenching his jaw as though the General would prise it open in search for an answer. The General waited, his eyes blazing in anger. Byron remembered in flashes what had happened only a few short hours ago, the General and his men had raided the Manor soon after Wynn had left. They seemed surprised to find the Master, dead and sprawled in between the rubble of the broken wall in what transpired to be Wynn’s bedroom. This had made Byron assume that they had not raided the Manor in search of the murderer, but were there for an entirely different reason, a reason they had had to put on hold to deal with their Master’s demise. Every servant was questioned, but when they found out Wynn had vanished, the blame fell resolutely on her.
It didn’t matter that there was no way Wynn could possibly have killed the Master, an able bodied man, and created such devastation in the basement. Once they learned she was missing, it was all they could talk about and demand about. Byron knew then that something was wrong, but every servant had recalled him entering the kitchen looking suspicious, just after the breach of security alarm was raised and he was taken in for questioning. The blows which rained in after that were all he could remember before waking up in the tavern.
Byron had not gone without a fight, and as he sat before the General it pleased him to see a bruise appearing under the General’s eye where he had managed to punch him before he was knocked out.
The General began to pace, in irritation, but Byron’s jaw stayed firm. He did not know why he was defending Wynn; he should have told the army what he knew and left them to get on with it. But he knew he wouldn’t, it was not just that he knew the Master had had a less than respectful desire for Wynn, rendering any harm that had befallen him justified in Byron’s eyes, it was the fact that Wynn was so fragile. If she had killed the Master, he would be glad. No one man deserved death more that he had. And so Byron respected her more than anyone he had ever met and as he sat on the cold hard chair, ropes cutting into his skin, he vowed he would protect her.
“Don’t you dare ignore me boy!” The General screamed, punching Byron hard around the face. Byron’s head swung around, and he felt his teeth bite down hard on his tongue. He swirled his mouth around, then leant over and spat out blood. The soldiers stationed around the wall sniggered at Byron’s bleeding mouth, but most bristled with anticipation, for none defied the General and remained unscathed.
“Sir?” A voice called out from the door.
The General spun round to look at the man who had entered the tavern, his fists still clenched, “What?”
“We’ve found her, Sir,” the soldier replied, idiotically mimicking the General’s smirk. The General signalled and a boy was pushed roughly into the tavern.
“Who are you?” The General snapped impatiently.
The boy bristled but stood his ground, he raised his head triumphantly, as though he was proud, “Someone who has been affected by the person you seek.”
“Where is she boy?”
The boy sneered then, and his face contorted evilly, “In Lumber forest, cavorting with a Gypsy and other refugees wanted by the state.”
The General barked with laughter and slapped the boy on the back, wrapping his arm around his shoulders in a mock display of affection. The boy smiled at the attention and pushed his blonde mop of hair from his eyes. Byron’s heart sank as he watched the boy and the General leave the tavern, Wynn would be captured and there was nothing he could do.
Turning around to look at his men, the boy still in his embrace, the General’s eyes narrowed, “Go get her; and do what you wish with him.”
The soldiers rubbed their hands, some spitting on their palms in preparation. Byron closed his eyes as his body took the onslaught of punches and kicks. His head hung and he spat as blood poured from his broken nose and cut face into his mouth. Wynn clouded his mind and he prayed she would survive.