The Crimson Castle (2 page)

She joined Sir Gabriel, who was already mounted and waiting. He took
scant notice of her as they mutely began their journey and Evelyn, knowing that
this may be her last look at
Beldersert
, took one
final glance before heading on to an uncertain future.

Travelling for some hours, they still had several more to go and Evelyn
grew weary and sore. The journey was not a necessarily long one, there being
only some thirty miles between
Beldersert
and
Etone
, Lord
Tibald’s
demesne. She
loved to ride but was rarely given the opportunity since duties had left her
little leisure time. As her father’s health had declined she had taken on more
responsibility until the care of
Beldesert
had been
entirely in her hands.        

Initially she was thrilled at the welcoming sight of the forest edge,
the verdant greenery beckoning. The shadowy fissures between the trunks,
instead of appearing foreboding, drew her in. The fragrant damp earth
transported her back to memories of childhood freedom and happy times spent out
of doors.

Now, however, exhaustion diminished her enjoyment of their ride and
apprehension had begun to inch through her, her brazen confidence sapped by her
protector’s taciturn attitude. They had already stopped once to give the horses
a drink from the nearby stream and Evelyn was loath to ask for another. Her
pride stopped her for one – she didn’t wish to appear weak – but more than
that, she didn’t want to be forced into stilted conversation. They were both
aware he was leading her into unfavourable circumstances and any attempts to
breach his stony façade were met with limited tolerance.

She watched his proud, shadowy back shift easily upon his horse. He
possessed the broad shoulders of a warrior and something in his eyes suggested
to her that he was no stranger to battle. Evelyn was not wholly uncomfortable
around the male of the species and took pride in talking with men as an equal,
whether they thought her so or not, but Gabriel’s brooding temperament and
disdainful stare caused her to become self-conscious and her usual air of
superiority vanished. They approached what appeared to be a bundle of rags
further along the dirt path. Gabriel motioned to her to move aside and he
placed a hand upon the pommel of his sword. Drawing closer, she realised it was
a pair of beggars hunched over the figure of a woman, her rough clothing
merging with the vegetation.

Initially assuming they were doing her harm, she opened her mouth to
shout to Gabriel to intervene, but she swiftly realised they were tending to
her ills. They eyed Gabriel cautiously as he made to usher Evelyn past but, as
she did so, the man turned yellow eyes towards her, his ragged hair and filthy
face in much the same state as his attire.

“Milady, pray help, I beg thee.”

Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity and she paused for a
moment, hesitant.

Gabriel noticed this and motioned her to move on. “Lady Evelyn, pray,
continue.”

The peasant looked up beseechingly. “If ye have some drink, I’m sure ‘
twould
rouse her…”  

Evelyn’s charitable nature took over and she moved to get off her
horse. 

“Evelyn…” Gabriel warned, forgetting propriety. “Evelyn!
Nay!”

She ignored him and grabbed her drinking flask with a cold look
extended towards him. His hand remained cupped on the hilt of his sword as he
jumped from his horse, ready to move into action if necessary but unwilling to
force her to remount.

The two men moved aside so she could help the woman. Evelyn lifted her
head and tipped some drink into her mouth. The woman coughed and spluttered,
slowly opening her eyes. As Evelyn smiled reassuringly at the peasant, Gabriel
yelled out from behind her and a strong arm circled her neck, yanking her
roughly to her feet. 

The beggar’s pungent smell clouded her senses momentarily until the
feel of a blade pressed into her side registered. His tunic’s rough wool chafed
her neck and she shuddered involuntarily as his breath hissed in her
ear.  

Gabriel stood, sword drawn, eyeing the knife pressed to her side. The
terrifying ferocity in his eyes did little to alarm the ragged group. The
woman, now fully recovered, scrambled to her feet and raided Evelyn’s
belongings, while the second male beggar kept an eye Gabriel as he angled his
own small dagger at him.

Evelyn wriggled, trying to free herself from his constricting grip as
his clothes rasped against her. Evelyn’s captor pressed the dagger into her
side, its point piercing underneath the thick cloth of her cloak and through
the fine fabric of her gown causing her to yelp.     

Her sound of anguish spurred Gabriel into action. Before she had drawn
another breath, he had flung his dagger into the neck of the man holding Evelyn
captive, missing her by a whisker. She screamed as a heavy mist of blood pumped
from his neck, splattering her face and clothes, and the beggar buckled,
clutching at his neck. Evelyn watched on in horror as he gurgled and choked in
the dirt. He stilled, sallow eyes wide open.

Stupefied, she was only vaguely aware of Gabriel’s next actions. With
one swift movement he lunged at the other man, running him through with his
sword, shock now permanently ingrained on the beggar’s face as he sagged to the
ground. Withdrawing his sword, Gabriel turned to the female peasant, now frozen
in fear, and approached her aggressively; bearing over her with such savagery
that Evelyn was sure there would be further slaughter.

“Go - or you too will feel the point of my blade,” he growled at her.

She squealed, dropped Evelyn’s belongings and ran off into the forest.
His blade followed her progress, the threat of the point remaining.

Evelyn watched, still frozen in terror. He swung back around and
pointed the bloodied sword tip at her. She jerked in fright and stared at the
dripping tip, then at the man holding it. Aggression and anger coursed through
him, clearly visible upon his face, and for a moment she feared for her fate at
the end of his sword.

“I propose you heed my advice from now on, my lady,” he spat. “There
need not have been bloodshed this day.”

She nodded mutely, eyes still fixed upon the end of his sword, her
breath rapid. He noted this and regretted scaring her, but his rage had got the
better of him. He sheathed it slowly, regarding her shivering state, observing
the blood spatters marring her striking fairness in a gruesome manner. In an
uncommon act of compassion he placed his hand on her arm, awkwardly trying to
reassure her. She wiped her face and paled at the sight of blood on her fingers.

He motioned towards the stream running alongside the path and led her
down to it.  “Clean yourself up here.”

She nodded and gratefully washed her face and hands in the water. Her
long, fair hair was streaked with red and she crouched to rinse it out, trying
to control her shaking. Evelyn was no stranger to death, but she had never
before been at risk of it, and such violence was rarely seen in
Beldesert
.

Gabriel glanced at her as he rinsed the blood off his own hands. The
light highlighted the soft waves from behind as she bent to rinse her hair,
giving him cause to stop and watch.  His breath caught and, collecting
himself, he smirked. Even blood splattered she was one of the most beautiful
women he had ever seen. 

Evelyn possessed the delicate
features and porcelain skin of someone who had been sheltered from the
hardships of life.  Truly the contrast of his own dark looks, Gabriel
understood what an imposing figure he cut, and often used it to his advantage,
but he felt an uncommon sense of remorse at frightening her and he wished he
was more able to play the role of the chivalrous knight.

***

A few more hours passed and they arrived at
Etone
Castle, the remainder of the journey having continued uneventfully. If she had
thought Sir Gabriel reticent before, she was wholeheartedly convinced of his
cold nature by the end of their journey. His blazing eyes gave the only
indication of acknowledgement of her, flicking across her every now and then.
His anger was still evident as he clutched at his reigns, but she attempted to
fortify herself against his cold stares, bringing her chin up brazenly. She
hoped he did not notice her fear, for the forest had lost all appeal and now
each shadow gave her cause to jump.

The castle loomed before them as they approached it via a causeway.
Built of local stone, the great red structure towered over the surrounding
countryside. The four towers of the square keep stood proud and helmeted heads
could be seen dotted along the walls. A vast mere glistened to the left of the
causeway and a moat surrounded the fortress, encircling it until it met with
the other side of the causeway.

Passing through the outer gates of the curtain wall Evelyn was struck
by the disquiet that hung in the air. In spite of the jumble of buildings surrounding
the castle, there was not the buzz of activity that she had expected.
Beldersert
, by comparison, was always bustling with
movement. Villeins watched them with suspicion, their quiet chatter not quite
reaching her ears.

 As they worked their way through the narrow streets, Evelyn noted
the small signs hanging from various dwellings indicating their profession,
along with a gathering of market stalls spread out through the wider
streets.  It was still a far cry from the exciting experience that she had
anticipated upon seeing the vastness of
Tibald’s
domain.

  As Gabriel led them past the guard house, Evelyn was filled with
trepidation. Ahead of her the keep towered over the landscape, imposing and
dark; its stone a scorching crimson under the dwindling light, a foreboding
notion of what was to come.  She felt as if she were entering the
underworld, led by the devil himself, never to return. She wondered if she was
being overly dramatic but the grim faces of the peasants and guards did little
to dispel this notion.

After the stable hand took her horse, showing little interest in her
bloodied attire, Gabriel escorted her into the castle. As he went to find a
maid, Evelyn studied the entranceway to the keep. It was luxuriously appointed
- carved oak furniture, great twisted candelabras and immense tapestries all
spoke of the inhabitants’ wealth.

She studied the tapestry in front of her with a morbid curiosity. It
depicted a great battle - knights on horseback trampling across skewered bodies
whilst injured men crawled across the dirt, clutching at comrades legs, begging
for aid. Misgiving shivered through her and she was grateful to be interrupted
by Sir Gabriel and a young serving girl, whose eyes widened upon viewing
Evelyn’s attire.

“Mary will help you clean and change. I will inform Lord
Tibald
of your arrival. He will be awaiting you in the
Great Hall.”

Gabriel gave a quick nod to Evelyn, turned on his heel and strode in
the direction of what Evelyn assumed must be the hall. She watched him leave,
surprised at her sudden feeling of loneliness. Was she so much in want of
company that a man with such little civility, and a temper to match was her
best option?

Mary, a slight girl, with a fair but simple face, gave Evelyn a shy
smile and silently led her to one of the bedroom chambers. Given the
extravagant nature of the décor, she was surprised at the sparseness of the
chambers, contradictory to the luxury she had seen thus far.  A small fire
had already been lit in the grate but the room still made her shudder. A small,
plain chest sat in one corner for her belongings and the bed, whilst curtained,
looked old and disused. Mayhap Lord
Tibald
intended
to crush her into submission to him by way of neglect. Well, she thought to
herself, it would take a little more than a few dank tapestries.

With the help of Mary, Evelyn was soon washed and changed into a
sumptuous gown, deep red in colour. Rather incompatible with her current
surroundings, but more suited to the elegance of the entrance of the castle.
The long pendant sleeves were embellished with gold and a lavish girdle to
match was slung low across her hips, emphasising her trim waist. Mary fastened
her hair into an elaborate plait, threading a gold ribbon through it.

Having brought only a small amount of her own belongings she had been
gladdened to find an opulent selection of gowns awaiting her. It vexed her
slightly to imagine the hand of Lord
Tibald
picking
them out, but she reasoned that it was more likely a servant had done so, and
Evelyn was glad to shed her bloodied gown and the memories of their journey.

She was ushered into the main hall where she was presented to Lord
Tibald
. The Great Hall was a far cry from her lodgings with
its vaulted ceilings and colourful décor. A minstrel’s gallery spanned the top
and stone pillars ran down either side, not unlike that of the aisle of a
church. Although Evelyn had attended many a gathering with her father in halls
much like these, this one had to be the grandest that she had ever stepped foot
in. A large fire crackled to one side and tapestries hung gaily on the walls to
ward off the cold.  Tallow candles jutted out from the walls, impaled upon
iron spikes and candelabras sat throughout.

Trying, and failing, to keep the awe from her face, she turned her
attention to the lord of this keep. Perched atop a grandly carved chair upon a
raised dais, she noted that he was more handsome than she had expected. She had
thought he would have a sinister air to him and anticipated him to have a dark
colouring to match his blackened reputation.  Something more like Sir
Gabriel, she mused.

He stood at his lord’s side, a detached look on his face, a far cry
from the thunderous look she had experienced on their journey. He had also
changed out of his armour. It should have softened him, but somehow he didn’t
look any less dangerous.