A Dog Among Princes

Chapter 27

Farnese let the scourge rest upon her back. She wiped away the excess blood and donned a loose cloth dress. When traveling she bathed in a slip to ensure that she would not be looked in on. The cloth stuck uncomfortably to her wounds, but it would not be a true penance if she felt no pain. She did deserve to do penance after all, she had lapsed in her duties. Farnese had allowed herself to be cowed by Princess Charlotte. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she found herself trusting what the young woman had to say. It had to be false, the heretics must have influenced her in some way, but yet Farnese wavered. She was disappointed in her lack of conviction. Hopefully this last round of lashes would go some distance in remedying that.

She was lucky they had decided to camp by a river for the day. Bathing was necessary for her after penance. It ensured that once her sin was excised by the lash she could then begin the path back towards purity. It also prevented infection. As she washed herself she thought she heard something move in the direction of the camp.

“I can hear you out there! Show yourself!” She swept her arm across the surface of the water as she turned around. Princess Charlotte stood there on the riverbank wrapped in a cloth. “Your majesty! I apologize for my rudeness.” Farnese offered a small bow.

“You bathe fully clothed?” She spoke in a small voice. Charlotte was rumored to be incredibly shy and reclusive, though it was also rumored she’d slowly begun to come out of her shell thanks to a secret courtship with one of her father’s knights. Farnese had found no evidence of such a scandal, but it was true she was far more resolute the other night than her demeanor now would suggest.

“It is for the purpose of modesty, my lady, in case someone should come upon me.”

“You would not ask your men to guard you while you bathed?” Charlotte shed her own cloth at the river bank before entering the water.

“I would not wish to provoke lustful thoughts among any of them.”

“That is not your responsibility.” She spoke with authority befitting a crown in her soft halting voice. “You are their commander, should they not respect you at all times, even if you should stand naked before them?” Something in the way she spoke was familiar to Farnese. It reminded her of bright blue eyes as cold and unyielding as stone. Surely not. The knight that she had secretly courted, it couldn’t have been that monster. A girl as gentle as she could not have found solace in a common soldier’s arms, much less a demon’s.

“Your manner of speech reminds me of another, your highness. These words you speak do not seem to truly be your own.” She regarded the Princess with suspicion. Perhaps she had been enchanted, much in the same way Farnese herself had so obviously been. Charlotte sighed and her face fell.

“No, they are not. They were words spoken to me by a man I once loved.”

“Once?” Farnesse pushed harder.

“He broke my heart. I still have a great deal of respect for him, I think he is very capable and intelligent, but it would have never worked out between us. Maybe one day when I’ve forgiven him we may become friends, I still believe he was a positive presence in my life, but for the moment, I do not wish to see him.”

Charlotte knew the question was meant to hurt her. To try and dredge up anything that could be used to tear down the complicated man she had once loved and his kindly subordinates who had come to save her. Though she had decided forgiveness was the most diplomatic option, that did not mean she held no resentment within her heart. If she was honest with herself, she did feel used. Griffith would have been willing to trap them both in a loveless marriage just so that he could share her crown. Regardless of her feelings towards him, or lack thereof, she still believed it an act of disrespect towards them both. Charlotte had come to realize Griffith would slit his stomach open and crawl face down through the mud if he believed it would grant him success. That was all well and good, but she disliked the idea that he would deceive her into doing the same. That said, she wasn’t telling Farnese any of that. She may have disliked him, but she didn’t want Griffith dead.

She knew Farnese, not personally but by reputation. The Vandimions were well known for their wealth and influence in Paneria, and Farnese was the one stain upon their honor. The demon child, the sadist who had tormented servants and even razed her family home to the ground before finding a home better suited to her temperament as a knight of the inquisition. Despite how she might seem now, almost comically demure and forced to wear her hair humiliatingly short, this girl was a murderer, worse, a torturer. Charlotte would not bend, would not break in the face of that. A red stain began to cloud the waters behind Farnese.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Ah this?” Farnese looked over her shoulder. She had begun to bleed through the thin fabric of her dress. Hm, perhaps she should have wrapped it before bathing. On second thought, maybe not. The wound would not be sufficiently cleansed if she had. “It is of no consequence. I did penance before I came here.”

“May I see? You came with us under the auspices of acting as a protector, it would not do if your wounds were to worsen or become infected.” Well they were both women. Farnese supposed it was alright if she removed her dress briefly. She probably ought to try and remove the blood from her dress before it dried anyway.

Angry red lashes were torn into the inquisitor’s back. Charlotte was shocked that Farnese had the fortitude to speak to her so calmly with such wounds. The scars that crisscrossed her back underneath the wounds currently open told her that she likely often had to. She impulsively reached out to touch one of the lashes. Farnese hissed in pain as her finger touched the open wound. Somehow, despite knowing who she was and what she aimed to do, Charlotte felt sorry for her. These scars were a mark of self punishment. Clearly even demons wept in private. “You intended to ride tonight like this?”

“I do not see why not.” An odd tone had entered her voice. Charlotte could not identify exactly what it was.

“If you truly wish to insert yourself as my protector, though I will stress that I am already in far more capable hands, I ask that you take your penance in some other way. You are a knight are you not? You must not weaken yourself like this.” Farnese turned to face her.

“This does not weaken me, it sharpens my focus. It lays clear my path and gives me the resolve to do what I must.”

“You have made no slight, at least in my presence, that warranted such harsh punishment.”

“I did not kill the witch you insist upon protecting when given the chance.”

“So then the pain does not grant you resolve, it blinds you, keeping you on the path you’ve already decided is the correct one regardless of the truth.”

“You are the one who has been blinded. You allow your feelings to hide the truth from you.”

“I see clearly.” Charlotte felt her lip begin to tremble and quickly bit it to steel herself. “If anything, my feelings have unclouded my sight.” She wasn’t sure if she could believe that Griffith was a good person. He wasn’t a monster, but he wasn’t a kind man either. However, she knew Casca was a good person. Even after everything, she had put her life on the line to come rescue her. It was only in her doubt and misery that she had finally realized that.

Farnese found herself wracked with guilt. She was slipping once again, believing the words of the Princess rather than what she knew to be true. Worse still, she had felt something stir within her when Charlotte touched her back. Inflicting pain was an exercise of her faith, it was right that she should feel a certain ecstasy in devotion. What she should not have felt was the same warmth curling within her when the princess lay her finger upon her wounds. Though she intended to obey Charlotte’s request to take penance without the lash, she would have to beg forgiveness for her unnecessary feelings when she’d finished her bath. Perhaps if she prayed until nightfall that would be enough. She heard a noise in the bushes and quickly pulled her dress back on. She held out her arm shielding Charlotte from view.

“Hello? Is there anyone there?”

She’d been gone too long. Casca had allowed Charlotte her privacy while bathing, and instead had devoted her time to staring down the holy chain knights present, practically begging them to give her a reason to pull out her sword. But it had been almost half an hour. Now she was beginning to get worried. She asked Judeau to keep an eye out and stalked off to the river bank.

There was no sign of her. Fuck! Casca paced back and forth on the muddy bank. Alright alright think. Two sets of footprints without shoes, at least four with. They had horses, whoever they were and they were headed East. If Casca remembered correctly there was a small town around there. Quite a few of the men there were soldiers. Soldiers in peaceful times meant bandits. She ran back to camp, quickly saddled her horse, and took off. This could get ugly.

“How much coin you figure we’ll get for the two of ‘em.”

“Don’t know about the little one, but the blond one is with the chains ain’t she? The Holy See ought to have pretty deep coffers for ransoms.”

“Nothing personal girls,” a third voice added. “We just need the coin right now.” Charlotte was blindfolded. She couldn’t see her captors but she had identified four distinct voices. They had been kind enough to provide her a cloak to provide her more modestly than the cloth she’d wrapped around herself. That was a good sign. They were not entirely without compassion. Charlotte had been coached on what to do in such a situation. It was less vital for her to know how to deal with kidnappers than it was for young knights, they had to concern themselves with rival warriors holding them for ransom after all, but she understood the basics. Keep calm, talk about yourself to humanize yourself to your captors but don’t reveal too much about who you are, don’t antagonize them, and wait for help. Farnese did not seem to have been similarly trained. Charlotte could hear her thrashing around on the horse next to her.

“Calm down girl, we’ll let you go once we get the gold.” Charlotte heard a thump and Farnese yelped in surprise. Hopefully Casca would find them before she did something rash.

Casca’s instincts had been right, the tracks stopped at the village she remembered. It looked locked down tight, the gates were shut and guards in rusted helmets waited upon the village walls. She tied her horse up in the surrounding woods. It would be best to remain undetected for the moment. If she needed to return to their encampment for reinforcements she would rather the bandits here remained unaware of her presence. At first she just waited and watched the guards, but after about fifteen minutes she realized they were oddly still. She found a tree tall enough to see over the top of the wall and began to climb. When Casca reached the higher branches and looked at the battlements again, she realized neither of the guards had legs. They both stood on a single wooden post. Scarecrows. Whoever was there desperately wanted people to believe there were more people within the community than there were. She could see the tops of houses over the wall but not much more. A few roofs looked partially burned or otherwise damaged. So this was likely a crime of desperation.

Mercenary outfits often kidnapped any soldier in full plate they could find. Full coverage meant they had money, which also meant their family might pay a premium to have them back. Griffith was an oddity in that he preferred to just kill his enemies. That might’ve been part of the reason he was just as feared and hated by the nobility as he was respected. He was a force that their wealth and influence couldn’t save them from, and that was fucking terrifying. It disrupted the whole system. The sons of lords weren’t supposed to die in battle, that was the fate of peasant infantry and hedge knights. However, the Grim Reaper didn’t care about class, and neither did his soldiers. If you held a sword against them you were food for the crows.

Casca climbed down. They were short on men and desperate for cash. A dozen fully armed knights might’ve been too much for her alone, but a bunch of desperate bandits? This she could manage herself.

“I don’t like this.” An older voice said. Farnese was still blindfolded and gagged.

“Think of the money! We need this right now,” A second voice begged.

“I still don’t like it. Taking a nun for ransom, I don’t know, it feels like a sin.”

“Remember she’s an inquisitor. Her sins pile far higher than our own.” A third voice offered.

“And what about the other girl? You’ve got no earthly idea who she is!”

“Well I feel like I recognize ‘er from somewhere,” the second voice replied.

“You feel like you recognize her?! You kidnapped her because you felt like you recognized her?”

“Alright I’m sure I recognize ‘er.” The second voice retorted.

“She does seem familiar.” The third added. Farnese scratched at her bonds.

“And do you have a plan to actually receive a ransom for them both?”

“Well when the knights accompanyin’ ‘em show up lookin’ for ‘em we’ll give ‘em our demands.” The second voice said.

“They’ll tear us apart!”

“They’re a bunch o’ rich kids in fancy armor. They won’t get past the fuckin’ scarecrows,” The second voice bragged.

“There were only about a dozen or so of them, we have the numbers to repel them provided we keep our distance,” came the third voice’s considered response. The older one took a deep breath.

“You said you saw three others when you were out hunting.”

“Yeah, two men an’ a woman.”

“…The woman, what did she look like?” The older voice asked quietly.

“I don’t really see how that matters,” said the third voice.

“Just tell me! What did she look like!?” The older one shouted, suddenly sounding frantic.

“She had short hair an’ dark skin, beyond that I couldn’t make much out.”

“Are you certain?!”

“Yes I’m certain, whatcha shoutin’ for?”

“It looks like her certainly, but they’ve been out of action for more than a year now. It couldn’t be her.” The third voice added.

“Who’re we talkin’ about?”

“Casca, the right hand woman of the Band of the Hawk. Theodric wrote about her.” The older one said. “She was a better swordsman than most of the men he knew.”

“Theodric didn’t know a fuckin’ sword from his own cock.”

“Don’t speak ill of the dead.” The third voice interrupted.

“Oh, right, sorry, boss.”

“Carl mentioned her too,” the third voice continued. “He said she was good to work with. When the band was in charge, less of them tended to die than under the other outfits.”

“Guess that’s as much of an endorsement as you could get from ‘im.” The second one let out a small sad laugh.

“Regardless, I reiterate, it likely isn’t her.”

“And if it is, you know we’d all be doomed.”

“If it is, as things stand, we would not have survived the winter anyway. I would rather be put to the sword and get it over with than starve.” The third one said with finality.

“You were free to make that decision for yourself, but it was selfish to decide that for the rest of us.”

“A chance at death is still better than the inevitability of it. I still stand by my decision.”

“Well before we’re killed we might as well see who we’re dying for.” The older one sighed and removed Farnese’s gag and blind fold. She blinked as the bright light hit her eyes. Before her stood an elderly woman, deep worry lines worn into her face and her silver hair tied into a bun. Also in this run down house stood a severe looking woman with dark hair and grey eyes. She stood with her arms crossed and her piercing eyes trained on Farnese. The third was a younger woman with close cropped brown hair, her skin tanned and freckled and her hands callused. She sat backwards in her chair, a simple bow strapped to her back. “Alright, sister, would you be so kind as to tell us who this girl accompanying you is?” Charlotte, very subtly, shook her head no.

“She is my handmaiden,” Farnese lied.

“Aren’t ya nuns supposed to swear off yer worldly possessions or something?” The blond one cocked her head. “Seems awful rich for somebody who’s supposed to take a vow o’ poverty.”

“She has been my companion from youth, when I entered the sisterhood, she followed me out of loyalty.” Swapping out Serpico for Charlotte was easier than making up a lie off the top of her head.

“Well if you’ve known her for so long, then I imagine it would not be difficult for you to supply us with her name.” The dark haired woman’s piercing eyes narrowed.

“Carlotta.” Farnese held the woman’s gaze.

“Well, we might still get some decent coin from the rich girl at least.” The blond one flopped over the back of her chair.

Casca managed to sneak inside the village no problem. There were a few small patrols, but none that spotted her. Strangely it seemed that they were made up entirely of women. Some of them held babies in slings or were followed by teenage girls or young children. She didn’t see any boys older than fifteen among them. A communal farm lay barren and a small forge extinguished. Casca stole towards the largest building in the small town. The sounds of an argument bled through the thin walls.

“There are children to consider!”

“I ask you again, would you prefer they starve to death?”

“I would prefer that we didn’t bring violent death upon ourselves.”

“Ya didn’t answer her question, boss.” Casca peered in through an open window. Farnese glared hatefully at her captors while Charlotte remained still and silent. Looking around warily. She noticed Casca looking and gestured towards the door with her bound hands. It was unbarred. Casca briefly looked around to see if anyone was coming. Before running to the front of the building and ducking inside.

“Excuse me, I asked that we weren’t to be disturbed.” The older woman said. Casca turned to face them.

“Shit!” The blond one hurriedly tried to string her bow and the dark haired one grabbed her spear from where it was resting against the wall. Farnese strained to try and see who it was while Charlotte sat still and stone faced.

“I’m not here to fight. I would just like to get my charges back.”

“Unfortunately we’re unable to do that.” The older woman spoke calmly and authoritatively, in contrast to how she’d argued before. She was the one in charge here.

“I understand your situation is desperate, I’m willing to negotiate terms for their release.”

“You can have the brown haired girl but the holy woman stays with us.” The dark haired woman tightened her grip on her spear. “I imagine she’s worth far more than your means can provide in ransom.” So they hadn’t discovered Charlotte’s identity. Good, that would make things easier.

“How much would you need to keep afloat,” Casca asked.

“Well our crops failed an’ only a few of us know how to ply a trade, so quite a bit. If ya got enough to keep a village full o’ kids fed a whole winter we can talk, but if ya don’t we’ll be waitin’ on the Holy See’s response.” The archer folded her arms. They were relatively close to the border at this point. Casca might be able to swing something.

“How about this, if you let both of them go, I promise to not only compensate you with whatever gold I have on hand, but to also send enough grain to keep you fed through the winter.”

“Don’t toy with us.” The severe looking dark haired woman narrowed her eyes.

“I swear upon my honor I will. Hold on.” She began to remove her armor. It was new, well made, a piece made to reflect her stature as a knight. “You can even have my armor as collateral. I guarantee it will sell well.” The older woman gestured for the dark haired woman to examine it.

“Your husband was the town smith, is she telling the truth?” She examined the workmanship, nodding in appreciation at the acid etched details.

“In all likelihood a piece like this could sell for about a year’s earnings. More if we had documentation of who it belonged to and the occasion for which it was made.”

“I would be glad to supply it.”

“Alright, we’d be amenable to the trade.” The elderly woman nodded. “Provided we are given a guarantee of our safety.”

“I promise my men will not retaliate against you.” Casca nudged Farnese.

“The same goes for me as well.”

“Thank you.” The old woman bowed her head.

“Ey, uh, I don’t mean to be rude but could ya also gimme my cloak back before ya go?” The archer asked. Charlotte looked to Casca. She handed the princess her own cloak before handing the archer’s back to her. Charlotte quickly but nonchalantly put up the hood and then wrapped it around herself as if she was simply cold. Clever girl. She was still making sure her identity wasn’t discovered. Casca escorted both to the door.

“Why did you pay the ransom?” Farnese didn’t look Casca in the eyes as they walked back to the encampment.

“I didn’t want to fight them. They were just victims of the war, not trained warriors.” Casca looked straight ahead in turn, giving the girl space for the sake of her pride.

“You could have left with Charlotte, she’s the one you came here for.”

“It wouldn’t be the right thing to do. You’re just a kid. You should be under my protection just as much as she is.” Despite her better judgement screaming at her that the knight was lying. Farnese couldn’t help but believe her. Charlotte reached out to hold her hand.

“Thank you for your help concealing my identity. They may have discovered me without you.” A warm feeling spread from their point of contact into Farnese’s chest. She would have to consider this later during her prayerful contemplation.