Looking like a cluster of stars that had fallen to earth, Ricksham sat on the far side of Ricksvale from the ridge where Dafied and Ulrich were camped. Dafied had explained that they should arrive in the garrison town just in time for lunch the next day.
Ulrich could not sleep, as he had not been able to on the two nights since they had left Twofords, so he sat watching the distant lights as he tried to stop thinking about Idela. Could she still be alive? It was only a few days’ journey from Twofords to the pit at Denholme, and how long after that before she was given to the Dragon? Having spent three days travelling to Ricksham, Ulrich estimated they had a week at most to put a troop together, march to the village of Longhorn in Lahbland, fight for the dragonblade and then get to Denholme, before Idela was killed. He despaired; there was just not enough time, he reckoned that it would take a month to finish the mission the king had sent them on.
Ulrich had also been thinking about his hidden sister. Where was she and how old? Ulrich thought back as far as he could. He could not recall another baby in the house, so she must have been born before he was. If his father was unaware of the girl, she must be a bastard, born before his mother and father had met. Ulrich found this shocking that his mother should have made a baby with a man other than his father, and out of wedlock.
His parents had married two and a half years before he was born and he was told the story of his father’s introduction to his maternal grandparents three months before the wedding, making his sister at least nineteen years old. He had tried to get Dafied to talk about his mother’s childhood as they rode along, but he would only give advice on surviving battles. Normally Ulrich would have devoured this sort of talk, but he was so pent-up with questions he wanted to ask about his mysterious sibling.
He would not have many opportunities to press his uncle further when they were in Ricksham. As soon as he could, his uncle would leave him to call on the pretty lady he had brought with him on leave two years earlier. Eloise was her name and Ulrich blushed as he remembered the crush he had developed for her. His father did nothing to discourage him, which his mother found bothersome, especially as the two women enjoyed each other’s company. He could remember his mother trying to get Dafied to ask Eloise to marry him.
Who else knew about his sister? If he asked the wrong person, he might put her in danger of being forfeit; any girl hidden from the Selector would be automatically sent for sacrifice if discovered. Before the war, parents who had daughters and could afford it, would send them to be brought up in Lahbland. If his sister had been sent there and now that Lahbland had been conquered, she would be in danger again.
***
Miriam’s worries grew; as promised Galien kept her away from the pit, and so she had no idea until she entered the pit whether both victims had been killed. This morning, the fourth morning in a row, a double sacrifice took place. She had learned from Galien previously these only took place on holy days and then the Dragon usually killed both victims leaving all their remains behind. Galien did not know how to explain the disappearance of the second victim each day and her temper was getting very short. Miriam watched the impatient woman pace up and down the antechamber to the pit as they awaited the cleanup party.
‘How can we find out what is happening to these women?’ Galien said. ‘Maybe those outside know what is going on and someone in the next group will have heard something.’
The cleanup party arrived and Miriam was surprised to see Tilla amongst them.
‘Is it clear?’ the leader of the party asked Galien. She was tall and had dark, almost black hair. Her eyes were a deep brown that appeared almost as dark as her hair.
‘Yes Cecilia, you can open up,’ Galien replied.
The tall woman unbarred the heavy door to the pit and led the party out. As they made their way across the pit floor Miriam moved over to Tilla.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Fine,’ Tilla replied, ‘I’m trying to find a way out of here.’
‘Be careful,’ Miriam said and looked about to see if anyone was listening.
‘I will, but what about you. There are rumours in the corps that you are Galien’s new favourite.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘They say she always has a favourite, the last one was Sela.’
‘Oh,’ Miriam said as she recalled the girl who had been killed when she had first experienced a sacrifice.
‘The corps-women have been saying that you are only ever seen in her company, but those who know her say that she prefers blonde girls.’
‘I’ve got more freedom now. I have to be on the terrace when it is open and I think I can wonder about the citadel but not the Harem.’
‘I’m not allowed back in there either. You have to earn Galien’s trust before she lets you. That is why I’m not going to rush into an escape but earn as many privileges as possible and gain access to all parts of the building.’
‘You haven’t done this job before?’ Miriam asked.
‘No,’ Tilla replied.
‘I had better warn you, it is not pleasant.’
The victim’s remains were found beside the pyramid of limestone blocks near the three posts. Again, there were only the remains of a single victim and everyone kept a discreet distance from Galien during the walk back to the citadel.
The heavy oak door slammed shut and was barred, before the party relaxed. Miriam noticed that Galien had already left without insisting that she follow her.
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said to Tilla.
They followed a route new to Miriam, but she knew it headed in the direction of the kitchens. When they arrived at their destination, Miriam did not think that they were in an area where food was prepared. It was a large room with a high ceiling, from which chains hung. Miriam realised that these were the first metal objects of any consequence she had seen in the citadel.
To one side stood a large stone cistern filled with clear water. The floor sloped slightly away from the door and was criss-crossed by channels chiselled into it. At its lowest point at the far end of the room was a small opening through which Miriam could see daylight. It was about two feet wide and a foot and a half high; the channels converged at this opening. She looked at Tilla and sensed that she was thinking the same thing.
‘Don’t go straight over there,’ Miriam whispered to her companion, ‘look around first.’
To their right was a large double door almost as big as the gates to the Citadel.
‘Don’t dawdle,’ Cecilia barked at them.
Neither Miriam nor Tilla had been carrying anything, but they walked over to the other women to keep Cecilia happy. The three women carrying the victim’s remains moved towards the opening at the far end of the room. The first woman emptied the bucket containing the victim’s entrails, next were the bones and on top, covering the bloody mess, were piled the remnants of the victim’s clothes. The women looked expectantly at Tilla. Who turned to Cecilia for guidance.
‘Push ‘em out,’ Cecilia commanded.
Miriam opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself speaking. Horrified at the lack of any lasts words or even a prayer for the victim’s soul, Miriam realised that no one knew or seemed to care about who the remains belonged to. Maybe some would inwardly offer a thought to the gods, as she intended to do.
‘How?’ Tilla asked.
‘There’s a shovel over there,’ Cecilia replied and nodded towards the cistern.
Tilla ran across, picked up the wooden shovel, and returned to the grisly heap. She handed it to Miriam who then pushed the pile through the opening. The remains disappeared over the lip on the far side soundlessly.
The door through which they had entered opened and a heavy middle-aged woman entered the room, her hair a mass of unruly grey curls. She was one of the few corps-women Miriam had seen not wearing leather armour. In fact, she wore very little, a bloodied leather apron and a grubby cotton loincloth.
‘Good morning to you Maud,’ Cecilia greeted the newcomer.
‘I hope you’re not making a mess of my butchery,’ Maud replied. She turned towards Miriam, the tools of her trade jangling around the belt of her apron. ‘You get a bucket of water and sluice the floor.’
Miriam ran to the woman holding the empty entrails buckets.
‘Not one of those, get a clean one,’ Maud bellowed, ‘do you want to poison us all.’
Miriam changed direction and sprinted to the cistern. She quickly located a bucket and dipped it into the cold water. She moved as fast as she could back to Tilla. She found Cecilia leading the other members of the party out of the room. Miriam realised that Maud must be one of Galien’s most trusted aides.
Between them, Miriam and Tilla flushed the last traces of the victim through the drain. Miriam took the broom and knelt down on the pretext of cleaning out anything that might have been left in the drain itself. Beyond she saw bright sunshine on a rock face some yards away.
From the distance they had travelled to get here, she reckoned that the drain opened out onto the moat, and the big double doors in the butchery led to the gatehouse. Miriam thought, the Selector’s men must drive the herds of cattle across the drawbridge and into the gatehouse. They could also act as pack animals to bring in other supplies, such as fruit and vegetables. Maud and her assistants, Miriam assumed the butcher would need some, would then bring the animals in here and slaughter them. The chains would be for hanging the carcases from whilst they were butchered.
‘I know what you are thinking,’ Maud’s voice came from behind them.
Miriam and Tilla spun round guiltily. Miriam felt out with her mind towards Maud’s, but her hopes fell as she discovered Maud had been speaking figuratively, rather than literally.
‘There’s a long drop to the moat, and once you’re in it, there’s no way out,’ Maud announced. ‘I know; I’ve tried. I was the same age, and the same size, as you two once.’ Miriam and Tilla looked at each other. ‘Oh the arrogance of youth. A group of us saw that drain and saw it as the way out of here. Our leader crawled through to have a look. She thought it jumpable. She was wrong. She must have crippled herself when she hit the bottom. One of us climbed into the drain and looked down. She said she saw her rolling in agony. The rest of us scarpered so it looked like a lone attempt, but we still had to work here and when her cries stopped a few days later we knew she was dead.’
‘Then what happened?’ Tilla asked.
‘We made a rope, the three of us. Being the strongest, I would lower the other two, then tie off the rope and climb down myself. We lowered the first girl, and she was halfway down when she screamed to be pulled back up. We could hear the panic in her voice. Suddenly she stopped screaming. The other girl found out why the hard way. The Selector’s men must have been expecting another attempt and had waited for us with crossbows. They killed the girl on the rope, but one of the bolts bounced off the rock in the drain and hit my other friend in the groin.
‘She stopped helping me pull the rope and I was being dragged towards the drain. I was so frightened that I cut it.’
‘Oh Mother,’ Tilla gasped.
‘What did you and your other friend do?’ Miriam asked.
‘When I had freed myself from the rope, I found she had pulled the bolt from her groin, tearing a blood vessel. I watched her bleed to death.’
‘Why didn’t you do something?’ Miriam asked.
‘I didn’t know how to stop the bleeding, and if I got help we would have been found out and executed. When I was sure she was dead, I pushed her through the drain then cleaned the blood up. They weren’t missed until they failed to turn up the next morning. It was assumed that they had tried to escape, but no one escapes.’
Miriam and Tilla turned and stared at the opening. Maud must have done the same and it brought back a memory that she had not told them. Miriam saw it. An image vividly implanted on Maud’s brain. Sometime after the incident, she must have crawled through the drain herself and looked down into the moat. What she saw was a hill of bones, human bones.
***
Ulrich looked down haughtily at the people queuing to pass through the city gates. He felt important and made sure that the king’s colours were clearly visible as he followed his uncle past the waiting peasants. The colours allowed them to pass to the head of the queue, and bypass the inspection by the guards at the gates.
Once inside the town walls the crowds took Ulrich aback; people everywhere on the streets, visiting shops and stalls selling all sorts of exotic foodstuffs, colourful fabrics, garments and even toys.
‘Every conscript gets a bounty when they are released from serving,’ Dafied explained, ‘and the merchants are here to part them from it. I think we had better dismount and lead the horses from here.’
They stopped outside an inn and just as Ulrich planted his feet on the ground, a couple of girls who had been hanging around the door ran up to them.
‘Wow!’ said the girl that approached Ulrich when she felt his biceps. ‘Would you like to spend some time with me?’ She had long brown hair falling in ringlets around her exposed shoulders.
‘Yes,’ Ulrich agreed.
‘We’re too busy,’ Dafied called out having dismissed the girl who had propositioned him.
‘Sorry,’ Ulrich said, the girl’s face fell, ‘but I’ll come back later if you’d like?’
‘I’d like that,’ she replied coyly, ‘just ask for Irene.’ She skipped off and gave him a wicked smile before going back into the inn.
‘You haven’t any money yet,’ Dafied pointed out, ‘besides you’ll have chores to do when we get to the garrison.’
Ulrich followed his uncle, thinking about how pretty the girl had been. He remembered overhearing stories told by the boys in the village, about the town tavern women and how much easier they were than the naive village girls. Idela had given him a glimpse of what it was like to be with a girl, and he liked it, so why not see if other girls were different. He knew that he would have to pay for her time, but the boys had boasted that in return the girls would not be offended by their inexperience and would teach them things that would stand them in good stead with the girls at home.
The garrison itself was a town within the town, with its own wall surrounding barracks, warehouses offices and stables. At these gates Ulrich and Dafied were challenged and searched, they had to show the guards their orders. Once inside Dafied directed Ulrich to the stables, and sought out a sergeant. After a short while, Dafied returned and explained, ‘A sergeant will be here shortly, and he will have a list of the chores you are to do. If anyone comes looking for me, I will be in the commandant’s office, and after I have finished there I will be in the White Mare.’
***
Dafied waited patiently, watching Eloise as she tended the customers at the bar. As he took a lazy swig from his ale he reflected on how keen Alwin and Werner were to join his band. Knowing them as he did he was not surprised that they were missing the excitement of battle, even so short a time after the end of the war. However, they might be disappointed with the little skirmish that he had to offer.
He had also made sure that Ulrich would be out of his hair for the night as he had tasked the squire with bedding down the horses, cleaning all of his armour and just to make sure, he had found an old sword that needed to be repaired. He had figured that after three days’ ride, followed by those chores, would make sure that even the hardiest would seek their beds rather than try to find their master in a strange town.
Dafied had met Eloise towards the beginning of the war when she was still whoring to make a living. He had just returned from his first battle and wanted a taste of female flesh. He found her working the taverns of Ricksham and for someone so good looking had charged him a very reasonable rate. He had only thought that she was being polite when she said she had found his company enjoyable, but it was she who looked him out during his next leave and spent the evening with him before taking him to her bed, for which there was no fee. After a year she had earned enough to buy this tavern, she ran the bar downstairs and oversaw the brothel above.
Dafied admired Eloise’s generous curves, which were emphasised by the tight lacing of her bodice. She had placed little flowers in the curls of her auburn hair. She smiled a wicked smile at him from the other end of the bar, as she served yet another customer.
He looked around the room. Many of the girls he knew were not here, but there were plenty of new faces replacing them. He surmised that it was due to the end of the war. Soldiers returning home, taking their favourite whore as a wife, and new girls arriving to take advantage of the extra money in the city.
A face amongst the girls he recognised, but he could not place it. Watching her move about the room, he noticed that she did not try to interest the men, but gathered empty tankards and clearing spillages. Eloise expected her girls to do this when they left a table, but she employed boys to do the general cleaning and fetching.
The girl or woman as Dafied thought of her, was older than the rest and was not being bothered by the clientele. Under such circumstances, Dafied thought that she would have put an extra effort into finding custom amongst the men. She must have been about his age maybe a little younger. Her clothes were cheap and she wore them for her own comfort rather than to allure. He knew her, but not from here.
The demand for drinks at the bar lulled and Eloise walked up to him with a fresh tankard. She pushed it across the wooden surface to him, with her free hand reached for his neck, and pulled his face to hers. Her lips parted as she kissed him and he felt her warm tongue slip into his mouth.
‘You have a lot of new girls,’ he said to her when she finally finished kissing him.
‘Any that interest you?’ Eloise asked him.
‘No,’ Dafied replied.
‘Good.’
‘But that woman over there,’ Dafied pointed to the woman he thought he recognised, ‘who is she?’
Eloise turned and looked towards the woman he had pointed out.
‘Do you know her?’ She asked.
‘I’ve seen her before, put I don’t know where.’
‘Your sister sent her to me. She’s no longer eligible for selection. Bruna thought that I might be able to find her work.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Peta.’
Dafied looked at the woman and tried to think back. Peta had been the name of one of Bruna’s apprentices, that was why he recognised her, but the name pulled at his memory more. It was something to do with an argument between his sister and her husband. He had not been privy to what it was about, but Peta had left at the time.
‘I have given her a room and the opportunity to work, but at her age the men are not interested, and she does not put any effort into tempting them. I give her a few coins for the help she gives around the bar, but she is not suited to this life.’
‘I suppose I could take her as a cook and nurse, give you, and her, a break. It would boost her coffers for a short while.’
‘That would be good. She won’t get into any danger, will she?’ Eloise asked with genuine concern.
‘No, it’s just to sort out some unruly villagers.’
Eloise smiled at him and he kissed her gently.
‘Things are going well,’ Dafied said as he looked around the tavern again.
‘It won’t last long,’ Eloise replied, ‘once all the men have returned home, the money will dry up.’
‘Have you made up your mind yet?’ Dafied asked her.
Eloise sighed and looked him in the eyes.
‘I can’t marry you Dafied,’ she replied, ‘I’m a whore turned brothel keeper. Your family would not approve, especially as your sister is to be part of the aristocracy.’
‘She really liked you when she met you,’ Dafied protested, ‘she would vouch for you at court.’
Eloise frowned at him.
‘I know more about life at court than she ever will,’ she said, but Dafied remained puzzled, ‘you don’t think girls work here just for the money. They do it to avoid selection. Whores are assumed not to be virgins, it goes with the work, and are no longer eligible.’ She paused and studied his face. ‘You don’t understand do you? Tell me, each year, of the girls selected how many do you know of.’
‘One or two, possibly more.’
‘If the selection was truly random then maybe twice in your lifetime you would know of a selected girl.’
‘I don’t understand?’
‘Think of the girls you know who have been selected. Have they come from titled or wealthy backgrounds? How many of your family’s tenants have lost a daughter?’
Dafied thought for a while, going through a mental list of girls. Not one of them had been from the peasantry. ‘Why do they do it?’ He asked.
‘I don’t know how the selection is rigged, but the more prominent your father is the larger the dowry the Lord High Selector can claim. The King doesn't object because he gets a portion to use towards cost of the war. For example, now that you are a knight, if you were to have a daughter, then she would have a one in a hundred chance of being selected,’ Eloise explained.
Dafied thought that the odds were not too bad but if it took four years to get a girl married off it would reduce the odds to one in twenty-five. For each daughter the chances of losing a loved one would be multiplied.
‘As you move up the ranks,’ Eloise continued, ‘the shorter the odds get. As a duchess, if Bruna were to have had a daughter and she had difficulty finding a husband for her then the odds favour the girl being selected.’ She moved closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘If you are related to the king and are your parents’ first born girl then you will go to the Dragon when you are eighteen. None of the girls who work for me has a father less than a lord. Remember last year the fuss when the king’s great niece ran away?’ Dafied nodded. ‘Well she works here.’
‘But we are over two hundred miles from court,’ Dafied said taken aback, and glanced round the room looking at all the girls trying to figure out which one. He was aware that Eloise was watching him, but did not want to ask her to point out the girl. He knew how much Eloise would enjoy it.
‘She’s the girl selling her wares to the chap sitting with your friend Werner,’ Eloise said.
Slowly trying not to look obvious Dafied turned to where his friend sat. He looked at his stocky, bearded comrade who was obviously amused by the antics of the young raven-haired girl beside him. The girl was sitting side on, draping her long hair over her prospective customer’s face.
She tugged at the lace that fastened her blouse and gently put the customer’s hand inside, letting him feel what she had to offer. The man must have agreed for she bent closer and sealed the deal with a kiss. Dafied could see the movements of the hand under the white material as it explored her body. The girl extracted it and held it as she stood up. Dafied found himself looking into sapphire blue eyes belonging to a finely chiselled face with ruby red lips and clear milky skin. With Eloise standing behind him, unable to see his face, Dafied let his gaze fall to the blouse, the young firm breasts just visible through the thin cotton. Further down, he spotted her free hand slip what looked like a gold coin into the purse tied about her waist.
‘I can see why she gets a gold coin for her time,’ Dafied said over his shoulder.
‘Two guineas,’ Eloise corrected him, ‘and they must be gold, and yes she rivals me as being the most expensive whore in Ricksham.’
The whore stepped forward, one hand behind her guiding her reticent client. As she stepped to one side, Dafied got a good view of the customer.
‘Bruna will kill me!’ he exclaimed. He leapt away from the bar and explained to Eloise, ‘That’s my nephew.’ He rushed towards the couple as they made for the stairs.
‘Ulrich,’ he heard a female voice shout. He looked around to find the source when he bumped into Peta at the base of the staircase.
‘Excuse me sir, but I need to get through,’ She said.
‘Ulrich,’ he called up.
Ulrich stopped as he and his whore neared the top most step and turned round to see who was calling.
‘Hello Uncle Dafied,’ said Ulrich sheepishly.
‘What are you doing here?’ Dafied demanded, but he could see Ulrich was shocked by his angry response. In a quieter tone, he explained, ‘as a squire you are not allowed out of the barracks without my permission. I think you had better get back, and by the way where did you get the money?’
‘Those two friends of yours, Alwin and Werner paid,’ his squire replied.
Dafied watched Ulrich slowly make his way through the tavern’s clientele, and out of the door, before turning towards the two mischief-makers. On seeing his attention, they raised their tankards as if to toast his health. Their smiles were short lived when he refused the girl’s offer to refund the gold coin.
‘You’re Ulrich’s uncle?’ Peta asked.
‘Yes,’ Dafied replied and turned to the woman. She looked up at him nervously. ‘I am Bruna’s brother.’
‘Do you know me?’ she asked.
‘We must have met a couple of times, I thought I recognised you. Ulrich is my squire and we are going into Lahbland for the king. I was wondering if you might like to come with us, to cook and tend to any wounds. I can pay you more than maid’s wage. You could also keep an eye on Ulrich, keep him out of trouble.’
‘I will have to check with Eloise.’
Dafied looked across at his mistress, and was about to tell Peta that it had already been agreed, but thought it more appropriate not to give Peta the impression that Eloise wanted rid of her.
‘Yes, I think you should,’ he said.
