Page 25 of The Consolation Prize

Was she just being paranoid, though? It would not be surprising she acknowledged, after the life she had led. Quickly she ran over the household in her mind’s eye. The groom had been a surly looking fellow, a hulking great brute who had led their horses to the stables with barely a word.

The maidservant’s manner had been decidedly odd. Where the landlord oozed geniality, her gaze had been hostile, and she had tried to mask her malevolence by keeping her gaze low and refusing to meet anyone’s eye. It was hard though, to imagine her a sympathizer to the Northern cause. For surely if that had been the case, she would have been more amenable when serving her?

Her ruminations were interrupted by an unexpected squeak from the wood paneling at the foot of the bed. Una looked toward that spot and was alarmed to see movement there. She had been lying with her eyes open, so her vision was already adjusted to the dark. Lifting her head off the pillow, she craned her eyes and fancied it was a portion of the paneling swinging open into their room. She slid her arm along the mattress to grip Armand’s upper arm, digging her nails into him cruelly. She felt his breathing hitch and his head rustled on the pillow, as to her horror, Una realized someone was swarming across the floor to her side of the bed. It was a figure crawling on all fours. Opening her mouth, she screamed loud and high.

Other figures, large and bulky were now coming through the paneling. Pausing to draw breath, Una felt Armand sit upright in the bed, and leaving him to deal with the intruders advancing upon him, she turned to the floor by her side of the bed, where a shadowy figure seemed to be rising to its knees. Reaching to the small table by her side of the bed, Una clutched the water jug and brought it down with a heavy swing in a vague approximation of the figure’s head.

The jug made contact and shattered, and Una saw the figure reel. Throwing back the covers, she leaped from the bed, and keen to take advantage of her momentary upper hand, she fell upon the figure, seizing its shoulders and bearing it back to the floor. From the size and shape, she rather thought her adversary was a woman. Grabbing her head, Una slammed it back against the floorboards, attempting to stun her further.

Behind her, she heard a scuffle and a bellow and could only hope that Armand was managing to hold his own. His sword she remembered was hanging on a chair at the foot of the bed. If she could only reach it, maybe she could help him, for she fancied he was contending with two or three to her one.

Suddenly, the figure beneath her seemed to recover her wits and started struggling wildly. It was all Una could do to remain astride her. She reached for her wrists, but only managed to catch hold of her left, for the right was swinging wildly and Una realized with a flash, that she held some kind of weapon in it, most likely a dagger.

Una redoubled her efforts, but it wasn’t easy for the female had an undoubted wiry strength. “Jeb!” she started screeching. “Get off me you bitch! I’ll kill you!” She slashed wildly at Una who let go of her left hand, to concentrate her efforts on securing the right, which held the real threat.

Dimly, Una heard someone crashing down to the ground behind her. She muttered a prayer that it was not Armand, as she finally caught hold of the hand with the knife. The woman beneath her gibbered incoherently with rage as they both exerted all their strength against each other. It was a close-run thing for Una feared they were very evenly matched in muscle. The dagger was now between their two bodies, and when she felt the blade against her ribs, she felt a new surge of strength born of fear.

Was she really going to end her days in some squalid inn, the victim of what she could only guess was a gang of murderous thieves? She, who had so many times faced death during her short, beleaguered life. Pushing desperately against the other woman’s shaking fist, she heard her give a startled grunt, then felt the sickening give as the sharp blade found its mark. Warm blood surged over Una’s fingers and she blinked in the darkness as the other woman turned limp.

There was another crash behind her, and an oath, who she relieved to discover was Armand. “Una?” he shouted.

“I’m here,” she answered shakily.

Then the door burst open and someone stood there with a candle. “Una?”

She recognized Otho’s voice before she saw his face and felt a wave of sickness wash over her. Surely Otho was not at the bottom of this?

“Halt!” shouted Armand. “Do not come any closer,” he warned, “Unless you want to suffer their fate.” In three strides, he was over the bed and kneeling beside her. He ran his large hands over her arms, feeling her for injuries.

“Nothing ails me,” she assured him. “I’m not hurt.” He had to help her to raise, for her knees were shaky and felt grazed from the floor. “I killed her,” she said numbly.

“Hush, you did well,” Armand soothed her.

“Why did they attack us?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answered grimly, slipping an arm around her waist to support her, and turning back to her brother. “You were also attacked?” he asked, and Una noticed for the first time that Otho was dressed for bed in a nightshirt, which bore splatters of blood across it. It seemed he had hastily pulled on his boots to come in search of them.

“You are hurt, Otho!” she blurted.

“It’s nothing,” he responded dismissively. “Are they dead?”

Una craned her head over her shoulder to see the two bodies lying on the floor on Armand’s side of the bed.

“Yes,” Armand answered shortly. “How many came for you?”

“The landlord only.” Otho shrugged. “It seems they thought you more of a threat than a mere pilgrim.”

Armand grunted at that. “Very likely. We need light. I want to see how they gained access to our chamber.”

“It was through the paneling there,” Una said, pointing to where an open panel swung open. Otho came into the room and touched his candle to the wicks of the unlit candles until the room was illuminated in a yellow glow.

Armand pulled on his breeches and boots and grabbed a blanket from the bed to drape it about her. “Here,” he said, and Una noticed she was clad only in her thin shift. Her surge of fear had inured her to the cold. “Take a seat here, Una, in this chair, while I take a look.” Picking up a candle, he advanced on the open paneling and lifted it high to peer in.

Una turned to her brother who was examining the bodies, turning them over with his foot. “This one’s the stable-hand,” he pronounced, moving onto the other fellow. “But I don’t know this one.”

“It’s the cook,” Armand said, his voice drifting back to them as he stepped inside the paneling.

“Be careful, in case there should be any more of them concealed there,” Una called anxiously.