I am but halfway across the bailey when the huge oak door to the keepopens. Princess Susanna emerges, flanked by Ulrich on her right and Father David, the castle chaplain on her left. Their faces are grave as they descend the short flight of steps and start to make their way through the milling hordes thronging the yard. They pass close to me, and I reach out to touch my cousin’s white gown.
“Your highness, is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?”
The princess turns to me, her smile sad. She looks defeated.
“Tally, thank you, but no. There is nothing can help us now but the mercy of the imperial commander. I go to plead for it.”
My name is Natalia, but my cousin’s use of my less formal name, known only to my family, almost breaks my heart. Even now, in the face of certain death, she is kind to me. She was always sweet, gentle, and generous. She has been as much a victim of her incompetent, greedy uncle as the rest of us who are trapped here, and she will pay the greatest price.
“Would you like me to come with you? I could…”
She places her hand on mine and squeezes. “No, cousin. I must do this alone. Enough lives have been lost here, and now I will salvage what I can. Perhaps in the future, if you enter a convent as you have said is your intention, you will pray for me.”
I fight back my tears as I reply. “I will pray for you now, princess. For all of us.”
Susanna’s lips tremble as she gives me one last, sweet smile. I stand, motionless, my vision blurring as my cousin continues on to the outer gate, her escort beside her. The two men help her with the heavy bar, then stand back as she opens the portal and slips outside.
Ulrich and Father David close the gate behind her, and Susanna is gone. I hesitate for a few moments, then my sense of urgency returns. I scramble through the crowded space, rushing to regain the main keep. I retrace my path back to the nursery rooms, but find no sign of the missing heir to the duchy of Styria. Perhaps he has ventured out onto the battlements. It would not surprise me. I do not know this lad, but I am well aware that the misguided and gory enthusiasm of young boys can lead them into dangerous places. My own brothers were always getting into scrapes as we grew up, and their youthful fascination for warfare earned them both early graves.
I exit the castle from one of the upper doors leading directly onto the lofty walkway. Most of the bowmen have abandoned these positions and are occupied at Ulrich’s direction attempting to restore some semblance of order in the lower courtyard. From my vantage point up here I see no real evidence of success yet. Neither do I see young Edmund.
Cautious, I make my way along the ramparts, peering through the archers’ holes set at regular intervals. From here I can see the massed hordes of the enemy army, my first actual glimpse of them. The troops look rough and cruel, above all bloodthirsty. They may be battle-weary but these troops sensevictory, and crave the spoils that go with it. My stomach clenches, my fear almost crippling me. But I have to go on. I have to do what I can, even now, in these final moments.
I reach a slightly more elevated position and stop to survey the scene below me, beyond the castle walls. Princess Susanna is clearly visible in her white gown, her slight form dwarfed by the imposing man towering over her. I recognise him. The mercenary who spoke so directly to the princess when the delegation came here all those months ago. They had been sent by the emperor to deliver his ultimatum. I was newly widowed then, only just arrived at court. I listened, as did we all, as this commander issued his threat. His promise. He has fulfilled it.
I cannot hear what is said between them now, but I watch as the commander steps aside and gestures the princess to pass him. Two of his knights flank her as she does so. She disappears from my sight as the ranks of soldiers close behind her.
The commander makes another gesture, and more knights appear at his side. They confer briefly, then their commander turns and marches after the princess, away from the castle. The knights approach the drawbridge. They are followed by scores of men, all massing at their rear. The procession passes almost beneath me as they advance on the gates.
I know by the sound of chains clanking and metal grating that the gate has been lowered, allowing them to enter unimpeded. I turn to view the scene within the castle walls now. I am mesmerised, frozen in place as I watch our people flee in terror from the advancing army.
A movement catches my eye, in the turret on the opposite corner of the bailey. As I watch, an arrow is loosed from the narrow window to score a direct hit in the breastplate of a burly knight in the melee below. Too little, too late I fear. The knight appears unharmed, but even so by his scowl and angry shout I judge him to be less than best pleased by this assault. He heads for the entrance to the turret and I fear that last, lone archer may not survive this day either.
It’s all over. I can do no more. I am sorely tempted to curl up and hide where I am, in the hope that I can remain unnoticed. Even as that forlorn thought flutters through my head, one of the imperial guardsmen looks up and catches sight of me. He grins, a toothless leer, and nudges the ruffian beside him. I back away from the edge as they laugh and point at me. One of them makes an obscene gesture with his hand, confirmation if it were needed of what they plan for me. My courage deserts me; I turn and flee along the battlements.
I reach the first flight of stairs and hesitate. Whether to run down into the mayhem that is unfolding and hope to lose myself there, or seek to scramble back inside the keep and perhaps find a place to hide. That second option evaporates as the door from the castle bursts open and men start to pourthrough. Cornered, I choose the stairs. Perhaps even now I can elude the worst of this.
The two guardsmen are waiting for me at the bottom. One of them grabs me by the arm and slams me face-first against the hard stone wall.
“I saw ‘er first. You can ‘ave what’s left when I’m done.” His companion seems intent upon staking his claim.
“Bollocks. I caught ‘er. She’s mine an’ ye can wait yer turn.” A meaty hand seizes the back of my neck, the grip vicious. The soldier squeezes and I go still, rigid with fear.
“Maybe we could fuck ‘er together, ye can have the front an’ I’ll take the back. I like a nice bit of arse.”
The two soldiers discuss their vile intentions as though I was unable to hear them, as though I was just a piece of insensible meat. I do not doubt that is all I am to them. My face is flattened against the cold stone but I scream, my throat burning with the effort. My cries for help are drowned in the din all around me. Who would come to my aid in any case? I struggle as best I can but, despite desperation lending me a strength I did not know I possess, I am unable to break free of the vise-like grip on my arm or neck. Fighting by pure instinct alone I use all weapons at my disposal, though they do not amount to much. My feet, my head, my elbows. With an angry growl the ruffian spins me around and I succeed only in earning myself a vicious backhand across my face. I slam into the wall behind me before crumpling to the earth at my feet. I curl into a foetal position, waiting for the inevitable.
“What the fuck is this? Did you not hear your orders regarding the treatment of women in the castle? Mayhap I should have you nailed by your dicks to yonder door. Would that improve your hearing, I wonder?”
The harsh, stern voice rings across the bailey. Maybe rescue is at hand after all, though I don’t dare raise my eyes to look. Heavy footfalls draw near, several men by the sound of it. There is shuffling as my assailants seek to back off, to slink away.
“Find some stocks for these vermin. I’ll deal with them later.” There are sounds of a scuffle, plaintive wailing as the men who would have raped me are dragged away. A few seconds pass, then, “Get up, my lady.” The same voice, perhaps a little gentler now but still a tone that resonates with authority.
Even so, I prefer not to obey. I remain where I am.
“Can you hear me? I said, get to your feet. Now.”
I shake my head and tighten the grip of my arms around my knees. My protector has done his Christian duty, now surely he’ll have other matters to attend to. Surely he’ll move on and leave me alone. I open my eyes a crack to behold two solid feet encased in iron-plated boots, topped by muscular legs clad in fine quality leather breeches. I do not raise my eyes any further than his knees.
