Deck of Cards (8 page)

“Unbelievable!”  Matthew exclaimed once they were able to work the thick fabric through the slot.  “This—this just might work!”  He immediately went over to the large shelf, scooted it out from the wall, and held the material up to see if it was long enough.  It was, in fact, a tad bit too long.  It would certainly fit the back of the cabinet.  “This will do nicely!” He took the fabric and the finishing nails and placed them inside of the back where he was almost finished creating an opening big enough to slide inside the piece and hide.  The work was tedious and slow going, but he had nothing better to do and it felt like he was helping himself for a change.

He slid back across the room on his knees, bumping in to the door. “Angel, I don’t know how to thank you enough for all of your help.  You’ve been so unbelievably kind. If there’s ever anything that I can do to repay you, please know that I will.”

She smiled back at him, wishing she could find a way to tell him just how much he meant to her. Even though she had only met him a few days ago, it seemed as if she had known him always. He had restored her faith, proven that those in power can still be kind, and let her know that it was possible for her to find true love.

In fact, she was almost certain she was falling in love with him right now.

Matthew could only see her eyes, those stunningly clear, light blue eyes. His Maggie had been gone for six months. It seemed like an eternity.  It seemed like just yesterday. He had spent so many hours in this room imagining that she was still out there, that one day they would be reunited. In his heart, he knew that was not the case. He had watched her die.  Now, staring into the eyes of this angelic creature, he suddenly started to feel as if his heart might one day heal and, perhaps, he truly could be happy again.  “Angel,” he said softly, “Would you consider going with me?”

She was stunned.  She was not expecting this at all.  Of course,
of course,
she would love to go with him.  But the logistics would be almost impossible.  How would she know when he would be able to escape?  How would she be sure to find him without tipping Philip and his men off to his location?

He misread her expression of confusion as refusal.  “It’s alright, I understand,” he said sounding bitterly disappointed.

Shaking her head violently, she attempted to convey her message. His puzzled expression told her he didn’t comprehend.  She motioned for the paper and after a second he realized what she wanted and handed it back through the slot.  She simply wrote, “I am scared,” and handed it back.

He read it, considered it, and then gently asked, “Scared of being caught?  By Philip?”

            She nodded and then so did he.  “I see,” he said, still disappointed but at least understanding that it wasn’t because of him.  “If, if there was a way, would you come? Or, if I was able to send for you, would you come with me?”

This time she nodded her head vigorously,
which made him smile broadly.  “Good, good, that’s a relief. Alright then, well, we will figure it out alright?” Once again she nodded.  He smiled at her reassuringly.  “We’ll find a way.  We’ll find a way to be together, safe and sound beyond these castle walls. I promise.”

            
                        ***

Philip shot upright in bed, the sudden noise rousing him from a pleasant dream and sending him straight back to the reality of impending doom.  The banging on the door continued and this time the whore next to him sat up, placing her hand on his arm,

“What’s going on?” she asked groggily.

Pushing Rose’s hand off, annoyed, Philip stood and pulled on his robe.  “Just a bleeding minute!” he yelled as he crossed the large room to the door.  Tying his robe, he pulled open the solid oak door, not caring that Rose lay naked on the bed behind him, barely covered with a tangled sheet. “What is it?” he spat at the pair of guards standing on the other side.

The one in front, the muscular bald man whom had been doing the pounding, glanced at his companion and replied, “We’ve got a visitor, Your Majesty. A horseman has just arrived from
Gradenia.”

Philip sighed in relief. Finally!  After weeks of waiting, help was on the way! “Very good!” he said, grabbing the startled man by the arm. “That’s wonderful news! Have him wait in the Throne Room and I’ll be by directly.”  He started to close the door but the second guard caught it. “What? What else?” he asked, growing angry again.

The two guards exchanged glances, as if neither of them wanted to tell him the second part of the message.  Finally, the second guard stammered, “Well, Your Highness, there’s been a breach.  A large breach.” Before he could say more, Philip was grabbing him by the shoulders, pinning him against the wall, opposite of the door.

“What do you mean there’s been a breach?” he demanded.  He could feel the hand of the first guard
tugging him back.  “How bad is it?” he asked pushing the subordinate harder against the stone.

The bald man behind him answered.  “Sir, it’s pretty bad. 
The army is falling back. Cuthburt is attempting to rally them, to stop them, before Caleb reaches the wall surrounding the village outside of the castle.  There’s a chance, a small one, but a chance that the reserve troops, the ones waiting at Skull Bridge, will be able to slow them a bit. Possibly give the Gradenians a chance to get here first, if they are on their way and if our men can hold. But, Sir, it does not look promising.”

The entire time he had been speaking, Philip had been holding his colleague against the wall, pushing against him with all of his might. With the completion of that final sentence, Philip released him, and he slumped forward into the arms of the other guard, a pale shade of blue, struggling to breath and wheezing violently.  Philip said nothing, turning back towards his room, an air of shock and defeat hanging over him.  Even if Gradenian forces were on the way, they would not reach Blackthorn in time.  The line at Skull Bridge had to hold.  He would ride out as soon as possible and make sure that it did. 

As he began to shut the door behind him, he heard the guard say, “Sir, what are your orders?”

He almost chuckled.  Since when did anyone carry out any of his orders? “I’ll be by to meet with the
courier from Gradenia momentarily.  You tell Cuthbert that if he doesn’t hold that line at Skull Bridge I will personally remove every bit of flesh from his skull with my own fingernails and make him feast on his own dull-witted, idiotic brain!” He slammed the door so violently behind him that it shook on its hinges, causing the other occupants of the castle located nearby to jump, and reminding them of the sound of cannon fire.

Philip dressed quickly.  Rose watched from her perch on the bed.  She had, of course, heard the entire conversation. She knew more than most.  She knew that her days in Blackthorn were numbered. She hoped that Philip saw enough value in her to let her stow along, should he decide to flee to Gradenia.  This might be her last chance to prove her worth.  “Philip,” she whispered, dropping the sheet she had wrapped around her, “Please,
take me with you.”

Stomping his foot into his boot and pulling his belt tight, Philip turned and looked at her, equal parts enraged and annoyed.  “What?” he
asked, shocked at her tenacity.

She swallowed hard, wondering if perhaps this time she had gone too far. But Rose was determined.  “Take me with you, to Gradenia.  I can’t imagine my life without you.” Philip placed his hands on his hips, sighing heavily, and glancing down at the floor.  She was not exactly sure how to read this, so she decided to continue.  “She may be your wife. She may be your queen. But I’m the one who knows how to please you. I’m the one who loves you. Please, take me with you.”

Philip squeezed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly, attempting to regain his self-control.  Finally, he began to walk across the room. Rose stood to meet him, hoping for an embrace, an indication that he saw her usefulness.  He stared into her eyes for just a second before drawing back his gloved hand and backhanding her right beneath her eye, sending her reeling onto the bed.  “You’re a whore,” he spat in as calm a voice as he could muster.  He turned quickly on his heels and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Rose tried to hold back her tears but she couldn’t.  She began to sob and then her entire body began to convulse. It wasn’t just the pain, though she felt as if her eye was about to explode right out of it’s socket, it was the defeat, knowing she would never be good
enough for him. He was right.  She was a whore. And it seemed like that was all she was ever going to be.  After a few moments, she finally began to regain her composure.  She wiped away her tears and let her sorrow turn to anger.  “Well,” she said aloud to the empty room, “I might be a whore but I will never be your whore again.”

             
                           ***

The herald from Gradenia was waiting in the Throne Room when Philip arrived.  He was a slight man with dark black, greasy hair.
  He wore armor like a knight but it was jointed by black mesh.  He held his helmet in his hand and glanced at Philip impatiently, as if he had more important things to do than wait around on an indolent king.

“Your Majesty,” he began
in a thick accent, as Philip sat down on his throne, “I am Henry de Ville, Mercenary and Messenger for His Highness King Leopold II, Ruler of Gradenia, the Isles of Capresia, and the Territories of Dawsinia. I arrive before you this morning with an urgent message from King Leopold.”

Philip could hardly keep from rolling his eyes as the greasy little man made his announcement, as if those titles were any more substantial than th
e ones he held himself.  Henry (pronounced On-Ree) handed him a sealed letter, with a slight bow and a clicking of his heels.  He took the letter, broke the seal and quickly scanned its contents.

Re: Your request for assistance

Dear Philip:

I hear that matters have gotten out of hand and Caleb’s forces are infiltrating your kingdom.  What a shame!  Perhaps if you had heeded my words in the first place, you would be enjoying the comforts of your new wife with limited interruption. Nevertheless, you are my cousin and I will come to your aid. The monies you’ve sent are just enough to allow me to cover your escape.  Abandon Blackthorn, bring whatever treasures and troops you have left with you, and we shall regroup when you have reached Gradenia. I am sending 1000 of my best cavalrymen to cover your escape and hold off the Arterians from following you but at this time I am not willing to risk my forces for your idiotic mistake.

Regards,

King Leopold II

Philip crumpled the paper in his hand.  “Dammit!” he spat. The amused look on Henry’s face made him even more enraged and it was all he could do to keep from slapping him the way he had just slapped that insidious slut in his bedchamber.  “One thousand men?  That’s it?  That’s all he’s sending?”

Henry shook his head. “One thousand of our finest cavalry officers, to cover your
flight.” His accent was thick and ingratiating, which made Philip loathe him even more.

“This is outrageous!” he yelled, jumping to his feet, knocking over the side table next to the throne and clambering down the stairs.  Henry did not flinch as he approached him.  The guards at the door shifted a bit, unsure of exactly what they should do if Philip were to attack the guest. “I’m sorry this information is
not more, uh, suitable to you,” Henry began, as if he were searching for the correct words in a foreign language, “But this is the best that we can do for you at this time.  You may accept our offer or not.  The choice is completely up to you.”

Philip looked at the courier in disbelief. He was screwed. There was no two ways about it. If he stayed in Blackthorn, Caleb would be here in a day, two at most.  If he left, he would lose his castle, his kingdom, everything.  He suddenly realized his head was pounding. Placing one hand over his eyes and rubbing both of his temples, he snapped his fingers with his other hand, indicating to the servant boy across the room that he needed a drink.  The young man hurried over, handing him a goblet of wine and Philip gulped it down at once without taking a breath.

He believed he had regained his poise, at least momentarily.  He turned to face Henry, who still stood in the same place, one hand on his hip, the other holding his helmet against his side. “You want me to flee, to run from an invading army, to abandon my castle and my throne, just so that Leopold can say
I told you so!”
By the time he had completed the sentence he was in Henry’s face, screaming. His blood was boiling and his face was crimson. He turned and threw the goblet across the room, only missing the servant boy by a thin margin who jumped out of the way as it clattered to the ground.

Henry was still armed and
felt no reason to fear the outraged king.  He had presented his proposition and had little else to say.  As Philip spun back around to face him, Henry began pulling on his gloves and preparing to leave.  “You have heard our offer.  You may accept it or not. It is of little concern to me.  I bid you farewell.”  He turned to leave, giving Philip little choice but to either accept or dismiss Leopold’s proposal.

He was almost to the door when Henry heard Philip say, “Wait.”  He stopped abruptly and turned back to face the defeated king.

Philip stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes staring at the metal tips on his boots.  “When?  When will they arrive?” he asked.