the Leathermines

Back to Chapter 13        Interested in Detective stories?  I'm working on a BdSm murder mystery.  Here is a taste of some of the characters in Blood.

 

The grim task of clearing out the farmer’s huts was not taken lightly as it was a taste of what they were to find in the keep a day away.  Several women, a man and several children were found gutted and left to rot where they had fallen.  The smell should have told them what had happened inside the structures, but the dog lying across the door, guarding the bodies was what caught Edgar’s attention.

The loyal animal had been there for the week and was both happy to have water and wanted to guard his people from these strangers.  The need to slake his thirst won and the wardsmen were able to see the extent of the massacre.

A wide grave was dug for the family they found and they were put in as reverently as possible.  A toy still loosely clutched in a child’s hand was put beside the small form as it was laid to rest with it’s playmate.  The dog laid down next to the grave and continued to guard.

The smell of the summer-rotting corpses was going to linger in those structures for a while, so the wardmen hung a black strip of fabric on the outside of each hut and traveled on.  Two more slaughters were found and taken care of before Edgar found a place he thought would be suitable for the household to camp for the night.

He had almost thrown up when he had first seen the bodies.  For many summers, he had been one of the wards that went out looking for the animals that had run after being shot in the hunt.  Most of the time, it just took some time to follow the blood trail to the body.  Sometimes, the animal was still alive and had to be given mercy.  But on occasion, the animal slipped by and died not to be found for several days.

This was worse.  They had been farmers-people.  The savagery of the kills haunted Edgar as he directed the people with him how to set up to receive the others of the household.  The bloody coup was not just at the top of the Kingdom of the Midlands.  It had reached down and disemboweled those who worked the land, too.  He wished that he had his Lord’s voice to council him, or could send a missive to his father.  Neither were possible, now.

They had not gotten as far along to the castle and keep as they had wanted so the second half of the household was surprised when they came to the camp only an hour or so after the sun had truly set for the night.

Laun was not as surprised as Orgia or Disa as she recognized the smell as they rode past the black-marked huts.  The road dust that had collected on her face was streaked with tears.  Any freshness that had been a respite in the travels that afternoon was gone.

Laun was emotionally tired as well as physically tired when they shuffled the household back together again.  She started to look for a place to bed down even before food had been produced by Orgia’s hand.  Laun found a shelter that had been set between two of the wagons and settled down into her cape.

She felt as though she wanted to cry.  The tears would come for other things, but right then they were dry.  Painfully so.  No solace from letting her emotions drain that way as the form of Jerri being held in her arms would not go away from her mind’s eye.  Not even anger could come up to bring a just cause to Laun.  Her mind drifted from one horror to another, deadening her mind and finally making her emotional exhaustion take her body with it.

There was a sudden panic as the household realized that Lady Laun had disappeared.  When she was found, Pillar carefully checked her and motioned that she was just asleep.  A few more blankets were brought in to cover her and she was left to sleep.

In the soft morning light, Laun found that she was in the middle of a pile of people.  The sleeping forms around her were warm and curled about each other like puppies or kittens might do.  She could see the faces of many of the dancers, some of the women servants and also some of the wardsmen along the outside of the pile.  She turned onto her back and found that a strong arm possessively gathered her in.

Edgar had lain at Laun’s back, his arm around her under his cloak that covered them both.  Her own cloak had ridden up, her legs and his partially entwined, another dancer using Laun’s leg as a pillow.  As Laun moved, others shifted and sighed and turned in the early morning chill.  This was not entirely unfamiliar as the dancers usually all slept on the same large mat off of the Dance Master’s quarters.  It was just different having the strong arm around her, protecting her even in his sleep.

There were other sounds in the morning calm.  At first it sounded like someone possibly running, but the sound stayed steady for too long.  And then the low, throaty growl that came from the same direction.  Laun tried to sit up but Edgars’ arm would not let her.  Laun stopped trying to sit when Edgar sleepily mumbled, “I wish they would stop that.  They have been going at it all night...”

Laun settled back in and let the warmth of those around her comfort her.  Edgar was partially awake and he found Launs’ hand and took it in his.  He said a soft, “With your permission,” and went back to sleep.

The breaths going in and out around her let her know that the death she had been dreaming of and reliving was not right there.  It was real, she knew that.  She had seen it, and caused some of it.  But it was not right there, not right then.  She was alive.  She hurt in places that would still need a great amount of time to heal, but only because she was alive.  And because she was alive, the people of her household around her were still alive.

She let herself float along just at the edge of sleep until her bladder made it’s self known.  She had to move and was not sure how to get out from under Edgar’s strong arm.  She decided that the direct approach would probably be the best.  His hand still held hers.  She dragged his arm up until it was painful to lift her own arm.  Their hands landed between her breasts, hitting her chest wound.  It hurt.  Laun scooted onto her side and faced Edgar, their arms between them.  He opened his eyes and Laun put a finger on his nose.

“If you don’t let me up, I will not be responsible for the mess you will have to clean up.”

A moment went by and Edgar was awake enough to let go of Laun’s hand with a sleepy smile under her hand.  “Yes, My Lady.”

It was still very early. Two people were at the fire keeping it tended, several people were standing or leaning at their posts around the outside of the camp and most of the people were asleep in and under the wagons.  Laun held her cape around her and made her way to the firepit.

“Which way do you suggest for a privy stop?”

The woman of the two motioned in one direction, the man shrugged.  Laun nodded at both of them and went in the direction the woman had indicated.  She went past one of the sentries and into a copse of trees a few yards away.  After she had relieved herself, Laun continued down the road some to see more of where they were.

The old volcano was in the distance.  She remembered that it had been first to her right as she traveled from the Salam-Dir lands and then behind her.  The sun was gilding the underside of the morning clouds.  She heard the thick sound of muddy water and knew where she was.  She did not need to use a map to know the Grey Waters.  They would make it back to the keep that day.

Several more people were around the fire when Laun came back.  She brought with her freshly pulled queenslace and some midsummer berries held in her tunic’s hem.  The purple streaks on the pale cloth reminded Laun that she really was not used to clothing.  One of the servants took the fresh food and started to clean and cut the queenslace roots.  Laun looked about and found a pot that could be used as a gathering punnet and headed off again.  She was joined by more people and they were able to gather berries and greens and more queenslace for the morning meal.  It was not steak pie and hen’s eggs, but it was from their land and fresh.

Laun felt her hands stiffen as they were out gathering and just held the pot as others gathered around her.  She was getting cold in the moist morning air and her hands were the first to let her know about it.

As the food was being prepared, Laun went through her morning stretching and dance.  One of the other dancers was also awake and joined her.  They used sticks and counted out the beat to each other.  One of the wardsmen was intently watching and the other dancer saw.  She dragged him up and pushed him into trying some of the steps.  He was not used to the dancing, but he was good with his swordwork and caught on to the upper body motions quickly.  A few more of the people watching were also egged onto their feet and soon there were wardsmen and servants dancing to lightly clapped beats.

The commotion woke most of the rest of the household, though it was still early enough that they did not get up.  Some started talking amongst themselves as they lay together.  Some just watched those dancing near the fire.  A few wandered off to find some privacy for their own morning rituals.  More food or wood came back from beyond the sentries, joining that which had already been gathered.

The chatelaine was one who had wished for just a little more sleep.  Duty called to her as she heard the scrape of her utensils being used over the fire.  She was pleased to find that some of the morning meal was already underway and appreciated the fresh mint tea that was handed her as she entered the fire ring.  Orgia sat and took up the long fork from the man who had been stirring the cooking rootstock.  She called out for several of her boxes to be brought to her and she made an oaten porridge enough for the household, and used the last of the honey she had brought on the berries.

Laun declined a bowl of porridge when it was handed to her, but she did take some of the tea.  It wasn’t that she did not have an appetite, it was that she wanted to make sure everyone had enough before she had any.  More people noted that and nodded to each other.

Laun felt the cape go around her as the quiet, “With your permission,” was whispered into her ear.  Laun leaned back into Edgars chest and his legs folded around hers.  They shared the tea and a few of the berries as the rest of the household woke and joined the gathering at the fire.

There was an ebb and flow of conversation.  Laun chose one of the quiet ebbs to stand so all could see and hear her.  She scratched at one of the healing wounds on her arm as she turned and looked at all the faces that were around her.  The itch of the healing was so much better than the pain and the wounds that would not stop oozing.  Though she could tell that her whole body was going to itch soon.

All conversation stopped and they were waiting as she finished looking into each of the faces around her.  She had things she had to say, did not know the right way to say them.  She forced her hand from her itchy arm and just began where her heart told her to.

“You are all here.  You are my family, my household.  Most of us have known each other for most of our lives.  And we are about to go back to the main castle and keep we have lived in for those years.”  Laun motioned and Edgar handed up the tea.  Laun had a clearing sip and continued.  “We are about to go to where the rest of our family is.  They await us silently.  They await our help.”  Laun could see sadness and a few tears around her.

Lady Laun turned and looked again at all the faces.  “If any of you wish to go find your birth families, I understand.  We are in a time of uncertainty and if you need to go, I wish you nothing but luck on your journey.  I do ask...that you help with the keep first.”  There were a few mumbles, but that was all.

She turned a third time and looked at all the faces around her, waiting for her word.  “As of this moment all who are under the Salam-Dir household who can be freed are.  I do not wish-” Laun heard breaths stop and start again, a gasp from the back of the crowd. “I do not wish for anyone under the Salam-Dir banner to be there not by their own will.”  Laun could see Disa look down and hold her arm.  The only one Laun knew of that could not be freed by her words.

Lady Laun turned and held her hand out to Edgar.  He stood and waited for Laun.  “Edgar, you and I have talked about some of what is ahead.”  The head wardman nodded.  “If we were to leave within the hour, how long would it take for us to get to the castle and keep?”

Edgar thought and looked up at the sky.  He turned towards the old volcano mountain and then back to Laun.  “My Lady, I would say before noon.”

Laun turned to Orgia and asked, “The hill that was our Lady Hellon’s favorite picnic spot, could we set up a temporary hold there?”

Orgia started to stand but, at a sympathetic shake of Laun’s head, stayed at the fire and said, “My Lady, it will take some clearing, but it should do, unless we have a thunderstorm.”

Laun turned and looked at all her people looking at her one last time.  “I ask that those who can, join Wardsman Edgar in the journey to the keep.  Those who wish, join Chatelaine Orgia at Lady Hellon’s Hill.  Those who need to, be well on your journey if you cannot stay.”

There was a long pause.  Laun did not know what else to do, what else to say.  She raised her mug and said, “To those who have gone before us.”  Many of the others around her, with and without mugs or tankards raised hands and voices and responded, “May they light our way.”

It was a quiet morning as the household packed up and decided which way each of them was to go.  The groups were fairly even, some choosing to go with Edgar because they had been with him the afternoon before, some choosing to go with Orgia for the same reason.  Laun insisted on going to the Keep and rode in a wagon full of tools and saplings that had been cut down for that day’s work.  They headed out before Orgia’s group and soon forded the Gray Waters on the way through the Salam-Dir lands.

Pillar and his wife walked alongside the wagon, except when they were crossing the mucky stream Laun remembered with no fondness.  Lucaris was at least a head and a half shorter than Pillar and almost danced alongside the gliding form of her husband.  They sometimes held hands as they walked, loving glances telling tales of who had been making the noises in the night.  Pillar’s hair had been rebraided, the feather and twig floating along as the shaman kept pace with the wagon.

Laun was starting to recognize more and more of the land as they traveled.  They passed the path that led to Lady Hellon’s Hill and Laun almost stood up to see if she could see the castle over the next rise.

The impulse was washed away when she saw the broken gate.  A hand went over her mouth to stifle the sob.  The group stopped before they met the wall and gate.  Laun was helped down from the wagon and she walked to the portal into death. 

The smell was not overwhelming, but the taint of rot and smoke hung in the hot summer air.  Where there should have been cooking fires, there was nothing.  Where there should have been laughter, there was nothing.  Where there should have been animals, there was nothing.  The silence of death was overwhelming and made Laun turn from it.

“Edgar...”  Laun could not continue.

Everyone dismounted and began their own part of cleaning away the death that was before them.  Pillar started chanting as he stepped into the keep.  His voice echoed in the courtyard and filled the emptiness with life.  Some crows that had been in the courtyard flapped and cawed and flew into the woods.  Lucaris took Laun by the arm and they sat under a tree ten paces from the gate and watched as the wardsmen, servants and even a few of the dancers began lashing the saplings together to make gurneys for the dead.  Edgar himself went into the first courtyard and looked around for a few minutes before coming out again, his face pale but determined.

“There are a few wheelbarrows that were not destroyed in there that will help.  Before we start with the people, we need to start the graves.”

There was little talk among the people at the keep.  The first bodies were of the sheep that had been burnt alive in their pens.  The charred bodies were taken past the wagon and toward the burial grounds the household kept.  Partially burned wood was hauled out of the courtyard and a fire was built in front of the gate.  Tunics were torn and masks were made to try to keep out the scent and taste of the rotting bodies.  Lucaris excused herself and disappeared into the woods for a while as Laun helplessly watched as the bodies of the first to die were brought out of the keep.  She could remember all their names, what the faces should have looked like.  She had to remember them all, she could not turn away.

The sound of chanting came over the wall as Pillar moved from area to area, room to room.  It faded in and out, only stopping once as he saw what the bandits had done to the two infants in the arms of their mothers.  He chanted, a song to help the dead find their way out and for life to find it’s way in.  Lucaris echoed the chanting as she gathered herbs and made bundles from those herbs.  Pillar heard and did a call and response which Lucaris repeated back to him, adding enough to let him know what she was doing.

The first courtyard was cleared and Laun ventured into the keep.  It still smelled of death and decay, mold and rot.  But the people she once knew were no longer there.  She hesitantly looked around the first courtyard and then went through the offset gate and into the second.  There were still bodies, but Laun was less hesitant as she made her way through the keep, into the castle and up the tower to the armory where her Master had been slain.  She was almost running as the last corridor was in front of her.  

She stopped in the darkened passage and stepped into the armory with her heart pounding and her body trembling.

The splintered door was still there, barely hanging from the hinges.  The windowless room stunk and was stale, but she had to go in.  The gloom of reflected light let her see the mass that once was her master in the middle of the room.  His blood had pooled and stained the thin rug and stone beneath him.  She leaned against the wall and slid down, hearing the tunic rip, feeling the shoulder bandage shred, but she did not care.

Somehow, she was hoping that everything that had happened had been a dream, something she had remembered wrong.  The thought she had been unknowingly clinging to broke as she started to weep for her Master.  She had been more than willing to have her Master take back the title, to send her down to the Dance Master for another lesson.  

To be alive so she did not have to be.

It was one of the wardsmen who found her.  She was curled up around herself, weeping into the floor where she had collapsed.  He put his lantern on the floor and called out for help.  He could not get her to respond to anything he did or said and it brought a hint of hysteria to his voice as he called out again.

Laun knew someone was there but did not care.  Except if they would kill her.  She so desperately wanted to be dead along with all the others that she hoped it was the bandits again.  Hands were on her, holding her, moving her as she just wept her guilt and anguish.

Laun could not feel anything outside of herself as her guilt for being the only one alive from the keep ate at her very being.  A room that had a small bed was found and Laun was put into bed, Lucaris and one of the other women servants staying with her.  One of the aromatic herb bundles was placed at the head of the bed by the shamaness and she started to chant in low tones.  The servant found lamps and candles in adjoining rooms and brought them in to help dispel the dark of the evening.

Early in the morning, Pillar came and took Lucaris’ place at Laun’s bedside.  He continued the chant, a chant meant to pull someone out of themselves, to give them the direction and the hand needed when the mind collapses under the strain such as Laun had gone through.  He had brought some oils that he spread in patterns on her forehead, the scents mingling with those of the herbs his wife had gathered.  He chanted and smoothed away some of the worry lines on Launs forehead with the oil.  It was close to dawn when she finally relaxed and true sleep took her over.  The nightmares were not gone, were not over.  But sleep let her mind rest and pull away from the nightmare she had created for herself.

Pillar was amazed how resistant to the medicinal oils Laun had been.  It took hours for the sleep medicine to take effect.  He was also being affected by it and soon after Laun was asleep, he found his head touching the side rail of the bed.

He got up and let one of the others who were outside the room take his place beside their Lady.  He went down the corridor and found the room that his wife had taken.  He was able to get that far and sat next to her before the drugs took him over.

Chapter 15 The dead are interred, and the household holds a celebration for those still there