I loved making this because as I wrote it I felt the emotions the characters did and it was like I was in my own world, with just me and them in it, it was so cool! I've never felt like that before. Anyway, here it is, edited and revised and added to.
The Black Bandit
Chapter I
Striding rapidly towards a short, balding man livid with rage, a man with a sinister countenance approached.
“He has struck again?”
“Yes,” growled the shorter man, “He raids and pillages everything that passes the roads across his forest, just out of our reach and right when we think we got him, he retreats with his plunder!” And he brought his clenched fist, decorated with many gold rings, down on top of the table.
Suddenly remembering his attendants he crossly signaled for them to leave. The shorter man wiped beads of sweat off of his forehead with a white handkerchief with the letters S.D. embroidered in the corner.
“I have offered a large reward for him, the countless traps I have created to snare him have failed. I have also sent my men-at-arms after him, yet my best soldiers return wounded or do not even return at all. What more can be done, Farber? It cannot go on.”
Farber, the taller of the two, paced the floor, his polished black shoes clicking on the marble every step. Enraged and annoyed, Dusseau grew impatient and threw a glossy red apple at him. Without even glance in his direction, Farber caught it in mid-step.
“I have an idea.”
************************
“Dusseau will certainly be missing his supply wagon,” a figure clothed in scruffy black attire laughed, his deep commanding voice indicating leadership. About twenty-five men, wearing tattered clothing much resembling the their leaders, appeared from behind, guffawing heartily.
“Well done Derrick! I must say, when the Black Bandit goes to just the right places at just the right time and we come home with full bellies!” Said Dave, a middle-aged, ruddy-faced man as he came up and slapped Derrick on the back. Derrick smiled at his comrade and ran his fingers through his unruly, almost shoulder-length, dark brown hair.
“Fellow robbers and thieves,” Derrick shouted, and the every man turned his head to look at their leader, “We have raided the Chief Men-at-Arm’s supply wagon, and we are no longer hungry!” They hollered in agreement. The Black Bandit continued,
“But our clothes are shabby and marked, what should we do?”
“Buy some new ones!” They shouted.
“But we are scraping the bottom of our purses,” stated the Black Bandit. The men grumbled that that was true.
“What should we do?” Asked the Black Bandit.
“Get some women!” One man shouted, but realizing that that was not what The Black Bandit had meant, turned crimson.
“Steal from the rich!” Shouted the Black Bandit, and his entire gang yelled in agreement, but the Black Bandit raised an arm to quiet them and continued,
“For as surely as the sun rises, they posses triple the amount of money to provide for themselves and no doubt could do with someone reducing some of their riches!” This also met with animated whooping and hollering.
************************
Derrick watched from his seat in the hefty oak branch overhanging the road. His target, a polished black coach escorted by four fatigued men-at-arms, was approaching. If it was guarded so strongly, then it was either a trap or something costly was within, he reasoned. The coach was about ten yards ahead when he motioned for his six eager men to be silent. A second later Derrick dropped as noiselessly and as agile as a cat on top of coach as it passed underneath.
He cautiously crawled on his stomach to where the driver, who was whistling Yankee Doodle off key, sat and knocked him out with the butt of his firearm. Derrick grasped the reins from the unconscious driver and stopped the horses.
The four men-at-arms that were marching beside the coach were taken by surprise and giving a cry of alarm, they started to draw their swords when Derricks men, who had been hiding in the woods, quickly rushed out and disarmed them. Derrick heard an ear-piercing scream and then a manlier yell of pain come from the coach.
Turning around he strode to the door of the coach to find Ruben, one of his bolder men, clutching his hand with a look of complete shock and astonishment. Inside the coach was a trembling woman dressed lavishly, her dull brown hair twisted into a high and elaborate bun above her plump neck. Beside her sat a pretty servant, simply dressed, with her shining black hair modestly pulled back. Derrick looked closely into each of their eyes.
“S-she bit me!” Ruben cried, who had just found his tongue again.
“Which one?” Derrick asked, with one curious eyebrow raised. Ruben pointed with his fit hand to the lady.
“Madame,” Derrick said, suddenly dangerously charming and ruggedly handsome, caught her chubby hand and kissed it, “if you’d be so kind,” Derrick deftly stripped it of the glittering, jeweled rings.
“Could you, perhaps, point me in the direction of any gold laying around here?” He asked, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up in amusement. The lady frowned and nodded to her servant who produced a small leather pouch with coins jingling inside. Derrick opened the bag and poured out the gold coins. It was just enough to fill his hand. Arching an eyebrow he turned to the two women. This is barely enough to be guarded by four men-at-arms, he thought.
“May I enquire as to whom I have had the pleasure of sudden acquaintance?” he asked, roguishly but irresistibly, bowing like a gentleman. Behind him his men wore puzzled looks, obviously not comprehending what he had just said in such eloquent words.
The lady wrung her silk handkerchief nervously. Sitting up a little straighter, she set her painted lips into a thin line, and set her hands primly in her lap. She replied with a proper answer, but it was certainly not as clever as his question and for all her false nerve, her wide frightened eyes and her faltering speech betrayed her.
“Your father, what was his name?” He asked quickly.
“S-Simon Dusseau,” She said, fretfully wringing her wrinkled handkerchief.
************************
Chapter II
After hearing the news, Dusseau sank back into his chair and covered his face with his hands, groaning.
“My daughter,” he muttered, “is kidnapped by that--that scoundrel--The Black Bandit!”
The driver that had been knocked out had regained consciousness had reported what had taken place, for a sum, of course. The way he remembered it, the Black Bandit had been alone and had dragged the two women from the coach, after quickly disposing of the four men-at-arms. The Black Bandit had scribbled a letter and had stuck it into his hand while he was still unconscious.
Dusseau opened the note and scribbled on it was this,
Sire,
I have taken the liberty of enjoying a rendezvous with
your daughter, Miss Anne Dusseau, and her servant.
They are being held for the ransom of five thousand pounds.
I allow you two weeks to acquire the money from your funds.
Yours truly,
~The Black Bandit
“I hope this has taught you a lesson,” A sarcastic voice said.
Dusseau looked up and glared at Farber who was popping a grape carelessly into his mouth.
“You knew!” Dusseau shouted, hurling a goblet half filled with wine at him. Farber ducked and the goblet landed in a puddle of wine with a clatter.
“Of course I knew. By placing your beloved daughter in a coach surrounded by men-at-arms you initiated the Black Bandit’s curiosity. Maybe now…this has rekindled your old hatred for the Black Bandit!” Farber said the last bit quickly, as it was he was dodging a flying plate, but he knew that Dusseau would do whatever it took to bring back his daughter.
************************
“Mind if I join you?” Dave asked as he sat down beside Derrick.
“Seems you already have,” Derrick answered, gazing up at the stars.
“What did you notice?”
“Notice?” asked Derrick.
“In their eyes. Well, I don’t know how you do it, but I just know you can tell about anything from looking into a persons eyes. Here, look into mine,” Derrick looked for a moment in Dave’s green eyes.
“Your honest,” he said, then added quickly “well, most of the time, when your not working and you are usually a kind person,” Derrick looked away. Dave whistled.
“I knew it, what did you see in their eyes?”
Derrick ran his fingers through his hair.
“Well,” he began slowly, staring off into a distance, “In Anne Dusseaus eyes, I saw fear. That’s all.”
“What about Myra,” prodded Dave, “She’s a pretty little thing, never mind if she is a mute.”
Derrick sighed, “I don’t know,” he said shaking his head slowly.
“Ah-come on, you got to have seen something,” Dave prompted.
“Well,” he said hesitantly, “I saw…courage and intelligence…and…that’s it.”
“So…” said Dave, “What’s wrong with that?”
“Hmm…I don’t know, but something just doesn’t seem to fit.” Derrick got up and walked along the creek bed alone, every once in a while tossing in a pebble that hit the water with a, plink, before sinking to the bottom.
“I’ll never understand Derrick…what’s wrong with courage and intelligence?” mumbled Dave as he stretched out on his blanket under the enormous sea of twinkling stars.
************************
“Myra, bring me another blanket,” called Anne Dusseau as she tried to get in a comfortable position on the hard ground inside the large tent. Myra pulled back a lock of her long black hair and searched for another blanket. There was none. She cautiously stepped out of the tent. There was no guard, except for a man who walk back and forth at the edge of their encampment.
She suddenly understood why they were allowed to walk around. Because neither woman knew their way in these woods. To the left of her were about twenty snoring men and she certainly did not want to wake them up, so she started back to the tent when a kindly voice behind her said,
“Is there something you need?” She started slightly at the sound of The Black Bandit’s voice. Turning around she nodded and motioned as if she was cold.
“A blanket?” She nodded again.
“Stay here,” He soon returned with a blanket and handed it to her. She offered a small guarded smile to her captor. He quickly turned away and walked off. Myra returned to the tent and handed the blanket to Anne.
“Thank you, Myra. Goodness, I do not like being held for ransom at all. It is certainly not pleasant, I’d much rather be in my nice warm bed. Good night, Myra.” Myra knew that the carefree way Anne talked was just a mask behind her fear. But she just nodded goodnight and huddled in her blanket, allowing a few salty tears slip silently down her cheeks…
************************
Chapter III
Derrick shifted painfully on the hard ground, then finally sat up and dug in the dirt for barely a second before his action produced a small hard stone, he sighed, tossing it away. When he had written the ransom letter, two weeks seemed like a fine time but now he regretted it.
Two weeks was too long a time. He wondered what could have possessed him when he gave Myra his blanket. When she had smiled at him he had needed to turn away to hide the grin that enveloped his face. How could a young woman, not to mention a mute, smile so angelically? It annoyed him that he was so sympathetic.
After all, he reasoned, I am a thief, I rob the rich and kidnap women for ransom. But then the little voice inside of him reminded him that he had managed to provide a small tent for privacy. He quietly cursed. Derrick suddenly realized that he was extremely susceptible to falling in love with one of these women, and inwardly resolved to make sure that they were protected and fed, but nothing more. Did it matter if they were entertained? Or did it matter if they had one more blanket? Of course not, they would do fine as it was.
Trying to think of something else his mind wandered back to the puzzling situation of Myra. How can a mute be intelligent? There was also the matter of the something else he had seen in her large brown, bewitching, almond-shaped eyes framed by long black lashes. Secrets. He couldn’t understand it. Derrick finally drifted into a light slumber.
************************
Simon Dusseau sleepily rubbed his eyes and yawned. He called in a drowsy slave who replaced the candle that had sputtered out. Taking a gulp of icy cold water he felt a little better. After carefully studying several pieces of paper he laid them all down angrily, tonight he felt his age.
“I’m ruined, I could never pay the ransom. My hopes, my dreams, my happiness…all ruined by The Black Bandit,” He muttered as soon as the servant had left. A banging on the door startled him so much that he spilled a little water on himself.
“Come in!” He shouted angrily. Immediately the banging stopped and the door opened, Farber appeared.
“How anyone has enough energy to produce that much racket at this hour is beyond me,” Dusseau muttered. Farber ignored Dusseau’s comment.
“How is it that such an old man as yourself can stay up this late? Why, you must have been up all night,” Farber said with feigned concern, and meaning heavy on each word.
“How did you know that?” Dusseau demanded.
“You might have guessed by the weighty purse your slave outside wears,” Suddenly in Dusseau’s mind things began to make sense.
“I shall have your tongue cut out!” Dusseau cried, “For pretending to be a friend while planting spies around me! And for letting me send my daughter to her kidnapping without opening your mouth!”
“Oh…” said Farber with false mournfulness in his voice, “I’m so sorry for your personal loss. I know the only reason you care anything about your daughter is because you planned on forcing her to wed an extremely rich man, now with her kidnapped, I suppose your purse is completely empty.”
“You fiend! You swine!” Dusseau tried to thrust the candle at him but Farber laughed and easily twisted it from him, sending the silver candlestick clattering to the floor. The slave outside heard it, but as Farber said, the riches Farber had bribed him with made him hold his tongue.
************************
Derrick opened his eyes sleepily,
“W-What happened?” he asked, yawning.
“Dusseau! Dusseau has been murdered!” Dave shouted. Derrick looked into David’s eyes. There was truth. He leapt up, ready for anything.
“When? And by whom?” Derrick asked sharply.
“Yesterday. T’was his son, Robert Dusseau. A man called Farber-” Dave interrupted his story, “-you know him?” Derrick nodded quickly and Dave continued.
“A man called Farber, came in the room and said he found Dusseau’s son with a knife in his hand, Farber says he had just stabbed his father to death. Says he knocked Robert out and called for help.”
“Get a group of five of the best men, Robert is innocent.” Derrick said calmly to Dave whose chin just about reached the ground.
“Hurry!” Derrick commanded in a tone he rarely used with Dave. Dave recovered his senses and dashed off to wake up and ready the requested men. Derrick rubbed his forehead in thought. This was not going to be easy, and he knew it.
************************
Chapter IV
Robert Dusseau shivered. He cursed Farber under his breath. Robert studied his surrounding. Four stonewalls surrounded him, the door was stone and inescapable and the floor was made of large flat stones put together, with dried mud filling the cracks. There was no way of escaping. He thought about his late father and kidnapped sister. Robert covered his face with his hands and moaned.
Suddenly he heard the faintest scuffing sound almost directly underneath him. He scooted away and put his ear to the cold flat stone. Sure enough, whatever creature was making the noise was rapidly coming closer. Without warning the large stone was lifted up and Robert backed away. Through the crack he saw a pair of glittering eyes.
The stone slab was gently and slowly pushed to the side. Stone grated on stone, producing a low rasping noise. Slowly a dusty brown mob of hair emerged and finally a man’s face streaked with soil. It motioned for Robert to be quiet and to follow it down the hole. Robert quickly complied, for he knew it meant escape from the cell, even if only to be led into capture by his silent rescuer. Amazingly he found that the tunnel had stonewalls, which meant it had to of been built at the same time as castle.
He marveled that he no knowledge of this secret passageway, wondering where it led to and how many other secret tunnels like it were in the castle. Just moments before he thought he would drop from exhaustion he crawled out into blinding sunlight. After standing up and dusting himself off he looked around himself. He was in a forest, and there were about six men, one of which he recognized as the Black Bandit, surrounding him.
“Hello Robert Dusseau,” The Black Bandit said. Although the Black Bandit extended no handshake, his eyes had a certain kindness in them, much unlike Robert thought a brutal criminals eyes should look. Robert was not sure whether to rush at the Black Bandit with fists swinging, although Robert was definitely the younger and more inexperienced one, for kidnapping his sister or to shake hands with him for rescuing him. So he decided on an indifferent hello.
************************
Myra fingered the sparkling pebble with care, pushing her thumb up and down the smooth top thoughtfully until it grew warm. Questions inside her were unanswered. Why did Derrick rush away with five men? What was all the whispering among the men about? And many other questions…questions she could not ask.
To calm the turmoil tumbling inside of her she walked along the riverbed until she came to a very large stone. Looking closely she noticed a small green lizard, its body a little bigger than her thumb. Gently picking it up, she watched its tiny throat move ever so slightly, inhaling and exhaling.
She carefully laid it in the palm of her hand and made her way toward camp, every once in a while checking to see if it was still there, but the lizard seemed very content to sit and every once in a while turn his head and glance at some quickly passing object. Cautiously she set it on a rock near the edge of encampment and silently watched it swiftly crawl into some underbrush. Engrossed in watching the small amphibians movements she did not notice that Derrick and his men had returned, and with a young man.
************************
Derrick watched closely the expression on Robert’s face as Anne came out of the tent to see her brother. Robert barely looked up from the bowl of stew he was inhaling. Anne watched him with a look of disgust at his lack of manners.
“You know, brother, I’ve had a hard time here,” Anne said airily, tucking back an imaginary strand of her boring brown hair. Robert looked up at her with a look of bewilderment, then one of disgust, and ignoring her, continued gulping down the stew.
Anne sighed, and then went back into the tent. Robert had finally finished his soup. By now Robert realized that the long crawl from the tunnel had exhausted his energy. No time for questions, thought Derrick, disappointed.
“You can sleep anywhere on the ground,” Derrick said, holding the blanket for Robert to take.
“Where is my sis-” Blurted Robert, but suddenly thinking better of it, clamped his mouth shut and guardedly took the blanket. Derrick smiled inwardly.
************************
Chapter V
The moonlight played bewitchingly over the silvery river, and Derrick sat silently on his favorite log, mulling over all of his troubles. One of his dilemmas was the death of Simon Dusseau. Dusseau had two sons, the eldest, Jerald Dusseau had just returned from a long trip a few hours after they had secreted Robert away from the dungeon cell. Jerald would surely pay the ransom for Robert, Anne, and Myra at the appropriate time, which was only a week away. Derrick carved a knot off the log with his dagger, and he started whittling as he thought.
Then he thought about Myra…she was very pretty. And a mute, he severely reminded himself. Still…though mute her charms would melt any mans heart if she wished. Which is why you must be careful, he told himself. Lately they had actually communicated. Him by speaking, her by writing. The captive and captor relationship had completely disappeared almost the moment they had started to communicate. She was beautiful but her strongest attraction was inward beauty. She was gentle, compassionate, graceful, not to mention incredibly beautiful.
Shaking thoughts of Myra from his head he couldn’t believe he had thought that far into the future. Marriage to a mute? Her muteness didn’t bother him that much but the fact that if she was to marry him, would she live the life of a wife to an outlaw? In a camp full of rough men? Absolutely not. If he loved her at all he would conceal his emotions. It would be better for both of them.
Dave came and sat down beside him.
“What are you thinking about?” Dave asked.
“Anne and her brother, Robert.”
“What about them?”
“The way he responded when he saw her, it didn’t seem very warm.” Dave shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe they quarrel.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Probably didn’t like the way she put on airs.” But the Blank Bandit shook his head thoughtfully.
************************
“My brother did not kill my father!” Shouted Jerald Dusseau.
“While you were gone they quarreled terribly, perhaps at point of weakness…” Farbers deceiving voice trailed off.
“No. Robert did not kill him. Since I am the eldest son, I shall inherit all my father owns…and I wish to examine his private papers.” Jerald Dusseau stated firmly, instantly changing the subject. Jerald was a handsome man, nearly as striking as the Black Bandit himself and was dressed royally with a crown of blonde hair.
“Of course you shall,” Farber nodded quickly to a servant, who rushed off.
“Jerald, I must tell you, you father was not at all as rich as people expected, as a matter of fact, he spent nearly all of his funds…in knowledge that your sister, would marry Carle Peraldi, a foreign, but enormously wealthy man. I’m afraid that he has not five thousand pounds to pay the ransom.” Jerald did not looked very concerned.
“I did not return from my travels empty handed...I can pay three thousand of it.”
“But...who shall pay the rest?” asked Farber innocently.
“I-I wonder if you might have two thousand pounds? I will pay it back within the year, with interest.” Jeralds eyes bore into Farbers. Glancing down Farber began to pace casually.
“I could perhaps...but for a fee. You have the means to get something I want.” Farbers eyes grew intense,
“What would that be?”
“Custody,”
“Of whom?”
“the man known as The Black Bandit,”
“No, I have my reasons for allowing him his freedom.” Jerald reponded coolly,
“Then I cannot help you,” Farber said, gritting his teeth to prevent several nasty words from slipping out. Jerald sighed.
“Then I shall find someone else to loan me the two thousand, perhaps his old comrade Berume.”
“I’m afraid not, he and Berume have quarreled recently and it left a scar not easily healed.”
“What about Ushaal?”
“Ushaal cheated Dusseau out of some cattle, the ordeal ended up in a duel between sons, Robert won and Ushaal’s son was disgraced, no chance he’ll lend you money.”
“Defane?”
“Away fighting,”
“Fellad?”
“Killed in battle,” Farber said, his eyes shining with triumph. Jerald sighed.
“There must be something else you want...land...gold? As I mentioned before, there will be a considerable interest.” Farbers eyes light up for a moment with the mention of wealth...then darkened with determination.
“No, it is The Black Bandit I want more than anything else,” Farber said persistently.
“I will not allow it!” Jerald yelled in desperation, storming out of the room.
“Oh, yes you will,” Farber muttered under his breath.
************************
Licking his lips at the delicious slab of smoked meat before him, Ruben quickly sat down and reached for it. His hand was smacked with a large wooden spoon. Quickly withdrawing his hand he looked up and saw Anne with her fat white hands on her hips. Ruben’s eyes grew dark with fury.
“You’ll get no food till the rest of the savages have eaten. In the meantime, you can fetch me some water,” Anne said haughtily. Ruben was just about to give her a licking she would remember, when out of the corner of his eye he saw the Black Bandit emerge from behind a tree. He was watching. Ruben grabbed the bucket from her and stumbled hastily down the hill to the river. As he was rounding the bend he heard the sweetest soprano voice he had ever heard.
It was singing very softly, reminding him of honey dripping from honeycomb. A fat raindrop splattered on his shoulder. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, so long as he could hear the beautiful sounds that couldn’t possibly be coming from a human being. Stepping very quietly he peeked from around the tree. There in the river stood Myra, fully clothed. His eyes widened.
“She’s not a mute!” he exclaimed quietly. Quickly retracing his steps he ran back to camp. He found the Black Bandit near the edge of camp, he was whittling, protected from the rain by great majestic trees.
“Ruben! What’s the matter?” Derrick asked, slightly alarmed at the way Ruben was panting.
“Come quickly--” gasped Ruben, “There’s something you’ll want to see, or should I say, hear.”
************************
Chapter VI
Derrick ran quickly back with Ruben and by the time he reached the river he was soaked.
“What is it? I demand an explanation for making me run all the way here in the rain!” Derrick asked impatiently. Ruben put his finger to his lips and motioned Derrick to look toward the river.
Myra was standing waist deep, still fully clothed, in the river. Wind whipped her long black hair in all directions and water streamed down her open palms that were held to the heavens. Myra look like a dangerously beautiful, much like Derrick would have imagined the mythical Greek goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite, who she herself was born out of sea foam. Very faintly, he heard her soft voice singing lowly, the wind carrying the words farther then she knew. At first he couldn’t make out the words, then he realized she was singing in an entirely different language. It was a slow, mournful but intriguing song. Derricks breath caught in his throat. Never was she more beautiful than now.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, rumbling, and lighting lashed out, sounding like a whip cracking. Her trance was broken. She dove under the water and swam as quickly as a fish. A few yards closer to shore she emerged from the angry water. Her hair and clothes were clinging to her skin and water dripped from her dress and hair like liquid diamonds. As she reached it, Ruben pulled Derrick back into the camouflage of the trees.
“What do you think?” Ruben asked, his eyes filled with self-importance at discovering this secret.
“She’s beautiful…” Derrick said breathlessly. Ruben’s eyes widened.
“No, about her voice!” Ruben said. Derrick shook his head quickly, as if clearing away unwanted thoughts.
“She’s not a mute!” Derrick said numbly, he hadn’t even realized she had been singing. It had seemed like a dream, the beautiful sound emerging from her very being, her very soul. There was no way around it. He was in love. Ruben interrupted his thoughts,
“There’s something I can’t figure out.” Ruben said, scratching his head as they walked back to camp.
“What’s that?” asked Derrick absent-mindedly.
“That woman’s voice didn’t seem at all like a servant’s ought to. It had an edge of refinement. ‘Sides, not many servants know how to speak in a different language.” Derrick snapped his fingers, “I’ve got it!” And he headed towards a shortcut with Ruben right at his heels.
************************
Myra wrapped her arms around herself to stop herself from shaking. She stopped every once in a while to wring out her dress and hair. While she walked she thought about Derrick. At first she had been careful around him, but soon she felt strangely at ease. Whenever she was around him she would go weak in the knees. She knew she was denying the attraction. His curly brown hair, sharp blue eyes…
She caught herself thinking about him. He kidnapped me, she reminded herself. But the truth was, she felt as though he had saved her. Taken her away from the bustle of the market and brought her to…to the serene woods. She was in love. And she knew it. Of all the silliest things, she told herself, you choose to fall in love with an outlaw.
Now she was at the edge of camp. She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her dress, trying to look presentable before going into the tent. She entered, and then turned around to try and somehow keep the wind from flinging open the tent flap.
“Hello Myra Dusseau,” Myra whirled around to face the speaker. It was Derrick. Also in the room was Anne, whose face was white.
“He knows,” she whispered.
************************
Anne twisted her kerchief uneasily. How did he find out? She wondered. The plan had been…so perfect. It was not exactly an uncommon thing for wealthy women to switch identities with her servant during travel, for safety. Returning from her thoughts she saw that Myra was wet and trembling. Anne rushed off to get a blanket, returning now to her real identity and remembering her duties as a servant.
“How did you find out?” Myra was asking when Anne returned with the blanket.
“There were several things. The first, I heard you singing.” Derrick said hesitantly. He did not like the fact that she knew he had spied on her. The shock clearly showed on Myra’s face.
“Now I know why you had to pose as a mute,”
“My voice has the edge of refinement uncommon to servants,” Myra said, finishing the sentence for him. Anne handed her the blanket.
“Thank you Anne,” Myra said softly. Anne nodded.
“Also, I realized that not many servants know two languages, and not many wealthy women know how to cook,” he continued, glancing at Anne. There was a moment of silence before Myra spoke, and she did so with a voice heavy with sorrow.
“You may as well know, that my father can never pay the ransom. He wasted his money and then arranged an engagement between a foreign lord, Carle Peraldi and me. I was traveling to meet my wealthy fiancé, for the first time, when we--” She hesitated, obviously trying to put it delicately, “met.” Greatly disappointed as he heard of her engagement, Derrick tried not to show it.
“Now there is something I must tell you. Your father…died.” Myra did not go into hysterics as he thought most ladies would but instead turned white. Somewhat encourages, he continued uncertainly,
“That is why your brother is here. He was accused of murdering him. By a man named Farber. A man I know very well.” Derrick said with a far away look on his face.
“Anyway, I know he didn’t kill him so I, in a sense, kidnapped him from death.”
“Thank you…Derrick.” Derrick almost jumped when she said his name. It was the first time she had ever done so. He liked it.
“Your welcome. At the time though, I thought he was Anne’s brother. That would explain the cold shoulder he gave Anne. I suppose he wasn’t used to having a servant address him as ‘brother’.”
“No, I wasn’t.” admitted Robert, who had just come in, sheepishly. Anne turned to look at him. When she looked back Myra had fainted…and Derrick had caught her.
************************
Chapter VII
Very carefully and quietly he laid Myra on a blanket. Taking another blanket he carefully laid it over her. Derrick sat back on his heels and studied the job. She would be comfortable. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and watch her forever. He gently tucked a tress of her hair that had fallen loose behind her ear. There was no way she could stay here. She was engaged. Engagements can be broken, a small voice inside of him said. And then what? He asked himself scornfully. I’ll force her to marry me? She is the daughter of Dusseau.
“Do you love her?” asked Anne, who had tiptoed in and observed the passion in his eyes. Derrick looked over his shoulder at her.
“Yes,” he said huskily, emotions nearly choking him.
“Did you ever tell her?” questioned Anne seriously.
“No,” he said, wondering what would be Myras response if he did. Anne tsked.
“You should,” she said boldly, knowing that she had overstepped her boundaries as a servant. All her life she had been cowered in fear, but she right now she wasn’t afraid to say what she thought. They were made for each other.
“She’s engaged,” he said lamely.
“She’s never even met him! He’s probably old enough to be her father!” Anne huffed. Derrick gritted his teeth.
“She’s the daughter of Dusseau,”
“Oh yes, and I’m the daughter of a blacksmith, does that mean you shouldn’t marry me?” Retorted Anne, not quite getting the point.
“You don’t understand,”
“Oh I don’t understand?” Anne’s fervor was making her red in the face. Derrick decided arguing with her was not the best idea, and started to walk away.
“I understand perfectly,” she shouted after him, “that you’re as blind as a bat if you can’t see how her eyes light up when you’re around.” Derrick stopped in mid-step. He turned around slowly.
“What did you say?”
Anne tucked a strand of hair that had gotten out of place. Finally, she thought, I’ve gotten through to the man.
************************
“Serum?” Jerald called nervously to his trusted servant as he noticed a shadow among the flickering candlelight, his long journey had not been without its nightmares. He heard a scuffing on the floor behind him and he spun around to be face to face with Farber. Jerald laughed uneasily and wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed rapidly with his richly embroidered sleeve.
“I was hoping you had reconsidered my proposition.” Farber said, his voice echoing eerily in the large, dimly light room. Jerald sighed heavily.
“I am afraid I must, for I have tried to get several old friends of mine from here to loan me the two thousand pounds, but my father, it seems, had quite a knack for making enemies and nearly all of them have at least one offended relative.”
“He did that,” agreed Farber, sounding a little friendlier. Jerald sighed again.
“I agree to your terms. But you must bring me back my brother and sister unharmed. Only then may you capture the man known as The Black Bandit, and whatever criminal in his gang that you fancy you would like as a slave.” Farber smiled slightly and nodded to show his gratitude. Jerald gaze lingered on the candle for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly his eyes fixated on Farber again, this time with a questioning stare.
“I only have one question.” Farber nodded for Jerald to continue.
“What is your relation with him? If he hadn’t kidnapped my brother and sister I would simply think of him as a trivial criminal that roves the forest and highways and yet it seems that you would move heaven and hell to posses his freedom. Surely he has not done something so terrible that warrants this sort of slavery. What makes him so important?” As he said this, a strange emotion that had never before been seen in Farber’s eyes, flickered there, and then quickly went out like a snuffed candle.
“He was my brother.” Farber said in an icy tone. Jerald started.
“Your brother?” He asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” Farber said in a bitter voice, “by blood.”
“Good god man! What happened?”
“He proposed to a woman, but she refused him and preferred me.” Farber’s voice was filled with hatred, “Ten days after we were married, he murdered her.”
************************
A quiver filled with stout arrows and a faithful bow in his hands, Dave squinted one eye and aimed at a fat and promising buck. Hungry and running low on provisions, Dave had formed a hunting party out of six good men and they had started out, moving far away from the campground at a quick speed in hope of finding some deer.
Now, having finally found some game, he and his party were careful to avoid stepping on any dry leaves or twigs and have their positions given away by the loud sounds they would have been sure to make. Their brown clothing was perfect for blending in and just as Dave was about to let one fly, the deer perked their ears up and bounded away, having been frightened by something. Glancing at what had enlightened the creature’s sensitive ears, Dave spotted a horseman and six armed soldiers heading this way, obviously not aware that anyone was around. He signaled his men to move away and find more camouflaging shelter.
Ping, Dave’s arrow was true to its mark, and one soldier fell on his face, dead. Seconds later a thin volley of feathered arrows whizzed out from behind the tree’s, and each soldier, taken by surprise, dropped, their bright red blood pooling on the forest floor. The horseman had possessed the sense enough to leap off his horse and seek shelter behind a forest tree. Dave circled around in a C path until he was directly behind the desperate horseman.
Careful not to make a sound, he pulled out a large dagger from his boot and crept forward until he was close enough to touch the man. In one smooth motion he had the dagger pressed up against the horseman’s neck, its silvery blade ready to cut flesh. The man froze, his breathing becoming shallow in hopes to ease whatever pressure was being applied to the dagger.
“If you so much as blink an eyelash I’ll kill you,” David said whispered hoarsely, his mouth close to the man’s ear.
************************
Chapter VIII
Derrick held his breath and pressed himself farther behind the large pine tree as Anne passed by, carrying an empty bucket, and humming a little tune as she went. When she had finally gone, he sighed with relief and relaxed. He meandered towards a large log and sat down on it, letting his mind wander. A twig snapped and his eyes flew open.
“I’m glad you agreed to meet me here,” he said quietly as Myra sat next to him on the log.
“I have to admit I’m not sure why you wanted to meet here.” She said, her velvety brown eyes searching his clear blue ones.
“I have to say that maybe I’m not even sure why I asked you to meet me here.” He chuckled softly, then gave up and sighed.
“I love you Myra,” He blurted, wondering how her bewitching eyes had managed to coerce him to declaring his love for her, even if it was the truth. When he looked into her eyes there was no shock in them, only an unusual emotion. Whether it was love, hate, embarrassment, kindness, or gentle displeasure…he couldn’t tell. He gently took her hand and she did not pull it away. Derrick wanted to sit there and hold her hand for eternity. Her full, enticing lips parted hesitantly,
“Derrick, I--” Shouting from the distance interrupted her, and she quickly stood up and left in the direction of camp. He stood up to follow her but urgent shouting captured his attention and he sprinted towards the approaching hunting group. He perceived Dave and six other men he recognized, but a man he could not identify was his hands behind his back and was limping painfully. A moment later, Derrick froze. Dave stopped and gestured towards the stranger.
“We’ve got ourselves Farber, you know him, right?”
“Y-Yes,” Derrick said, stunned. He briefly glancing at his brother’s motionless face and glazed over eyes, searching for any feeling. He took in his brother’s shallow breathing and feverish face, and it was apparent he did not recognize Derrick, and seemed to be in a trance, his glassy eyes staring straight ahead. Before Derrick could say one more word Farber stumbled dazedly to his knees and fell forward onto the grassy floor, unconscious.
************************
Myra paced anxiously inside the tent. Does he really love me? She asked herself, wringing her hands in frustration. She knew that she loved him, but if he did love her, would it work out or would everything fall to pieces?
She heard Derrick’s commanding voice say, “Section off a small part of the tent and place him in there.” She wondered who the him was, and was about to go outside when two bulky men entered carrying a third man, whose face she could not see, and she had to move quickly out of the way to avoid being trampled.
They set him rather roughly down on the floor at the corner of the tent and exited. She moved closer to observe the man’s face and when she saw it she drew back in disgust. Derrick had entered just in time to see her reaction. He brushed past her knelt down on the floor, almost tenderly fixing the creased blanket.
“Come help me,” he said, standing up and stringing out a rope on which to hang blanket for privacy. She barely knew he had been talking to her except for the fact that she was the only one in the tent, and she timidly helped him to fling the blankets over the ropes. Now they had almost an entirely new room. Derrick took out a knife and cut away part of cloth from Farber’s leg, determined to clean out the arrow wound underneath.
“Get me a sponge, and a bowl of clean water.” He commanded, examining where the arrow and pierced the skin and continued out the other side. Myra had run to go get the needed items when a bewildered Anne had entered the tent. Surveying the scene and realizing the urgency, she asked no questions and instead asked what she could do to help.
“Tear some clean cloth into strips for bandages.” As he said this Myra came back with the water and sponge and held the bowl while he cleaned up the mixture of dirt and blood that had dried around the injury. After they had stopped most of the bleeding, Derrick stood up and got a bottle of a brownish drink and managed to get the unconscious man to sit up and poured some of it down his throat, saying it would, “Kill the pain.” Anne tore their clean unmentionables into strips of cloth that you surely wouldn’t have recognized as ladies under things and bound the wound.
“Thank you for your help, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. Luckily the arrow didn’t pierce anything terribly vital and though he’s lost a lot of blood…I believe he’ll make it.” Said Derrick as he stood up to survey their work. They nodded and Myra switched the bowl of bloody water for a clean one.
“Well, I better get back to my duties, and Miss Dusseau, if I could ask for your help, there is an unearthly amount of wash’n that should get done.” And both women left. Derrick sighed and kneeled beside Farber, putting a cool cloth on his feverish forehead. Studying his older brothers face, Derrick thought back to when they were just boys, playing in the little creek bed with nothing more to argue about than whose frog could jump the highest.
“Mine can jump higher,” said little 6-year-old Derrick, protectively holding his large, slippery green frog close to his stomach.
“I tell ya, mine jumped ten feet in the air when you weren’t looking,” retorted older brother Alex, as he kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants, letting the lively creek water flow over his bare feet, cooling them off. Derrick put his frog down next to Alex’s brown one in the makeshift pen for them they had created together and took off his shoes and socks, following his 9-year-old brothers example.
“Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have all summer to build a grand fort!” Derrick said, a grin spreading across his young face and his voice filled with excitement. Alex shrugged indifferently, not saying anything. Derrick frowned,
“Don’t you want to make a fort this summer that we can play in and pretend we’re soldiers fight’n the Indians?” Alex was silent.
“I’ll let you choose which one you want to play and I’ll be whatever is left over!” Encouraged Derrick.
“I’m too old for stuff like that, Father is teaching me important things, things you’ll probably never, ever learn,” said Alex coldly, getting up and walking away, not caring to look back and see the hurt look on his little brothers face.
He shook his head sadly, as if trying to get rid of unwanted memories. When Alex had turned nine years old, everything had changed. Gone was the carefree older brother he had known and in his place a cold and indifferent brother had appeared. Derrick removed the heated cloth and replaced it with a cool one.
************************
hahaha anyways I love this story. Its great continue to work on it and I'll be waiting
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 82