After the Ninth Bell
What happens in the mysterious Grand Castle after the Ninth Bell tolls?
All characters engaging in sexual activity are over the age of consent.
Chapter One - Before The Ninth Bell
Freya looked up at the sprawling Castle ahead of her on the hill. It looked huge from the town, but up this close the brooding, ominous bulk was almost oppressive; dark towers silhouetted against the night sky, the full moon shining off the snow covered roofs and turrets.
Shivering, she pulled her scarf around her face more tightly and crossed the moat bridge, not daring to get too close to the edge. Not for her the luxury of the main gate - according to her friend Triss, the servant's entrance was round the back - still a long way yet in this cold. She hunched her shoulders trying to keep to the carriage tracks for easier footing but the side paths were less well used than those out front. She stumbled on beneath the dark walls, cursing Triss for telling her about the job and cursing herself even more for listening to her.
Cursing was fine, but she was here now and she had to make the best of it. As she at last reached the servant's entrance, she fingered the token in her cloak pocket that Triss had given her. She took it out and examined it again. It was about the size of a five crown piece - not that Freya had held many five crown pieces of course. On one side was a crest - a rampant dragon breathing fire. On the other, a number six followed by a symbol of a bell with two other numbers beneath - 13/11.
The Sixth Bell on the thirteen day of the eleventh month. Her certification for tonight's job.
Right on cue, the bell rang from the tower in the town square below and on the sixth toll, the servant's door opened. There were two other girls waiting; one Freya recognised from the Empress Galina. The Empress was across the town square from the tavern in which Freya worked and considered itself to be more upmarket. The girl nodded at her but did not speak.
They were ushered into the kitchens which were stiflingly hot compared to the chill outside. They hung up their cloaks and were provided with black aprons adorned with the same dragon crest as the token Freya had been given. The token had now been passed on to the head servant Nadia on her arrival.
Triss was already there with a few other girls, some of whom Freya recognised from the town. Triss gave a her a little wave and went about her duties as the new girls were given their instructions. By the end of Nadia's speech, Freya's head was reeling. It was a list of things to do - and more importantly - not to do. She just prayed to the Saints that she would remember everything.
Her first duties were to peel potatoes and onions. Not a problem - she had helped prepare the stews and casseroles in the Tavern often enough. She had come to the town as soon as she was able, aged sixteen Turns, to get away from the drudgery of village life in the hope of being able to make more of herself than a farmer's wife.
So far, her plan was not really succeeding. To start with, she had managed a few menial jobs no better than those she'd had back in the village, but just over a Turn ago she landed herself a job at one of the taverns in the town as a serving wench. Initially she cleared tables and washed up and helped prepare the hearty food the tavern was renowned for, but once she came of age, she graduated to serving tables.
As she had not long come of age, Tenby, the tavern owner, only permitted her to work lunchtimes and afternoons. He was a strange, fat old man but had a very strict moral code. The girls that worked the evenings needed to be a little more savvy and worldly-wise than young Freya. Triss was a little older and had already taken on evening work and some of the tales she told made Freya glad she was not yet ready herself.
When she first arrived at the Dragon's Nest she knew virtually no-one, but Triss had taken her under her wing and they had become best friends. The girl had also come to town in recent Turns; not exactly seeking her fortune - no-one was naive enough to think the streets were paved with gold - but she also thought she had a better chance than in the Southlands where she was born. In keeping with the Southern races, her eyes were slightly slanted and mysterious and there was a definite point to her slender ears as they poked through her short, silky blonde hair. Her accent was rich and rolling, full of odd words and phrases and Freya soon came to love the sound of it. It was that which had swayed her to take the job tonight.
"You makes more in a single night than we earnses in a week here," her friend had told her after her shift at the Dragon's Nest last Midweekday. "Twelve Crowns for nuffin'! All the fings we does here - pourin' drinks, collectin' plates..." Her short blonde hair was bobbing as she spoke enthusiastically. Freya had sensed she was about to say something more, but she clammed up suddenly; something completely out of character with her usual bubbly nature and infectious charm. When Freya accepted she had given her the token to show to Nadia.
As the Seventh Bell struck, some of the girls including Triss began to take out the first delicacies of the evening. The food looked incredible to Freya - far more sumptuous than anything the Dragon's Nest could conjure up. As the doors to the Banqueting Hall opened she tried to get a glimpse of the guests, hoping she'd see the Lord and Lady at the head of the table. She had seen them a few times from a distance in the town and they looked impossibly beautiful and exotic. No-one knew exactly where they had come from - some said the Far Southlands, others from across the Great Sea. Wherever they hailed from, a few Turns ago they had made the Castle their home and had largely kept to themselves ever since. The townsfolk were fine with that - they were no trouble and brought business to the area, though there were occasional whispers in the Tavern as to why they might be there. Freya craned her neck trying to see into the room; she could hear the hubbub of conversation and gentle music but her view was blocked by the constant to-ing and fro-ing of the waitresses.
She had just finished topping up some wine flagons when Nadia told she and two other girls to go in and begin collecting plates. She tried to remember her instructions and followed the other girls into the room, her heart pounding in her chest. She was carrying a large tray onto which the others piled plates and dishes until she thought her arms would break. She tried to steal glances at the guests in their finery, but found herself concentrating so hard on not dropping her tray, she took little in. There must have been thirty or more revellers; the Lord and Lady at the top table with their closest friends and allies, two more tables running down the length of the hall from each end. It took three visits to clear the tables and on the third, Freya finally got to peek at the hosts; Lady Drusilla with her normally sleek, silvery white hair in thick plaits tonight, deep in conversation with a man to her right. And there next to her was Lord Anders, his long dark ringlets framing his handsome, bearded face, bestowing his charms on an elegant lady with hair of alternating black and silver streaks.
But her vision of the couple was short-lived as she was consigned back to the kitchens and her next task was to help wash the plates she had just retrieved from the hall. The next two hours flew by and before she knew it, they were approaching the Ninth Bell.
She was drying her hands when she heard Nadia shout at her. "You girl, quick now - some guests still needs wine. Remember what you was told." Freya took the heavy wine jug, Nadia's instructions ringing in her ears. Trembling, she made her way into the Banqueting Hall and began offering the guests wine. She was desperate not to spill any or break the etiquette that said she should always approach from the right and enquire politely of "My Lord?" or "My Lady?", and above all not to speak otherwise or make any eye contact.
As she neared the Lord and Lady, she was glad the wine jug was now so much lighter as her hands were shaking. She approached the woman to the left of Lord Anders who ignored her other than to hold her goblet aloft. She filled it and moved on to Lord Anders. Her voice sounded tiny and tremulous to her. "My Lord?"
Without looking at her either or breaking his conversation with the woman, he held his hand over his goblet indicating his refusal.
Sighing, she moved on to Lady Drusilla. "My Lady?" Again, not so much of a look in her direction, but this time the wine goblet was pushed towards her with long, elegant fingers; the nails a deep blood-red . She poured slowly, daring herself to look at the Lady for a second. She could smell her exotic perfume and see those shining silvery white braids falling almost to her waist in her peripheral vision. She was about to move on to the man the Lady had been talking to earlier when she felt a hand close gently around her wrist.
Involuntarily she turned her head and stared straight into the eyes of Lady Drusilla. Her striking yellow orbs burned into Freya's green eyes and the girl looked away instantly, bowing her head and stammering, "Forgive me, my Lady, I did not mean-"
She was cut off by a surprisingly gentle voice that she barely caught above the hubbub of the room. Lady Drusilla sounded amused. "But it was my fault, young lady. We are not all rude charlatans here." She cast a disparaging glance towards her consort and his friend. "I merely wished to thank you for my wine." She paused. "Look at me..."
Freya held her head down, aware that all eyes were now upon her. "But Madam, I was instructed not to look upon her Ladyship..."
Drusilla let out a little laugh. "And you choose take your instruction from a serving girl when the Lady of the house commands you otherwise?" She gripped Freya's wrist harder and her voice became more steely. "I repeat, girl - look at me!"
Freya slowly raised her head and gazed again into Lady Drusilla's eyes. They were deepest yellow, flecked with green highlights that shone in the candlelight. She had narrow, upright slit pupils that reminded Freya of a cat's. The eyes sparked with life and Freya found them mesmerising. It felt as if the woman was looking straight through her own eyes and into her inner soul. Drusilla ran a finger along her lips contemplating the girl standing over her as Freya tried not to break her stare. Her narrow, pointed ears were just visible through her plaits. Freya wondered if there were any other physical differences beneath the woman's elegant red silk dress.
