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The Lady Sophia Allynwick sat comfortably in a cushioned chair as she sipped her morning tea. The air was crisp and clean and a gentle breeze, smelling faintly of late spring, ruffled her ebon hair. She loved looking out from the gabled balcony each morning as the sun rose from behind the distant mountains and bathed the valley with light. A new day was dawning, filled with hope and promise and challenge.

Shouts and laughter drew the gray-furred mouse's attention down into the castle courtyard. Setting her tea down, she stood and looked over the balcony. Below her she saw three small figures sparring against each other with quarterstaffs. The arms master, a tall, burley human, stood close by watching and correcting their movements. Two boys and a girl; all of whom were identical in age. Their fur and hair color matched their mother's. The only difference was their piercing green eyes, which they'd inherited from their father.

Jonathan was the oldest by about 7 minutes. He was the boldest of them; the truth seeker; always first to try new things and ask questions. Christina was second. She was a listener, the one sensitive to other's feelings, the one most patient with others and most passionate about the rights and wrongs of the world. Finally there was Raphael. He had waited almost a full thirty minutes after his sister's birth to enter the world. He was the thoughtful one, the scribe, the poet, and the schemer. He liked to think everything through first then act. It didn't make him slow, just thorough.

Sometimes it was hard for Sophia to grasp how quickly time had passed. It had been little more than fourteen years ago that the then sixteen-year-old mouse had been rescued by and wedded to Sir Allynwick, the Wandering Knight of Duran. The marriage was one of convenience as the knight was dying and needed someone to pass his lands and title on to, but there was more than a little genuine love between them as well. Sophie always remembered him with both warmth and a little melancholy at the shortness of their time together. He had changed her life in so many ways, not the least of which was raising her from the level of a poor, Anthrop serving wench to Lady Allynwick of Castle Durandell.

She brought her gaze up and beyond the castle walls, looking out on the town of Duran, not more than three miles distant. Great, ancient forests still occupied two thirds of the valley, but there was more than enough rich, open land to make the region self-sufficient. It was a quality not shared by most of the kingdom, but then the people living here had the advantage of Sir Allynwick's wisdom and knowledge, a trait that Sophie held in common with her husband.

One example could be seen dotting what had been unused hillside lands above the town. Shortly after her children were born, she had converted about 100 acres of the grassy hills into a vineyard and hired an experienced vintner to manage the land. It took about five years of effort, but it paid off. Now, the winery was one of the most successful in the kingdom. It had been expanded to over 900 acres and brought in a considerable profit, which Sophia had used to make improvements to both the castle and the town of Duran. Success seemed to breed success. New businesses and trade shops had opened in the town and there was even talk of building a real church to replace the small chapel and shrine that currently served the people. The shire of Durandell was indeed successful. Unfortunately, wealth often brought with it other problems.

Being a widow and heir to such rich lands made Sophie a tempting goal for every want-to-be lord and knight in the country. In the years since arriving at Castle Durandell she'd turned down dozens of marriage proposals. Fortunately, the law of the land worked in her favor. Because she was a widow, she did not have to accept any suitor she did not deem worthy, even those who had the favor of the royal court. True, there had been a few decent prospects. One in particular who caught her fancy was a dashing young cavalier named Squire Bern. The red-haired human reminded her in many ways of Sir Allynwick; but she'd refused his petition as well, not because he was unworthy, but because the same law which protected her would give any future husband control of all she owned, at least until her oldest son had reached his majority. That would not occur for another seven years, more than enough time for an unwise lord to bleed the lands of their wealth. Sophie had seen it happen to other widowed nobility, and she was not about to leave her children without their rightful heritage.

Squire Bern had of course been disappointed, but surprisingly he not only understood, but also accepted her decision. Despite his frequent sojourns away from Duran in search of a knighthood, he always returned, and they had maintained a very intimate and not so secret tryst. He was a valued friend and a welcomed, devoted, and passionate suitor.

A soft knocking at her door brought the mouse's attention sharply back to the real world. “Enter," she responded.

A slightly plump, matronly goat with white and brown fur, wearing a simple green dress opened the door. “Your morning bath is ready my lady."

“Thank you, Estelle." The Lady Allynwick went over to her bed and removed her bedclothes, replacing them with a thick, white robe and sandals. The goat held the door open for her then followed two paces behind. She carried a wooden box containing scented soaps and bath oils. They descended the back stairway to her private bathing chamber. Located near the kitchen it contained a bronze, high-backed tub big enough to fit three fully-grown humans.

They entered the chamber, and Estelle barred the door as Sophie disrobed and climbed into the bath. As always, the goat had done an excellent job of mixing the bathwater so it was hot without being uncomfortable. The mouse leaned back and sighed as the water swirled around her shoulders. She always soaked for about ten minutes before getting to the task of scrubbing her fur clean. It was a ritual she followed daily, unlike so many other nobles who bathed perhaps once a week at most. She could never understand their distain for something so pleasurable.

Estelle brought the box over to the bath. “What shall it be today, my lady?"

“Vanilla, I think. We have a nice, westerly breeze and I think that will complement the warmer temperatures that will accompany it this afternoon."

The goat dutifully measured out a single capful of amber colored oil and poured it into the bathwater, stirring it with a small paddle so it flowed around the mouse. “I think this will properly impress the village stewards when you meet with them today."

“Oh… am I supposed to see them today?" Sophie asked playfully.

“Please, my lady, none of your games with me. You know full well you have a meeting with them at Friar Brown's chapel come fore-noon."

The mouse laughed softly. “I should know better than to play the innocent with you, old nana. Perhaps I should appoint you my personal secretary."

“You already have one, not that you need her services," Estelle replied. “You're too much a politic and lady to need someone of my limited talents to keep your grand plans in order. Besides, were I your secretary, I might become a target for those in court who covet your wealth and position. Nay… A simple lady in waiting is what I am and what I shall remain."

“Lady in waiting… perhaps; but simple… never," chuckled Sophie. The goat returned her smile then doused her with a pail of water scooped up from the bath.

With Estelle's help the Lady Allynwick quickly scrubbed herself clean, dried, combed, and set her hair before returning to her room. There she donned a lavender, ankle length gown, slippers and a silver girdle. She walked down to the small family-dining alcove off the great hall for breakfast. Estelle went out into the courtyard and fetched the children. They came running in, Jonathan in the lead but were brought up short by Sophie.

“Hands and faces first, then breakfast."

“But Mother…"

“No buts! Estelle, take them to the baths. Soap, water, towels, and combs, and you'd best be quick about it, or I'll give the food to the guardsmen."

They were all back within five minutes but had to wait until they were joined by their tutor who Sophie insisted sit with them for the morning meal. Breakfasts were fairly simple affairs consisting of eggs, fruit, bread and cheese. As the children ate, she and their teacher went over the topics for the day's lesson. Today, it would be Latin, History and Mathematics, this last eliciting a groan from Jonathan.

“I still don't see the need to push numbers around," he complained. “And this new idea of having a number that represents nothing… I don't get it."

“You may not get it now, Master Jonathan," the tutor admonished, “but it is a useful concept when doing the more complex forms of math you will need for engineering and ballistics. After all, you did say you wanted to be a great general someday, didn't you?"

“Fie… When I'm a general all I have to do is point my men-at-arms at the enemy and unleash them."

“How many men will you have if you can't even figure out how much you'll have to pay them each month? Soldiers have families to care for and don't work for free," said Christina.

“And you need to know your weights and measures so you can feed your army, General Jon!" quipped Raphael.

The brown robed, gray-bearded scholar smiled. “They have a valid point, young master."

Jonathan sighed. “I understand, but the work is so… difficult."

“If you need help," said Sophie, “just ask your tutor. That's why he's here."

“Thank-you for your confidence in me, my lady,"

“As always, Squire Thorson," she replied.

Jonathan ceased complaining, at least out loud, and the rest of the meal was spent in talking about what the arms master had taught them this morning. After breakfast, the three children were herded off to the small, castle library where their lessons took place. Sophie retired to her room where she started preparing for her meeting with the village stewards. After glancing over her books and ensuring she was ready she looked outside. It was still early morning. Sophie had some time before Estelle came to fetch her for the short carriage ride to the chapel.

Locking the door to her room she went over to an alcove next to the fireplace. Pushing on a stone allowed part of the alcove to swing back revealing a passage within the castle walls. Picking up a candle she lit it and proceeded down the steep, circular steps that descended from her rooms. When she reached the bottom she had a choice. Pushing on a trigger stone to her left would open a door into her bath chamber. That, however, was not her destination. Instead, she pulled a stone on her right. This led to another set of circular steps that wound their way into the castle dungeon.

Moving across the dungeon floor Sophie avoided the ancient torture devices that had sat silent and unused since the days of Lord Allynwick's grandsire. Most of the cells were now used for storage. She approached a wall that had once contained a row of cells but had been sealed up for more than ten years now. Reaching up, the mouse pushed on a particular stone then pulled on a torch scone. When she did, the scone moved, causing the wall to pivot outward. Sophie quickly passed through the door, which swung shut behind her.

The mouse found herself standing in a large, vaulted room. A series of high windows and mirrors ensured that the room was well lit and ventilated. Their placement also ensured no one could see the printing press that sat in one corner of the room. Sheets of freshly printed paper hung from ropes that stretched back and forth across the room. A middle-aged badger sat at a nearby worktable carving at a small block of wood. Looking up he smiled at Sophie, slid off his stool and bowed politely.

“Good morning, m' lady. How are you on this pleasant day?"

“Busy, as always Master Vogel. How goes our latest project."

The badger waved in the direction of the paper hanging above them. “As you can see, we finished two hundred copies of the latest page, but I've had to stop long enough to carve out some new print type. We should finish printing the books by early October, though we could go so much faster if you would cast the typeset in bronze, or better still, iron…"

“Yes, I know," the mouse said. But I haven't found a metal-smith trustworthy enough for such a project. Still, I have my eyes and ears open. If the opportunity presents itself, you'll get your metal type. Secrecy is more important than anything else, unless of course you want us to spend the rest of our lives in prison."

“I thought that's where I already was," he chuckled, glancing around at the thick, stone walls. “I must admit. Hiding the press down here and appointing me as your storekeeper was an excellent ploy."

“Are your quarters adequate?"

The badger chuckled. “It's the most comfortable dungeon I've ever been in, m' lady." Sophia smiled. Master Vogel's “apartment" had been converted from one of the larger holding cells the dungeon had to offer and after a few refinements were added it was better than some of the other servant quarters offered in the castle.

The mouse looked around. “Where's your son and apprentice?"

“The master vintner has an old wine press he's taking out of service. I sent Arleigh over to pick it up for 'storage' here. I thought we might be able to use it for spare parts, should the need arise."

“I like that you plan ahead," said Sophie. “Any suggestions as to what we should print next."

The badger held up a small scroll. “A friend of mine sent me this… It's a translation of an ancient text and a dissertation that claims the world revolves around the sun and that it is round like the moon."

“Old news… that theory's been around for more than a century."

“It includes instructions on how to build a telescope and use it as proof of the theory's validity," said the badger, smiling.

“Always the anarchist," said Sophie. “I'll think about it and let you know. In the meantime, we need to finish the mathematics translation."

Vogel looked at the Lady Allynwick, his expression serious for once. “Tell me m' lady… Why do you want to challenge the King's law by printing forbidden texts? Isn't the very act of owning a printing press treason enough?"

“If this were a better world," Sophie said, “the sharing of knowledge would not be an act of treason. Let's just say I'm trying to carry on my late husband's struggle for justice in my own way."

“I am honored to be a part of such a noble struggle," said the badger.

“As I am honored to find one with whom I could place my trust," the mouse replied. “Even if he is an infamous highwayman."

“Reformed highwayman." the badger chuckled. “Captain William died many years ago, or so the songs tell us."

“Is love truly so strong?"

“You've met my wife… What do you think?"

* * * *

The meeting with the village stewards lasted through the early afternoon. There were a number of issues to deal with to include funding a new grinding wheel for the mill, hiring a master mason to build the new church, and increasing the number of patrols throughout Duran to counter a reported increase in bandit activity near the border. These, combined with a dozen or more petty decisions that the council deferred to her for resolution, had exhausted Sophia. She often wished they would show a little more backbone and take responsibility for making minor decisions for themselves. She was no omniscient being who had all the answers, and the burden of thinking for others was both frustrating and tiresome. She smiled ruefully to herself. No wonder her husband had become known as the Wandering Knight of Duran.

The coach in which they road hit a bump and Sophie looked up and across at the two ladies in waiting who'd accompanied her. The first was Claire Scriber, a 22-year-old human. At the moment the lithe, fair-skinned red-haired woman was sorting through the notes she'd taken during the meeting, organizing them for her mistress to review on the morrow when she was fresh of mind. The other, Anne L'Orient was a 16-year-old feline. She was the daughter of a French wine merchant who had become ill on one of his trips to Duran. He died, leaving her orphaned in a strange country. Sophie had taken her in not only because she was an excellent seamstress, but also because she could speak, read, and write French, English, Latin and Greek. Her fur was gray and white, and she had long, white hair, which she kept bound in a single braid. The mouse quietly wondered if they were as tired as she. The Lady of Durandell leaned back and closed her eyes. It was a little less than an hour's trip back to the castle through the darkening woods. Sophie judged it a perfect opportunity to close her eyes and rest.

She was abruptly jolted awake as something heavy slammed into the side of the carriage. It toppled to the left and rolled over once, coming to rest on it right side. The carriage horses screamed in terror, and she could hear the coachman curse as he was hurled from his seat. Dazed, it took the mouse several seconds to piece together what had happened. Claire was unconscious; a cut across her forehead while Anne was scrambling to push open the door, which now opened above them. The feline clambered out then reached down and held out her hand for Sophie to grab. The mouse managed to grab onto her walking staff as she was hauled out of the coach.

From atop the overturned carriage she was able to quickly survey the scene around her. A large log had been strung up on ropes to act as a deadfall, knocking her coach on its side when triggered. The trace leadsman who'd been riding up front with the coachman lay crushed to death under one of the wheels. The coachman himself sat with his back braced against a tree, arm broken. A brigand stood above him holding a sword at his throat. Her two footmen, both castle guards, were busily engaged against four other brigands. They managed to wound one, but still reeling from their fall from the coach they were quickly overpowered. She turned to the feline, pointing inside the coach. “Get under cover and help Claire."

“But m' lady…"

“No arguments… just do it."

“Oui," she replied, dropping out of sight.

Sophie jumped down lightly from the top of the carriage and ran towards the coachman. The brigand, seeing her, brought his sword up fully intending to run her through. To his surprise she used her staff to bat aside his weapon. Reversing, she knocked his feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard. The mouse brought the staff down solidly across the back of his head knocking him senseless. Years of secret lessons and practice under the watchful eye of the castle's arms master had made her more formidable than her appearance belied.

Looking at the coachman Sophie pointed down the road toward the not-too-distant castle. “Go…" she yelled. “Run and get help!" He rose to his feet and half-staggered, half-ran holding his broken arm as best he could.

The mouse turned and faced the three brigands now coming at her, silently cursing her long dress and lack of footwork it allowed. She backed away from them, putting a large tree behind her so she couldn't be easily flanked.

“Look what we have here," jeered one of the brigands. “A noblewoman who thinks she knows how to use a quarterstaff… and a 'throp' at that."

“What good is that bit of wood going to do you against cold steel blades?" asked one highwayman.

“Why not come closer and find out," Sophie replied, spinning the staff expertly before her. The mouse's confidence shook the brigands, and they hesitated for a moment, uncertain as to what they now faced. One of them advanced suddenly, swinging his sword in a horizontal arc. Lady Allynwick parried, turning his blade and catching him in the face with the butt of her staff. He staggered back, his nose bloody.

“What the hell are you waiting for," he growled at the others. “Get her!"

The two other brigands charged forward, attacking her together. Sophie ducked under one swing and blocked the other with her staff. Turning, she twisted the top of her staff. There was a soft click, and she unsheathed a thin, straight rapier-like sword. She reposted then thrust forward driving the blade into the chest of the second brigand. She turned yanking her sword from his body even as she shoved it at her attackers, using the corpse as a shield.

The brigand with the bloody nose joined his surviving friend and the two of them advanced cautiously on the mouse. She backed away again, sacrificing ground for time. The road to the castle was fairly well traveled. The longer she could drag the fight out the greater the chance someone would stumble across the ambush and the less confident the brigands would become. Her opponents were fearful now. They'd successfully killed her guards but had badly underestimated Sophie. A flash of memory came back to her and she heard once more the voice of her husband.

“If you can be more confident than your opponent, you cannot lose."

The mouse smiled, causing the brigands before her to hesitate. Lady Allynwick dropped the empty sword sheath she'd been holding and took several steps forward, her sword gripped in both hands. The swordsmen retreated a couple of paces, trying to keep some distance between themselves and the mouse. At that instant she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she would win. The sense of triumph vanished in an instant as something caught her across the back of the head. The world around her went dark.

* * * *

“Three days! She's been missing for three whole days and not one of you has been able to trace where the brigands have taken her!" The arms master's voice carried from one end of the courtyard to the other as he laid into the two-dozen guardsmen lined up in front of him.

“With respect, sir, we are not trained as either foresters or rangers. There is only so far we can track them before losing their trail in the undergrowth. These rogues know the woods better than we."

The arms master glared at the guard who'd spoken. He didn't want to admit it, but he was right. None of them truly knew the lay of the land save the immediate vicinity of the town, castle and outlying farms. Olde Wilhelm, the forester, had been dead and buried for almost a season now and Lady Allynwick had not yet found a suitable replacement.

“Squire Arthur…"

The arms master turned around to find himself face to face with a youthful anthrop mouse. “Master Jonathan." he replied gruffly. “You should be in lessons now with your tutor, not out here in the castle yard."

The mouse shook his head. “Books and lessons be damned. They won't help us find my mother."

The human dropped his voice so only Jonathan could hear him. “They will if they keep you busy so as grown men can do their jobs. I know you're worried about the Lady Allynwick, but……"

Jonathan's lip tightened and his nose wrinkled in frustration. “Need I remind you that in my mother's absence I am lord here and you are my arms man?"

Arthur's face became as emotionless as stone. “Please walk with me… Sire." The arms master led the mouse over to the stables and into the tack and harness room. Once there, he closed the door, firmly.

“To answer your question," he replied, his voice like a low growl, “yes, I am your arms man and you my lord. I am sworn to your service and dedicate my life to you, your mother, brother and sister." His hand suddenly shot out and hit the boy in the stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

Jonathan abruptly found himself sitting on the floor trying to catch his breath as Squire Arthur looked down.

“The first thing you must learn as a leader is to never argue with your immediate subordinates in front of the men. It will weaken their authority and undermine any confidence the men have for you. Chastisement should be direct and private, especially when both parties are honorable men." He waited a moment, and then reached out a hand for the mouse.

Jonathan gripped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. The mouse knew the arms master and had trained under him enough to understand the blow was not intended as disrespect, but as a lesson. He hung his head, shamed at having shown disrespect to such a loyal servant. “I… I'm sorry," he wheezed softly as he finally gained back his breath.

“Apology accepted, milord. Remember, though, apologies must also be private, for some would consider it as much a weakness as dressing down a leader in public."

“That's why you chastised me in here… for the same reason?"

The human nodded, smiling, “Aye, milord." He quickly brushed the mouse off, helped him straighten his shirt, then opened the door and held it open for him as they left the harness room.

Jonathan rubbed his stomach as he looked at the arms master sheepishly. “Did you really have to make the point so forcefully?" he asked in a low voice.

“The hard lessons are the ones best remembered, sire." He placed a strong hand on the mouse's shoulder and his voice became gentle, but firm. “Do not worry… We WILL find your mother and bring her home again. Now…go be the lord of the castle and help your sister and brother. They need your strength and reassurance."

Jonathan looked up at the arms master and nodded, then strode away. As he trod towards the castle he was watched by Master Vogel and his son. The two badgers had been scraping down the old winepress brought in the day before, preparing it for storage. Arleigh looked at his father, watching as the elder badger's eyes followed the mouse with an intensity he'd seldom seen before.

“What are you thinking, father?"

The storekeeper shook his head. “Nothing," he replied. “Nothing at all."

“I've seen that look before, father," Arleigh whispered. “You're planning something… Something that mother would never approve."

* * * *

Sophie slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the fuzzy image that filled her vision. Her head ached horribly and she could taste the distinctive coppery flavor of blood. She tried breathing through her nose, only to find it plugged, and when she reached up to rub her temple, she discovered her hands were bound together in front of her. She heard a voice, gently calling her name and her eyes strayed upward into the face of her seamstress.

The young cat saw her mistress looking up at her and began whispering at a frantic pace. “Ma Dame! Dieu merci vous êtes éveillé enfin. J'avais peur que vous ne pouvez jamais réveiller!"

“Anne… Anne! Please," Sophie begged. My head… I can't understand… “

The seamstress immediately switched to English. “I am sorry, Ma Dame. I was afraid you might never wake up."

“What happened?"

“Le leader du bandit… He was hiding behind a tree and struck you across the back of zee head with a club."

“Where are we?" Sophie asked.

“Zey have taken us into zee forest, to zeir hiding place where we will not be found."

The mouse looked around. They were sitting under a lean-to in the middle of a small clearing. A brook ran through the camp. Across it lay a fallen tree on which roughhewn railings had been mounted, making it an adequate bridge. A circular stone and wood hut sat on the far side of the brook. Strips of drying meat hung from a thin rope strung between the hut and a nearby elm. Several larger lean-to's dotted the hideout, three of which looked as if they hadn't been used in ages. Four humans and three anthrops were performing various chores around the campsite.

Sophie could see the trees surrounding them were indeed thick. A hunting party could pass within a stone's throw and never find this clearing. She sat up and looked around. “Where's Claire?"

“She is being held in zat hut," the feline whispered, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Her voice was tinged with fear and worry. “Zree of zem took her inside yesterday. After, zere was a lot of screaming and crying… zen no-zing. Ze brigands, zey take turns going in, but I can hear and see no-zing of her," she softly wept.

Lady Allynwick let her cry for a moment or two, holding her close as best she could until the girl was able to get control of herself. Sophie's face became tight with concern. “They haven't harmed you… have they?"

“No, not so far," she replied, shivering. “But I zink zhat is only because zey needed me to care for you."

“That means they want us alive for some reason," the mouse said.

“You at least; zey were very insistent zat I watch over you carefully."

“That we were," said a thick, heavy voice. The two females looked up. Behind them stood a tall, middle-aged human with black hair, the edges of which were striped with gray. He leaned casually against a nearby tree, bracing himself with his left fore-arm. Instead of a hand, his arm ended in a metal bracer and hook which was strapped tightly in its place. His other hand held Sophie's sword-staff. An eye patch hid his right eye and he was dressed in a simple gray tunic with matching vest, trousers and cape.

“I don't recon you remember me… milady," he said with an evil grin. “But there ain't a day goes by I don't think o' you. “

“Vous vous laissez Madame Allynwick seul dégoûtant, porc putréfié !"

The brigand laughed. “Your game ain't gonna work no more missy. I heard ya talking with yer mistress. I know ya can speak English well enough ta talk with us."

“Baisez-vous!"

The black-haired man stepped forward without warning and kicked the feline girl hard in the side, eliciting a yowl of pain from her. “Now THAT word, I know. Ya better watch yer mouth or ya'll be getting the same treatment as yer friend."

The mouse stood, locking eyes with the brigand. “What have you done to Claire?" she demanded.

“Ya might be a lady now," he replied, “but ye still don't know yer place. This is my camp and what I says here goes!" He brought the sharp point of his hook under her chin. “Those who don't like it… gets gutted." He reached down and grabbed the loose end of the rope binding her hands and pulled the mouse after him. Anne rose painfully to her feet and followed as quickly as she could.

When they arrived at the small hut, he pushed open the door and shoved the two women inside. “Ya can keep yerselves busy helping yer friend," he said, closing the door behind them.

Sophie looked around the dimly lit room. Aside from a rickety table and a couple of equally rickety chairs was a wooden, straw-covered bed. On it lay Claire, curled up into a shivering ball. She had been stripped almost naked and her body was covered with a mass of bruises, rope burns and welts.

The two women went over to her. “Oh mon dieu! Mon dieu!" muttered Anne as she reached over and placed the back of a paw against Claire's forehead. “Elle brûle avec la fièvre!"

“What?"

“Sorry… She is, how do you say, burning with zee fever."

“Bastards," the mouse muttered to herself, looking around until she found an old wooden bucket in one corner. She picked it up with both hands and went to the door, pounding on it with her fists. The door flew open and Sophie found herself confronting a scruffy looking anthrop-wolf.

“Here now, what's with all the noise?"

The mouse thrust the bucket into the wolf's hands. “We were told to care for this girl, but to do it we need cold water… lots of it, and we need it now," she ordered in a firm and insistent voice.

The wolf grumbled loudly but took the bucket and slammed the door shut behind him. Sophie turned back towards Anne and held out her wrists.

“See if you can undo these ropes, would you?"

Prying with her claws and teeth, the feline was able to loosen the knots enough for them to be undone. A moment later the latch on the door was lifted and the wolf returned to hand the women a bucket filled with cold water. Sophie thanked him even as he slammed the door shut and latched it from the outside.

Reaching down, she gathered up as many usable swaths of cloth from what was left of Claire's dress and tore them into strips. These she soaked in the water then lay them across the girl's forehead. Other pieces they used to gently wash her, cleaning off splotches of blood and in some places dried cum. In the process they managed to get the human to uncurl from her fetal position, though she still remained nearly comatose and whimpered softly when they touched a particularly sensitive cut or bruise.

The day passed quickly as they ministered to her. Washing Claire with the cool water helped bring down her fever. When they finished Sophie covered her with her own cloak. Anne climbed onto the straw bed, wrapped her arms around the young woman and began purring softly, hoping the gentle sound might ease Claire out of her stupor. The mouse meanwhile searched the room, looking for anything that might be useful. There wasn't much save for the furniture, a small black kettle over a cold fire pit and the wooden bucket. In one corner she found the remains of Claire's dress, shredded beyond any possible use and some bloodstained pieces of rope. She shivered, wondering how long it would take the brigands to turn their attention to her and Anne, or worse, back to Claire.

What puzzled her was their leader, or at least the black-haired human she presumed to be their leader. He seemed to be familiar with her, but she couldn't ever remember meeting a one eyed human with a hook for a hand before. Then it dawned on her. The day she'd met Sir Allynwick he had saved her from being raped by three mercenary guardsmen. He was one of the three. That was the day he lost his hand, cut off by the knight when he'd tried to pull a firelock on him.

She thought back. Evan… Evan was his name. Her husband-to-be had defeated him and his friends, then drug their unconscious bodies out into the street after first cauterizing the black-haired man's wound so he would not bleed to death. She almost smiled at the irony. Sir Allynwick's sense of honor and mercy had come back to haunt her. No good deed goes unpunished.

A soft moan from the bed drew her attention back to Claire. The young woman's eyes slowly fluttered open. Both Sophie and Anne looked down at her as she seemed to recognize her two companions.

“Milady…where…where are we?"

“Do you not remember?" asked Anne.

Claire searched their faces, struggling to think of something… anything; then she shook her head. “No… I'm sorry. The last thing I recall was riding back towards the castle with you, then nothing… nothing except confused dreams. Have I been asleep?"

Anne started to answer, but a soft hiss and quick look from Sophie stopped her cold. The mouse looked down at Claire and nodded. “Yes, you have. There was an accident and you hit your head. You've been asleep for several days, resting here before we return home."

The young woman smiled weakly. “That was rather silly of me. I hope I haven't been any trouble for you milady."

Sophie smiled warmly. “No trouble at all my dear."

Claire yawned. “I know this sounds silly, but I still feel rather sleepy. Maybe I should try getting up… there's so much that has to be done…"

The mouse gently pushed her down. “No… if you feel sleepy, then you should rest. There will be time enough for work on the morrow when you feel better." Claire nodded once and was almost immediately asleep. This time however, it appeared to be more of a normal, healing kind of sleep.

“She does not remember," whispered Anne

“Right now, that's probably a blessing," Sophie observed. “I hope it stays that way." They took turns watching her over the next several hours.

Late afternoon sunlight was filtering in between the gaps in the hut's wall when the door opened again and one of the anthrop brigands, a scruffy looking fox, came in carrying a small cauldron. Without a word he dropped it on the table, laid out three roughhewn wooden bowls, and filled each with a ladle full of what looked like greasy stew. He placed the lid back on the pot then ambled out the door which a second brigand shut behind them, latching it firmly.

The food did not smell anywhere near as appetizing as what either Sophie or Anne were used to, but hunger made up for this and they were soon eating, sipping at the thick liquid and plucking pieces of potato and meat from the bowls with their hands. The smell of food woke Claire and she joined them in their simple repast. When she finished, she curled up tiredly and went back to sleep.

When done eating the two women used water from the bucket and rags to clean themselves as best they could. Anne moved one of the rickety chairs over from the table and set it beside the bed so she could keep an eye on their human companion.

Sophie stood at a small, wooden-barred window looking out onto the glade, watching as the day's shadows lengthened and night approached. The mouse looked around at the trees scattered about the glade. She easily recognized several different types such as maple, birch and oak, but what drew her attention was the unusual number of yew trees. She remembered Olde Wilhelm once telling her that most of the yews had been cut down for use in building save for a swath of them about ten miles north-west of the castle. If what he said was correct, then she knew approximately where they were.

By now the sun was setting and the brigands had gathered at a bonfire about twenty-five yards away from the hut. There they passed around food and drink and began talking between themselves. What little the mouse could hear seemed to center on gold and the lack of it. At one point she thought she heard someone say something about a ransom.

She counted the figures around the campfire. Including their one handed leader there were a total of seven humans and anthrops. She knew one of them was guarding the door to the hut, so that made eight. Sophie looked over at her two companions. The dim flickering of the bonfire was the only light that could be seen in the hut. At the rate the brigands were drinking, it wouldn't be very long before they started thinking about a different sort of entertainment.

Going over to the pile of rags that had been Claire's clothing the mouse sifted through them until she found the woman's shoes. Nothing else was usable. Sophie quietly woke the seamstress and the three of them huddled together, speaking in low whispers.

“We need to get out of here… right now," the mouse explained.

“How?" asked Anne. “Zere are more of zem zan we can fight, we're lost, and zey have us under guard."

“I'm reasonably certain I know where we are. All we have to do is go east through the forest, maybe three to five miles, and we'll find the old north road. It's always patrolled, so we should be able to find help quickly."

“How do we escape?" Claire asked.

Sophie quickly outlined her plan. Moments later Anne was frantically scratching at the door calling softly to the guard. When he lifted the latch she quickly pointed over to the bed. “Ma maîtresse… elle est tombée au plancher. I think she is sick."

The wolf guard grabbed the feline by the scruff of her neck and dragged her over towards the bed, tossing her casually on the floor while he knelt down to examine the Lady Allynwick. As he rolled her over the mouse suddenly swung her hand upward, striking the guard in the side of the head with one of the hearth stones they'd pried loose only a moment before. The wolf staggered back and went down like a sack of flour.

Stripping him of both weapons and clothing, they dressed Claire as best they could and padded for the door. Sophie held the wolf's mace in one paw as they carefully peeked out the door towards the bonfire. “Come on," she whispered, keeping the hut between them and the campfire as they headed for a gap between several trees.

* * * *

“Are you sure this is the way?" asked the arms master quietly as he stumbled slightly over a tree root. The sun had set an eighth of a candle past and what moonlight that pierced the canopy was dim.

The badger nodded. “As I said, it was one of the best hidden of Captain William's old camps. The others were all discovered and cleaned out ages ago."

“Might explain why they never found him." Observed one of their guards. “Perhaps he's still living there, out of sight and mind so to speak."

Master Vogel shook his head. “Not even if he were alive today. He's either dead or moved on to a better life than that of a highwayman."

“So how is it you know of the place?"

“I use to work with Olde Wilhelm when I was younger. He showed it to me when the lady sent us both out to find wild indigo to plant alongside the grape vines."

“Indigo?"

The badger stopped for a moment to examine the trees, looking for the subtle signs he himself had place to mark the way, so very long ago. “Yes... It's useful for luring bees to the field so they pollenate the vines." He finally spotted the mark, high up the side of an old tree. He turned to the others. “Looks like it might rain. We'd best be moving on... That way I think."

The search party followed his lead, working their way slowly into the deep wood.

“It's getting late," one of the guardsmen said. “I don't rightly like the idea of being out here after sunset."

“Well then, get used to it," Squire Arthur replied. “We're not going back 'til we've checked out this 'refuge' of Vogel's and found Lady Allynwick."

The continued on for half a league before the badger put out a hand and gestured for the others to halt. “I smell smoke... a campfire... not far ahead."

The Squire signaled everyone to stay close in a single skirmish line. He then advanced forward, slowly, one step at a time. The others followed. Moments later, they came across an open glen. A small hut and several tents were scattered about, centering on the large campfire. The men instinctively went to cover. So thick were the trees surrounding the glen that almost no firelight could be seen, until they were almost on top of it. The arms master had to admit, it was an excellent hiding place.

As they watched a trio of shadows crept out of the hut and moved slowly away from the warmth of the campfire. Squire Arthur turned towards one of his men, pointed at his own eyes with two fingers, then the three shadows. Nodding, the guardsman silently moved to follow them.

“He knows not to kill them?" whispered Vogel.

“His orders are to scout. He knows better than engage at three to one odds."

“Which is why you only sent one man. My compliments."

The Squire huffed softly. “Save the praise until we find our Lady, alive and well." He moved forward towards the glow of the campfire. Peeking cautiously around a large tree the human saw a circle of seven figures passing around what looked like a bottle. Wooden bowls were scattered about, along with the flotsam of a sizable meal.

“Looks like they've been celebrating," the badger observed.

“Aye," whispered Squire Arthur, “which means either they're close to dropping off to sleep or seeking out some kind of entertainment."

“Thieving bastards," muttered another of the guardsmen next to Arthur. Like lightning the human's hand flashed out and gripped the wolf around the muzzle, silencing him. The Squire then put a finger to his own lips. The guardsman nodded fearfully.

Arthur studied the fire once more. There were seven of them and ten of Lady Allynwick's soldiers, not counting Master Vogel. They had the advantage of numbers and surprise. The human pulled out his flintlock pistol and signaled to his men. Keeping low, they silently spread out into a semi-circle centered on the campfire. They would move when they heard the gunshot.

The arms-master gave them enough time to move into position and set themselves. He counted slowly, then scrambled up onto a fallen tree, took aim, and shot the only brigand armed with a crossbow. His men charged into the encampment as one.

* * * *

The gunshot caused the three women to pause for a moment in their flight. Sophie thought it meant their escape had been discovered. This idea was banished moments later when the sound of fighting spread through the nearby wood. Someone was attacking their kidnappers.

Anne wrapped a protective arm around Claire and tried to get her moving again. “Allons-y. We must not stop or zey will catch us up."

“No… I think…" Sophie tried to peer through the darkness, listening for even the smallest sound. She thought there was something close by, moving through the gloom towards them. Gesturing towards a nearby tree she had Claire and Anne duck into its shadow. The mouse crouched down behind another nearby tree, watching and listening, her mace at the ready. A powerful looking figure swam out of the darkness, his shadow mixing in with the forest.

Sophie carefully picked up a medium rock, then threw it as far as she could into the trees. It bounced off a thick trunk with a sharp crack. The figure turned towards it. The mouse leapt from her hiding place and brought the weapon down towards her target. At the last instant she saw the crest of the shield the figure wore across his back. She twisted the mace, so it only connected with the upper edge of the shield, knocking the guardsman down.

The soldier turned his fall into a roll and was back on his feet instantly. Whirling, he drew his sword then froze. “Lady Allynwick?!!"

“Mikael Riverbrook!" she replied, looking at the muscular otter. “You are most certainly a sight for sore eyes. What in the Lord's name are you doing out here?"

“Me and me mates have been lookin fer ya these past three days, yur ladyship. And just when we finds ya, what happens… Ya tries ta flatten me head with a bloody mace."

“Sorry about that Mikael… We got tired of waiting and were making our escape. I thought you were one of those brigands that took us."

The guardsman chuckled softly. “Natural enough mistake, your ladyship, under present circumspects."

Sophie turned towards her friends. “It's alright… you can come out. We've been rescued."

Anne popped into sight, helping Claire. "Comme de la merde, nous avons été sauvés. Nous nous sauvions nous-mêmes," she taunted.

Mikael looked confused by the feline's tone. “Wot did yer friend just say? She sounds grumpy," he whispered.

“Oh… Don't mind her. She's just expressing her gratitude to you and your companions."

* * * *

With Mikael in the lead, Sophie, Anne and Claire were ushered back to the former brigands' camp to join with the rest of the guards. Squire Authur pulled two of his men off the clean-up detail to see to the ladies' immediate needs. Blankets, food, bandages and medicine were provided to them, while ropes and shackles became the standard accoutrements for Evans and his men.

The fight with the bandits had been fierce, but short with one guardsman wounded and two of their foes dead while the rest were captured. Anne immediately took over treating the wounded guard while the mouse focused on looking after Claire. The human had started shivering when she saw some of the bandits. Sophie took a small bottle of whiskey from the medical kit. She spoon fed it to Claire until the woman stopped shaking and began to drift off to sleep.

Squire Arthur and Master Vogel both approached the two women. The former carried a slim staff in his hand which he handed to Sophia. She gripped it with some relief and nodded her thanks to the arms master. Her husband's legacy was once again at her side, and with it, her feeling of closeness to him.

“With your permission, my lady, we'll camp here overnight and return home in the morning. I apologize for the inconvenience, but the path is too hazardous to risk traveling at night."

“Understood. If you could set up a tent for myself and my ladies near the campfire I would be most appreciative."

“Wouldn't the cabin be a more appropriate shelter for your ladyship?"

The mouse shook her head. “No… It's too harsh a reminder of… our captivity. A tent, blankets and a warm campfire will suffice."

“As you wish, my lady." The arms man reached over and thumped Vogel on the shoulder, causing the badger to flinch. “I'd also like to commend our dungeon master to you for his aid. His knowledge of the wild wood made it possible for us to find you," Arthur praised. “You could do a lot worse than make him one of your Foresters."

Sophie smiled up at the human. “I'll take it under advisement." Squire Arthur and Master Vogel both saluted and turned to leave. “Master Vogel… would you stay for a moment while Arthur sees to the guards?"

The arms master raised an eyebrow, then nodded silently and left them.

Waiting until the Squire was out of sight, Sophie leaned forward. “What story did you tell him to bring him this far into the woods?" she whispered

“Merely that I once went looking for indigo with old Wilhelm and we found this place."

“So your secret is still safe?"

The badger nodded. “Though I'm sorry to say I will have to refuse the promotion, now that I have six prisoners to oversee."

“Is there enough room in the dungeon to house them and not risk our little secret?"

“Aye," Master Vogel replied. “There are several cells in the back that I can have cleaned up. They're separated from the rest of chamber by a heavy door. My son and I can take turns keeping them in line and they won't know a thing."

“Good. I'll send a message to the King, and he'll have them off our hands inside a fortnight."

“You do know you could have them tried and punished in Durandell. It's within your authority."

Sophie looked down at the sleeping Claire and pushed down the anger she felt. “I couldn't trust myself to pass judgement with any kind of dispassion. No… It would be better if they are tried and punished by the King's court."

The badger gave her a grim smile. “Your sensitivity does you credit, but I would caution that there are times when a noble must be firm when dealing with the common folk, especially the less than honorable ones."

Such as yourself" Sophie whispered.

“Touche," he replied, then left.

A few moments later Anne joined them.

“How is your patient doing?" Sophie inquired.

“He will recover…" she hissed. “After I go to all zee trouble to clean, sew-up and bind his wounds, le cochon woke up and tried to seduce me, in the clumsiest way possible."

“Really?" the mouse responded. “What did he do?"

“He's a friend of the stable master and promised to take me riding when he gets back on his feet."

“Comme c'est terrible," Sophie teased. “Shall I have Master Arthur accompany you as chaperon?"

“N'osez pas!" Anne replied. “I can take care of myself. If he gets out of hand, I will use a club on him."

“Oh, really?"

The feline grinned wickedly. “But of course. He is, after all, quite handsome… when he is asleep."

Lady Allynwick regarded Anne quietly for a moment, then began chuckling. She was still giggling along with her lady in waiting when Master Vogel came by to escort them to their private tent. He and Mikael Riverbrook then stood watch over the ladies for the remainder of the night. It was the best sleep Sophie had all week.