The Princess and the Pirate, Ch 18: Home at Last

Of the three ladies who slept in the "cozy" cave, only Laura still had her dress. Mirabelle and Princess Fioretta had both ripped theirs off as the heavy garments tugged them toward the bottom of the river. However, a floating log had spared Laura of that indignity. She had clutched onto it until she and her ride plummeted over the gargantuan cascade. Everyone agreed she had been very fortuitous that the log had not hit her in the head as a parting gift.

The storm having abated during the night, the party turned its attention toward making themselves more presentable. One of the men ventured out at first light and brought back fresh water from Christopher's "rain barrel," a naturally formed bowl in the rocks. Everyone preferred this water over the muddied water from the river, though no one could truly call themselves completely clean. They had to use the water sparingly, so they would have enough to drink. No one could even get all the mud out of his hair. At least their hands and faces would feel refreshed.

The men gave the women the run of the cave, preferring to clean themselves up in the great outdoors. Mirabelle and Princess Fioretta - both being far too modest to go about in just their under dresses - began fashioning makeshift clothing out of whatever they could find on hand. Christopher had a stash of spare shirts, so Fioretta chose one of them - an off-white, no-frills affair - to begin her ensemble. Mirabelle picked a light brown shirt from the meager supply. After that, assembling a female wardrobe became tricky.

Christopher's cave blankets had been cast-offs from the castle stores that he had brought along with him on his various trips. They were fine quality but rather threadbare. All of them had been used as bedding the night before by the members of the party. By way of cleaning them, the three ladies beat them against the rocky walls of the cave, so they could determine whether or not any were suitable to transform into clothing.
After putting off the various pleas for speed from the men at the mouth of the cave, Fioretta finally wove a length of rope through one side of a cotton, grass-green, crocheted afghan of the basket-weave stitch. She tied the afghan about her waist as a wrapped skirt.

Mirabelle considered wearing a colorful blanket that had been embroidered with beautiful scenes of life within the kingdom. Then she decided the reds would make her an easy target should they encounter an enemy. Following Fioretta's example, she laced a length of rope through a cotton crocheted afghan, simply stitched in a variety of shades of brown.
Unfortunately, no substitutions for shoes could be found anywhere. None of the ladies had them any more, and their feet ached in protest of more abuse. Mirabelle half-heartedly suggested fashioning shoes out of one of the tougher blankets, but Laura pointed out that they would be saturated with mud five seconds after walking outside of the cave anyway.

Not even such rag-tag outfits as these could diminish the young ladies' excitement about finally making it home. They shared secret smiles as they cleaned themselves up. Just the thought of soaking in a hot bath where they were loved and appreciated sent them hurrying out of the cave as fast as possible.
Christopher's cave was, thankfully, on the homeward side of the river, so the problem of crossing the river, at least, was resolved. Matthew and Christopher had make-shift packs ready for each member of the party, so they could have fresh food and water, guns and ammunition, and a blanket apiece. They were all ready, come what may.

Following Christopher, the party continued to stick with an almost non-existent path through the trees. Even after the terrible storm, the sounds of battle reached their ears like some evil demon reaching across time and space to strike fear in the weary travelers. Princess Fioretta prayed that most people had been spared, especially her parents.
As the trees began to become more sparse, Matthew and Christopher led the party more slowly. Occasionally, they would see as well as hear gun play in the distance, and the acrid stench of smoke tore at their nostrils.

Fioretta felt her heart catch as the gray stones of the castle came into view at last as the sun reached its apex in the sky. Their homeland flag still flew proudly on one of the turrets. As they drew closer, however, the party witnessed heavy fighting at the castle gates.
Christopher did not tarry. He continued to lead them toward the secret entrance where children had come and gone for Fioretta's birthday parties. A sense of dread tore at Fioretta's heart. She did not really want anyone, not even Captain Sweeney and his men, to know where this entrance was or how to get inside. There was no help for it, though. It was the only way to gain entrance without becoming targets or hostages for the enemy.

In the last stand of trees that could adequately cover all of them, the party quietly waited until darkness fell. They ate the cold stew they had brought with them, and tried to rest as much as possible while the men took turns keeping watch for the enemy. Time dragged its weary feet throughout the long afternoon. With each renewed spurt of fighting, Fioretta watched worriedly for signs of the approaching enemy or of the castle walls being breached. Yet the castle stood staunchly against cannon fire, and the individual pirates were too busy fighting the knights and loyal peasants to come hunting in the woods for the tiny party of escapees.

At long last, darkness blanketed the land, and Christopher had everyone pack up their belongings. They cautiously crept to the secret gate in the wall. Christopher pressed the stones in their proper order, and the tiny gate slid open. They all slipped inside. They very carefully followed the garden wall until they reached the secret castle entrance itself. Christopher pressed the appropriate stones, and the final obstacle to their safety silently slid open. He carefully closed the hidden door behind them.
Utter darkness greeted their eyes as the door squeezed out the moonlight.

Christopher reached up automatically and lit the torch that waited in its stand. Fioretta did the same, but on the other side of the doorway. She wondered if anyone noticed their mirrored movements. Christopher turned on his heel and continued to lead the way.
Meeting no resistance, the little group journeyed through the family passages toward the main part of the castle. Fioretta surmised that even the castle guard was out fighting in the battle. Yet her home had a tomb-like quality about it, silent, haunted, eerie.

They went down several corridors and climbed two flights of stairs. When the group reached Fioretta's bedroom, whose door stood open, Christopher said grimly, "Fioretta, Mirabelle, and Laura, I think it would be very wise for you ladies to say in Fioretta's room while the men try to find the . . ." he seemed to have lost his train of thought for a moment or two. Then he finished, " . . . king and queen. I don't like how deserted it is in the family quarters. I would have expected someone to be here - even just the maids or a tutor or some guards. It was just too easy for us to get this far without finding anyone."

Matthew nodded. "I found it odd myself. After all, this castle was obviously home to about a hundred people. Where is everyone? I do think a couple of us should stay with the ladies for their protection, though, Christopher. What do you think?" He turned to look at Christopher as he said this last statement.
Christopher readily agreed, "I think you should stay, Matthew, along with one of Captain Sweeney's men."
"Very good," Captain Sweeney joined in, though he had been sweeping the corridor with his eyes throughout the conversation. "Arthur, you have the honors. Defend them to the death."

Arthur nodded curtly.
Arthur happened to be the most muscular man Fioretta had ever seen. As a guard, he would be very intimidating, she thought. His worn-out, river-muddied clothes only added to the impression that this bulldog would put up one mean fight in doing his duty. Fioretta felt a comforting little thrill knowing that these two men would be ready to "defend them to the death." She hoped with all her heart that a fight like that would never happen in her presence.
The five of them entered Fioretta's room while Christopher and the rest of the men went off in search of traces of life in the castle. Fioretta walked directly over to her closet, pressed three stones the others could not see, and came back to the door with a set of keys. She locked the door's three locks. Then she turned to her company.

The room was just as she had left it. A large vase full of now-dead flowers guarded and accented the huge fireplace. Two leather armchairs stood neatly arranged nearby while three more waited quietly in the bay window. The window was very cleverly designed with optical illusions. From the outside, one would think the window was just part of the stone wall that went all the way up the castle's face. However, it was a lovely window that had been tricked out in mirrors to provide the illusion. Fioretta could not possibly explain how it was done, but she loved the fact that she could look out on the gardens and down the grassy knoll beyond the castle walls during the daylight. Her rugs lay on the floor just where she had left them, and her books awaited the pleasure of her company with not one spine out of place. Her luxurious four-poster bed looked so inviting that Fioretta could hardly keep from just walking over to it and sinking into its thick, soft covers.

Turning her back firmly on that temptation, she offered, "Why don't we bring all the chairs to the bay window and rest our weary bodies? I'm sure Christopher will be back soon with good news. We just need to be patient."
Everyone agreed this was an excellent idea. Before she sat down, she walked over to a side door and opened it. She stepped into the smaller chamber and produced several brushes and combs.
"At least we can brush our hair as we wait," she declared, handing the brushes to the other ladies and the combs to the men. All of them enjoyed that little luxury as they quietly chatted about the day's events. They kept their voices down in case the enemy had entered the castle and was, at this very moment, tracking them.

Because they were all so tense and nervous, the conversation soon lagged into nothingness. Fioretta wanted to find the right time and method to talk with Matthew about his birthmark and all that meant. She wanted to tell him slowly and in private. She also could not bring herself to draw a bath or even get out of her filthy clothes. She felt that her journey simply was not over until she felt the love of her parents' arms encircling her. No one even thought about the ladies' bare feet.
The neglected mantle clock did not even call out with its friendly ticking as time dragged its aching body through the room.

Save Fioretta's torch, the room was entirely dark. She found herself dozing off in the comfortable chair. She suspected the others had the same problem, even though they should all have been on highest alert. Miarabelle had even curled up in her chair, completely giving into her exhaustion.
All at once, everyone's ears pricked up as they heard two knocks, a scratch across the door, and three short raps.