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J osephine was jolted from a sound sleep by someone pounding on her door. As Josephine rolled over and sleepily sat up, Ola rushed from her pallet in the alcove and unlatched the door. Sully burst in, dressed to the hilt in chainmail and leather, with his helm underneath one arm.

“An army approaches, my lady,” he said quickly.

Instantly, Josephine was awake, her green eyes wide with fear. “At night?” she gasped. “But the Dalmellingtons have never attacked us at night. The wall and the gate are not even…!”

He cut her off. “My lady, the army is far larger than the Dalmellington force,” he told her. “I believe it is The Red Fury.”

“God’s Toes!” Josephine exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Why did you not say so to begin with? I will greet him in the Knight’s Haven. Go, Sully, go !”

Sully saluted her and was gone, with Severn at his heels. Severn, quiet and thoughtful, was usually the one to shadow Sully on his rounds. When the door closed, Josephine ripped the nightshift over her head and went to the dressing table where Ola was preparing a quick toilette.

“Sweet Jesus, Ola,” she exclaimed softly as her maid splashed rose water on her face, cold with the night’s chill. “He actually came… and so soon .”

Ola nodded in silence as her mistress rattled on.

It was obvious that Josephine was greatly relieved, but was very anxious about the mercenaries themselves.

What kind of man was a mercenary? She wondered.

And she was wildly curious about The Red Fury himself.

She imagined him to be huge and grizzled with a halo of wild orange hair.

Why else would they call him “The Red Fury”?

She was soon about to find out.

There was a sense of apprehension in the air as Josephine dressed to receive the mercenary she hoped would save her castle and her people.

She was dressed in a gown of garnet-colored wool.

Her long, silken hair was left loose and free, and was curled gently down her back.

Taking a last passing look at herself in the mirror, Josephine headed out the door, leaving Ola standing nervously by the dressing table.

The little maid worried for her mistress and the negotiations that were about to take place.

But Josephine would not be alone as she faced the fearsome mercenary. Justine stood by the top of the darkened stairwell, dressed in what looked like a black bedsheet. Her brown hair was pulled severely back, making her blue eyes look large. When she saw Josephine approach, she went to meet her.

“I have read the cards, Joey, and I do not like what I see,” she said.

The greeting that had been on Josephine’s lips disappeared, and she rolled her eyes at her sister, pushing past her.

“I do not have time for this, Justine,” she said.

“Wait!” Justine grabbed her sister’s arm.

“You must listen to me. I fear that The Red Fury will destroy you. I spread seven cards in an arch, beseeching them for guidance in your present and future. The first card, Eight Swords and a Maiden, was correct in its description of your past grief. The second was Seven Swords, indicating your determination and hope for the future.”

Josephine jerked her arm away from her sister. “Cease,” she hissed. “I do not believe in your ridiculous cards.”

Justine followed her sister down the stairs and ignored her protests. “The third card was the Queen of Swords, telling your future of womanly sorrow, need, and separation,” she said. “The fourth card…”

Josephine whirled around when she reached the bottom of the stairs, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Justine, I do not believe in your charlatan fortune-telling,” she spat. “I have enough on my mind without your insane babbling.”

Justine was stubborn; she pretended not to hear her.

“The fourth card was the Knight of Swords, indicating courage and war and defense; possibly destruction and ruin,” she said quickly as she followed her sister across the foyer.

She felt a true sense of duty to tell her sister what her cards had foretold, whether or not Josephine believed in them.

“The fifth card was the Three of Swords and tells me that you will have a happy relationship with someone, yet it indicates the presence of a third person, but does not necessarily threaten the happy relationship.”

Josephine was truly at a loss as to how to shut her sister up at this point. “My only confusion is to why I have not cut your tongue out prior to this moment,” she growled as they crossed through the great hall. “I may yet if you do not shut your yap.”

Justine was not deterred. “My puzzlement, however, comes from the sixth card,” she continued urgently. “It was the inverted Four of Swords, and indicates wisdom and prudence. I do not understand it.”

Josephine stopped one final time and turned to her sister with controlled anger.

“And I do not understand you, ” she hissed. “I have told you to cease your insane chatter, yet you soundly ignore me. Have you gone deaf, Justine? I have no time for you. I am trying to save Torridon!”

With that, she turned away and headed for the Knight’s Haven, moving as quickly as she could without running, but Justine gave chase. She wasn’t about to let her sister get away.

“And I am trying to save you ,” Justine said grimly.

“For the seventh card, the card of Prophecy was the King of Swords. The decisions and power over your own life do not rest in your hands, Josephine de Carron. Crosswise over it lay the Ace of Swords. That denotes extreme love or hate. It is the most powerful card.”

Josephine heard every word her sister said but ignored her as she marched into the Knight’s Haven.

There were a few servants milling about, lighting torches and setting out bread and wine.

The room was soon bathed in a yellow glow as Josephine took her seat at the head of the table, completely ignoring Justine as the woman lingered near the door before finally turning away and disappearing.

A servant poured her a cup of wine and she took a healthy gulp.

She was not too proud to admit she was nervous, but she’d be damned if she let on to The Red Fury.

She sat back in her chair with her eyes fixed on the doorway, waiting.

She fleetingly wondered why Justine had not followed her in, but was relieved she hadn’t.

She’d had enough of her sister for the night.

Best appear calm and in control from the very first, she told herself.

I shall inspect him when he enters and let him see that I do not fear him or his lusty reputation.

Then let the negotiations begin! She sat a little straighter, perhaps a bit more confident with herself.

But in the back of her mind, she prayed that Sully would do the bulk of the speaking.

Her confidence and experience did not encompass negotiating with soldiers of fortune.

It was not long before she heard voices and footsteps approaching.

There were the hard, sharp clicks of war boots on the cold stone and, suddenly, the doorway was filled with her knights, dressed for battle.

Her knights. They fanned out into the room, with their shadows dancing eerily on the walls as they took their traditional seats at the table.

They acknowledged her with a grin or a nod, and she nodded coolly, her eyes not missing anything.

Soon, men she didn’t recognize entered the room and were told to sit in the chairs that were placed away from the table, against the wall.

They looked older and, perhaps, more rugged than her own knights.

She eyed them; there was something earthy and different about them, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

But just the sight of them set her confidence back a notch or two.

Where in the hell was Sully?

Josephine focused on the doorway feeling great anticipation. Had she not been so caught up in the heat of the moment, waiting for Sully to appear, she would have realized that every mercenary solider in the room was eyeing her as if she were the most delectable morsel.

Yet, she saw nothing but the doorway. With each passing second, the anxiety grew, and she soon reached the point where all she wanted to do was stand up and scream away her apprehension.

But she continued to sit, swathed in garnet wool in a room full of both familiar and unfamiliar knights, and waited for what was to come.

The Red Fury.

*

Andrew had been mildly surprised as Torridon Castle loomed into view.

It was an incredibly massive structure, rising several stories above the moor upon which it sat.

The outer bailey wall was exceedingly tall as well.

But the closer they got, they could see chunks missing from the wall and men working on the gates in the light of a thousand torches.

It gave the appearance of a busy hive of activity, for as they drew closer, they could see the wall lined with archers and a line of foot soldiers around the wall’s perimeter.

Yet one thing with this picture was painfully plain– Torridon was obviously low on manpower. The commotion inside both baileys was relatively low because everyone who could use a sword or shoot straight was on the perimeter.

Knowing that they would be skittish, Andrew halted his humongous army about a quarter of a mile away and rode the rest of the way with Thane, a couple of pages, six men, and another of his generals, a big German by the name of Hans d’Aurilliac.

They came storming up to the broken gates with the hooves of their large destriers throwing mud and rocks as they pulled the horses to an uneven halt.

“I am Andrew d’Vant!” he called out. “We are expected!”

One of the knights at the demolished main gate looked at him with a sneer. “ Who ?”

Andrew cocked an eyebrow. “Tell your liege that The Red Fury has arrived.”