The Damsel

Why had I ever thought that this would be a good idea?

The road was rocky and the carriage was very uncomfortable. Said road stretched out endlessly over the hills and mountains of the kingdom. Not even half of my journey from the capital had passed, yet I was tired of it already. I had a headache, and my buttocks was in agony.

It was all my own fault. I had forwarded my wishes to my father for years, tiring him with all my chatter. At last he had given in, looking at me in a way which made me realise there was no going back now.

So I had set off, a hopeful smile on my face. I had bid the castle farewell, while tens of servants placed my countless belongings in the most luxurious carriage my lord father was willing to dispose on me. Yet before my setting off, my dearest father had presented me a with gift. At first I had been quite excited about it.

"You might need it, Ignacia, there are bad people out there."

It was a very beautiful, golden dagger with flower motifs. I really tried to look pleased, I assure you. However, one particular detail I did not like was the eye on the handle. Lately it was all the rage for women to carry secret knives, daggers and even doorknobs. We fancied ourselves to be quite the swordswomen with it. If danger ever occured, we would be able to defend ourselves. I call this a rage, because the women I am talking about are strictly noble women, and these we are not exactly without the means to have other people do the defending for us!

My father seemed to have different objectives in mind. He had given me the dagger with a big frown on his face. And if I wasn't mistaken, a few more grey hairs had appeared in his dark mane. However, I could no longer let his worrying prevent me from getting out of the castle. Can you imagine? A jewel like me couldn't be locked up forever. After nineteen years, I felt I deserved to be out in the open. However, I understood my father. He was merely protecting his only daughter, his only heir. If you didn't count a disowned second-rate cousin, that is.

I looked out of the window. The sun was high in the sky and I could see endless mountains ahead. Lower, I could see a wild, opal river. However, the sound the carriage was making on the bumpy road made it impossible for me to hear the rushing water. Looking at the mountains, I wonder behind which one the dressmaker lived.

Dresses! Dresses are simply divine, and the reason I had left the castle in the first place. That, and quite frankly because after nineteen years, the castle had become very dull to me. I hadn't exactly done anything that contributed to the benefit of others, or even in the pursuit of my own happiness. After all those years I had started to feel like I was part of the furniture, or a picture on the wall. And, although I might be as pretty as a picture on the wall, I assure you I would be very unhappy living as if I were a piece of furniture in my own house!

"You might need it, Ignacia, there are bad people out there."

My father's voice shot through my mind. Chills ran down my spine, thinking of the possibility. of anyone trying to harm me. But that was not going to happen. At this thought, I stared happily at the beautiful mountains, while trying to ignore the bumpy ride as much as possible. I was going to learn how to make dresses, and if my fame wouldn't be in history books for being the most fashionable noblewoman the land had ever seen, then it would be for being the most adamant dress-maker the world had ever witnessed.

Sometimes I really did tend to tire myself. Which is why I soon fell asleep, with the sun's warmth on my face.

Only to be brutally awoken. I jumped up at a sound I had never heard before. The sound of an agonizing scream. I looked up. Through the carriage window, I could see the sun had already set. I recognized the voices of some of my escorts, my father had sent four of them with me. One of them, the driver by the name of Marcus, I could see through the small window. His back was turned to me, and he appeared to be in some sort of struggle. The driver was yelling, each word more agitated than the last. I couldn't see the other escorts on horseback. My palms started to sweat as I was thrown through the carriage in all the chaos. Furious, I grabbed the handle of the window, to keep myself steady. My heart pounded loudly in my chest and I quickly sat on the floor of the carriage, before whoever had disturbed the ride could see me.

"Don't stop!" Yelled Marcus.

The carriage began to shake more violently, and I could hear the panicking voices of the other escorts. Sitting on the floor, I clutched the couch so I wouldn't fall. The floor of the carriage tilted to the right, as if the wheel had fallen off. It was the first time I had ever screamed in terror. But the men screamed louder, each scream sounded more terrified than the last. I braced myself, as the carriage lost balance, relieved to feel it come to a stop. With my hands shaking violently (and my hair and dress undoubtedly in a very improper state) I got up slowly. I was afraid that, with the possibility of the loss of a wheel, I would disturb the balance of the carriage.

What should I do, I thought while crouched down on the floor of my carriage. Voices, unknown voices, were shouting. And I heard the unmistakable sound of metal clashing against metal.

Suddenly, I heard a heavy footsteps coming closer to the carriage.

"What’s in this carriage?"

The voice sounded young somehow.

Marcus mumbled something unintelligible.

Trembling, my hands were searching for the dagger my father had given me when I heard the door creek open. I lunged forward without thinking, fearing it was either me, or whoever was outside that door.

I was met by a chuckle, and a big, restraining hand around my wrist.

"Well, I was certainly not expecting this."

His voice was a bit raspy.

I looked up, realizing I had foolishly closed my eyes in utter terror.

The man was too tall to even enter the small carriage properly. His clothes looked a little nicer than I expected from a bandit, but they were certainly not made of very fine fabric. However, they were intact, and made out of cotton. When I looked him in the eyes, I was a bit startled by how dark they were.

"You look an awfully long way from home," the bandit said, baring his teeth a bit, “we don't usually get to see carriages this nice. So perhaps you can imagine we are very eager to see what's inside."

He winked at me when he said that.

My eyes grew larger, realizing I had no choice.

Immediately, I thought of my sewing box. I had had it since I was ten years old. It was by no means a modest one. It was in a satchel inside the carriage. My eyes searched for it immediately. The bandit's gaze followed mine. He grinned.

"I will be taking that for you," he said, grabbing it, and pulling me out of the carriage in the process. Not expecting this, I fell, letting out a shriek. To my embarrassment, I landed with my arms around his shoulders. I looked up at him, terrified of what would happen to me now. The man just laughed.

"My, my you're a hasty damsel," he said before gesturing towards the other men to take a look inside the carriage.

Was he perhaps the leader of the group? I was brought up by a very influential father, so I knew authority when I saw it.

"I am not a damsel," I said, reminding myself of the commanding tone my father had always spoken to me in. It came out like a screech, which caused the bandit leader, as I called him in my mind, to throw in fits of laughter.

"I hate to tell you this –actually, I don't -but you certainly are a damsel now. You have no carriage, no coachmen, no escorts, and no satchel," he said, waving the satchel in front of me, his eyes twisted by some dark humor.

To be completely honest with you, at that moment I wished I actually knew how to defend myself. At least then I could have done something useful, instead of just bursting into tears. What right did this infuriating man have to steal my belongings? And more importantly, what was supposed to happen to me now? Even if they would let me go, I wouldn't survive on my own. Unless I would be allowed to take Marcus with me. I didn’t think too much about the fate of my other companions.

"You," said my captor, pointing at Marcus.

"Me, sir."

Marcus was very much used to being polite, even to men like this.

"You must go back to… wherever this unfortunate, lovely young lady comes from. Tell her dear father -or mother, that doesn't really matter-, tell them that Melchior has them, and that he will be glad to see his payment."

The coachman gasped, nodded, and rode off with one of the horses. As he drove away, I felt a giant pit in my stomach.

Looking away, I was horrified by what I saw. Puddles of blood were stretched over the grass and rocks. I didn’t see any bodies, because I turned around as soon as I had noticed the blood.

I was truly a coward.

"Melchior?" I mumbled, more to myself than to anyone else. I didn't expect anyone to answer. Remembering where I heard a familiar name before was hard at the moment. I was terrified of what would happen with me. Alone, and surrounded by bandits. My parents would surely pay ransom money, but would these people keep their word? I had never heard of any noblewoman being held hostage like this.

"I see that our proud leader's reputation hasn't reached your circles yet. Perhaps it was by a wise decision of your dear father not to tell you about him," said the leader of the bandits. He bowed down towards me, which made me shriek. Chuckling, he tied a rope around my wrists.

"I do not doubt your incapability to escape us, but I'd rather not test its limits," he clarified, now pulling up my skirt slightly so he could tie my ankles. Not realizing why has was doing so at first, I shrieked again. He dodged my shiny leather boot, and grinned. If I was not utterly mortified by now, I would have spoken up about his insufferable behavior!

"I never had a Lady do that to me before."

"I can't imagine a Lady doing anything to you."

Some of his peers scoffed, but he did not seem to mind it. The men, with ragged clothes, long beards and splatters of blood on their faces, looked absolutely terrifying. I tried to look at them as little as possible.

"I must be in luck, then," he said, before pushing me into the direction of the remaining horse. Standing in front of the horse, he lifted me up. What followed might have been my loudest shriek that day, to the bandit’s amusement. Even when he chuckled, it sounded raspy. I suspected he smoked, like most men did. However, it would not be the fancy tobacco my father typically used, unless they had raided his supply carriage as well.

I surely hoped they hadn’t.

***

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