Vero’s eyes fluttered open and she found her face buried in the long strands of Antoinette’s hair. They had a very pretty smell, like rosemary. The Marquis had graciously offered her a servant’s services while she was in the camp. Vero accepted the offer and requested Antoinette, as they already knew one another. Vero gently shook her head free and turned over to her other side.

There was no more need for feigned shyness since the Marquis already knew her secret, and Vero suspected it was Antoinette who had informed him. Vero had not felt comfortable leaving the girl to sleep in a pallet on the floor when the bed the Marquis had given her was easily large enough to accommodate them both.

The early morning was still much colder than Vero cared for and she pulled her blankets tighter around herself. She was in no hurry to get underway, so she let herself drift back to sleep.

When Vero woke up again, the sun had fully crested over the horizon and it was past time for her to be rising. She would have to trust most of her weapons and armor to the Marquis to keep for her. At least she was able to fill her pack with fresh rations. When she tried to collect her dagger, Antoinette told her that the camp smith refused to return such a rust eaten weapon.

Instead, she was returned a poniard with a unique mottling which resembled water. Vero had seen oasis steel before, once in a market, but she and her master could never have afforded such a thing. The Marquis must have been even more astonishingly wealthy then she had heard, if his smith could take it on his own authority to give her something so expensive. It was a far finer weapon than her disguise called for, but the hilt had no ornamentation, so the plain appearance in its sheath belied its true value. It was perfectly balanced, she expected no less.

Vero’s plan, as she had detailed it to the Marquis over more wine the previous evening, began with her entering the castle town anonymously and dressed as a woman to allay suspicion. She had tried on some of Antoinette’s things, but the maid was a bit too short or too wide in too many of the wrong places. The Marquis had promised to arrange something for her the next morning.

She ate breakfast in the camp mess and was pleased to find that the men were being as well fed as their master, albeit more cheaply. They ate pork and ale rather than goose and wine, but the servings were generous. Vero had been certain that she would never be hungry again after stuffing herself the previous evening, but at once she found herself eating just as voraciously when she finally received her portion.

After her meal, Vero wandered around the camp aimlessly for almost an hour before the Marquis’ valet found her. He brusquely directed her into a large unmarked tent, but did not enter with her. Inside was a knight’s quarters with a separate dressing area behind a curtain. On a table lay a new and brightly colored green dress, with dark flourishes woven into the tailoring.

There was a mirror in the dressing area, so Vero went behind the curtain and changed her clothes. It was more revealing than she would have liked, but that was a necessity of the cover she had chosen. She kept her weapon in a leather sheath attached to her thigh, hidden from sight under the dress.

She returned to the main area of the tent, and was shocked to find the Marquis sitting at the table. He had obviously been waiting for her, but he still seemed surprised when she arrived; although he stood up, he said nothing.

“Is there something else you wanted from me, my Lord?”

“Yes-” He appeared puzzled for just a moment, but Vero hardly noticed. “-there was something I wanted to give you.”

He took a moment longer to examine her apparel, and when he spoke again, he seemed to have fully collected himself. “You look very beautiful, Veronique.”

“You prefer me dressed thus?”

“Prefer? Clothes change and the woman stays the same.” He smiled and Vero found it very contagious. “The flourishes were originally white, but I thought it would be a poor spy who wears her employer’s colors on her sleeves. I ordered my valet to have them changed- and I don’t know how he managed it as quickly as he did. Although I’m afraid he may have been awake all night at it, poor fellow.”

Her heart was beating fast and her mouth felt dry. “You said you had something to give me?”

“Ah yes.” The Marquis produced a lacquered box from behind his back. “I want to make sure you have everything you need to have the best chance at success. My armorer has equipped you with a suitable weapon from my stores, yes?”

“Yes.”

He opened the box for her. Inside of it were several bracelets of small copper chain, one more bracelet of silver, a ring of silver etched with writing in Liturgical, and a plain band ring of gold. There were also some cosmetic paints, and a vial of what she presumed to be perfume. “I thought these might help your subterfuge.”

“Thank-you, my Lord.”

She took the box back to the mirror quickly to regain her composure. She began to put on the jewelry and tried to apply the paint as she saw best, although she had no experience with it.

“These are only the least of the gifts I could give you, of course. But I did not want to jeopardize your mission by drawing undue attention.”

“I appreciate your consideration, my Lord.”

“I only gave you what I thought a common woman on her own liberty might keep with her for barter. I’ve been purchasing jewels from each of the merchants I’ve passed on this campaign, and these are only the pettiest trinkets. I think I shall reward you with the rest once you return, and you’ll see then that they put these baubles to shame.”

“I’m sure my payment will be very generous, my Lord.”

Eventually Vero was satisfied she was not going to improve her face any further by continued readjustment of the paints. She sniffed the perfume and found it smelled very strongly of jasmine. She began to apply a small portion and realized that the tent was very quiet. She knew she ought to say something, but every time she tried to think of what, she drew a blank.

“Who was it you were purchasing these things for?” Vero could not really believe what it was she said when she had, at last, spoke.

She came out from behind the curtain, but if the Marquis was offended, he did not show it. “I don’t remember at the moment. My mother, perhaps.”

“And what does my Lord think of my disguise?”

He made a very considered judgement before speaking. “You are a woman. I would stake my life on it.”

Vero let out a titter of nervous laughter before stifling it. “I should go…” She tried to sound decisive, but failed completely. She did not really want to leave, but she did not really want to remain and continue to embarrass herself either. “Perhaps we could speak more- after I return.”

“There’s no question of it. I want to see your face when I show you each of the presents I have to give to you. Good luck, Veronique.”

“You may- My friends often call me Vero.”

“Gods go with you, Vero.”

Vero left the way she had come. Now dressed as she was, she did her best to remain unnoticed as a camp follower and collect her things. Antoinette seemed very surprised when she saw her transformation, but the maidservant assured her that her face had been painted well. Once she had her pack, she hurried out the gate as quickly as she could, ignoring everyone she passed along the way.

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There was a single rough road of hard packed dirt which led through the marsh to the city. The exercise was a great benefit to her and her head began to clear. The tower’s height played tricks with her perspective of distance. It appeared close, but it still took a long way of walking to reach it.

On the way she had plenty of time to consider her encounter with the Marquis de Fer. He was trying to seduce her, she felt certain of that.

Surely, he knows many women fairer than you?

Of course, the Marquis probably had the most beautiful women one could imagine at his estate, but they were not close to hand. And he was much too disciplined to encourage prostitutes to come into his camp where they would spread disease. This would just be an alliance of convenience, a temporary affiliation.

Are you going to let him seduce you?

Vero was very infatuated with him, that much was clear to her. Even in the afterglow of his presence she felt rather giddy. If she did let him lay with her it would certainly make him more favorably disposed towards her when he determined her pay.

Have you already fallen to whoreing then?

Her master had often been forced into demeaning work, but he only visited prostitutes and never did the work himself. Of course, it was not as though she was a virgin any longer. She could not think what remaining virtue she could stand to lose from the affair, even if she was motivated by her own material benefit.

Aren’t you merely justifying yourself?

Despite what her master might have angrily sputtered when he was deep in his cups, she had never been with a man besides him. And she had never encouraged his attentions either. She hardly thought a man was likely to purchase jewels and perfume for his mother. If the Marquis did have a wife, that would only make the matter even more impious. And the last thing she wanted was to become a party to a marital dispute between individuals with enough wealth and influence to do her great harm if either were to feel slighted.

Things had been simpler with her master, when there had never been a matter of choice.

But this is a choice.

And what did she really know about the Marquis after all? At the moment she was solving a problem his priests could not, but in time he might just as easily view her as a problem for his priests to remove. She did not fancy being burned as a witch.

As Vero came closer to the city, the noise of the mass of humanity grew louder and louder, until she could see the gates ahead of her. There she found a rolling mass of foot and cart traffic trying to move both ways at once, resulting in a complete blockage.

The city was surrounded by water, a natural moat. A stone wall protected the small urban island in the center of the swampy lake. The path she was on wound through the water and terminated at a wooden bridge to the front gate. On the bridge was a jam of farmers with their goods looking for safety from the invading army inside the walls going one way; and merchants, thinking that they and their property would be safer by not being in the city when it was taken, going the other.

Vero had no choice except to line up with the farmers, their foodstuffs, and animals. The last of the morning passed with only the most gradual progress, and more peasants continued to queue behind her. She used the time to scratch her mosquito bites and consider how she should make up her face again when she returned to the Marquis, and if she should apply more of the perfume. She found the scent of jasmine rather overpowering, but perhaps the Marquis was fond of it. He was the one who had purchased it in the first place for someone- she knew not who.

A few merchants leered at her, but quickly went on their way. Everyone else seemed to wish to ignore her, which was just as well. At midday Vero shared her lunch of dried meat, fruits, nuts, and hardtack with an elderly woman who was nearly blind with cataracts. The old woman was the only person on the bridge willing to speak with her, probably because she could not see how Vero was dressed. The woman claimed to be traveling with a son-in-law who, as far as Vero could tell, had vanished.

As the sun advanced, the shadow of the tower fell over the bridge and Vero felt a terrible chill emanating from it. All around her the peasants unconsciously held themselves and drifted closer together as they felt the same malingering presence.

“Oh, I feel an awful chill. What’s caused it, child?”

“The sun has moved behind the tower, grandmother.” The old woman had asked Vero to call her grandmother, and Vero had indulged her. “It will come out again soon.”

“What a dreadful feeling of cold this is.”

Vero was filled with a sense of pressing anxiety which put an end to her daydreaming. Her master had often told her that she must keep her heart hard, because on a hunt any sentiment is just another distraction that will kill you. She had not thought much of it at the time, but now she decided that he was right- and she did not intend to die in that dreadful tower.

At last, mid-way in the afternoon, she reached the gates themselves. In addition to the traffic passing both ways through a gate – which was none too wide to begin with – guards were checking travelers in either direction looking for spies attempting to enter, or traitors taking necessary war material out.

A fat barrel looking knight approached as her turn came. “Open your bag.”

“As you wish, Ser.” Vero took her pack from her back and opened it up. The knight peered inside and rifled through the contents, more bored then suspicious.

“You have a resident to vouch for you?”

“No Ser, I do not.”

“You shall be questioned to ascertain if you have legitimate business inside. Spies will be apprehended. If you wish to leave now, then do so. Otherwise talk to the man over there.” After his rote delivery, the guard pointed to another man who wore armor and a tabard like a knight, but this man sat at a wooden table with a pile of vellum and writing implements.

Vero nodded and the knight handed her pack back to her. As she got closer, she could see that the tabard on the man at the desk showed the sign of the Lady of Reason. He had a sword at his waist, so she supposed he was a knight of the temple.

The clerk watched her walk up to him, then took a sheet of vellum and began to write. “Name?”

There was no seat for her, so Vero was forced to stand. “Veronique, Ser.”

“Address me as Fra, please.”

“My apologies, Fra.”

“No surname?”

“None, Fra.”

“Place of birth?”

“A village in the barony of Loix.”

The clerk looked up to read her expression. “That’s to the east, isn’t it?”

It was plain enough to Vero that he was trying to trap her in a lie, but it would not have been apparent to the peasant girl she was trying to portray. She allowed some hesitation to contradict a superior to tremble into her voice. “I suppose slightly so my Lord- But ‘tis mostly to the south...”

“I am not a lord. Address me as Fra, please. Who owned the land you lived on there?”

“The Baron Mattias, who was called ‘the bold’.” Her father had owned his own farm, and Mattias may well have died since Vero had left home years ago, but it was mostly the truth.

The clerk nodded and turned back to the vellum. “Reason for entrance?”

“I’m a prostitute, Ser- Fra! I’m looking to make some money.”

“Shouldn’t you be going to the Marquis camp then?”

“The Marquis is still trying to maintain discipline by keeping whores out of the camp. I need to wait until they’ve been here long enough to turn lax, and I have to stay some place in the meantime. I don’t plan on remaining more than a night or two.”

“That’s a very mercenary attitude you have.” He did not bother to hide his displeasure.

“I don’t like war. When cities are taken nobles are exchanged for ransoms, but prostitutes are killed or abused with everyone else. It’s just a fact of life, and I can only do what I have to in order to eat.”

The clerk snorted derisively but continued to write. “You need only justify your beliefs to the gods, not to me. Are you host to any infectious diseases, venereal or otherwise?”

“No Fra, absolutely not.”

“If you are found to be spreading any illness which undermines the defenders of this city you will be hanged.”

“I understand, my lor-” She stopped herself. “I understand, Fra.”

He wrote a few more lines. Vero tried to read what he was recording, but her grasp of letters was uneven to begin with, and upside down she could not make out anything.

“I need to see physical proof of your sex.”

Vero was only too aware of the knife belted to her thigh. The templar looked up at her and she tried on a devious smile. “Usually, I receive some coin first.”

The clerk turned even more terse. “I don’t need your barbs. I do require proof that you are not an enemy spy masquerading as a woman.”

Vero looked around and tried to position herself so as to hide her front form as many of the crowd queued up to either side of her as possible, and then lifted her dress up to her ribs.

The clerk craned his neck downwards with an expression of total disinterest, then motioned for her the lower her dress again. “You’ll be required to turn over your weapon before entering.”

“Fra, please. You well know how easily I could be raped, robbed, and killed. It’s only a small knife for self-defense. Please.”

The clerk kept his eyes pressed to his vellum to avoid looking at her, but she noticed him begin to chew his lower lip. “If a guard within the city sees the weapon... you will be executed as a saboteur.”

“I understand, Fra.”

The clerk finished what he was writing and left a seal in wax upon it. Then he handed it to Vero.

“This states that you are authorized to remain within the city. A guard may ask you to present this seal at any time. If you lose it, you will be imprisoned. Probably hanged. There’s no order left in this city, so sell yourself in wherever quarter you like. I recommend you leave before we burn the bridge and close the gates, because after that no one is going anywhere.”

Vero began to tell him. “Thank-you Fra.” But he just waved for her to move on and make room for the next entrant.