Red Cliff
part 1: Castle Cunre

As the sun set, red and round floating over the Southern Sea, they made for the island. The boat was going fast, with Maike and Gijs rowing in a steady way, Wilfryd and Femke resting from their part. However, it took until the last rays of the sun to reach the island, and no other slice of land was in view.
“It looks as if the island drifted away from us,” Gijs said, panting.
“Just looks like that,” said Wendelmoed, “You both were just getting tired.” She set a foot ashore and walked a little. She felt unsteady after a day in the boat. Then she saw a fine spot to spend the night. She helped the others to get the boat ashore, and to carry all their belongings to the spot she wanted to spend the night on. Soon, everybody was asleep. Not a sound stirred the island.

They awoke from the calling of a horn. Wendelmoed opened her eyes, and saw a shore across the Southern Sea. Between land and island, a fleet of small, quick ships sailed in the golden dawn.
“How come we didn’t see that land yesterday?” Wilfryd asked.
“Don’t know,” Wendelmoed said, still observing the ships.
“I think we are on a kragge,” Femke said, “A drifting island. There are some on the Southern Sea, floating around the islands of Nakala; we are never quite sure if an island is real or a kragge. The winds floats these islands around.” As they soon realised, they now drifted towards the fleet. And an instant later, they saw the flags on the tops of the masts.
“It is the fleet of Henric of Cunre,” Femke explained, a little frightened. “The lord of Cunre and the Lemster Woods. He is a pirate and a ship wrecker. Take care...”

For years now, Henric, lord of Cunre terrorised the southeastern shore of the Southern Sea. He had his castle close to the village and harbour Cunre, on the eastern border of the Lemster Wood. And the Lemster Wood was the border between Blato and Fryslân - the scene of many battles. It was said the Lemster Wood was full of skeletons and ghosts of defeated and killed warriors.
The lord of Cunre didn’t mind, and never listened to the orders of the Frysian king. He had his own fleet, harboured in the village of Cunre, and sailed the Southern Sea. He invaded the islands of Nakala and made them his own. He sailed to the Frysian towns of Stavre and Griint, had raided them, and sailed further away. He even had sailed on the IIssel to the town of Suthven in Hamaland and plundered this settlement, then burned it to cinders. He sailed the Tjonger and raided the temple of Thialf, not fearing the anger of the Winter God, even if the winters after the raiding were so cold his wife froze to death.
Oh yes, it is said the Lord of Cunre was feared, but knew no fear himself.

The first ship reached the kragge and a score of men came from the ship.
As they searched the kragge for treasures, they soon found the party of five, trying to flee in their small boat. It was useless to struggle and fight against the good weaponed men, so Wendelmoed and her party quickly surrendered to the lord of Cunre. They were taken to the Castle of Cunre, standing moody on the sandy shore of the sea, fighting the surf.

“Well well,” the lord of Cunre said as he descended the stairs to see his prisoners. “What do we have here?” He was in intriguing man, tall and thin, dressed in blue and green, swandown rimming his cloak and shirt, golden earrings, golden rings and bracelets, golden buttons. His hair was dark as night under a golden crown, his eyes cold and grey as the winter sea, sparkless.
He reached to Wendelmoed and pulled her head up by her cheeks to see her in the eyes. “What a wonderful woman,” he said, smiling joyless with his thin lips. “I am going to make you my wife, I think. This delicate curves of your body will keep me warm; your youthful fertility will give me joy and as I desperately hope, a son. What do you think about that?”
“Never!” Wendelmoed said and spat at the man.
“Oh well,” the lord gave in. “Then I will sacrifice you to Thialf, he is fond of young women, just like me.” He turned to Gijs. “I think Thialf will be pleased with you as well. Don’t you ever think you god is going to save you.” He reached to the cross on Gijs’ breast and snapped it away, then threw it into the fire.
After watching the cross burn to ashes, he looked coldly at Wilfryd and Maike. Wilfryd, frightened, had his arm around his sister to protect her, his other arm longing for his sword, which stood on the other side of the prison door.
“Another young lady. If you will be my wife, I will not kill your protector. What about that, hu? He can be a warleader in my army, and he will know I will kill you if he turns against me. Isn’t that a good deal? It makes everybody happy, doesn’t it?”
Both Wilfryd and Maike said nothing, did nothing. Wilfryd suspected the lord was mad, and very dangerous. Their only chance was to escape this castle, and run far away. If not, they would be killed anyway. In a rage, the mad lord could kill anybody he wanted to kill. They saw the madness in his grey cold eyes, and it scared them.
Finally, the lord of Cunre looked at Femke, who had hidden herself in a corner of her prison. His smile grew wider until he grinned, pleased with himself. “A Frysian princess in my castle! Who would ever have thought of that! Dear princess, I hope you enjoy your stay at Cunre Castle. Your father will be pleased to hear I have welcomed you in the most respectable way. Maybe he will finally listen to my wishes now he hears you are under my protection.”
“Henric, I despise you! My frysian knees will always be too stiff to kneel in front of a fake king!” Femke said. “My father will not, will never kneel in front of you! Just drown with your lousy castle, you pirate!”
“From the mouth of a princess, this comes as a compliment to me,” the lord said. He bent over and kisses Femke on her mouth, then he took her by her arms and led her away. Two guards stayed next to the prison door, as Wendelmoed, Wilfryd, Gijs and Maike saw how Femke was taken upstairs.

One of the guards pointed to a wooden shutter in one of the prison walls. “See that hatch over there? Behind the hatch is a small canal. On the other end of the canal is a sluice. See that handle over there? If I pull the handle, the sluice opens, the canal is flooded with water, and the hatch opens to let the water in. You will drown like rats if you try something. So be warned.” Then he turned to his mate, and together they opened a jar and drank the mead until they fell asleep.
“Shall we try to escape?” Maike whispered as she saw how the two guards snored away the time.
“You know how?” Wilfryd asked, tired of thinking about that ever since they were imprisoned.
“The hatch,” Maike pointed. “We can try to open the hatch.”
The four prisoners ran to the hatch and pushed and pulled an lifted the edges. The hatch moved and the stench of old mud came from the other side. It was heavy to lift, the hatch, and a rattling came from deep below as they moved the hatch further up.
“Stop!” Wendelmoed said suddenly. “Look at the handle in the wall!”
They looked. It was in a slightly different position as before.
“When we move the hatch, the handle moves too!” Wendelmoed said. “The mechanism must work both ways; when the handle is pulled, the hatch moves and when the hatch moves, the handle goes down. If we continue like this, we will drown!”
So they replaced the hatch and sat silently on the cold earth floor of the prison. A drop of water fell from under the hatch, and another, and yet another. The dripping of water continued and ticked away the time. Hunger came and went, so did sleep and thirst. In the dark prison time was no more than a word, and both day and night only a memory.

Femke was taken upstairs, to the room of Henric, lord of Cunre. Henric showed her his room, his treasures, the view across the Southern Sea from his room. “So sweet princess, tell me, are my treasures not enough for a woman of your standing? The furs on my bed, are they not made to cover your body? My lands, surrounding my castle beyond the view of men, are they not enough for you, my dear princess?”
“No,” she said. “No, they are not enough. I want love and tenderness, but they are not to be found in this Castle.”
“Love? Tenderness? What are you talking about?” Henric looked surprised, and his eyes grew darker, colder. Then he slapped Femke in her face, and she fell on the bed. “As soon as love or tenderness are found ever again in this castle, Forseti can come to take it to the bottom of the very ocean!” The lord paced away to the window and glanced over the horizon in a restless way. Did he expect Forseti to come that soon?
Femke, her nose bleeding, lay quiet down on the bed. What did Henric try to say? She knew him not very well, but she heard about the tragedy that struck the house of Cunre, soon after the raiding of the temple of Thialf. Now she looked around the room, a lot of the golden items seamed to belong in temples. The idols of gold covered wood, the candle holders, the knives and bells, the treasure of temples and priests.
Henric lit some candles as the sun sank below the horizon and set the sea alight in a blood red glow. It was as if the shore was on fire, and long red rimmed shadows reached into the room. The lord closed the shutters of the room, and walked over to the bed. He undressed an lay himself next to Femke. “Let’s see if you can bleed in other places too, princess,” he said coldly.
It was then, that Femke pointed the knife at him. She had taken the golden knife from one of the treasure loaded shelves, and the richly decorated knife showed the body of the one-armed Tiwaz. It was used to sacrifice animals and -probably- humans to the god of the heavens.
“What?” Henric gazed at the knife.
“Let me go!” screamed Femke. “Leave me alone!” She made a move with the knife, and slid open the skin of Henric’s arm. He took her arms and shook her, then raped her while she was still slashing him. He didn’t seam to notice he was hurt and slashed and covered in his own blood. She felt tired, her whole body hurt, and the blood flowed over her eyes, blinding her.
Henric took hold of the knife, and with his last powers, he stabbed the young woman, again and again, until the knife slipped out of his hand, and the life slipped from his body.
Severely wounded, with ripped clothes, Femke left the room, crying, bleeding.

“I hear footsteps,” Gijs said. They all listened. Indeed, the paces of someone coming down the stairs were heard, the paces slow, sliding and irregular.
“If it’s a guard, he is drunk,” Maike said.
“I don’t think it is a guard,” Wilfryd answered, but whispering in case he was wrong. The guards had left the prison soon after the incident with the hatch. Under the hatch, a small pool had formed. The drops kept dripping in the pool, ticking, ticking, ticking away the hours of their lives.
The footsteps came closer, and stopped when the thing came in view that caused the footsteps. The thing was covered in blood, and hardly to be recognised as a woman.
“Femke?” Wendelmoed asked, hoping she was wrong.
“My friends,” Femke whispered, as she clung herself to the iron bars of the prison door. She sobbed. Wendelmoed reached out to her, touched the trembling body tender and careful in consolation.
“There is... no time,” Femke said. “You’ve got.. find... red cliff.. go to... Stavre.”
“We will go to your father,” Wilfryd said, “He can take revenge on the lord.”
“No, Henric... I killed him. Find... red cliff.”
“How? How will we escape from here? You've got the key, coincidentally?”
“Open... the hatch,” Femke told them.
“But we will drown! We've already tried that!” Gijs said.
Femke shook her head, and pointed to the darkness of the prison roof.
“Go! Go to... red cliff.. for help! I’ve got to...” These were her final words. She fell to the floor, in a pool of blood.
“Femke! No! We love you! Get up!” Wendelmoed said.
“I think she is dead,” Gijs whispered, “and our love for her will not get her back. I will pray for the saving of her soul.” He knelt and prayed, whispering the foreign words away, as butterflies on a battlefield. A heavy silence fell over the prison, and the ticking of the water came to a halt. Then the water came flushing in.
Wilfryd had moved the hatch, and the handle was down. Through the opening of the wall, the water came flooding in, with a power that made it impossible to swim against it. Soon, the floor of the prison was all mud, and then the water reached ankles, knees, thighs.
“Wilfryd, you stupid, we will drown!” Wendelmoed screamed, but Wilfryd just smiled in a strange, knowing way.

[To part 2]