He thwacked the tapestry, and the princess gave a startled cry.
"Hello, ugly one," the prisoner said, satisfied.
"Stop!" Someone shouted from the direction of the door.
"Stay here," I whispered to the girl. Prying free from her, I waited a moment until I heard the sounds of two swords clashing before inching to the nearest edge of the tapestry to peer out.
My eyes went instantly to the bodies on the floor and pools of blood. My trip to the Old West was an eye opener, the first time I'd ever seen anyone die or be killed. This was something else, though. The bodies of at least six women lay where they'd fallen, along with the forms of several more knights dressed like those guarding the prisoner.
My stomach churned. Death and killing … they weren't anything I'd ever thought I'd witness let alone be a part of like this.
I didn't feel able to process it with my twenty first century morals and understanding of post- Geneva Conventions warfare. My heart hurt for these people. I had seen all I wanted to of death in the eighteen forties; I didn't think I could live in a world where this was common.
The princess was crying behind me. I blinked away my fear and stepped back behind the safety of the tapestry.
Movies. Halloween blood. If I didn't find a way to … accept, at least temporarily, what I saw, I'd break down and bawl until someone chopped off my head. It's just like watching a movie or video game. Fake blood from the haunted house you went to when you were seventeen, Josie.
I repeated the words until the sense of panic subsided enough for me to remember why I had to get a hold of myself: the little girl crying in the cutout two feet away.
Swallowing hard, I peered out at the surreal scene once more. The bald prisoner's back was to me as he fought off four of the knights with a familiar curved blade. He appeared comfortable without shoes and fought with ferocity and brutality I didn't ever, ever want to face head on.
He threatened to chop off my head. The thought held me in terrified suspension for another long second or two.
"Moonbeam!" The hiss came from across the room.
Mahmood was peering out of what looked like another hiding spot. He waved to me. Anxious to be anywhere else, I ducked behind the tapestry and took the girl's hand. She stayed on my heels as we crept between tapestry and wall and peeked around it again.
There were more soldiers in the room to occupy the prisoner. Not that it seemed to matter; he was chopping them down quickly.