Betrayed (Chapter 3&4)

CHAPTER 3

ONLY ONE DEATH

A sound like thunder rumbled over the land, yet it was too continuous to be thunder. A cloud of dust rose from the road. Many horses were plunging ahead at break-neck speeds, with their riders urging them forward. At their sides hung sharpened swords, javelins, and daggers, and they weren’t for pretty.

Thibaud stood at the battlements, watching the horizon. A sudden, still faint pounding noise arose from off to his left. The sound grew rapidly louder, more intense. His breath caught in his throat. Horses. An army. As panic rose in his chest, he ran to sound the alarm. He noted that this militia flew no flag, neither English nor Scottish.

They’ve come for me. The terrifying thought stopped him dead on his feet. You’ve angered them, and now he’s coming to kill you…silence you. “But I will face them, fight them. I refuse to let them win.” A smile covered his face for an instant. “And I will get my money. After all, I deserve it.” The haughty smile vanished as he sprang into desperate action.

By then, Ajani, the other watchmen, had seen the approaching army and ran to alert the knights. Thibaud was sure the castle’s fifty some knights could vanquish this small army in a fair fight, but this particular foe didn’t lavish the idea of fair. He was out to win, the code of chivalry shoved violently out of mind. And the stakes were high, for they would probably not only take Thibaud himself but whatever they could get.

He glanced over his shoulder one last time to see the approaching army, but… they were… no, they couldn’t be. Yes, they were gone. Thibaud turned back around to survey the empty land. Not a horse or man was in sight. But where had they gone?

They’ll be back; he thought grimly, you can bet your sword on it.

He ran down to warn the royal family. The daughters took shelter in the keep while the fighting took place. Most times it wouldn’t have been necessary, for the enemy rarely made it into the castle. Thibaud never remembered a time where they had. The battles took place outside the castle walls, so those inside were safe. But for this time, he wasn’t so sure.

He ran down to the stables where the knights were putting on their armor and saddling their war horses. He spotted Shamara and Maleah standing by Etienne off the side of the swarming knights. He hesitated, and then swallowed bravely as he strode over to them. For this battle he was against those other men.

“Thibaud,” Etienne called to him, “where was the army coming from?”

“From the west, my lord. They were coming through the Commoner’s Pasture, but as I turned to come down here they disappeared.”

“What do you mean they ‘disappeared’?” Etienne asked almost angrily.

“I don’t know,” Thibaud said, desperately trying to get the lord to understand and believe him. “They just seemed to vanish.”

“Then there’s no need to worry about an attack?”

“No!” he replied too quickly, “I’m sure they are coming back. We must be prepared.” He watched the lord’s expression as he continued. “Ajani and I will remain up in the battlements to watch for them.”

Etienne cast him a skeptical and guarded look. “Fine. We will continue here, and you be sure to alert us as soon as the enemy is spotted again.”

“Yes, my lord.” Thibaud bowed respectfully. “Oh, and one more thing. I think it might be safe for the ladies to take shelter in the keep.”

“Why?” Shamara demanded. “Nobody ever gets inside the castle anyway.”

“Just do as you’re told,” Etienne snapped.

Shamara clenched her teeth as Maleah lightly tugged at her arm to follow. Thibaud turned to find Ajani, and while he walked away he felt the lord’s suspicious gaze trailing after him.

I hope the lord doesn’t suspect me enough to do anything to me. But why would he? I’m helping him. But I think I let on that I know too much.

Back up on the battlements, along with many knights, Ajani and Thibaud watched for the army they had seen only minutes earlier, but the land was deserted.

Thibaud guessed there was some foul play being committed. But what? Slipping quietly away from Ajani, Thibaud wandered around to the back side of the castle.

The sea was beautiful that day. The blue water shimmered in the sunlight and the waves crashed over rocks at the bottom of the steep rocky cliff. The sea protected from attacks from behind, but Thibaud just wanted to be sure.

He scanned the surrounding grounds carefully, being sure not to miss a single detail.

There was nothing. No movement. No evident life.

He turned to walk around to the other side as a gray shadow slipped from the brush.

Thibaud jerked his gaze back to the bushes and hid behind the stone. He spotted the last of a long trail of horseback riders slyly riding over a convenient bridge over the wide, deep moat. He wondered where the bridge was from and how on earth had it gotten there. But it didn’t matter where or how, the enemy army had very surreptitiously found a way into the castle, with the help of inside collaborators of course.

He turned and ran to Ajani, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. “Ajani!” he cried. “Quickly alert all those you can! The army has slipped inside the castle!”

“You’re mad,” Ajani answered, unconcerned.

Frantic, Thibaud nearly yelled, “No! I’m not mad. They have gotten in the castle! Come, we’re wasting precious time!”

“Now how would have they managed that?” he asked calmly and provokingly incredulous.

“I’ll show you!” Thibaud said as he dragged Ajani hurriedly to where he had seen the horseman ride over the strange bridge. This was a life or death situation. If he didn’t alert the knights, he would be killed along with many innocent others.

“No!” he gasped as he peered down over the edge to the outer moat. “This is unbelievable! The bridge can’t be gone.”

“Maybe it was never there, Thibaud.” Ajani answered

Thibaud turned and grabbed Ajani around the neck. He shook as he yelled angrily, “Don’t you get it! That army is in here and they’re gonna kill us all!”

Ajani’s face turned red. “Then go and tell the lord yourself,” he choked. “See what he says.”

Thibaud threw him roughly to the ground. “Useless piece of flesh.” Horrified screams from down by the stables silenced both watchmen. They stared petrified at one another as the sounds of a fight filtered up to them.

“Do you believe me now?”

Wordlessly, Ajani fingered his strangled neck.

Men on horseback and some on foot came swarming out of absolutely nowhere but were coming from everywhere. Their battle cries were heard throughout the castle and sent shivers up spines. They had armor on and their eyes were inside black circles and there were black lines tracing their cheekbones. Ruffled hair gave the impression of wild men, but Maurizio wasn’t intimidated.

He had leaped upon Ghost at the initial sighting of enemy soldiers and soon found himself in the suffocating heat of battle. Men on foot ran pell-mell around Ghost’s feet, making him hard to control. He saw horses rearing up and throwing off riders, and men falling to the ground with a sword or arrow protruding from their body. He grimaced, but forced himself to look away and carry on.

He saw a man on a spotted horse turn and gallop towards the keep. Landing his whip on Ghost’s hindquarters, Maurizio took off after him. He wasn’t far ahead or running very hard. Dodging several horses and trampling one of the enemy, Ghost seemed to fly forward. Ghost slammed into the spotted horse and sent it stumbling to the ground, crushing his rider.

From behind, someone clubbed Maurizio viciously over the head. He fell sideways off Ghost’s back, his foot catching in the stirrup and twisting his leg. The heat of pain brought him instantly back, but Ghost reared up with Maurizio dangling dangerously under him by his leg. His hands searched frantically for something to grab, but felt only air.

He looked up at Ghost’s underbelly and saw his flailing hooves come crashing back to the ground.

A bright, blinding light flashed for a moment along with a severe pain. Then black silence. Dead silence.

She didn’t know why she was down here, and she didn’t want to be. But here she was, not so bravely standing in the middle of a battle. People and horses were running wildly all around her. A horse ran into her and she rolled away from its feet as she fell.

As she stood back up, Shamara saw Maurizio fall from his horse’s back and hang by his leg as his horse reared up in fright. She watched, breathless as the horse came back on all fours, crushing Maurizio with its hoofed feet. A man on another horse close by whipped Ghost cruelly and sent the horse running, still dragging a life-less Maurizio. The other man laughed heartily, but the dust was too thick for her to see who he was.

She screamed as giant of a man threatened her with his mighty sword. Her mind was in too much of a whirl to think of her own sword. A horse came charging rider less by, ruthlessly crushing him.

Her eyes searched the battle grounds for any sign of Ghost, but the place was too full of dust and horses. She couldn’t see anything except the horses rushing by her often hitting her and knocking her off balance.

She looked to where she had last seen the horse, and there, on the ground, laid a body. She didn’t care much for the new knight, but they needed all the warriors they could get.

Ducking and dodging her way past horses and people alike, she reached Maurizio. Thank God, he’s alive. She could see his side scarcely, but steadily falling and rising. Shamara covered her head and fell to the ground as a horse jumped clear over top of them. With adrenaline pumping strongly through her, she lifted his head. Blood covered his forehead and a bruise was already there on the side of his head.

When he felt the touch of someone’s fingers, Maurizio slowly opened his eyes. The first thing that met his bleary gaze was green eyes and black hair. The wicked sounds of battle followed swiftly thereafter.

Trying to clear his head of the sticky fog that engulfed it, he demanded furiously, “What are you doing here, Shamara?”

She pulled him up to stand. “Does it matter?”

Shaking his head to help wake up, he yelled over the ruckus, “Yes it does! Get back in that keep, and stay out of this!” Without giving her a chance to rebuke him, Maurizio ran off, looking for his horse, his head spinning with the effort. Luck had it that Ghost was running wildly around and ran by a staggering Maurizio.

He grabbed the dangling reins and promptly ended Ghost’s wild run. Without hesitation, Maurizio pulled himself on Ghost’s back and ran into the thick of the battle again. As he went, he cast one look to Shamara to make sure she obeyed his command.

A burly man, with a thick beard, reached out and took a strong hold of her arm. She struggled to free herself, but it was to no avail. Maurizio wheeled Ghost around and headed back, keeping a close watch on the girl. He’d be in bigger trouble than ever if he was the one responsible for any hurt to Shamara.

The man pulled Shamara against his chest as she fought to free herself. Maurizio was boxed in with men and horses on all sides. Ghost rammed into a horse, and its rider turned with a sword in hand. Aiming for Ghost, he swung, and Maurizio roughly pulled his horse’s head away from the falling blade.

Meanwhile, Shamara glared irately at the man as she demanded her freedom. He refused to let her go, and his hot breath fell on her face and neck. She struck him in the stomach with her elbow was hard as she could. He merely laughed.

“Such a pretty girl.”

Disgusted, she remembered something. Flipping up the side of her dress, she pulled out her sword, and in one smooth moment swung it threatening to his bristly throat. “Pardon me, sir, but I demand you release me.”

He smiled at her, with a mouthful of rotten, crooked, and missing teeth. “Girls don’t use swords.”

“Well this one does.” She turned the blade upwards and swiftly sliced the bottom of his chin. He let her go in surprise and clutched his chin. Anger like a flame flickered in his eyes. He shoved her backwards, and she fell into someone else’s arms. A hand slapped over her mouth and around her waist. The first man grabbed her wrist and twisted maliciously it until she, because of spiking pain, dropped her sword.

“Now the lady will come with us.”

Maurizio finally forced his way though the crowd and ran towards Shamara. Two men were forcing her up on a horse, and she fought fiercely but was no match.

Off to the side, in front of the stables, Maurizio spotted Fouque standing at the door holding the black horse by the reins. A man on a gray dappled horse came stampeding out of the battle and jumped off amidst full gallop. The gray horse ran away, and the man looked to Fouque. The boy handed the big black horse over to him. He patted it before leaping upon its broad, sturdy back.

As if on cue, every opposing man turned and ran towards the portcullis. Hands held behind her back and sitting in front of the burly man whose name was Alured, Shamara looked hopefully over her bouncing shoulder. Her gaze was drawn to a white streak following after Alured. Maurizio. How glad she was to see even him. No one else had seen her abduction, save Maurizio, the one she didn’t trust. She could feel the horse surging forward with powerful lunges as it carried her farther away from safety.

By now the retreating men had reached the closed portcullis. A wave of horses turned and stampeded back, catching many men in the current. Alured jerked his horse’s head sharply around and whipped him harshly. The horse replied by leaping ahead.

Maurizio had but a second to decide what to do. He kicked Ghost lightly in the flank and the horse ran bravely into the oncoming crowd. He fought down the panic of being trampled as he looked frenetically to find Shamara. There she was, desperately watching him. The man with whom she rode was running directly in Maurizio’s path. He pulled Ghost to a halt.

Alured came closer and closer still, running his horse hard. As he went pounding by, Maurizio reached out and grabbed his horse’s reins. The horse found its head being wrenched around. In the sharp turn, its hind legs slid out from under it. Its rider flew off along with his captive passenger.

Maurizio released the horse and jumped off Ghost. The man had already leaped to his feet and was clambering back onto his stumbling horse, without the girl. Maurizio heard a terrified scream. Shamara dodged an oncoming horse. Seeing Maurizio, she sprinted quickly to his side.

He grabbed her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She nodded.

Maurizio searched her clear eyes for a sign of fear, but found none. Holding her gaze for a moment longer, Maurizio thought of how fearless and confident she was.

He jumped gracefully onto Ghost’s back and helped Shamara up behind him as he scanned the battlegrounds. Most of the knights had been caught when the army turned back around and were now trapped.

Shamara shook Maurizio’s shoulder and pointed the other way. “Look!” she said. “Someone is raising the portcullis!”

Etienne rested his head in his hands, attempting also to rest his weary mind. Why? Why did it all have to go wrong?

“Sir?” Yori asked quietly, “What is bothering you?”

“This battle, what happened, and what all went wrong. Mistakes that led to the shedding of blood.” His head remained down as he spoke discouragingly to his baliff.

“But, sir, there’s only been one death.”

“But how did they get inside and back out unscathed?!”

Yori shrugged. “We are not yet sure, my lord. I have personally made an inspection of the castle walls, with the exception of the knights’ quarters. As of now there are men looking to the outside walls and doing a more thorough examination of the inside.” He paused, looking sympathetically to the dispirited lord. “Do not worry yourself. We will soon have the answers to your questions.”

“The gate! The drawbridges! Why were they open?!”

Suddenly Yori felt the prickling presence of someone beside him. Glancing quickly over his shoulder he saw Sheridan standing silently watching the distressed lord.

Sheridan nervously cleared his throat, and to the sound the lord finally looked up.

When he asked the knight what had been found, Sheridan said, “The burnt remains of a large wooden bridge used to cross the moats was found inside the castle, and in both the outside and inside walls at the knights’ quarters were large holes in the stone, cunningly disguised. This attack was premeditated, sir. We haven’t yet found out who raised the gate and set down the drawbridges.”

“Wouldn’t it be the gatekeepers?” Etienne said instantly.

“We can’t be sure. Cyril and Edmund, who were on duty at the time of the attack, were reportedly seen by Jabari and a few others during the battle, and it could’ve been anyone who managed to slip away unseen.” His respectful gaze fell on Yori. “If you’ll excuse us, we have private matters to discuss.”

“No, no,” Etienne interrupted, “Yori may stay. Anything we say can be heard by him.” Looking fondly upon Yori, he continued, “The man is my right arm. Always has been.”

Sheridan nodded slowly as Yori suspiciously scrutinized him. “I was wondering, my lord, if you had any suspicions of who our traitor might be.”

“I have my suspicions,” he admitted, “but I don’t want to say anything until I’m positively sure.”

“I understand,” Sheridan replied.

Watching Sheridan’s face, Yori asked, “Who do you suspect, Sheridan?”

The knight glanced casually over to Yori. “I side with Etienne. I’m watching people, but I don’t want to start untrue rumors.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Etienne muttered. “Sheridan, you’re around the knights more than I, which one, or few, of them do you consider a possibility of committing mutiny?”

He thought for a little while before saying, “This may not go anywhere other than this circle.” He glanced to Yori and then Etienne. “I’m not sure. I haven’t known him long enough, but I find myself carefully watching Maurizio. He’s been keeping to himself in his first days here and just watches and listens to everybody. I know he may be just trying to adjust and learn things, but I don’t like it. And you must admit, the attack happened just days after his arrival.”

“But he saved my daughter and helped us in the battle,” Etienne objected.

“Every knight was present and helping during the battle, but that doesn’t mean some of them couldn’t have been just faking their loyalty. Did you see Maurizio really try to fight off the enemy? Most of the time he was trying to save you daughter, sir. He killed not one of the enemy, as did most other knights. Also, he didn’t come at the first call. It was several minutes until he showed up to ready his horse for battle.”

Etienne bowed his head, “You are right, Sheridan. And his wounds are very minor compared to those of some others, though so far only one man has died.”

“I didn’t hear,” Sheridan said. “Whose soul was passed into the next life?”

“Thibaud,” the lord answered. “He was chased and gruesomely slaughtered.” His voice became quieter. “Stabbed with what we think must have been daggers until he bled to death and then dismembered.”

Sheridan grimaced at the description of Thibaud’s death. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what should be done about Maurizio. We don’t know anything for sure, but we can’t let him just go without at least watching him.”

Etienne looked mournfully down upon his large, aching feet. “I don’t like to do this behind his back, but, Sheridan, watch him. Follow him around and never let him out of your sight. Be sure not to make yourself obvious. We don’t want him to know that we suspect him of anything. And Yori,” his sad gaze looked gratefully into Yori’s kind eyes, “keep vigilant eyes and attentive ears to him and everybody else that you can.”

No longer able to keep Yori’s steady gaze, Etienne looked to the floor. Yori saw his eyes glisten in the dull slants of sunlight.

“My lord?” he asked carefully.

When he didn’t answer, Yori said, “The death of Thibaud reminds you of your son’s lose.”

Etienne slowly nodded. “Adémar was so young and good. Now, just as Thibaud, he was unjustly killed… Someone is out there. Someone who killed my son. He’s a dangerous man, a cold blooded killer, and he’s still out there plotting to kill.”

CHAPTER 4

SUSPICION’S ECHO

TALL fields of wildflowers waved their leafy arms in the wind as he lounged in the shade of a tree. As he leaned against the small but sturdy trunk, he looked to the crest of the hill, patiently waiting…for her.

Then, from around the back of the tree, two hands covered his eyes and sweet laughter wavered in the air. He pulled free of the warm hands and gently grasped one as he pulled her to him. Eyes dancing with laughter, she smiled as her hands rested upon his arms. Wrapping his arms around her waist he could feel her laugh, feel her energy. Her energy seemed to flow into him, making him feel so alive.

A moment passed between the two of them while the wildflowers swayed gently around their bare feet. A wonderful moment where they read the truth in each other’s eyes. His finger lifted her face as he brought his lips to hers.

Maurizio violently shook his head, shaking the last bit of the dream from his mind. He had dreamed this same dream before...several times. And it was always the same. It was an odd dream. And why was he with Shamara?

He smiled. That question needn’t be asked.

He turned his head and saw Favian and Maverick sleeping peacefully. Sheridan lay off to the side snoring loudly. For a moment Maurizio wandered where Jabari was, but then he remembered that Jabari had been asked to do guard duty that night.

The sun had not yet risen and probably wouldn’t do so for a couple more hours. Maurizio rolled over and closed his eyes, but sleep had long ago escaped from his grasp.

His mind went over the past few days. There was something uniquely strange about this castle and its people. Something deadly seemed to be lurking around every corner and hidden in the eyes of those who simply walked by your side. Ever since he had come, Maurizio had sensed that something big and unimagined was afoot. The battle of the week before was only a warning of what was to come. It was like the distant rumble of thunder before the storm really strikes.

The stable boy was under Maurizio’s watchful eye. His nervousness was disturbing, but Maurizio couldn’t bring himself to start suspicions by talking to the lord. Fouque seemed innocent. Well, sort of. He was hiding something, but he wasn’t evil, just scared. Maurizio needed to know more before he alerted anyone. He had seen what had conspired during the battle with Fouque and how he handed the black horse away, and after seeing that, Maurizio had almost told Etienne. He had searched the castle for him, but when Maurizio finally found the lord, he couldn’t bring himself to condemn the young boy. His decision was to keep Fouque under his strict and invisible surveillance. Maurizio was determined to unearth what secret world and its entire people that were hiding under the stone floors of the castle, learning the secrets and whispering to an evil comrade under the cover of night.

Darkness…a welcomed sight to his eyes. The sunlight scared him, for he was worried that the bright light of the golden sun might just reveal his secret identity to those by his side. Darkness was also a time when new information from his “Anonymous Friend” was shared with him. His friend was the only other man he knew of that was on his side. Though he didn’t completely trust this “friend”, the man gave reliable and useful information. He was the only other soul who knew of the daring plan that was about to be put underway.

A message had been slipped to him earlier by a pheasant who handed him a handwritten note concealed by money which was later given to the lord who was innocent of the knowledge of the message. The note had read:

Meet me tonight. An urgent message have I been entrusted with.

I believe it may help you, but remember I wish to remain anonymous.

You must never tell a soul that it was I who gave you these words.

-Your Anonymous One

He knew who it was from, and he knew why the secrecy was important.

Glancing out around the corner of rough stone, he peered into the thickening darkness of midnight. The moon had hid its glowing face from the world that night, and that made his trip all the more easy. The deep shadows allowed him freedom to inconspicuously hide from any probing eyes that might be of trouble tonight.

His narrowed eyes roamed the deserted stable yard. A stray bucket lay on its side near the watering trough. The smell of horses still lingered in the soft night air. Only the sound of muffled hooves from inside the wooden stable walls reached his ears.

But he wasn’t convinced. He listened longer, harder. He melted into the wall, disappearing into the heavy blackness. Disappearing to what he could sense but couldn’t see.

Someone else was here. No sound, no sight portrayed his presence, but he could sense it. He could feel eyes watching him, hidden eyes.

Turn around, his senses commanded. He remained rooted to the ground, refusing to move, hoping he was invisible.

Turn around.

No, it would betray my position, he thought.

TURN AROUND, his senses screamed.

He whisked only his head around as the cold edge of a blade froze further movements. An icy stare challenged him, dared him to move. A black form that was blacker than the night filled his vision. Broad shoulders, a wide jaw, and strong hands were all he could see. A silence louder than the call of battle became between the two. Moving ever so cautiously, he turned his entire body around as he studied his armed opponent.

Slowly, he smiled. A vicious, sly smile. “Hello, Sheridan. It’s not me your after.”

Sheridan held onto silence, his sword still held tight to the man’s neck. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the man. Gradually, though, his arms lowered, bringing the sword back down to his side.

For only a moment the two men held the rigid gaze of the other. Sheridan never uttered a word, as the man smiled mockingly into his serious face.

“I knew you would remember your place,” he said for only Sheridan to hear.

Again, the man slipped away, into the darkness, out of sight to any eyes that might be watching.

His bare feet shifted restlessly in the dust as he crouched beneath the branches of the low tree. Hurry, he urged. The sun would soon be on the rise and he couldn’t risk being spotted. Just as he was about to leave, he heard the faintest sound of footsteps nearing his position. He held his breath, and his eyes peered into the darkness hoping to be able to pick out a black form a person, hopefully the man he had been waiting for.

The sound of breathing from behind him startled him. He jumped around, prepared to defend himself. Soft, recognizable laughter filled his ears.

“You’ve gotten rusty, my friend. I saw you from a mile off.”

He grumbled angrily, “Where have you been. I’ve been waiting for too long of a time to be sitting in one place.”

He chuckled. “I ran into Sheridan, but he knew better than to stop me, after all I am on his side.”

He snorted. “Oh you are? Please tell.”

The two men became quite as they listened for the sound of any eavesdroppers. Only the normal sounds of night filled the air, so they quietly began to converse.

“Now, what be the reason that you dragged me out here at such an hour?”

His companion looked anxiously over his shoulder, and then leaned closer. “I received surprising news today, and decided to share it with you and you alone. You may do what you wish with this information, but I shall remain innocent.” He paused, his eyes shadowed, and his voice became sarcastic. “And if anyone asks, tell them a little birdy told you.”

The other man nodded, waiting to hear the news.

“That new knight that came just a few weeks ago, ah, what’s his name?”

“Maurizio?”

“Yes, yes, him. Well, he’s not all muscle. That boy has quite a past, none of which he cares for any of us to know. But I’ve uncovered his secrets.”

The cry of a pheasant baby startled the men. Their hushed conversation abruptly paused, until they were again sure of their secrecy.

“Anyway, his loyalty isn’t of high honor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just to say the least, he hasn’t always been on English side of the war. He fought with the Scotts for a time, and then he went as loner because he was forcefully discharged by the Scottish army.”

“Forcefully discharged? On what grounds?

“That’s the key. All I could find was that at his camp there had been many mysterious murders. Several men were found dead. Some were strangled, and others bled to death. But most were killed by the sword. The Captain couldn’t pin down charges on anyone. He suspected Maurizio, but couldn’t prove it. Then, from what I heard, Maurizio panicked and killed him. After that, Maurizio was forced to leave, for they had finally gotten enough evidence to convict him.”

This was shocking news to him. He hadn’t in the least expected Maurizio of anything like this…but, after thinking about it, he wouldn’t put it past him. There was always a suspicious air about him. Something uniquely strange, and often hair-raisingly disturbing.

“Was there a trial?”

The other man sighed softly. “This is the part of the story that I can’t put together.” He paused, his eyes glinting in the darkness. “There was never any trial. The whole incident was kept hush-hush. It seems as if the Scottish were trying to cover something up, but I can’t figure out what.”

“I don’t believe it. Who told you this?”

“Anonymous people…and it took many long, trying hours to pry this information out of them.”

“Reliable people?”

“You can bet your sword on it.”

For a few moments, both men became silent, thinking…considering.

He wasn’t quite convinced that Maurizio would have done that, but…then again... Someone might be trying to cover something up, and somehow this man was tied up in it. Maybe he was making a mistake by using Maurizio, for he didn’t seem to be as loyal to the English as he had previously thought.

Or so it seemed.

Could he really trust this man’s information? What were facts, and what were fictitious rumors? He would have to try to find some things out for himself. That meant prying…listening…watching.

Watching.

Dew sparkled and glittered in the morning sunlight, as it slanted through the trees, creating a mirage of many colors. The grasses and their leaves curled gently downward with the dew drops. Shamara’s bare feet left a trail of flattened grass leading into the shaded forest, the Lord’s Forest, beyond which was a vast and wild meadow.

She lifted her dress to her knees as she carefully stepped over a mossy log that had laid there since last summer when a violent wind storm had uprooted it.

She felt increasingly anxious with the passing of each day, and she neither knew why nor how to calm herself. If was as if she was being watched…by something.

Or someone.

Another thing that weighed heavily on her mind was the townspeople. They seemed…angry. But they wouldn’t admit it. Every time she set foot in the town she could sense resentment among the villagers. She and the people of the castle were despised by the townspeople. She could feel their anger rising, and Shamara knew that eventually something had to give. Whether that would be her father or the people of the town, she didn’t know. If her father gave in and lowered the taxes, the villagers would be happy. If Etienne chose to be stubborn, the townspeople would just have to submit to his rule.

Or they could rebel.

But maybe it wasn’t just the higher taxes that had set the people off, for they weren’t known to take such things to this sort of level. Shamara wondered if there was something else involved in the brooding of evil among the people.

Those weren’t her real problems, though. Her actual problem was Maurizio. The name made her cringe. She hated him.

Why? She didn’t know. Something about him was just…odd, very odd. His mysterious demeanor was intimidating. His piercing eyes seemed to see straight through her, to the very core of her heart. The part of her she wanted nobody to ever, ever see. Only one person had ever been to the secret places of her heart. The thought of him, paused her in step as her gaze remained glued to the ground before her hesitating feet. Unexpected tears filled her distant eyes.

“No,” she told herself. “He was a long time ago. He left you and is no longer part of you. Your tears are too precious to waste on such a trivial thing as him.” Forcing herself back to the present, she began walking again, slowly this time.

A rumor had found its way to her ears this morning. A rumor she had suspected for a time, but hadn’t wanted to hear.

This…problem needed to be taken care of. This…thing needed to be ended. After all, she was engaged. Maurizio wasn’t good enough for her. She despised him, and wanted him to leave but couldn’t make it happen.

Maurizio wasn’t allowed to love her.

Ferand sat conspicuously at the gate of the town. He casually glanced around, while his hands busily scrubbed his horse’s saddle. It was by then midday, so for that reason, he sat in the shade of a low-branched tree with a bucket of soapy water by his side and a bristly brush in his browned hands.

His gaze held, for one moment, onto something outside the wall that surrounded the town, but then his eyes concentrated on the saddle that lay across his knees.

A lone, uniquely clad man walked across the opening of the gate to the side on which Ferand sat, apparently unaware of his presence.

But it was all a lie. A very well-played lie.

The second man leaned casually against the high, stone wall, seeming to study the pheasant women doing their wash over the wooden racks.

After a time, he muttered quietly, “Have you seen him?”

Ferand pretended not to hear. He dipped his brush in the water and scrubbed vigorously at a dull spot on the now gleaming leather. Finally, he answered saying, “Yeah.” His eyes never left the saddle.

“When will my job be finished?”

Another pause.

“Soon.” Ferand smiled haughtily as he held his saddle up to the light. “Maurizio won’t last a month.” As the man turned to stroll casually away, Ferand quickly asked, “Hasculpus?”

Hasculpus cringed at the sound of his name and looked anxiously around to see if anyone had heard. “What?” he muttered, not casting even the slightest glance to Ferand.

Ferand busied himself as he spoke. “What exactly is Maurizio capable of doing? You say he is only trouble to your scheme.”

Hasculpus clenched his fists as his eyes narrowed evilly. His vicious gaze bored holes into the dusty ground. “You have no business knowing the detailed facts. You have been told of your orders, I and expect you to complete them discreetly and wholly without asking any questions.”

Maurizio flicked his wrist, bringing his blade around to block a well-placed blow from Maverick. Lifting his shield to protect his shoulder, Maurizio lashed out almost catching Maverick as the man leapt backwards to avoid the strike. Now on the defense, Maverick gave more ground as a slicing blade followed him wherever he went. He tried to dodge to sword, and trick his opponent, but Maurizio was exceptionally skilled.

Finally Maverick held up his hands in a sign of defeat. Both men stooped over, breathing hard. Their match had been going on for awhile longer than usual, and sweat covered their brows.

“You’re…pretty…good,” Maverick panted between deep gulps of air.

“In battle, pretty good doesn’t count. You have to be the best or you won’t last,” he replied, looking him in the eye for his response.

Maverick grinned and steadied his breath. “You have a point.”

Sheridan and Favian joined the two with pats on the backs and compliments on the fight.

From the direction of the draw-bridge called a voice, “Here I am with a triumphant return.” The knights glanced over their shoulders to see Jabari riding up behind them on his spotted horse.

“Welcome back, my royalty,” Maverick said mockingly, “but where sir, may I inquire, has your presence been?”

“Where have I been?! Well certainly you have noticed my absence.”

Maurizio was surprised by Jabari’s talk, for normally he remained quiet and controlled his speech.

Then Jabari laughed heartily as he fell off his horse and landed heavily on the ground in a cloud of dust. Maverick burst forth in raucous laughter that became choked as he couldn’t stop.

Looking toward Sheridan with sparkling eyes, Maverick said between out-bursts, “Sheridan, look, Jabari got himself drunk again! I thought he said he out-grew that habit.”

After helping Jabari regain his footing, they let him stand shakily on his own. With a slurred and loud tone the drunken man said, “Now where’s that little runt of a squire?”

Dante came running towards the knight from around a corner. “Sorry, sir,” he apologized to Jabari, “you returned sooner than I expected.”

Jabari glared angrily at the boy, his eyes burning with hatred fire, but suddenly his expression softened. He smile came to his lips as he spoke more gently, “That’s fine, my boy. Time is no matter, but I prefer punctuality.” With a light tap on the head, Jabari handed his sweated horse over to the squire.

The horse followed obediently after Dante as he made his way to the stable. Being careful not to crush his feet under the horse’s hooves, he glanced quickly around the stable yard in search of Fouque.

Dante lightly fingered the bruise over his eye. It was now turning green and fading, but the memories remained fresh and painful in his mind.

**“No,” Dante whined fearfully. “Please no.”

The cold, evil eyes glared viciously into his, while strong hands squeezed his forearm until bruise marks from the fingers appeared.

“You will do as I say, you useless wretch!”

The burning smell of alcohol blew hot across his face as he trembled before this man of wrath, destined to die. Dante lay on the floor underneath this man, his nose and mouth bleeding from the man’s fists.

“I-I can’t,” he whimpered.

Fist clenched, the man struck Dante across the face. The boy’s bloody hand flew to his face, covering his right eye.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me!” Pulling the boy violently to his feet, he fisted him in the stomach, causing him to double over in extreme pain. Grabbing the board propped against the door, the swung it hard, striking Dante over the back.

His painful cry carried far to deaf ears as the man beat him again and again. The painful blows sprawling him across the wooden floor. Blood seeped through his clothes and stinging pain spread through his body like jolts of electrocution.

He screamed with each strike, but knew it would bring him no avail. His future was marked ‘death’.

Death. The most merciful thing anyone could grant him with.**