The guard interrupts her. “Don’t go overstepping yourself, wench. We don’t take orders from the likes of you.”
“She tends to the children at the King’s request. You will heed her commands as you would the King himself or suffer the consequences, which will be dire. Do you ken?”
The guard hesitates for a moment, weighs the risk of provoking the man who knocked out his mate, who, was a more capable and resilient fighter than himself, thinks better of it and reluctantly agrees. “Ai.”
Adele walks over to the children, seeking out Sylvia. The girl is as white as a ghost and appears to be catatonic. Adele approaches her and put her arms around her. “Sylvia, it’s your kin, Adele. How are you faring, little one?” Sylvia is unresponsive. She stares straight ahead, unblinking, numb from sensory overload and terror, focusing on nothing, staring in the distance at what? A life that was forever gone? Perhaps she is caught in a daydream, a world where her former world existed, and she is dead to this one.
The torrential downpour of tears that are threatening to break loose cascade down Adele’s face. She sobs deep inhalations and is unable to control the racking in her body. Big, strong hands suddenly enfold her comfortingly.
At first, Adele believes she is merely waking from this nightmare and her father is there to wake her as he always did when malicious dreams threatened to intercede on her happy life.
And for a brief moment, she gives in to such fantasy. As she turns around to see the identity of her comforter, she is immediately transported back to her nightmare. It is her protector. And yet, the soothing embrace is exactly what she needs. He lets her go. “Your kin is a strong one. I can feel it. She’ll come around. I am sure of it. This has been a traumatizing time for her, so it has. Give her time. Seen such before, so I have. The strong ones always come around.”
Adele wipes away her tears and looks at the soldier. He isn’t like the other ones. He is protective, sensitive, polite and compassionate. And yet, he is one of them. It occurs to her he might very well be called on to kill her. But, for the moment, she appreciates his company. It is the only thing that’s keeping her from becoming unhinged.
With the King’s authority, Adele begins to order her protector and the other soldier to begin tending to the children. The other soldier who been cold-conked awakes with a fierce headache and glares at her protector menacingly. He is about to walk over to him in order to resume the fight but is quickly alerted to the situation by his fellow soldier.
Adele smiles at the soldier’s misfortune and his much-deserved punishment for his boorish and disrespectful ways. It is a small comfort, though. After tending the children, she will be escorted back to her hateful bedchamber to be raped by her tormentor once again. And with that eventuality imminent, there will be nothing for her protector to do. For such a lowly soldier as he, a verbal reprimand to the King would invite a severe physical punishment, if not a death sentence.
There was fresh hay in one stall, and Adele orders it to be made into a suitable bed for the children. The soldiers comply. Adele orders that the expired animals be taken out, so the stench will dissipate. The cold-conked soldier begins to protest; but with a threatening look from her protector, he re-considers and reluctantly goes back to work, pouting like a small child.
Adele orders a hardy meal to be brought to the children. Water moccasins are brought in and the children greedily lap up the water. Adele wonders how long it was since they had water to drink. Hot mutton stew is brought in and the children greedily ingest it down as well. Some begin to emerge from their introverted state.
Sylvia is not one of them. Adele must force the water and food down her. Luckily, she does not regurgitate it. When Adele looks at her directly in the eyes, her sister remains unresponsive and her eyes will not register any sign of focus or recognition. The girl is lost.
Adele orders the children to be bathed. In groups of four, they are taken to a tent reserved for baths. Luckily, the bath water was filled with hot water and the temperature is perfect for bathing. Two by two, Adele takes the children, according to their respective sex, for the sake of propriety and baths them. As they are cleaned, the children began to emerge from their shell.
They talk with Adele and inquire when they can go back home. Adele is at a loss how to answer. She lies to them and assures them that they will be reunited with their parents soon enough. Some of them either completely repressed the memory of the transpired events or did not actually witness their parent’s death. It was all that Adele could think to do in the moment. They would discover the truth soon enough. She could at least grant them a temporary reprieve from bereavement.
When Adele takes each set of children to the baths, she can’t help but to notice the level of revelry, lasciviousness and drunkenness that pervades the grounds. It seems that the parties are now in full swing. Thoughts of escape enter her mind, but she is quick to remind herself that it will only invite death, were she caught. She couldn’t risk her sister’s life in such a brazen plan. Could she? Besides, where would she go to anyway? Her home is long gone.
She ventured as far as Khatul and been to Brandenburg many times when her family took work leave; but she couldn’t possibly make it there with her sister in tow. She would be caught. Wouldn’t she? This same nagging voice that she could not silence speaks up further. The tent where the baths are situated are at the far end of the soldier’s encampment.
There are few soldiers in this area. Escaping with her sister from this area would be less risky than attempting one from the King’s chambers, which is heavily fortified with men of the King’s guard. Adele pushes away such reckless thoughts, but the voice will not be silenced.
Her sister is still catatonic when she takes her to the baths. She follows willingly, although she stares straight ahead, focusing on nothing in particular. No matter how much Adele tries to assuage her sister, she remains unresponsive.
Her protector brings her to the baths and is permitted full privacy, a rare luxury. Adele strips down her sister before placing her in the bath. Before getting her completely undressed, Sylvia is assaulted by the malodorous odor emanating from her. She thinks nothing of it at the time. All the children smell.
In Sylvia’s case, the source of the stench is coming from her vaginal area. Dried blood congeals around this area, indicating her hymen was forcefully broken. Tears cascade down her cheeks and she sobs heavily as her body racks with each painful gasp.
Adele’s own rape is a foregone conclusion. She is nearly sixteen and fully developed as a woman with the provocative curves and athletically supple body that men find desirable. Adele naively believed her sister to be safe from such violent behavior because of her tender age. No wonder the girl became catatonic, her body shutting down emotionally, physically and psychologically.
She tenderly picks up the girl and puts her in the bath, being especially careful with her tender areas. After she bathes her, she clings to the girl soothingly and sings her a lullaby from her childhood. “Hush little one now go to sleep, don’t you be tripe. Momma’s gonna buy you an Easter treat. If that Easter treat don’t soothe, momma’s gonna buy you a silver boot. If that silver boot don’t allay, momma’s gonna buy you a calprine tray. If that Calpine tray don’t sing, momma’s gonna buy you a shitak fain.”
It was an old infantile song from their youth, but it always brought a smile to Sylvia’s face. Adele had to admit the silly rhyme brought a smile to her own face as little as five years ago. She repeats the rhyme over and over again, hoping to reach her sister on some level.
Tears fall, unabated. Adele nearly gives up, until her sister suddenly responds, hugging her fiercely. Adele had been crying throughout the lullaby. She now cries tears of joy. Her protector was right. She could in fact be reached. She is one of the strong ones.
“Adele?”
“Yes, Lillybird, a silly nickname that only Adele called her.”
“Ma and Pa are dead? You ken?”
She looks at her and wipe
s away the tears. “Ai. Do believe they are in heaven, little one.”
“Are we going to die?”
“No, Lillybird. No.”
“Adele?”
“Ai?”
“Want to leave this awful place, so I do.” She pleads.
“Ai. Do as well, Angel Bee,” another nickname only Adele called her sister.
At last, Adele was in agreement with the nagging voice in her head. She and Sylvia would escape. They would make it to the next town or die trying.
Chapter 19: An Unlikely Ally
As a loyal Bana-Gaul, Simon sworn an oath to the King of the Visi-Gauls long ago as he was bound to do by a century old treaty uniting the two countries in the Coven Lands. For years, he was complacent and turned a blind eye to the immoral and detestable savagery his sworn King engaged in. Having lost his own children from the Hines Bachner plague, he knew too well the fragility of life and how important it was to embrace loved ones in life.
The King and his men seemed to be in diametrical opposition to the values his own wife had tried to instill in him during her life. With her gone from his life for good, he had no choice but to re-examine his own behavior and his coerced complacency. Jason believes himself to be an exalted King who is beyond reproach by any mortal and quite possibly by God himself.
As time went by, Simon found it harder and harder to abide by such a man. If the Visi-Gauls believed a King was an exalted figure appointed by God himself, then why would God choose such a malevolent, capricious, and ruthless man like him to rule? Simon knew better.
Following a tyrant does not give one free reign to satisfy their own selfish desires of rape, plundering and mayhem. Jason was no King. His father was a King. Jason was merely a tyrant masquerading as a King. If given a chance, Simon would see an end to him. Simon was surprised to think such a treacherous thought. When his family was alive, he would never believe himself capable of entertaining such thoughts. But he could not refute its veracity.
Adele is a beautiful girl who had been raped repeatedly. Before her ordeal started, she was probably a well-balanced girl and naïve to the physical ways of love. Yes, she was oblivious to insidious predators like his hateful King who believed innocence was his for the taking. King Jason also believed nothing was off-limits to him because of his exalted position. It didn’t matter who it affected. Jason was a narcissist and he was incapable of sympathizing with anyone.
As a result, girls like Adele became nothing more than trophies obtained by someone with the means to do so. And they believed it was their divine right. The indignities the girl suffered at the hands of the tyrant pulled at Simon’s heartstrings. A seething hatred brewing in his soul, entices him to lash out uncontrollably. It felt good to put that brackish soldier in his place.
When his own daughter was alive, he would have done anything to preserve her innocence. In fact, he had. Simon was glad to give the girl a reprieve from her rapist, but he knew it would be short-lived. He would be commanded to bring the girl back.
Could he abide? If his wife was looking down at him in the afterlife, how would she feel about him delivering an innocent girl to her tormentor to be raped again? How would Simon feel if that were his own daughter, being delivered to the King?
Would he not want someone else to do the Christian task of delivering the girl out of the hands of Jason? Would Christ abide by such? Or would Christ strike down the malevolent King without mercy as he struck down the Spaniards at Carthage when he was a fifteen-year old boy? Simon knew the answer.
Tonight, would be perfect. A thick fog was slowly encroaching upon the land and would obscure the encampment. It must be now. The revelry of the soldiers was beginning to get underway. Simon could wait no longer. If he didn’t act now, he might lose his nerve for good and Adele would be forced to endure more indignities. Simon knocked on the door of the bath shed.
“You may enter, Sai.” Adele readies herself with a spare cassock left in the room with other riding parts.
Simon enters, turns around to shut the door and is blindsided with a blow to the head. The blow was hard, but his skull is especially thick. It had never been broken as many times as he had been in battle.
Instead of losing consciousness, he swoons, nearly stumbling over chairs in order to get his bearings. Adele is a clumsy attacker. She braces herself for another blow. Her movements are telegraphed by a veteran fighter. As she rears up and attempts to deliver another blow, Simon blocks it.
He grabs her other hand and emphatically orders her “Put down the cassock, girl!” Tears wells up in her eyes and she looks defeated as all semblance of hope is lost from her eyes. “You want to leave?”
She doesn’t say anything and assumes Simon is toying with her. It is over. She will immediately be informed on and the repercussions will be severe.
He sees the forlorn look in her eyes and attempts to re-assure her. “You want to leave. I know you do. Well, I want to get you out, so it seems were in cahoots with one another. You can stop beatin’ me.” She looks at him incredulously, a look of consternation on her face. What is he talking about?
“I want to see you both to safety, so I do. You and your own.”
“Is this some kind of trick?”
“No trick. We’re not all like him. I had a family once. I had a daughter once. I would have wanted someone to do the exact same thing that I am temptin’ to do, to see you to safety, both of you.” She looks at him uncomprehendingly, as if he were mad.
Simon puts his hand to his head and feels the lump that is already beginning to take shape. It will be a massive knot. He feels lightheaded from the blow but is beginning to get back his bearings. “Go. Get your sis. We must make haste.” He says gently but firmly.
She turns around to get her sis, still only half believing her turn of luck.
Sylvia looks at her beseechingly. “Is it true, Adele, as he says? Are we going to get out of here?” Tears of hope build up in her eyes.
“Ai. Do believe it to be so.”
Simon gingerly approaches the door. He looks out to be sure Adele’s assault did not draw the attention of one of the soldiers. Several groups of soldiers are laughing with each other. They appear to be oblivious of what is transpiring in the bath shed. Simon sighs. He turns around and looks at Adele and Sylvia. The hopeful look on their faces pulls at his heartstrings in a bitter sweet way.
“If you walk out of here on your own, it will be too conspicuous. Follow me out. If one of the soldiers ask ‘bout where I am takin you, I can at least try and think up a believe-be story to cover our tracks. You ken?”
Sylvia and Adele nod. He smiles at them and tries to reassure them. In his heart he knows their escape will be treacherous. Getting out of the encampment will be pube play, but not being caught before they reach a safe haven will be the difficult part. “Ai, then let’s go, you have cozened me into it, so you have.” And so, they slip out into the night, obscured by the burgeoning fog cover beginning its way into the valley.
An overly observant soldier named Mannicus spies the group leaving and entering the thick of the forest. Something about their movements appear suspicious. Perhaps Simon, in his haste, had not acted inconspicuous enough.
If Simon had seen Mannicus, he would have continued with the plan. But a re-assuring nod or wave in the man’s direction could have been what was needed to allay his misgivings. Mannicus, sensing something amiss, leaves his group of revelers to investigate.
The closer that Mannicus approaches the group, the more suspicious he becomes. “Say there, fellow pat!” He says sharply.
Simon stops. The girls freeze, and an ice-cold chill runs down their spines and lodges in their bloodstream. Their muscles tense up and they hold their breath, waiting for the inevitable repercussions that will soon befall them. Tears well up in their eyes as their hopes are once again dashed.
As Simon turns around to address the soldier, he does his best to muster a nonchalant expression on his face. He quickly fabricates a plausible
explanation. “Ai. Mannicus is it. What concerns you?”
“The King’s wench you do have there, I see it so. What in a blazin’ pinters ass are you doing out here- and at this time a night?”
“You are a tripe one, so you are. I don’t see an officer’s emblem on that there garb of yours, but to allay your fears, I will tell you, so I will. Though it ain’t your business.”
“An explanation would do me well, so it would. So speak it.
“The bath water has been sullied, so I am taking these lasses to the creek to get washed.”
The guard considers his statement. But after a few seconds of pondering the matter further, he reconsiders and becomes dubious. “At this late hour? And the creek is not in that direction. Tis the other way.”
Simon grows indignant. “Don’t need to explain myself to the likes of a lowly like you.”
“But you will explain yourself to the commanding officer. We shall see if he can believe your story. You ken?”
A disappointed look appears on Simon’s face. He appears to comply with the soldier’s request. He sighs. “I have nothing to hide. Will explain it to the commanding officer, so I will.”
Mannicus appears to be satisfied with his answer. He turns around to lead the way for Simon. As soon as he does, Simon reaches for his sword from its scabbard with lightning quick precision and swings it in a swift and calculating horizontal arc. The effects are instantaneous and deadly.
The sword plunges through the man’s skull like a hot knife through butter. The sound is a sloshing, soggy sound like the sound your boots make when traversing through a muddy field. The blow is so impactful it penetrates through the neck and lodges itself just short of the clavicle bone.
With some effort, Simon dislodges his sword from the dead soldier and re-sheaths it. They are now at the point of no return. Simon sighs in resignation. The consequences will probably ensue from such actions cannot be reversed.
The Brotherhood of Merlin Page 11