Perils of Wrath

by Park, Elsie

  He left the library with a troubled mind.

  He wondered for the first time whether he really wanted to uncover the truth about his parents or just leave well enough alone. He could give his regards to Lord Craven and simply return to Fairhaven, living in the comfort of his adoptive parents’ honorable home, surrounded by their unconditional love.

  But he knew he’d never do that. Once he started something, he saw it to the end. His deepest desire was the truth, even if it turned out to be devastating. Yes, he had to know. So his time here would endure, as would Audrina’s training.

  Almost to the open door of the great hall, a commotion down the corridor to Roland’s right caught his attention. Two guards held a struggling young man by his arms as they dragged him through the hallway.

  “I didn’t do it, believe me!” he yelled to his captors. The detainee’s eyes connected briefly with Roland’s. “Please, Sir Knight, help me! I’m innocent.”

  The panic in the prisoner’s blue eyes tugged at Roland’s sympathies. He swallowed, pitying the poor man, but feeling helpless to do anything about his situation. After all, who was he to vouch for a stranger’s innocence? Maybe the man was truly guilty of something and needed to pay for his crime.

  The guards turned toward the stairwell leading to the dungeon.

  “Not down there! Not down there!” the man shrieked, digging his booted heels into the wooden floor.

  The guards halted.

  “Shut your lip, thief,” one of them shouted. The sentry let go of the captive with one hand and delivered a punch to his stomach with the other.

  Roland cringed, almost feeling the young man’s pain.

  The captive’s blond hair fell over his eyes as his head bent forward. With less fight in him, the guards continued their passage down the stairs.

  “No, please . . . no.” The man’s weak, strangled cries faded as the trio descended.

  Roland slowly turned toward the great hall, stepping into the entry.

  The evening meal was in full force, but the loud voices emitting from the massive room didn’t cover the horrifying scream that traveled up from the dungeon, echoing off the stone walls. Roland stood in the doorway closing his eyes, knowing it originated from the same young man he’d just seen. What were they doing to him down there? Whether the man was innocent or not, Roland’s gut wrenched in agony for the pain he was feeling.

  He looked around to see others’ reactions to the cry. Some servants cringed and looked at fellow servants with dismal expressions. A few knights stopped their conversation to listen before taking up their chatter again. Overall, the mass ignored it as if it was commonplace enough. He was beginning to think it was.

  The yelling stopped. He stood in the entry a few minutes more but heard nothing else. He wondered if the man was dead or forced into unconsciousness from sheer pain. Roland stepped into the great hall and progressively made his way along the wall toward his usual spot but didn’t sit down. Sir Doyle arrived soon afterward at the head table with blood on his hands. He made a show of dipping them in a bowl of water brought over by a young serving girl and wiping them on a cloth before he sat down to his belated meal. It was as if Doyle chose to do this in front of everyone to ensure continued fear among the staff . . . And it seemed to be working.

  Roland’s appetite significantly decreased. The thought of someone being tortured beneath the castle while he ate at leisure didn’t bode well with him. Knowing Audrina wouldn’t be present, it being her day off, he suddenly had no desire to eat in the great hall, even knowing Heath, who hadn’t noticed Roland’s entrance, was there. He actually missed Lady Gibbons, and Roland was shocked at the emptiness he felt.

  Turning around and heading for the exit, he signaled an eight-year-old servant boy and ordered some food for his room.

  “Yes, Sir Roland,” the boy nodded.

  Before Roland could leave the great hall, Malcolm the Herald burst through its doors and ran up to the head table.

  The room grew silent.

  “Milord.” He bowed to Lord Craven who had paused in his eating. “The Scots! They have begun a siege of Stirling Castle, bent on taking it back. They have made a pact with Stirling’s governor, Sir Philip Mowbray, that if no relief is sent by midsummer, then Mowbray will surrender it to the Scots.”

  Shouts of outrage filled the massive room. It would be an embarrassment to England to lose Stirling, a strategically significant stronghold situated in Scottish territory, after holding it for ten years. But even now, England’s rapport was unsteady. King Edward’s barons had exiled Edward’s close friend, Piers Gaveston, from England for having too much control over the royal patronage. When Piers returned to England unlawfully two years ago, the barons had him run through and beheaded with a sword, leaving his body lying out in the elements. For this, Edward was on the verge of civil war with his barons.

  With this deadly conflict between king and barons, would they resolve their disputes long enough to band together for the sake of Stirling?

  With a dark cloud looming over Roland due to the day’s discoveries, he turned up the stairway and sluggishly headed to his chamber. What would happen if it came to war? Would England finally call upon Guildon to join the ranks, or would Guildon be left alone as usual? He’d heard that Sir Doyle had somehow convinced the king that Guildon knights were needed here in order to keep it from the Scots. Would they be allowed to continue that stance with the siege of Stirling now at hand?

  Roland approached his chamber and, out of curiosity, put an ear to Audrina’s door. He heard muffled voices on the other side, and his unforeseen relief at her safe return gave him pause. Normally, he wouldn’t think twice about those going to and from the village, traveling into town generally being uneventful. But things were known to happen on occasion: a dog bite, cutpurses stealing money or wares, drunkards making advances. With Audrina being his squire, he inherently felt a duty to look after and protect her.

  He turned and opened his door, leaving it ajar for the delivery of his meal. Before long there was a knock on the door frame.

  “Enter,” Roland bade as he took his sword off and laid it on the bed.

  A ten-year-old lass, the one from the hallway when he’d first heard screams in the castle nearly a month ago, entered, followed by a younger boy. They approached the table. The girl placed a large tray filled with meat, cheese, fruit, bread, and two small plates of shortbread on it. The boy set an empty mug down before pouring Roland’s drink from a pitcher. He left the pitcher on the table. Roland retrieved two coins from his wardrobe and gave one to each of the children. Their surprised expressions soon turned to elation at receiving a rare compensation for their duties. This lifted Roland’s heart, melting away some of the gloom he’d felt earlier.

  As Roland sat down to his meal, the young boy left the room as the girl grabbed one of the plates of shortbread and walked to the door after him. Though Roland didn’t mind having just one plate of it, his curiosity piqued as to why she thought she was entitled to take the second plate of sweet biscuits when Roland had already given her a coin.

  Sensitive to a child’s feelings, Roland approached the matter with humor to set the girl at ease in explaining her actions. “That’s a good pile of biscuits for just you. Might there be a sweetheart waiting to share them?”

  The girl stopped and turned around. Her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she giggled made Roland think he’d hit the mark. He couldn’t help grinning.

  “Oh, no, Sir Roland,” the lass denied with a frantic shake of her head, risking a glance at his face. “These are for a girl, a lady actually, not a boy.”

  Roland continued smiling as he ripped off a piece of bread from the small loaf and popped it into his mouth.

  “They’re for Lady Gibbons,” she continued.

  Roland stopped chewing, plastering the grin on his face. “Oh? And who, pray tell, has sent
the lady such a tasty treat?”

  “Herself, sir,” the girl said. “She asked them to be brought up an hour ago, but they had to be made and baked first.”

  Roland added a lifted brow to his forced smile. “I see.”

  So it wasn’t enough that Roland allowed Audrina to have her shopping trip. She took even more compensation, having the gall to go against his orders and sneak sweets behind his back. Didn’t she know he made her abstain from them for her own good, for her growth and learning? He wasn’t unreasonable in the portions of food he allowed her, but the sweets were to be a reward, earned through her hard work. He did this to help with her restraint and self-control—and her weight—things vital to a knight.

  She clearly believed him to be eating in the great hall at this hour, or she never would have chanced having them delivered to her room with him just across the way. After such a troubling day as he’d had, the initial reaction to his squire’s audacity was outright anger. He wanted to storm out of the room and pound on her door, demanding justification for her insolence. But with the girl standing there with the plate of biscuits, her young face sweet and blameless, he tempered his response, allowing his mind to think of a better approach to the situation.

  “You know, lass, your busy duties probably call you back to the kitchens right away,” Roland suggested as he stood and approached her.

  The girl nodded and dropped her eyes to the floor. “Yes, sir.”

  “Since Lady Gibbons is my squire, I will deliver these to her, allowing you to return to your obligations downstairs.”

  “Oh, very kind, sir, thank you.” She lifted her eyes to Roland again and promptly handed him the plate.

  “Good lass,” he praised, grabbing a large piece of shortbread from the platter and handing it to her. “For your trouble.” Roland gave a friendly wink. “You’ve earned it.”

  The girl grinned and took the sweet treat, curtsying before running from the room, the biscuit making its way into her mouth as she turned the corner.

  Roland smiled, walked to his door, and shut it. He’d deal with his disobedient squire after he finished his food.

  An hour after the evening meal was brought up to Audri’s chamber, a light knock sounded at her door. Gail looked up from her embroidery and moved to set aside her stitching, but Audri stood fast, all but jumping up from the table, and moved to the door with a knowing smirk on her face. Gail lifted an inquisitive brow but remained seated, her narrowed eyes following the peculiar behavior of her mistress.

  Though Roland allowed Audri plenty of food to satisfy the ravenous appetite brought on by the training, he still denied her sweet treats. This was perhaps one of the hardest trials she’d ever faced, leading her to take a calculated risk tonight in ordering up some precious shortbread. She felt that her poor battered body deserved a sugary reward for everything it had endured the past month, and tonight presented her with the perfect opportunity. She simply couldn’t resist. With Roland presently eating in the great hall, she was away from his watchful eye. Audri placed her hand on the door latch, her mouth watering at the thought of sweet biscuits on the other side.

  She yanked the door open and gasped at the sight of Sir Roland standing in the corridor holding a plate of shortbread . . . her shortbread, no doubt. Her mouth hung open. She’d been caught. How he’d found out, she didn’t know, but he had most likely come to reprimand her. She lifted her eyes to his, expecting to see ire in them, or at the very least, irritation, but she didn’t. He simply stood there with a nonchalant expression, as if he was the servant sent to deliver her treat and didn’t care if she ate every last one of them. She didn’t know why, but this worried her more than if he’d lost his temper with her.

  She fought down her uncertainty and hid it behind a brave face. Squaring her shoulders, she chose to remain silent. Nothing she could say would justify the treats in his mind. So she waited, holding her breath for his verdict.

  His mouth formed a honeyed grin that set her on edge even more. He calmly picked a piece of shortbread from the plate. “I just wanted to thank you for the tasty biscuits, milady.” He eyed the treat a second before popping it into his upturned mouth, methodically chewing it before swallowing. “Since you’ve chosen to go against my explicit directions, I’ve found it necessary to test you in a way all knights know from their training days. The point of this trial will be to teach you self-discipline and control, especially in the way of your appetite.”

  “And what trial might that be?” Audri said, finding her voice.

  “Well, we are presently going through Lent, a time of repentance and fasting, a time of self-examination and reflection. So you will go on a two-day fast.”

  “Two days!” Audri’s outburst immediately brought Gail to her feet and to Audri’s side. She recalled her experience trying to starve herself, remembering the hunger pains, aches, chills, and dizzy spells. Her heart raced and her palms began to sweat at the prospect of enduring that again, especially when it wasn’t of her own choosing. “I’ll die of hunger!”

  “You will not die, my dear squire. That would defeat the purpose of self-improvement. It would also end my employment as your trainer . . . and I need the money.”

  Audri’s eyes narrowed.

  “The first twenty-four hours you will abstain from food of any kind, including drink.

  Audri and Gail spoke at the same time.

  “But—”

  “No—”

  “During the twenty-four hours after that,” he raised his voice to be heard above their protests, “you will be allowed only water and other limited liquids.”

  “You can’t do that!” Gail objected.

  “I most certainly can, and need I remind you of your position where Audri and I are concerned?” He was surprised by his own calm voice.

  Gail shut her mouth with obvious reluctance but sent Roland a nasty scowl. He ignored it.

  “Knights are actually required to face this trial for a much lengthier time, but for you, I have decided on slightly less. This situation,” he indicated the shortbread with a glance, “has invited the perfect opportunity to introduce it.” He leaned in until his face was a foot away from Audri’s. “Be grateful I’m not making it longer than two days.” And, in all honesty, she was grateful for that. He leaned back, the cologne of cloves mixed with shortbread lingering in the air. “And so begins your test of discipline.”

  The frustration of being caught and punished rose up inside her, but it was his hypocrisy that really made her angry. “You speak of my discipline,” Audri all but spat, “but what of yours? I’ve seen your temper on many occasions. I bet you can’t go that same amount of time without yelling at something or someone.”

  “This trial is not about me,” he said, his jaw visibly tightening.

  “But you said you’d rarely require me to go through anything you aren’t willing to go through yourself.”

  “True, but I’ve already been through this test of hunger and surpassed it. I’ve no need to do it again.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You know I’m referring your short temper.”

  She was sure by the rising color in his face that even now he was beginning to lose control of it. But he held on, probably just to show her she wasn’t right about his losing it too often. “Are you challenging my ethics?” he said through clenched teeth.

  “No, merely your irritability. It seems to me that this poses the perfect opportunity to meet me head on in a worthy competition, something holding great rewards for the victor.”

  Roland’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Greater than shortbread?” he asked, holding up the plate to emphasize it.

  “Yes, greater than shortbread,” Audri confirmed.

  Roland lowered the plate. “Intriguing. And what do you have in mind as recompense for winning?”

  That stopped her short. She hadn’t a clue what kind of in
centive to propose. She’d just thrown the thought out as it came to her, but she lacked the specifics.

  “Let’s say that I accept this challenge,” Roland said, not waiting for her answer. “Starting tomorrow, you will attempt to go without food for two days, and I will keep my temper for the same amount of time. The first one to fall short will . . .” he thought moment. “Have the privilege of telling the other what to do for an entire day.”

  “That’s no reward. You already have that privilege!” Audri complained.

  “Yes, well, we can’t get too outlandish can we? If I win, you’ll obey me without complaint, without one huff, and without rolling your eyes even once for an entire day.”

  She couldn’t help but roll her eyes right then.

  “And if I lose, you’ll be in charge of me for an entire day. It’ll be your chance to give back everything I’ve given you, the good and the bad. Isn’t that worth it?”

  Audri tipped her head to the left. “That prospect does sound favorable.”

  “Then we have an accord?”

  Audri hesitated, mulling over the possibilities. I could make him do two hundred knee bends under heavy weight. Or I could have him clean all the weapons in the training tent. And I could order him to haul buckets of water all over the castle. Or, perhaps, oh yes—she grinned to herself—I could even introduce him to women’s duties.

  Looking into Roland’s eyes, Audri nodded her agreement.

  “It’s done then. And, to make sure you don’t cheat—”