Sword of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  “Now the bitch’ll get what she deserves,” said a voice that sounded familiar. “Bring her over here; I want to take her over the table.”

  The rough hands dragged her up off the bed, pulling her forward, while another set pulled what remained of her clothes from her body, leaving her naked. The right side of her face was thrust down onto the table, smashing the earthen bottle on it, small pieces of it cutting her. She struggled for breath and tried to fight, but the iron hands that held her were tempered with steel. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, and she recognized one of the men. It was Sir Vincent, and he was looking behind her, laughing. “Come on, Remy,” he was saying, “we all want a turn, don’t take all night.”

  “I’m just about ready,” said Sir Remington, and then Beverly felt hands on her backside. He slapped her hard, announcing, “This is going to be fun, and I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  The horror of the attack burst upon her. She knew what was coming, but could do nothing to stop it. For the first time in her life, she felt unquenchable fear; panic seized her, and she began shaking uncontrollably

  She tried to prepare herself for the impending pain, but it was impossible; they would each rape her and then they would kill her. They could not spare her, for if she lived, they would forfeit their lives for assaulting a noble.

  A primal scream erupted from behind her, and she braced herself the best that she could, but then Sir Remington bellowed in pain. Sir Vincent’s face took on an aspect of fear as he released her arm. She tried to act, tried to move, but she was frozen in place by her fear. The other hands gripping her vanished, and she slipped to the floor without their force to hold her upright. Figures were struggling in the dark, but she couldn't make anything out in all the confusion until blood splattered her face, and then she saw Remington on the floor, crawling toward the door.

  “Get out, all of you,” yelled a voice she instantly recognized as Olivia's, “or I’ll gut you too!”

  The attackers fled, carrying Sir Remington by the arms, the man crying out in pain as they left. Olivia moved over to Beverly, “Saxnor give me strength, are you all right, Bev? Let's get you over to the bed.”

  Olivia held her arms gently, guiding her. She sat her on the side, wrapping a blanket around her nakedness.

  “Those bastards,” her friend said, “they’ll pay for this.”

  Beverly was in shock, her body still completely out of her control, shaking. The world took on an unreal aspect as if she was out of her body.

  Olivia brought over a cup, “Drink this,” she said. “It’ll help.”

  Beverly gulped down the drink in a daze, not noticing the strength of the brew.

  “I saw them,” Olivia said, “I know exactly who they are. They won’t get away with this.”

  Even wrapped up in the blanket, Beverly continued to shake, so Olivia wrapped her arms around her, and Beverly buried her head into her shoulder and wept.

  Time seemed strange to Beverly, as if she were stuck in some unending nightmare. It felt like only a moment had passed when all of a sudden the room was ablaze with lantern light, and angry voices once again pierced her mind.

  “There she is, my lord,” said Sir Vincent. “The bitch is consorting in an unholy manner.” He stepped to the side, and the earl stepped forward. “See? She’s not even wearing any clothes.”

  “It’s true,” said another voice from behind him. “We came across this other woman having carnal knowledge of her, and then she went berserk and stabbed Sir Remington. The woman’s mad, they both are.”

  “That’s not true,” said Olivia, her voice rising.

  The earl stepped forward and slapped Olivia across the face. “I can see exactly what went on here,” he said. “You attacked a knight, and the penalty for that is death. Take her away, men.”

  Two of the knights moved forward and pried Beverly from Olivia’s arms.

  “And you,” the earl said, looking at Beverly, “you are a harlot and not fit to serve the king. If it were up to me, you’d be punished for this, but you’re a noble and nobles have rights.”

  “What about Olivia?” screamed Beverly, “You’ve no right to arrest her.”

  “Oh, I have every right. I am the law here and don’t you forget it. You’ll be taken to the dungeons for now, for your own protection. Tomorrow you’ll leave Shrewesdale, never to return, and I’ll make sure that everyone knows about your indiscretions. Take her away, and throw some clothes on her.”

  The men leered, touching her as they threw a dress over her head, and then she was walked, barefoot, to the dungeons.

  * * *

  All night long she sat in darkness, listening to the rats scurry across the floor. Morning came, and with it, a sliver of light penetrated her gloom. A guard came to the door to escort her to the earl who awaited her in the great hall.

  She was cold and clothed in a ripped and dirtied dress, bereft of any footwear, but she held her head high. She would not succumb to this humiliation and miscarriage of justice. They roughly dragged her before the earl, who was sitting at a table, eating.

  “I have come to the conclusion that you have been misguided,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “Led astray by the wicked acts of a woman of loose and questionable morals. She will pay for her crimes with her life, but you I shall spare. You will be taken to the gates of the city and set on the road with no more than the clothes on your back.”

  Beverly knew speaking would do no good, for only his knights were witnesses, so she held her tongue.

  “Untie her gentlemen,” he said. “I’m sure the Lady Fitzwilliam can walk by herself.”

  The guards took up station beside her, and she knew what was going to happen. They would escort her through the streets to the gate for all to witness her disgrace.

  The earl could be heard laughing as she left, with the voices of the knights soon joining in.

  Walking with purpose, she kept her head high, ignoring the crowds that came and gawked. She expected to be taunted, to have things hurled at her but the crowd was quiet. They were all standing with their faces downcast; they would not watch her disgrace, they were saying, but they would pay her the respect she deserved. Tears came to her eyes, but she kept them in check as best she could. She focused on walking, on the road ahead, and soon they were at the great gate, the doors open for her. The guards stopped as she did.

  “This is it, bitch,” the guard said quietly, “good luck surviving out there.” To lend an aura of power, he pinched her behind, and she cringed at the memory of the previous night. She moved forward a step and then turned her head to look at the gathered crowd. There were nods among the people, and she nodded back in acknowledgement. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of Shrewesdale on the road to Haverston. It was a long road ahead, more than forty miles, and she had nothing, but she was determined to make it.

  She kept moving, to get away from this place as fast as she could, and then stopped short. There, just in outside of the gate, at the side of the road stood a hanging cage, and inside it was a person bruised and bloody; it was Olivia.

  “Olivia,” she cried, grabbing the cage with her hands.

  The wreck that was Olivia looked back at her. Through battered lips, she tried to speak. “Beverly,” she said, struggling with the pain.

  “What have they done to you?” she cried.

  “What haven’t they done? They beat me black and blue, broke my limbs, degraded every part of me and then put me here to die.” She coughed, blood oozing from her mouth.

  “I’ll get you out of here,” said Beverly.

  “No,” coughed Olivia, “I’m dead already, you must live. Promise me you’ll get the bastards one day.”

  “I promise,” Beverly said through tear-filled eyes.

  “Good, I can die in peace, but you must take me out of my misery.”

  “I can’t Olivia; you’re my friend!”

  “You must, Beverly. The agony is unbearable, and I might not die for hours or even d
ays. I’m suffering."

  “I would, but I have no weapons,” she said looking around for anything that might be of use.

  “Perhaps this will help,” said a voice from behind her.

  She turned to see Sir Heward The Axe standing behind her, holding Lightning's reins. He held her sword out to her.

  “Sir Heward?” she said, disbelieving her own eyes.

  “I shall be forever sorry for what has happened to you,” he said, “though I know it does no good. When I heard what was to become of you, I retrieved your things. You are an honourable knight, Beverly Fitzwilliam, and nothing will change that. You have suffered a tremendous amount since the death of the Countess. Go in peace that you might one day punish those responsible.”

  Beverly took the sword, “Thank you, Heward,” she said. “I shall not forget your kindness.”

  She turned back to Olivia to see the pleading in her eyes. “Goodbye, Olivia. May you find eternal peace.”

  She stabbed, killing her friend instantly; the body slumped, lifeless, against the cage. One of the guards from the gate came running towards her, and Sir Heward turned and growled at the man. The guard stopped abruptly and then backed up toward the gate.

  She took Lightning's reins and mounted her faithful steed. Sir Heward had bundled up her armour, laying it across the horse’s back in a cloth bag. She turned back to Sir Heward, saluting him by placing the sword in front of her face. Without a final look, she quit this horrible chapter of her life; her time at Shrewesdale was done.

  Twenty-Four

  Return to Wincaster

  Autumn 957 MC

  She returned to Wincaster with no fanfare, not even an acknowledgement of her situation. She was assigned a billet and given the captain’s quarters again for privacy, but the other knights shunned her. The days passed slowly, and she found it easier to endure them by adopting a routine. She would go out riding early each morning, then practise with weapons until lunch. The afternoons were usually busy doing paperwork, for she was still one of the few knights who could understand the accounts. She had already found numerous cases of corruption, it appeared every supplier of equipment overcharged, and it hadn’t taken long to find out why; the suppliers were all associates of Marshal-General Valmar or the king. It looked as if the king’s favour extended to making a considerable profit. She had put an end to some of it rather quickly, by conducting the sale herself. She would travel to the supplier and negotiate prices, without indicating who she was buying for. She had already managed to save more than she had spent, and she was just warming up.

  She had been back for almost a month and was poring over the knight's books in her room. She was sure the suppliers were shorting her on grain for the horses, so she was meticulously examining the ledger for any signs of tampering when there was a knock at her door.

  “Come in,” she said absently.

  The door opened, and a man entered. She looked up to see who the intruder was.

  “Father!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were back in Wincaster. How have you been?”

  “Very well, my dear,” he answered, and she relaxed for the first time in a long while. She felt the warm glow of her father's love and smiled. Knowing she couldn’t tell him about Shrewesdale, she tried to deflect the conversation.

  Of course, he wanted to know all about how she was doing, what she up to, all the usual topics of conversation. It only took a few moments for him to make her feel good about herself again.

  Finally, he came around to the true purpose of his visit. “Tell me; you had to guard Princess Margaret a few years ago, do you remember the name of the tutor she had?”

  “Hard to forget,” she answered. “His name was Renfrew.” She remembered the trouble she had caused by slapping him. Would she change her actions if she could? No, the man got what he deserved, even if she had to pay the price.

  Her father was being mysterious and wouldn’t say why this was so important.

  “Meet me tomorrow for a luncheon, and I’ll explain it all to you,” he said.

  “Agreed.”

  He walked over to her and hugged her as if sensing it was what she needed. Had he heard of her disgrace? She swallowed her tears; she didn’t want to burden him with it.

  "I'm very proud of you, Beverly; your mother would have been as well. Tomorrow then, the usual place?"

  "Of course, Father, but perhaps I'll wait till you've had time to finish that smelly cheese."

  He laughed as he left and Beverly smiled. It took her back to Bodden, to a life she loved. He disappeared around the corner, and she turned back to her books. Time to track down the missing grain.

  * * *

  Looking once more at her notes, she read she was to meet the blacksmith later today. She meant to check around town to see if she could find an alternative at a lower price before the meeting, so she was in a better bargaining position. The city bells pealed noon, snatching her from her musings; she was supposed to meet her father, and now she would be late. She hurriedly closed the book and grabbed her sword; she never went anywhere without it.

  It didn’t take long to travel to her father's favourite haunt, and she was relieved to see that he had already finished eating his cheese. He was sitting at a table out front, watching people as they passed by. She smiled and waved, enjoying seeing him break into a grin when he caught sight of her. It was hard to be in a bad mood around her father; he was always so cheerful.

  “Well, my dear, you’re looking quite pleased with yourself today. How are things going? It’s been so long since I saw you last.”

  “It was only yesterday, Father,” she said, and then noticed the grin on his face. “So tell me, what’s all this mystery, and why did you want to know about Renfrew?”

  Her father looked around to make sure no one was listening, and then leaned forward to talk in a lower voice. “There’s something strange going on at Uxley; I’m going to go down there and have a look around.”

  “What do you mean, 'something strange'?”

  “I can’t quite put my finger on it, my dear. Gerald’s mixed up in it somehow.”

  “You don’t think he’s in any danger do you?”

  “No, he’s quite capable of looking after himself. I think perhaps it’s more of a mystery than something dangerous.”

  “You just can’t ignore a mystery, can you?” she said.

  “Not when my friends are involved,” he replied, “and I want to make sure Gerald is safe. That man Renfrew has shown up in Uxley.”

  “Renfrew? In Uxley? Why would he go there?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, but I have the beginnings of an idea.” He leaned in even closer. “You know there have always been rumours of another royal child.”

  “That’s just Palace gossip, Father. You, of all people, should know better than to listen to that kind of talk.”

  “But gossip has to start somewhere, and there may be a kernel of truth to it.”

  Beverly was intrigued, “So you think this child is at Uxley?”

  Fitz looked around again to confirm they were alone, “Yes, I’ve been looking into things. After the king took up with his mistress, the queen secluded herself. She stayed at the Royal Estate near Hawksburg. She wasn’t seen back in Wincaster for over a year, more than enough time to have a child.”

  “But if that’s true,” said Beverly, “then why to take the child to Uxley. Surely Hawksburg is further away from the capital?”

  “True, but travellers go past that Royal Estate all the time, it’s much more public. Uxley is miles away from the village, and very secluded. What better place to raise a hidden disgrace.”

  “So you think the child was illegitimate?” she asked.

  “Actually, I suspect the child probably suffered from some sort of deformity, and the queen was blamed. That might explain why the king took up with Lady Penelope.”

  Beverly thought this over carefully. It was all so plausible, she didn’t know all the facts, but knew her father wel
l. He would have looked into this in some detail before bringing it to her.

  “This could be dangerous, Father. Who else knows?”

  “I’ve only told you, my dear. If anything should happen to me, you’ll find a letter in the townhouse. Take it to your uncle; he’ll know what to do. I’m afraid these are dangerous times. If I need your help, and I very well might, I shall send someone you trust to talk to you directly. Nothing is to be written down. If the king were to hear of this, he would think someone was conspiring against him.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” she pointed out.

  “No, my dear, we are merely trying to protect Gerald. Somehow, he’s stumbled onto the king’s best-kept secret. I fear that if the king learns what we know, he would kill any witnesses. I want to make certain that doesn’t happen, but I have to be sure of what’s going on first, that’s why I’m travelling there in person.”

  “What can I do in the meantime? I want to help, Father,” she offered.

  He smiled, “Well, on that matter I have some good news. I’ve arranged for you to serve on the staff of a noble.”

  Beverly rolled her eyes, “Here we go again.”

  “Don’t worry; I’m sending you to Hawksburg. Robert’s stuck here in the capital for a while, and he needs someone to take charge up there; you’ll report to your aunt. If I have any further news for you, I’ll send word.”