by Sigrid Kraft
Manacled once again and flanked by the guards, the two disgraced soldiers marched towards the gathered troops.
Soaking wet like drowned dogs, but at least that repulsive, caustic stench is gone.
They were brought to the midst of the yard, where Sir Galden rejoined them. He commanded the soldiers to halt without deigning to look at the offenders, then, stiff as a poker, Sir Galden stood beside the guards and together, they all waited. The gathered troop, in front of them in an extra group, the commanders with their staff, and slightly to one side, Eryn and Ravenor flanked by soldiers. Both of them had lost their taste for boastful talk. Suddenly, a single horn sounded and when its tone died away, the commander was announced:
“His Lordship, Commander of the Black Guard, Lord Boron.”
Accompanied by a metallic rattle, the troops sprang to attention to salute. Lord Boron followed by Sir Haerkin and other officers approached with the dignity befitting their station.
The long line of the Guard was impressive. Tough faces of proud men in best physical condition, the gleam of their armor, polished black leather, studded with shining steel plates, their spears and shields forming a dead straight line.
For an exhilarating moment, Eryn felt like a general passing his troops while they honored him with their salute. But the thought disappeared as swiftly as it had occurred.
The troops are here to watch a cautionary tale and we two are the tragic figures in the play.
A drummer began to underline the scene with a steady, rhythmic boom-boom. At the very moment Lord Boron reached the group of waiting officers, the drummer fell silent and one of the staff officers announced:
“His Lordship, Commander of the Black Guard orders the accused recruits to step forward.”
All strictly in accordance with protocol. Now follows the official charge, though we’ve already been found guilty.
The announcer unrolled a manuscript.
He can’t even remember all the points, so he needs a note to read from.
The watch command clicked their heels but held their position. Eryn took two neat steps forward and snapped to attention. Ravenor seemed to hesitate.
Now don’t do anything stupid. We have no friends left among the superiors.
But Ravenor’s hesitation seemed only to be noticed by Eryn, and he followed to line up beside his mate.
The announcer now read down the list: “In the name of His Highness, Prince of Ardeen, first Commander of the Black Guard and also the Commander of the Black Guard, Lord Boron, these two recruits are accused of having tarnished most shamefully the honor and discipline of the Guard with their dishonorable behavior. The accusations are...”
And the complete litany was read out again. At the end there followed the superfluous question:
“Do the convicted confess to their offense?”
Why do they ask anyway? “Yes, Sir!” Ravenor and Eryn gave the expected answer. After that formal act came a passage about the proper behavior as a member of the Guard and how miserable and shameful their excesses had been and that under normal circumstances they would have to be dishonorably discharged, but the Prince in his extraordinary mercy would permit them to atone for their crimes and behave blamelessly from now on. Not least because... ”
Because Ravenor is his bastard son and I would love nothing more than to get out of here. Leaving Prince Raiden and Master Elderon, with all their secret plans and intrigues behind. Being discharged sounds so wonderful, but is certainly no more than a dream.
“... since the Guard was founded no one has been dishonorably discharged to this day.”
Could they please stop talking and just begin with the procedure? I want to get it over with, Eryn wished, but the announcer carried on unperturbed: “After the punishment you are free to beg for your discharge. Do you take this possibility into consideration?”
Ravenor declined at once but Eryn hesitated. It’s no more than a trick question, he decided. “No, Sir.”
I know already the citadel’s torture dungeon and they won’t let me go anyway. But why did Ravenor choose to stay? For him, leaving was a real option.
Eryn knew his friend well enough to answer the question himself: Ravenor strives for acceptance and power. He may be a rebel and a hothead, but the Guard is his only chance to rise in the social rank. Perhaps one day he can become a knight or even a Lord if he proves his worth in the Guard. Well, probably not after today.
A theatrical drum roll signaled the end of the accusations and the proclamation of the – exceedingly merciful – punishment considering the many offenses of the accused. They omitted to mention the twelve hours on the pole, beginning instead with the whipping.
No need to talk about that mere trifle on the pole, especially now that it’s over anyway.
Then they heard how many lashes they were to be given. Eryn’s throat tightened.
Hell’s teeth. No way are we going to get thirty lashes. That is damned brutal. Sixty lashes and the bullwhip – ugh, that’ll flay the skin from our backs.
Just then was announced: “The wounds may not be healed by magic.”
Eryn briefly closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Would’ve been too good to be true to go to the healer afterwards and get a package of healing and refreshing spells.
“The accused are sentenced to double duty at half rations.
Thanks Ravenor, for your idiotic comments about Halford’s cooking.
“They are also not allowed more than four hours of sleep.”
They want to kill us after all – the slow and painful way.
“The recruit Eryn will interrupt his studies during that time and wear a magic-blocker.”
So am I supposed to learn to use magic or not?
“And to satisfy Sir Haerkin’s honor, they will have to salute Sir Haerkin at all times, whether they are on duty or not. This rule will not be limited in time, and also any further rule breaking – which most certainly won’t happen any more - will be punished with more severe penalties than usual.”
A dramatic drum roll, then the announcer finished: “In the name of Prince... “And all the titles of His Highness were recited mechanically before the whole thing ended with words: “... the judgment is to be enforced at once.”
Now the troop leader took over the command and had them marched back to the pole. The lump in Eryn’s throat threatened to choke him, and the rising panic urged him to flee. But fully armed soldiers with weapons in their hands flanked Eryn and Ravenor on both sides.
To flee would be suicide. All that remains is to let it wash over me and not show my fear. To keep at least some vestige of pride.
Battling to maintain his dignity, and with his eyes fixed straight ahead, Eryn walked towards his doom. At the pole, he held out his hands mechanically as the chains closed around his wrists and his arms were yanked up. He had lost his shirt somewhere in the wine cellar and he couldn’t even remember when. Now they ripped the remaining tatters of Ravenor’s shirt off and led him to the other side.
The entire Guard moved forward and formed a square of black and steel around them. At the center stood the pole.
Four men stepped forward, their faces hidden by helmets with face masks, their bodies clad in long black cowls. Two of them held normal bullwhips, while the magical whips of the other two gave off a blue glow. As though in a dance, the men started to snap the whips through the air. The loud, sharp cracks set Eryn’s teeth on edge.
A pox on them. Is it necessary for them to show how well they can handle their instruments? The masks made the faces of the enforcers resemble the grimaces of demons.
Eryn laid his head between his arms and closed his eyes to banish the devilish faces, but he couldn’t fade out the sharp snaps. Suddenly it fell silent. Then Eryn heard Lord Boron’s voice:
“Let it begin.”
Again the drums rolled briefly, followed by an eerie silence that was only broken when someone started to count out loudly: “One!”
The lash
snapped over Eryn’s back and sent a searing pain through his whole body.
Later on Eryn couldn’t say how he had got through it. The enforcers had criss-crossed a pattern of welts on his back. At the beginning, he had tried to keep himself under control but after a time it was too much and he cried out in agony. Ravenor had cried out much earlier, but that hadn’t provided Eryn with any satisfaction. The agony he was facing himself was too great.
At some point during the torture, Eryn had fallen unconscious, but an obliging mage brought him back at once, naturally without a healing spell or even a little refreshing spell. The punishment would be enforced with the delinquents fully conscious, down to the very last stroke, as an example for the Guard. When the bullwhips snapped, warm blood flowed down Eryn’s back. Ten more brutal lashes and then it was over at last.
Eryn didn’t notice when the Guard was dismissed or that night had fallen, leaving only torches and a few magical lights illuminating the yard.
Neither could he remember how he got to his bed or who dressed his wounds. At first light, he was woken up. “Recruits Eryn and Ravenor ready to report for duty to Sir Galden in fifteen minutes!” thundered a voice, tearing them out of their sleep.
Every movement hurt. Hastily, Eryn shaved, cutting himself several times. Everyone in the quarters was awake, including Ravenor, who also labored to meet the rules. Farat and Deren got up, although they had no duties yet. In an accusing tone Deren asked:
“Why didn’t you tell us about going to the kitchen at night?”
“Do you want to swap with us?” Ravenor spit out while he tried to put on his breeches. Every bend of his back was accompanied by sharp stings, and fresh red stains seeped through the bandage. At last Ravenor capitulated. Argh, this won’t work. “Deren, please help me. If we’re late they’ll kick us up the backside again.”
Deren hesitated. Ravenor’s arrogance was unbearable at times. At the moment, however, the punished recruits were such a picture of abject misery that their roommates pitied them deeply. And so Deren helped Ravenor after all.
Over the following days, Eryn and Ravenor had to thank Deren and Farat more than once for their support. For example, those times when they came back from a field exercise in deep mud and were supposed to appear at watch in half an hour in perfect uniform. Once, they simply swapped their kit with that of their roommates, just to make it on time.
Every superior hated them – everyone without exception. And no one more so than Halford the kitchen master. Their portions were not only meager, but often barely recognizable as food.
Sometimes there were stones mixed in the meal, or other unsavory ingredients. Sir Haerkin turned out to be far more pernicious than anyone would have imagined. He seemed to turn up everywhere, so they had to be ready to leap to attention at any moment. Sometimes, he simply ignored them, but wasn’t content to leave either. Even worse was when he happened to find a job for them. Then there was the time that Eryn was sentenced to another five lashes merely for failing to see Sir Haerkin. One of the worst days ever was after they had marched with their troop for six hours in full kit. Returning to the garrison, they crossed Sir Haerkin’s path and were ordered to turn straight back and join the officer’s troop for an extra march.
In those hellish days, it occasionally happened that Ravenor and Eryn lost their strength, but an attentive magic scholar was always there to restore them to consciousness.
They never went on watch duty together now, but always with one of the veterans, whose faces seemed to be chiseled from stone, and who never spoke an unnecessary word. When they returned to their room in a state of extreme exhaustion, they fell on to the bed wordlessly, and after a much too short night, the new day started in the same way as the old one had ended.
Doing the watch at the citadel was now one of their duties. Eryn had been spared this previously, and after a pause of several months, he now saw the Prince again, which was anything but a pleasure. The first time Eryn was on watch at the great hall, it did not take long before the Prince passed by, hardly an uncommon occurrence since His Highness lived in the Black Tower. Nevertheless, when Prince Raiden came along the corridor, Eryn felt the overwhelming urge to throw himself at the feet of his master. It was hard to describe what the soulban did to a human being.
It forced the one under the spell to show absolute obedience towards his owner.
It urges me to kneel before him to ease the sickness, but the Prince will consider such behavior by a soldier of the Guard ill-disciplined and dishonorable. I have to brace myself.
Sweat poured from his forehead and he trembled visibly with the effort of standing motionless. But the Prince didn’t pay him any attention and passed by without a word. The more often he saw the Prince the easier it became for Eryn to deal with the situation.
Ravenor, too, had watch duty in the citadel, as long as cleaning the latrines or other unpleasant jobs did not have to be done. As far as he was concerned, keeping watch was not the worst evil that could befall him. Sometimes Rhyenna passed by and talked with him, although Ravenor made sure he kept his eyes straight ahead, and he didn’t dare to respond – anything else would earn him another visit to the pole. His lack of communication didn’t trouble Rhyenna, who eagerly filled him in on the latest gossip and any rumors that were going around.
“I’m in the know,” she announced conspiratorially. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just inform you about what’s going on here to entertain you so that you don’t get too bored. Simply standing around like that is rather stupid, after all.”
Of course it is. But it is better than a kick in the teeth.
And then she came out with the latest titbits of gossip: “Well, the commanders are all rather angry about what you did. You two are the blemish on their polished armor and it is especially bad for them that Prince Raiden got wind of it. But don’t worry, for the other soldiers you are heroes. The story goes that you drank half the wine cellar dry. Is it really possible to drink so much?”
Unfortunately, it is.
“I can’t even drink a whole bottle in a single go. Half the wine cellar – that is certainly an exaggeration,” she reasoned. “The other soldiers also envy you a little, because you snatched the best things from the kitchen. But these days, if ever the story about Eryn puking on Sir Haerkin’s boots is told, everyone has a good laugh – though only if a superior is not listening. Halford thrashed all his kitchen boys because one of them forgot to shut the door and Gyswen dumped Halfe... “
Rhyenna had a lot to report and Ravenor never tired of listening to her. The watch duty in the citadel was a far more boring activity. Very few people had access to the citadel, and the Prince passed several times a day. Ravenor would never forget the first time this happened. So far, he had seen his begetter on rare occasions and always from a good distance away. But here, the Prince would come round a corner and continue on his way, passing the guards without even noticing them. This is also what happened on Ravenor’s first day when Prince Raiden walked by. Ravenor turned his head to send a furious glance at the Prince’s back.
Suddenly the Prince turned and barked out a reprimand: “Eyes straight, recruit!”
“Yes, my Prince!” Ravenor stuttered in complete surprise. I made no sound to give me away. How could he have known?
The moment seemed endless during which the Black Prince pierced his son with those steel-blue eyes of his. Ravenor had the sensation of being stripped to the bottom of his soul.
Can he, as a mage, see my true thoughts? My father. Discipline – I’m a man of the Guard. I’m nothing but dirt in his eyes, just as my mother was! Don’t think. No thoughts. The torch over there on the opposite wall. I just see the light. The light. Flame burning. Light...
Then the Prince spoke: “The worth of a man is measured by his deeds, not by his blood.”
Once more caught by surprise, Ravenor sputtered: “Yes, my Prince!”
How does he mean that? I was worried he would send me to the pole a
gain. Certainly he could have found some dubious reason for doing that.
But the Prince simply walked on, disappearing out of sight around the next corner. Ravenor chewed over the words for a very long time, unable to get them out of his head as he pondered them over and over again. Why did he say that to me? Does he want to boost my spirits with his words or is he just warning me never to mention my relationship to him? And has he read my thoughts? I’m not sure of that. If so, I have to be hellishly careful from now on and only think banalities in his presence. Counting bricks or considering the importance of keeping watch duty. Yes, that’s a good one, ha ha. Certainly he likes his soldiers to take their duties seriously – even such mindless ones as this.
Two weeks had passed and turned Eryn and Ravenor into pale and haggard figures, cadaverous, and with black rings beneath their eyes. Then life became a little better. In particular, being able to sleep enough worked wonders. They were also given full rations again, not that that meant they got the same food as the rest of the troops. Halford always made sure they were served something special, and the grub was abominable. Sometimes Deren and Farat gave them some of their own rations, an apple or a slice of bread. But only if no one else was watching. In this way, normality slowly returned to their lives.
Eryn and Ravenor were resting on their beds. Their equipment was already polished to a high gloss, so they could allow themselves these moments of idleness.
“I’m fed up to the back teeth with Halford’s food,” Ravenor complained.
“Exactly. Go there and complain. That worked so brilliantly before... well, almost,” Eryn replied with a yawn.
Ravenor ignored the teasing: “I have a plan...” but before he could explain, Eryn immediately interrupted him: “May the Gods save us from your plans. A second one is certainly more than I could survive. But that reminds me: You lost the bet.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t able to celebrate my victory properly immediately after our official performance, but I would say you screamed first. Far earlier than I did, Honorable Highness of noble blood.”