by Mary Yarde
Bastian came back into the cell alone. He had been gone a long time while he waited for Josephine to fetch the letter. When she handed it to him, the ink had still been wet. He should have known that she was full of bull. Still, it didn’t matter. He was the one with the winning hand now.
“You need to change into these,” Bastian said as he handed the uniforms to Alden. “No one will look twice at you dressed like this. You will just be another soldier.”
“Where is Josephine?” Budic asked.
“I am here,” Josephine said as she stepped back into the room. “It smells worse than the dung heap in here. How do you bear it?”
“I am sorry if the dungeon offends you,” Budic said, his words full of sarcasm. “Perhaps you could petition your dear brother-in-law. Maybe you could ask for an aired room, with a view and a nice soft bed. Do you think he will be accommodating? This is the dungeon you stupid woman, what did you think it was like down here?”
Alden took the clothes from Bastian. “We all trusted you. We trusted you with our very lives and the lives of the ones we love.”
“I will win back your trust,” Bastian said. “Get changed.”
“And what about Merton?” Alden asked.
“Merton took his last breath today, in these cells.” Bastian looked at the battered body of one of his soldier’s. It made him feel sick to know that he allowed such a disrespectful desecration of a soldier whom he knew and who he respected. “Tell Merton’s heathens to cover the body in faeces; there is enough of it in here, and it wouldn’t hurt to piss on him as well. Philippe is very particular about these sort of things. He won’t go near him if he smells bad.”
“Will Mordred?” Alden asked.
“Mordred will see what he wants to see. This man,” Bastian pointed to Merton, “is one of the soldiers that Merton so mindlessly killed this morning during the fight. We will wrap him in a blanket, and if anyone dares to ask, we are taking his body back to his mother. There is a ship waiting at the harbour. The passage has already been paid and Merton Saxon’s are already there. As soon as you step foot on the deck, they are instructed to set sail immediately for Cerniw. Alden, this time, I want you to heed my warning. Never come back here again. If you do, you will die and please take my advice,” he pointed to Merton, “if he survives then he must stay dead. There must not be a miraculous resurrection. Do you understand?”
“I understand that you are a traitor. I understand that you have betrayed us. I understand that I never really knew you at all. But for his sake, you will never hear the name Merton du Lac again…not from my lips anyway.”
Bastian nodded his head in acceptance. “Good.”
“There is one more thing, one more favour if you like, and after that, you will never hear my name either…Lady Amandine. I promised Merton I would find her and take her with us. She isn’t safe here.”
“You’re too late,” Bastian said, glancing at Josephine as he spoke. “She died earlier today.”
Josephine turned her face to hide her triumphant smile. If Merton were to live through this, she would make sure that he spent the rest of his life in agony, knowing that he had killed the woman he loved. And maybe then, he would come to understand just a little bit of the pain that he had inflicted upon her.
“How can I pass off as a soldier if you do not untie my hands?” Budic grumbled.
In answer, Bastian rammed a helmet on Budic’s head. “Keep your head down, if they see your scar, then we will all face the block.”
“We all know what we are doing…right?” Bastian looked at each of them in turn. “We only have the one shot at this. If it goes wrong, then that is it. There is nothing more I can do. Merton, do you understand. You need to be quiet.”
“Amandine...Amandine,” Merton was muttering her name over and over again.
“We will have to gag him,” Budic said. “He has lost his reason. There is no other way to keep him quiet.”
“Of course there is,” Josephine said, and she reluctantly walked over the foul ground, almost slipping on goodness knows what. When she reached Merton, she took his hand in hers. “Merton, it’s Amandine. I am here.” She bit back a smile. Merton’s pain would be great indeed when his reason returned, and she told him the lie. When she told him Amandine was dead, he would want to die too. Just like she had wanted to die, when he had left her all those years ago. Merton should have stood up for her. He should have defied Budic’s orders and married her anyway. Merton would pay for his cowardice.
Philippe was wrong, Josephine mused. He did not need to fight her battles for her. She was more than capable of looking after herself. And she was more than capable of executing her own revenge.
“I love you,” Merton muttered.
“I know,” Josephine answered. “I love you too.”
“Josephine, I forbid you to lie to him like this,” Budic stated, his eyes boring into hers with disapproval.
“Amandine.”
“Sshh,” Josephine said, kissing Merton very gently on the forehead. “I’m here.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you,” Josephine said. “I will haunt you to the end of your days and beyond.”
“Merton, shut-up and play dead,” Alden said. “You can talk to your beloved later.” He looked at Josephine as he spoke. He wasn’t too sure if it was wise to play along with this ruse, but it was a better alternative than the gag.
“Alden,” Merton reached up and tugged weakly on Alden’s arm. “Keep her safe for me.”
“I promise. Now you need to be quiet.” Alden covered Merton’s face with the blood-stained blanket.
47
Alden stepped out into the heat. He had not realised how cold it was down in the dungeons until he felt the sun on his face again.
The courtyard was far from empty. There was a queue of servants at the well, but there was none of the usual chatter. They all kept their heads down as they waited their turn to collect water.
There was an old man with a broom and a bucket, trying to wash away Merton’s blood from the pitched paving. All the water did was spread the blood around further until the old man was paddling in it. Alden came to a standstill. It was like looking at a battleground after a battle. The bodies had been removed, but it made no difference. He could still feel the pain and the anguish in the air. This courtyard would never be the same to him again.
Josephine had gone on ahead of them, and Alden watched as she walked past the guards and out of the castle.
“Keep walking. Don’t look,” Budic advised. Budic’s hands were still tied together, but they were well hidden for Bastian had flung a cloak over Budic’s shoulders. Budic looked a little out of place in a warm winter cloak on a sunny day, but there was too much happening for anyone to take notice of what a soldier was or wasn’t wearing. Vernon held tight to Budic’s arm, keeping the former King on his feet.
Alden made himself look away, and then he started walking again. He kept his head down as they past through the portcullis and before he knew it they were on the road to the harbour. Not once were they stopped. Not once did anyone question Bastian.
Alden kept his head down still, not making eye contact with anyone as he boarded the boat. He blindly followed Yrre, and he watched as they gently placed Merton down upon the deck. He listened as Bastian gave his final command to the ship’s Captain, but he did not raise his head until he felt the lurch of the boat under him.
Budic came to stand beside him as the boat drifted away from the shoreline of Brittany.
“Do you think we will ever see her again?” Budic asked, his eyes focused on the shore of what was once his kingdom.
“No,” Alden spoke with certainty.
“You may have given up, but I never shall. I will take her back. I will fight–“
“Whose army are you going to fight with?” Alden asked, tearing his gaze away from the shoreline and looking at his brother.
“The Cerniw army of course,” Budic snapp
ed.
“My army?” Alden laughed. “Were you planning on asking me or were you just going to-”
“I am the older brother,” Budic interrupted. “Cerniw is now mine.”
“You mean to usurp me?” Alden chuckled at the thought. Budic was something else. “There is nothing that comes out of your mouth that shocks me anymore. Nothing,” Alden emphasised the word and crossed to where Merton was for he could not stand to be in Budic’s company a moment longer.
“Can you please get these damn ropes off me?” Budic asked, holding up his hands.
Alden turned back to look at him. “You just said you wanted my throne. I will make sure the cave is prepared for you when we dock.”
Budic started swearing, but everyone, including his wife, ignored him.
Sampson had decided to travel with them, and he was bent over Merton, praying for forgiveness from God, for an undeserving demon.
“Are you all right in there?” Alden asked, sitting down next to his brother’s covered body. Across the ship, on the other side were Merton’s men, one very sorry looking dog, and the woman with Merton’s baby.
“Your son is on-board,” Alden mused as he pulled back the cloth from Merton’s face. “He is safe.”
“His son?” Josephine asked. “Merton has a son?” she almost screamed the words.
“Yes. Merton was married. He lost his wife very recently. I thought you knew?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She turned her anger towards Budic.
“I didn’t know he had a son,” Budic said in his defence. “But what does it matter if he does. You are my wife.”
Two Months Later
48
Castle Dor, Cerniw.
After the torrential rain, the sun had come out and dried the land. The crops had withered under the scorching heat, and the flies had gathered. The only relief from the sweltering temperature was the occasional thunderstorm.
Tanick toddled across the King’s Chamber and placed one of his wooden toy blocks onto his father’s lap.
“Thank you,” Merton mumbled, and the little boy broke into a tentative smile before toddling back to where Emma sat on the floor. He plonked himself onto her lap and stared across the room at his father.
“I told you he would come around,” Annis cooed, as she gently rocked her and Alden’s newborn son in her arms.
Merton did not comment. He would never forget the first time Tanick had come to visit him. The child had taken one look at him and then screamed the place down before burying his head in Emma’s shoulder, as if trying to hide from the monster who was before him. Merton now looked like the demon that he once was supposed to represent. The irony was not lost on him.
The baby in Annis’s arms began to fuss. “He is hungry,” she smiled down at her little bundle of perfection. “I must feed him.”
“At least while he is on the breast we can all be assured you will not poison him with your cooking,” Merton teased.
Annis tried her very best to act normal, as if his teasing was an everyday occurrence like it used to be.
Merton reminded her now of a flaming candle. There were moments when the fire burned brightly in his eyes. But then the flame would extinguish and would leave an empty, endless darkness that not even the brightest of lights could ever hope of overcoming. Merton was a shadow now — an unrecognisable shadow, which they all feared would one day disappear into the darkness and be lost forever.
“I will forget I heard that,” she said. “There is nothing wrong with my cooking.”
“Let’s be honest, there isn’t much right with it either,” Merton said back, and when he caught her gaze, he tried a hesitant smile. But his eyes held no trace of humour whatsoever. He was merely going through the motions of normality. Pretending. Pretending. Pretending that everything was fine, that he was fine. When the truth was, he was anything but.
“You should go back to bed. You look tired.”
Alden had given up his room for his brother. Alden’s knights knew Merton was here, but they had each been made to pledge their silence, on pain of death. Merton’s true identity was safe, at least for the time being.
Annis leant over and kissed him softly on his scarred cheek. “I will ask Alden to come and help you.”
“I can manage,” Merton said, although they both knew that he could not for he was still very frail. “Do not bother him with concerns of me.” There was no life in his words. They were clipped, dead. Like he was dead. How he wished he were dead.
“Alden has a meeting with the Barons, believe me, he is looking for any excuse to escape them,” Annis smiled. “You need to rest so that you can regain your strength.”
There was a clatter from across the room and Annis turned to look. Tanick had just knocked down a tower of bricks that Emma had made. The child giggled and watched as Emma began to build it up again. His impatience soon got the better of him, and before Emma could place the fourth brick on the tower, Tanick had knocked it down again.
Yrre had filled in the missing details about Merton’s life. Alden had listened intently, sometimes shaking his head, other times a curse would escape from between his lips. Annis had openly wept when Yrre told her about Adèl and how she had tried to kill the baby. How could any woman want to murder her child? It went against every motherly instinct that Annis had.
“He is so beautiful,” Annis grinned as Tanick knocked down the tower again. “Before you know it, you will be teaching him to ride.”
Merton kept his eyes fixed on his son. It didn’t matter how many times Annis tried to paint a picture of his future, with nothing more substantial than rose petals, the one truth that she forgot to add into the equation remained the same. He had no future.
“You are right…I could do with a rest,” he said, picking up the little wooden block that Tanick had given him. His life felt like the tower Emma was hurriedly trying to build before Tanick knocked it down again. The foundations were unstable, and the weight on the bearing wall was too heavy. It was only a matter of time before — CRASH — the whole thing came tumbling down. Tanick’s giggle filled the room, and Annis’s baby began to cry
“I shall send Alden to you,” Annis said, rocking the baby as she did so. “Emma, come along, you can visit again tomorrow,” Annis spoke in her native Saxon tongue, although she had once vowed never to speak it again. However, desperate times called for desperate measures.
Emma gathered up Merton’s child, she smiled at Merton and then followed the Queen out of the room.
When the door shut, Merton closed his eyes. He found it exhausting to be around people for too long. Those with good intentions told him several times a day that he should count himself lucky. He had survived his injuries. He had survived a fever, although he had lost more of his arm as a result of it. All he could remember of that time was a red haze of pain, and images of devils and demons that mocked him and scorned him. There had been no relief as he walked the dark hours with the condemned. Occasionally, Alden’s voice, or Yrre’s, would penetrate the nightmare, but such moments had been rare. Many times he had wished for death, but his body had other ideas and battled on.
He should be grateful. He had been given another chance. He had a new name, a new identity. He could be anyone he wanted to be. But no matter what he called himself the past remained the same and one day he would still have to answer for his crimes. Maybe he would be lucky. Maybe God would give him a chance to explain before he opened up the pit and threw him into hell.
Merton sighed in despair and moved a little, trying to make himself more comfortable. A fatal mistake, for pain slashed across his chest, and he sucked in a breath. This was his reality now. Pain, and fatigue so great that all he wanted to do was sleep. It was early days both Santo — the Royal Healer of Cerniw — and Sampson had told him. They had promised that with time, the pain would get better, it would lessen until it was a memory. But they didn’t understand. She was dead. The pain was never going to get better.
He could not exactly remember when he had learnt the truth. He could not remember anyone telling him that Amandine was dead, but someone must have, because when the fever broke, he knew, and the pain of his body was nothing…nothing, compared to the pain of knowing that he had lost her.
He had been so sure that Amandine had been with him in the dungeons, but Alden had later told him that Josephine had played her part. He would never forgive either of them for such a deception. If he had known the truth, then he would have died in the dungeons of Benwick Castle. He wished he had. There was no life without her.
He closed his eyes and longed with all that was left of his battered heart for one moment…just one more moment with her, so he could apologise. She was dead because of him. A tear slipped from under his closed eyes and tracked its way across his scarred face. If he had stayed away from her, then she would still be alive. He had been so selfish. He had known all along, that a man like him had no place with someone like her. She had made him think that he could be someone good. And she had paid the dearest price for daring to believe in him. God, he missed her. He missed her so much that sometimes he could barely breathe with the pain of it.
49
The door to the chamber opened. Alden paused in the doorway and stopped. Merton was fading right before his eyes. Instead of growing stronger, every day he appeared weaker. Merton’s face was scarred and hollow, his body thin, it no longer hinted at the strength of a warrior. His hair was growing back on his head, but instead of the once rich dark auburn strands that had seemed to come to life in the sunlight, his hair was now a faded red…the fire had gone.
Alden had asked Santo, only this morning, if Merton was dying. Santo had tried to skirt around the question. Telling him how well the wounds had healed and how there was no signs of the fever anymore. Alden had lost his temper and grabbed Santo by the tunic and asked again.
“I believe he has lost the will to live,” Santo had finally said. “I am skilled, but I cannot make him well if he does not want to be.”