Akira Rises

by Nonie Wideman

  ~

  Benjamin ushered a very somber priest into the great hall. It did not bode well that the priest had urgent need to speak to his father. Benjamin sent a servant to fetch his father. Benjamin’s lightly bearded face was grim. There were shadows beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. Priests seldom brought good news. Worried, Benjamin sent for Edgar and Marcus. They were keeping Akira company in the kitchen.

  Baron Rolfe entered the great hall, followed by his personal attendant. Just seconds after, him, Akira and Edgar rushed into the great hall. The call for the baron had rippled through the household and all ears were listening.

  The priest handed the ring to the baron. The baron glowered and nodded. He confirmed it to be the wedding ring of his missing wife. The baron handed the ring to his oldest son. Akira sank to the floor on her knees. She felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her lungs in one rush. She did not want to believe the obvious. She gasped and held back a wail. Her mother did not feel dead to her, but there was her ring.

  The wail escaped her lips and was heard throughout the manor, heart wrenching for the servants who eavesdropped hoping for better news of their mistress’s whereabouts. Tears wetted the faces of the servants. The tears were for Akira. As the days of searching had unfruitfully passed they had secretly mourned for their mistress. Only death would have kept her from her daughter for so long. For Akira’s sake, they hadn’t voiced their sorrowful consensus.

  Benjamin and Edgar kneeled down to cradle their sister in a hug. Marcus placed a hand on each of his brother’s shoulders. He knelt down with them. He swallowed as if swallowing a painfully large lump. The look of anguish on Akira’s face pierced the control he normally could exert over his emotions. Then he stood and stared at his father. He offered his father no comfort, said nothing. He saw no pain in his father’s eyes. It struck him that his father was either very strong or very cold. Very cold. Marcus helped Akira to her feet and away from their father. He wondered how culpable his father was in their mother’s death. He wondered how much control the mages had over his father. He looked to Benjamin and Edgar. They seemed to sense his thoughts. The knowing looks were grim.

  The manor was depressingly solemn for the baron, as his sons and daughter openly grieved their mother. It annoyed him that even the servants wore long faces. He took out his silver pocket flask and sipped. Despite the gloom and doom around him he had not felt so good for some time, that was until he remembered his wife’s threat that should she die for any reason other than of old age, damning and damaging letters would be delivered to the king’s hand. His stomach instantly felt as if it was on fire. The burn reached as high as his throat. He grabbed his goblet, throwing it against the stone walls of his bed chamber. Burgundy wine dripped down the wall, as he marched purposefully to his wife’s chambers. He ransacked the room, looking for letters, papers, anything that could be used against him. He found nothing. He returned to his chambers leaving a mess of clothes and overturned furniture behind him. Lady Shy’s desk was in shambles. The burn in his gut was hotter and he wondered who in the manor would be in possession of any of his wife’s letters. He immediately thought of Akira, then quickly dismissed that idea as it was far too obvious. His wife wouldn’t put Akira in danger

  On the day of the storm, the mages had brought him a fresh supply of potions...a potion to sleep, an elixir to ease his aches and pain, and several potions to bolster his virility. A hex against the tax collector investigating dwindling funds for the king’s coffers, and soon all would be manageable again. Even his troublesome daughter was going to become manageable, for the mages could help him with that also. When his conscience bothered him, he drowned it out with another sip. Gone were his glory days. As much as he tried reliving them, they were farther and farther away. The lengths he had to stoop to maintain his image of control had long since been too far to recover from.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Life, according to the baron, waited on no man’s grief. Life had to go on. Baron Rolfe resumed his duties after a respectful week of official mourning after they buried the remains of his wife. There were arguments about property borders to sort out, charges of theft to deal with and despite the recent sadness a young couple found love and were seeking the baron’s permission to wed.

  The bride to be was pretty and shy. She looked so virginal, so fresh, like a plum to be picked. The baron envied the young man. He noticed the way she looked at her prospective husband. She blushed when their eyes would meet. The baron saw no reason they could not wed, but it suited him to make them wait for his answer. He told them to come back in three days. For two days, the baron recalled the young woman’s blush, her smooth looking cheeks and the swell of her breasts beneath her simple tunic.

  Nothing he drank, no potion distracted him, and his thoughts obsessed with the young woman. A voice in his dreams told him the young woman was his for the taking. The voice fed his ego. The voice encouraged him to take what he wanted, for was it not his right? The insidiously flattering voice argued with his doubts.

  When the seeds of greed and envy took root, the black rave perching outside his bedroom window took to the sky and returned to a dark place in the forest where it perched comfortably at the side its master.

  On the third day after the young couple petitioned him, Baron Rolfe decided he would give them permission to wed, but he would invoke the old custom of first rights. As baron, according to old laws, he was entitled to first rights. The petitioners and their family members gasped when he set out the terms. Quickly a ripple of outrage spread through the village. The young man had two days to deliver his untouched bride to the manor.

  Edgar and Benjamin were as dismayed and as shocked as the petitioners and villagers at their father’s demands. Bad news travelled fast. The clergy advised the baron it was a sin, and his soul was in danger if he forced himself upon a virgin betrothed to another. Furthermore, they warned him he had not confessed for over a year and his stingy support of the church had been reported to the king. The baron refused to respond and had his bodyguards show the pious men the door.

  While the distraught young man delayed offering up his betrothed, Edgar and Benjamin fought behind closed doors with their father. Akira had begged them to intercede on the young woman’s behalf. She really had not needed to beg her brothers to help the young couple for they were already planning to confront their father. The young woman had just turned fifteen and threatened to throw herself into the river rather than be presented to the baron like a sacrificial lamb. Edgar and Benjamin warned their stubborn father that the peasants would revolt, that other barons no longer practiced the barbaric custom of first rights. The baron scoffed at his sons, argued with them. Akira could not bear the thought of the young woman taking her own life. She was at her wits end when suddenly she thought of a way to convince the young girl not to take her own life. Akira sent for the village midwife who knew of medicines and sleeping draughts, and knew the midwife, a white witch, who could help the young girl. Akira rode out from the manor with Benjamin in tow.

  Inside a daub and wattle hut, Akira sat on the edge of a hard but clean bed. I beg of you to do nothing to harm yourself.” Akira squeezed the hands of the young girl. “I know my father has men watching that you do not run away, and he will kill your Tom if he refuses to deliver you. If I give you a way to erase from your memory what my father will take from you, your innocence, will you accept it? I pray my brothers can make him relent and leave you be, but I fear he is not in his right mind.”

  The young girl sobbed. “You can numb my mind... but what of my betrothed's memory?”

  Akira sighed, “If he truly loves you, he will know your heart is only for him, and that which my father will do to your body is a temporary, though grievous insult.”

  “But what if your father plants me with a bastard child?” The young girl wailed and her mother looked at Akira.

  “Yes... what then young miss? It is a mortal sin to kill a babe in the womb.” The girl's mother
was wringing her hands. “And why would you go against your father for us?”

  “I’ve herbal teas from the midwife that will prevent a child from being conceived. You must talk with your betrothed. It is a great sacrifice you will offer if you will to live despite the evil of my father. If you kill yourself, not only do I worry for your soul, I fear more will die, for the peasants, like your family, will rise up and there will be fighting. My father has boasted he will hire more mercenaries and send for soldiers to uphold his law. I’ve no good feelings for my father. None. I blame him for my mother’s death.” Akira sighed. “It would be a mortal sin for me to do to him what is in my heart, but if I could gain the courage, I’d kill him for all of us.”

  There was a pregnant silence. Akira’s admission made her very vulnerable. Her honesty was dangerous.

  Benjamin looked away. He struggled with his emotions. His sister’s compassion for the young girl humbled him. Gone was the child who annoyed him with her questions. Gone was the young girl who challenged his views and actions. Before him was a young woman that had the grace and beauty of their mother, the heart of an angel of mercy, the will to be a warrior who would go against a father.

  The weathered peasant woman reached for Akira’s hand. She placed it beneath her rough calloused hands. “I believe you. You have the same compassion your mother had for us low borns. Leave the potions with us. We must decide what is best. My daughter and I thank you for your efforts to stop that monster. You must not jeopardize your own soul. Now go before you risk your own safety. We will pray for you.”

  “And I will pray for you.” Akira rose and Benjamin followed his sister from the simple dwelling.

  With their mother recently buried, the youngest son of Lady Shy began to regret dismissing the warnings of their mother for so long. Care needed to be taken. It would not take much encouragement for Akira to do something rash and have their father alerted that behind his back his sons were working against him, and those dark forces who had him in their power. He could not assure his sister her brothers were not blindly following a mad man. He and his brothers had decided she would be kept in the dark for her own safety. Now he wondered about their perception of their younger sister. Akira was showing a maturity beyond her years, and as much courage and leadership skills as any one of his older brothers. That he himself followed Akira and agreed to talk with the young girl and her family was a fine example of her determination and persuasive powers. It was a pity she was female. Young men her age might not find her independence and forward thinking appropriate. Finding a husband worthy of her was going to prove difficult.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Baron Rolfe cared not what other barons did or did not do. He would not back down. Baron Rolfe had asserted his rights. Men of power before him had done the same, and maintained their power The young peasant girl fit very well beneath him. It mattered not she wept and was betrothed to some peasant. She had been pure. He fancied himself in love with her. And when he forced her to drink wine laced with potent aphrodisiacs, she became pliable. He did not know that she had sedated herself already. He could almost believe she wanted his attentions. Within days. the young maid too, like Lady Shy before her, discovered that if Baron Rolfe knew she loved something or someone. he would use it against her. Fear was a formidable enemy. Baron Rolfe infamously ruled his holdings with fear. So she submitted, and remained in the manor, restricted to the baron’s private chambers. She submitted to keep her Tom alive. Murder was in her heart. She waited. She wished she could be braver. She prayed she would find strength and opportunity.

  While the young woman wished for a dagger behind a locked door, in the dining hall Akira swallowed hard, trying to keep her face passive, and her demeanor obedient.

  “If you are caught riding the horse, it’s throat will be slit in front of you.” Baron Rolfe's brusque voice was chilling as he stared down his daughter. “If you care for that horse at all, you will obey. You were warned that riding unaccompanied was forbidden. You were warned that dressing in men’s clothing was forbidden.” The volume of his voice rose with his vexation.

  Her father’s scowling expression was foreboding. Her thoughts were dark. How long is this list of past warnings going to be? She knew him to be long winded, but more than that he was unbending, and very cruel. Cruel indeed. She would rather be whipped than be forbidden to ride the horse her mother had given her as a gift. She would rather take a different punishment; a whipping instead was doable. She knew she could take it. Bruises and welts faded with time. She unconsciously touched the small scar on her lip. The scar was worth the look of surprise on his face when she spat on him.

  The threat of harm to her horse made her wince. It was not an idle threat. She momentarily forced herself to raise her eyes to his to acknowledge his threat, acknowledge his physical power over her. She reminded herself that at least he had no power over her thoughts. Her thoughts were her own. Fuming inside, she forced herself to lower her gaze quickly as if in submission, as if signaling her obedience.

  Baron Rolfe looked down at his hawkish nose at his seventeen -year-old daughter. Akira could take a beating even as a very young child, with barely a whimper, and still defy him. The key to her obedience was to threaten something she loved. He admired her courage, but her courage would have better served a son instead of a daughter. It was time to reign her in again. He ignored Edgar’s look to show some leniency.

  “Your mother pampered you for far too long. God rest her departed soul. It is time to take you in hand. I shall send for my sister to continue with preparing you for marriage or a convent. Perhaps she can clean you up, put some meat on your bones so a man could find you beneath the bedsheets.” He eyed her critically. She looked thinner. Grieving for her mother, no doubt the reason.

  The daughter before him was wild, and stubborn. Her mother had given her far too much freedom and filled her head with notions that women should read, have opinions, do more than cater to a husband’s needs. “With all your wanton behavior riding all over the country have you managed to preserve your virginity?”

  Akira flushed with anger. “Yes.” Her answer was quick, indignant, and emphatic. She refused to address him as father. She refused to say “sir.” He was crude. How dare he speak to her of something so personal, especially in front of her brothers seated along the dining table? But then, what had he not dared to do as of late?

  “Good. If I suspect you are not telling the truth, I’ll spread your legs and check myself. Running wild unchaperoned, teaching the village children to read. They have no need to learn to read! He snorted.

  “My gawd, do you need to talk like that at the dinner table?” Edgar protested, feeling embarrassed for his sister.

  “Well if she would stick to needle work and make herself presentable to nobility there would be no need to threaten now would there?” The baron barked back annoyed. “She does not need friends among the low life!”

  Akira blushed as she cringed. She had no reason to doubt him. If her brothers thought he was just trying to scare the shite out of her they were stupid. He was capable of doing horrid things. He could not scare her easily with threats of beatings or being locked up. Akira refused to let her thoughts dwell on the things he could do to her person. If she did not show fear he would get harsher and meaner, until she did show fear. Today it did not suit her to antagonize him. He had threatened to harm Pegasus, so she allowed him to see the fear that would stroke his ego. And it did. His satisfied look told her so.

  She cursed the horrid fate bestowed on her. Being born a female was indeed a cruel fate. In her mind she said all the things she dared not voice. Boys and men have freedom, they do more, and they can own property and keep it. They can fight, hunt, travel alone. They do not need chaperons, no one cares if they take a girls’ virginity! They brag! She bristled. I find nothing noble about the noblemen and women you would have me seek approval from.

  “Your brothers can use Pega…” the baron stuttered. He forgot the name of his
daughter’s horse, “whatever you named that damnable animal for a spare mount. Make sure he is turned out with the other draft horses.” The words of her father registered and interrupted her rebellious thoughts. Over my dead body she thought, biting the inside of her lip. What bull shite is this? Everyone with nut sacks can ride my horse! How unfair! What new way is he going to test my resolve to not kill him?

  Resentment burned through her veins. Her cheeks felt hot. Her hands, hidden from sight by a table cloth balled into fists on her lap. Her knuckles shone white. Her father barked on, warning of the consequences of willful disobedience.

  The wild spirited daughter dropped her head down lower. Her chin touched her chest. It was not because she was yielding to his authority; it was to hide the look of contempt in her eyes. Why couldn’t he have been the one to drown she wondered. Her thoughts were dark. She felt no guilt for wishing him dead. She knew it was a terrible thing to wish a parent dead, but he was an evil man. The way he had started looking at her since her mother died made her skin crawl. When he was drunk, he commented on how much she looked like her mother. His eyes did not stare at her face. An unease made her wary. She made herself scarce more and more often. She would dress in men’s clothing and ride as far as she dared. She had friends in the outlying villages. Akira helped with whatever task they were busy with. If they were gathering firewood, Akira would pick sticks and branches also. If the women were scrubbing clothes she scrubbed alongside them. If they were digging potatoes Akira would get in the dirt and help. Any excuse to be away from the manor would do. Anyway to help the people her mother cared for, she offered willingly. She knew that her mother had done more than one would expect a noblewoman to do. That her mother had worked against her husband in secret, and lost her life trying to protect her made Akira determined to follow her mother’s lead. Akira longed to prove to her mother’s secret allies that she would do whatever was needed to bring down her father.