Enemy of My Enemy

by Carm Nicosi

  Brant remained still, feigning sleep for several more minutes, to let all feeling of drowsiness pass. He wanted to have his wits about him, if he was about to face his captors. Feeling himself fully awake, he opened his eyes, to better assess his accommodations.

  The cell around him had three stone walls, one of which had a large barred window, high up on it, through which bright sunlight streamed in. The fourth wall was wooden, with the outline of a solid door, and several small, eye level, closed peepholes in it. Brant rose, and moved to the foot of the bed. There, he discovered an open barred door into an adjoining cell. That cell contained a small table with two chairs, and a bath tub. Here, a barred door had been built into the wooden wall, with a solid wood door, that was now closed, on the outside. A narrow slot in the wall, allowed for a tray to be passed into the cell, and placed onto a shelf near the table.

  Obviously, a person could be held here indefinitely, with little chance of escape. As Brant eyed the bath tub, he began to suspect, his captors were prepared to hold him for some time. He tamped down a sudden feeling of apprehension, and sat down in one of the chairs. Willing himself to remain calm, he waited to find out what the kidnapper's intensions were. Whatever they wanted, Brant was sure if he survived, someone was going to pay dearly, for this.

  Robert sat with Sir Richard in the hall, as they relieved their thirst, with tankards of ale, just past midday. Richard was mulling the best approach, to the business he must soon undertake, when Justin entered the hall.

  As he drew near, Justin said, "Our guest has roused from his slumber."

  The three men exchanged uncomfortable looks.

  Lady Isabel interjected from nearby, "Do you think you can convince him, of the grave risks, of his war with Avery? Even fast asleep, the hulking lout has an arrogant look about him."

  Richard and Robert gave her a questioning look.

  Justin asked, "Are you having second thoughts, My Lady?"

  "Do you kind gentlemen have a better course, to ease my desperate plight?" Isabel countered. When all shook their heads in the negative, she continued, "Then I trust you can make our guest see the logic, in shifting power, without so much bloodshed, as current conditions make likely. Particularly, his and my, conditions. For we cannot see to the welfare of our people, are we murdered by Avery, as our sires were. Know you Robert, I rely on your council, as to the decent, trustworthy, nature of your friend."

  "He would not beat, or kill a woman. Certainly not to increase his own power," Robert assured her.

  He did not say that his friend was near as arrogant as the King, and had a temper close to rivaling Lucifer. He knew the Lady was likely to suffer the brunt of that temper, and he doubted how a small, seemingly gentle young girl, would fair. In fact, Robert had no idea, what his friend might do. He was not aware of any female, who had ever tried to cross the knight.

  Robert could not recall Brant, ever showing an interest in any female, that would be considered suitable, as a wife. To his knowledge, Lord Eric, Brant's sire, had resisted pushing the idea of a betrothal, for some unknown reason. However, Robert did not want Isabel's resolve to waiver, when he himself, was so close, to acquiring what he most desired.

  “There is of course, the less desirable alternative plan that you wed me, My Lady. However, with your holdings triple mine, I would then become a gold-digger,” Justin said, with a chuckle. “That would put you at odds with both Brant, and Avery, with no guarantee of stopping their war. You know, if Brant can be brought to comply with this, he is your best option.”

  "Well, My Lady, do I go to our guest, and inform him of the terms of his release, from our hospitality?" Richard asked. "Know you, once it is done, there will be no turning back."

  The Lady closed her eyes, and apprehensively massaged a finely arched brow, before replying with a simple, resigned, "Aye, My Lord."

  Brant sat on one of the two chairs, eyeing the closed door into his cell, as he seethed over his friend's betrayal. He had thought about voicing his ire, that anyone would dare treat a great Lord, with vast holdings such as himself, so. However, having no idea why, he had been brought here, or who was involved, he could not be certain to what extent, they had earned his wrath. It would not do, for anyone involved in this plot, to escape his vengeance. He was certain, that if they believed he was at their mercy, all parties would be revealed to him. Then, he could formulate an appropriate revenge.

  Until he had been taken hostage, Brant had believed that Avery was his only enemy. Clearly, that murderous blackguard, could not be involved in this. Avery would have seen that Brant did not awake, this day. Yet, he was certain, that Robert and Richard, would not tempt his rage, without the backing of someone much more powerful. Brant was one of the largest land holders in the area, giving him resources to raise an army large enough, to annihilate most of the nearby landed Lords.

  Brant was startled from his thoughts, by the sound of men approaching the dungeon. He sat, willing himself to appear calm, as the wooden door was opened, to reveal Robert and Richard, through the barred door. As they positioned themselves within view, he glared coldly at them, waiting for one of them to speak.

  When Richard faced the prisoner squarely, and prepared to set down his terms, he was suddenly assailed with apprehension. The man before him, sat completely still. Yet, the cold blue eyes, tightly clamped jaw, and clenched fists, gave him the look of a wild animal, poised and ready to strike, with deadly accuracy. Richard had known Lord Eric, Brant's sire, well. He had at most times, been a fair and reasonable individual. However, Richard had seen first hand, the cold-blooded precision with which Eric had attacked his enemies, when raiders had plagued the area, many years back. The younger Lord definitely possessed a similar black temperament. He prayed Brant also inherited a similar practical nature.

  Richard took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to relieve the tension he was feeling. Then he began to lay out his case.

  “This damn war between you, and Avery, has already resulted in the demise of both of your sires. Then, because you had him severely out manned, Avery pursued assistance from his father’s cousin. Lord Edmund had no love of his cousin’s family, and refused him assistance. A few months past, Lord Edmund was murdered, in a supposed robbery. More likely, twas Avery, or his villains. Shortly after Lord Edmund's death, Avery arrived to claim the Lady Isabel, as his ward, Avery being her closest male relative. Since then, he has availed himself of her people, and resources, to fight you. What is more, due to treaties with Isabel’s father, Avery is demanding that Justin and I, lend forces to his defense. We have only a few months, before we will be required to provide our forces, to aid him. At that point, his army will be nearly as large as yours. That means that you, Isabel, Justin, and I, are all likely to lose a lot of vassals. People that we need, to care for our properties, crops, and livestock, to make our lands prosperous,” Richard paused, looking at Brant pointedly.

  Brant continued to sit unmoving, displaying no outward reaction, though the news of his enemies increased resources, was troubling. Even more bothersome, was the fact that the knight, had still not revealed, who the power behind his kidnapping was, or why he had been taken prisoner.

  After several seconds, Richard continued, “Though Isabel’s mother still lives, her and her daughter, dare not attempt to oppose Avery's orders, with her people. The Lady is nearly ten and seven, and desires to live much longer. Her cousin’s desperation, leaves that in doubt.”

  Richard paused again, looking for any reaction from the prisoner.

  Though he gave no outward sign, Brant was getting really annoyed. He still had not been informed who, besides the men in front of him, he should be plotting to skewer with his sword. Nor, had Richard disclosed any reason, for his capture, yet.

  “The Lady Isabel has requested the protection of the Crown, and we have been given leave, to see to her protection. Isabel has convinced me, that the only practical means to protect us all, from this disastrous situation, is for the two of you to w
ed. And I assure you Brant, that you will reside here, until the deed is done,” Richard stated firmly, finally getting to the point.

  Brant was dumbfounded. He sat completely speechless, glaring at Richard for several seconds. Then he shifted his glance to Robert, who was wearing the same big grin on his face, that he had worn throughout Brant’s kidnapping.

  Finally, Brant found his voice, and asked, “This has got to be an elaborate jest, right?”

  Anger flashed in Richard’s expression, as he retorted, “The men who accosted your forces near Lasham, were from Isabel’s lands. Fifteen were killed, many more injured. How many did you lose? I assure you, this is no jest. I will give you some time to consider, how long you wish to endure your current accommodations.”

  Finishing his angry retort, Richard turned, and walked out.

  "Richard is quite serious, Brant. What is more, marrying the girl, will move her forces to your side, peacefully. And as your oldest friend, I intend to be here, to witness the nuptials,” Robert said, speaking for the first time. Then, he too turned, and walked out, laughing. Brant was left to stare at the door they had just exited through, still not sure if he should take them seriously, or not.

  A short while later, a serf entered the jail with a tray, that was quickly pushed through the slot, onto the shelf inside. After the serf left, Brant tried a few bites of the morning fare, but found he had little appetite. He rose, and returned to the adjoining cell, to lay down on the bed, while he mulled over Richard's words.

  If what Brant had just been told, was not some elaborate jest, he had been kidnapped by these knights, at the behest of a woman. He certainly could not avenge himself, by killing a woman. He recalled Richard saying she was, 'nearly ten and seven.' Woman? At ten and six, she was a child. How did you get revenge against a child? Spank her? For a few moments, he laughed at that thought, but his surroundings put a quick end, to any mirth.

  Richard claimed they intended to keep him a prisoner here, until he agreed to wed the child. He remembered all the times his father had approached him, about various Ladies, trying to get Brant to consider a betrothal. They all seemed to be simple minded wenches, with coy little ploys, that encouraged him to head the other way. His father had known Lord Edmund, yet Brant did not recall him ever mentioning a daughter, had he? He may have. Brant knew he only half listened, when his sire was talking about him finding a wife. He would need an heir one day, but so far, he had found it preferable, to indulge his physical pleasures with the company of serfs, and harlots.

  Brant still could not believe this was serious. Then, he recalled laying in the wagon after being drugged. He had heard someone say, ‘let's get moving. The Lady awaits her groom’, after they thought he was unconscious. Very possibly they were serious. What was more, Richard said the Lady had the protection of the Crown. If that was true, then he likely had no choice, about complying with them. Those who opposed the king, could meet with accidents, or just disappear. Brant glanced around his accommodations again, realizing that this was a more than adequate place to make him disappear, indefinitely. Still, a forced strategic marriage seemed a bit of a leap, particularly when it should be easy for the King, to reign in Avery. There had to be more going on here, than just his war with that reprobate, Brant thought. They still had not disclosed all, to him, he was sure.

  Chapter 3

  Brant awoke with the first light of day, streaming through the window, of his cell. After Richard, and Robert, had laid out their intentions the previous day, he had seen no one, except the serf who brought him food last evening, much to his irritation. This left him alone, with his mind allowed to wander where it might. For a man use to spending his days, dealing with matters pertaining to his lands, or in some battle camp, the forced solitude and inactivity, was already beginning to get to him.

  The case Richard had presented weighed on his mind. Avery gaining control of a much larger force, could very well prove disastrous. From that angle, the child’s plan to prevent that, was actually very good. Marriage was common to achieve peace between families, and frequently resulted in major shifts in forces, without bloodshed. The main fly in the ointment, was that he did not want a wife, particularly, one who was determined, to force him to the alter.

  Being a practical man, he could certainly see the benefit of wedding the child, and sticking her somewhere safe, until he could destroy her cousin. Then, he would just have to think of a proper way, to punish the devious, willful, brat. He could always set his ‘bride’ aside, once she helped him solve his problems. Still, the means with which they had pursued his compliance, rankled him. He was going to have to make them sweat a few days, if he could take being confined in here.

  Brant’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of chains, clanging together. He rose to see that the barred door, between the two cells, had been closed, apparently from the outside. He tested the bars, and discovered that he was securely locked into the cell with the bed in it. He watched, as a guard opened the door into the other cell, so a serf could carry in a trunk, that bore Brant's family crest, proclaiming it his.

  Seeing him watching, the serf asked, “Would ye like water for a bath, before they bring ye breakfast?”

  “Aye,” Brant replied.

  The serf nodded and left, only to return a short time later, with buckets of water to fill the tub. A stool, with soap and a sponge, was placed beside the tub. Once the serf was back outside the cell, the outer door was locked, and the bars between the cells were reopened.

  “Leave yer clothes at the door ‘ere, and we will get ‘em washed for ye, Me Lord,” the serf instructed, before moving out of sight.

  While Brant was preparing to avail himself of the hot bath, the center door was pulled closed, once again. He watched as the serf entered the other cell, to empty the chamber pot. Then, once again, the chains clanged together, grating on each other, and on Brant’s nerves, as the door was reopened.

  Brant relaxed as best as he could, in the hot bath, while he thought about how well they had his prison arranged. His jailors could secure him in one cell, while serfs moved in and out of the other, without giving him any chance of escape. He thought about how the noise from the chains on the door, grated on his nerves. They seemed to scream that he was truly trapped, with no choice, but to comply with his captors.

  Later, after Brant had bathed, dressed, and eaten some of the morning fare, a serf had brought him, Richard came, again. At his query as to whether Brant would consent, to the nuptials, Brant informed him, he had no desire to wed a “child”. Richard came, and went, again in the evening. For several more days this scenario repeated itself, with both men determinedly maintaining their opposing positions.

  When Richard returned the next morning, Brant repeated, “I have no desire to wed some child.”

  “You will not leave here, as anything other, than the Lady’s husband,” Richard stated with steely resolve, before storming out.

  When Richard returned early in the evening, to plead the case, Brant had had enough of his own company. Although, he would like to have held out longer, the isolation of his prison, was giving him unpleasant thoughts, of being helpless. His captors’ control, over every aspect of his life, was playing havoc with his mind. It had been a mere six days, since Brant woke up here. Yet, it seemed like an eternity to the Lord, use to having his days filled with the various activities required to manage, and protect, his large land holdings.

  To Richard's question, Brant conceded, "If that is what I have to do to get out of here, I will agree to wed the child."

  "I will inform the Lady to prepare for the ceremony, and send for the friar. It will take several hours to arrange, but the wedding must happen quickly," Richard said.

  Looking greatly relieved, he hurried out to make the arrangements. Brant was left to glare at the door, seething, at being forced to comply with this insanity.

  Esme sat by the hearth across from her mother, Peggy, working on her sewing. She had caught her mother looking
at her several times, since she arrived this afternoon, with an almost gleeful smile, that Peggy had quickly covered up. Her mother’s behavior was causing Esme some apprehension, for there seemed to be more to the smiles, than just being happy to see her daughter. The girl hoped she was just reading some ulterior motive into her mother’s actions, because she was slightly on edge about being here. Peggy’s request for her daughter had come a few days after Esme’s brother Brant, had ridden off with his good friend Robert, and not returned. That was a little unusual, as Brant normally told her where he was going, and when he would be back. However, he had on occasion, left with someone for a few days, before. When Brant did not return, Esme had begged Brant’s knights to let her come to visit her mother, without getting her brother’s permission. After a couple of days, they had caved, and escorted her here.

  Esme, of course, loved her mother, but Peggy had betrayed her father, with another man. Twas common knowledge that Esme’s sister, Hannah, was sired by Peggy’s lover, who ever he may have been. Esme, and her half-brother Brant, whom she now lived with, both believed that Peggy may have had some involvement, in their father’s death. So the Lady’s covered up smiles, were making Esme worry that Peg, might be up to something devious, again. That thought greatly concerned the girl. Her mother could not expect to keep getting away with betrayals, forever.

  When it was time for Hannah to go to bed, Esme asked to see the child to her room, and their mother nodded in approval. The five year old was a sweet, happy child, and Esme always enjoyed, what little time she got to spend with her.

  After putting her sister into bed, Esme decided to go to her room, rather than returning to the hall. She had spent hours traveling here this morning, and was feeling tired, and dirty, from the trip. She sent her maid, Mary, to arrange to have water brought up for a bath. Esme had finished her bath, and donned her bed clothes, by the time Peggy came up from the hall. Mary was braiding Esme’s flaxen hair, the only feature the girl shared with her mother, when Peggy entered her room.