"Get dressed and escort our guest to his room for the night." The lass did as she was ordered. King Edmund turned his attention on Duff. "You may tell your King I am not interested in taking his handout. You will spend the night here because it's too late for me to send you back, and since I let you into my castle in peace, I must let you go in peace. If you or any of your people cross my borders again; it will be war. And as far as this night is concerned, you may have any food or wine that you desire, but our women are off limits. If you so much as lay a finger on one of our women," King Edmund ran his finger along his slave's cheek, "I will consider them soiled and useless and cut their throats. Though as Jeffrey pointed out, if your interests do run to men, you're welcome to any of my men you find appealing." Both of the guards laughed.
The slave turned and beckoned for him to follow her. He did, but not without shooting murderous glances at the guards. She walked slowly, clearly in pain. When they arrived at the door, she opened it and gestured for him to enter. Closing the door behind her, she indicated the bedside table where there were a few decanters. She crossed to the decanters and picked one up and shook it in his direction. "No thanks, I'm not much for hard liquor or wine, I prefer a good ale." She smiled and nodded and set the decanter back down. He was looking around the room and when he felt her touch his shoulder, his head snapped back in her direction quickly and she jumped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
She smiled at him. Then holding one of her hands flat in front of her, palm up, she took her other hand and made as though she was picking something up and carrying it to her mouth, then pointed at him. "Can you not speak?" he asked. In answer, she repeated the motion.
"Aye, I would like something to eat, but if that's too much trouble, don't worry about it." She smiled at him. As Duff stared into her face, he decided he had to do something. He couldn't leave this lass here. He gripped her by the arm and said softly, "Please, tomorrow run away with me. I will protect you and once we cross the borders into my lands, my people will protect you. You will need never fear again." She looked horrified and put her hands quickly to his mouth and shook her head. Then cupping her hands around her ears, she turned slowly and pointed to all the walls. Duff sighed. "Walls have ears around here." She nodded.
Chapter 2
As the slave closed the door behind her, a maid approached. "Queen Roberta would like to see you immediately. She is in her bedchamber." The slave nodded, turned, and headed for the Queen's quarters.
Roberta sat up at her entrance. "I heard there is a stranger in the castle and that you were summoned to the Throne Room …" Roberta suddenly stopped speaking and pursed her lips as she caught sight of the slave's face. "What perceived insult did my husband beat you for this time?"
The slave waved her hand dismissively. She indicated the Queen's abdomen, then holding out her hand, she waggled it back and forth. "The nausea hasn't been so bad since you gave me the latest draft. It seems to be working, but don't think you can change the subject. What happened?" Roberta demanded, picking up a slate tablet and slate pen and handing it the slave. The slave sighed and took the tablet. Seating herself next to Roberta, she wrote down everything that had happened in the Throne Room and in the guest quarters. Roberta grabbed her arm and said firmly, "He offered to take you with him? You should go, run away! In Malachi's kingdom you will be outside of his reach." The slave frowned and slowly shook her head. Roberta sighed and shook her. "Run away, be free, have a life, don't just exist."
Again the slave shook her head and wrote, 'He would punish someone.'
Roberta sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, the healer was correct. And no matter how much Roberta begged, pleaded, groveled, coerced, or encouraged, the healer would never put another person in danger again. She would suffer any pain or punishment to prevent that. Roberta hugged the younger woman tightly. "All right, if you insist. I still think you should do it."
The slave smiled and patted Roberta's belly, then wrote, 'If I leave, Doctor Liam will have to deliver your bairn.'
Roberta shuddered. "I'll give birth by myself before I let that happen." Both women laughed.
The slave wrote, 'I need to go and get our guest something for dinner. I'll come back and check on you later.'
"Be sure to prepare everything yourself and get it out of the larder too. I wouldn't put it past Edmund to accidentally poison him." The slave nodded.
Chapter 3
Christian had been storming up and down the Council chamber since his father had dismissed him. He was tired of that old bastard. Why didn't he hurry up and die? The door opened and his father entered.
"Well, Your Majesty, what did our visitor have to say?" asked Lucius.
The king seated himself. "I found his offer insulting. They think that we are desperate enough that we will give them half of our women for a few handfuls of food."
Douglas had reached the age where he did not like the idea of going without. He enjoyed his creature comforts: food, wine, whores, all the good things in life. He hesitated a moment and then asked gently, "Did His Majesty make a counter offer, or would he like the Council to propose one?"
"I found Malachi's messenger rude, disrespectful, and arrogant. I have no intention of creating a counter offer. I am sure that our men will be able to put these peasants in their place quickly," snapped the King.
"If you wish to start with a bang, Father, you could always kill the messenger and send his head back to Malachi. That would make a clear statement of how we feel about him," Christian recommended hopefully.
The Council looked horrified, but before any of them could protest, the King said angrily, "To execute a man we agreed to speak to in peace would be the act of a peasant, not royalty. You must always remember to uphold the honor of our family name. Never lower yourself to their level. I sometimes question, lad, whether you're really mine. Maybe that slut mother of yours couldn't keep her legs together." Christian went red in the face and turned to storm out before he said something his father would make him regret later, but before he had a chance, his father halted him. "Don't leave. I want to have a word with you after I'm done with the Council." Turning back to his Council, Edmund said, "Prepare the men. Christian will lead them out the day after tomorrow for an attack on Malachi's borders. We will show him who is the true King of Scotland." Then with a wave of his hand, he dismissed them all. He waited until the door shut behind the last man before he turned to address his son. "I wanted to inform you privately before I publicly announce that Roberta is finally going to give me another child."
"I don't understand, Father, why you felt the need to marry again."
"Because you and Abigail have been married for five years and you apparently are incapable of getting the job done. I need a spare."
"Are you implying, Father, that I'm not man enough to get my wife with child?" Christian demanded through clenched teeth.
Edmund laughed. "I am not implying anything, lad. I am flat stating it. If you have not succeeded in five years, clearly you're incapable."
"It took you nearly three years to get Roberta pregnant and all your years of whoring with your slave, you haven't managed to get her pregnant," Christian spat back.
Edmund replied coldly, "I told you, never spill your seed in the belly of whores, only noble women are to bear your children. It preserves the line. You wouldn't want it watered down by filthy sluts."
Christian snarled and stormed from the Council room. I'll show my father that I'm not sterile. Clearly Abby is the problem, not me. Father might think it is important to preserve the line, but all it did was create inbred idiots just like Father.
Reaching his quarters, he threw open the door. Seeing Abby sitting by the window sewing, he crossed to her and without warning backhanded her. Then he jerked her from her chair and dragged her towards the bed. She begged, "Please don't hurt me. If I did something to anger you, tell me. I'll make amends, I swear." But Christian was too angry to see reason or to hear her pleas. All they did wa
s make him angrier. He was angry with his father and he was going to make Abby pay for it. He threw her to the bed and started slapping her and tearing off her clothes. She screamed and struggled against him. He put his forearm across her throat to silence her, then he took his time raping and beating her.
When he was done, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off the bed. "When I return to my quarters tonight, you had better be somewhere else. I'm through with you, woman." He did up his trousers and left the room.
It took Abby a few minutes before she was able to crawl to the bell pull and pull it. When she heard the door open, she said in a calm voice, "Would you be so kind as to go and get Queen Roberta and my sister for me?"
Betty looked around, but she did not see her mistress. Nevertheless, she bobbed a curtsy. "Aye, Your Highness."
A quarter of an hour later, Abby heard the door open. "Abby are you in here?" she heard her sister ask.
"Aye, Sylvie, I'm over here."
Sylvie laughed and walked over to the other side of the bed, saying as she did so, "What are you doing hiding over here?" All amusement left her face as soon as she saw her sister. She dropped down on her knees and pulled her sister into her arms, being careful not to hurt her anymore. Sylvie started crying. "I swear as God is my witness, one of these days I'm going to kill that man."
Abby put her hand over her sister's mouth. "Sylvie, be silent. Someone could hear you." As though to put emphasis on the point, the door opened.
Roberta entered, then she saw Sylvie's face just peeking over the top of the bed. Her spirits fell instantly. She crossed quickly to the younger women. One look at Abby was enough to know that they were going to need help. She crossed to the bell pull and jerked it hard.
It couldn't have been more than a minute later when Betty reentered. She curtsied. "Aye, Your Majesty?"
"Go and inform my husband's slave that as soon as she is done attending to our guest to meet me in her infirmary."
Betty curtsied. "Aye, Your Majesty."
"Sylvie, find your sister's robe." Roberta knelt down next to Abby and began removing the little bit of her clothes that remained. Then they dressed her in her robe and between the two of them, they managed to help her get to the healer's infirmary. Getting her up on the table, they began trying to clean her up as best as they could while they awaited the healer.
When the slave entered, she sighed and her shoulders slumped. She crossed to Abby and squeezed her shoulder gently, then she began gathering what she needed to attend the injured woman.
"Roberta, can you send someone to go and pack my things? Christian wants me to vacate his quarters immediately," Abby said in a weak voice.
The slave leaned over Abby and gave her a reassuring smile, then tucked some of Abby's hair behind her ear. Then turning back to Roberta, the slave touched her own chest. "You'll attend to it?" questioned Roberta.
The slave nodded.
"The healer will attend to it," Roberta said reassuringly.
Abby said, "Good, thank you, Healer."
When the slave was finally finished, they moved her from the worktable to a cot nearby.
"Betty just told me what happened. What can I do to help?" Gertrude asked, entering the room.
"Abby is going to need new quarters. Christian is kicking her out."
Gertrude crossed herself. "Thanks be to God for that. Maybe he'll finally leave her alone. I'll prepare a suite of rooms in the third floor family quarters. There's no one else living up there. She'll have the whole area to herself."
"That sounds wonderful. Do it quietly though. Let's try to keep Christian from knowing where she is, unless he specifically asks. Make sure to tell Betty not to run her mouth," said Roberta.
Gertrude and the slave both excused themselves to be about their business.
Chapter 4
Knock. Knock. Christian groaned and lifted his head off the pillow. He turned on his side, picked up his pillow, and put it over his head. Knock. Knock. He groaned again, picked the pillow up off the top of his head, lifted his head and bellowed, "What?"
Richter opened the door and entered. As he slowly looked around the room, he saw the Prince was not alone. There were two naked women in bed with him, one of which was lying on her back, bare to the waist, in what was most likely an alcohol induced coma if the some half-dozen whiskey bottles lying about the room were fresh. The other was lying completely naked on her belly, also apparently unconscious to the world. Her bottom bore witness to the events of the evening. It was covered in red and purple welts. "If I were you, Your Royal Highness, I'd find a way to get sober very quickly. Your father and the Council want to see you in the Council Chambers immediately. They wish to go over battle strategies," said Richter. Christian turned his back to him, put the pillow back on top of his head, and tried to go back to sleep. Richter sighed, crossed to the bed, and grabbed Christian by the arm and dragged him out of bed and to the basin. Picking up the pitcher, he poured the whole thing over Christian's head.
Christian came up coughing and sputtering. "I hope you realize, Richter, when I'm in charge around here, the first thing I'm going to do is have you executed for your insolence."
"Then I guess it's a good thing for me you're not going to be in charge any time soon. Your father wants to see you now. If I were you, I'd find a way to look a wee bit less drunk."
Christian made a feeble attempt to hit Richter. Richter batted away his fist, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and plunged his head face first into the basin and held him under for a few seconds then released him, grabbed the basin, and threw the water on him. "Get dressed," he snapped. Tossing the basin back on the counter, he turned and headed out of the room.
Christian grabbed the pitcher and hurled it at him, missing him by only a few seconds as he slammed the door. Christian growled, staggered, regained his balance, and ran his hand up and down his face. Crossing to the bell pull, he jerked it, ordered more water and his breakfast, then proceeded to take his time getting dressed. When he finally exited his room, it was nearly two hours later. He walked unhurried to the Council Chambers.
King Edmund glared at his son. "You sure took your sweet ass time getting here."
"In future, Your Majesty, if you want to have a meeting with me, give me some warning. I had a … busy evening." Christian gave a slow, lazy smile as his mind dwelt agreeably over the events of the previous evening. "Aye, I had a very busy evening."
His father snorted with disgust. "You might consider whoring a busy evening. I consider it recreational. And if you allow your hobbies to interfere with your work, I will put someone else in charge of my attack force. Is that clear?"
"I am your heir. It is my duty to lead your army if you are incapable, old man. You will not give anyone else my duties, let's be clear on that. And for all you know, I might be the only son you have, so treat me with a wee bit more respect. I wouldn't put it past that wife of yours to produce a daughter … oh wait a minute, I forgot; if it's a daughter, it's your fault isn't it?"
King Edmund shot to his feet. "Don't think you can stand there and insult me lad …"
Christian cut him off. "I'm not a lad! I'm a grown man of thirty-five years and if you want me to lead your army, you need to start treating me with some respect, or the men I'm going to command will never respect me. Then that peasant Malachi that you fear so much will storm your gates and take your women and hang you from the battlements by your bollocks!"
The two men stood there glaring at each other. Finally it was Lucius who broke the silence. "Perhaps we could discuss Your Majesty's plan on putting your enemy in his place?" Lucius smiled at his own wording. He had no doubt that they were going to lose. Father and son can't even agree. There is no way they can turn a bunch of scraggly whoring bullies into a cohesive army and if Malachi's messenger was any indication of the strength of his army, we are screwed.
"Aye, I think council member Lucius is quite correct. We need to reserve this argument for a more appropriate time and
get down to business. Christian, you are going to take fifty men and attack Malachi's most southern village. This is where you'll get to make your statement, Christian. You have my permission to slaughter them all."
"Your Majesty, I really must state that I think this is a very, very bad idea. As I have previously pointed out, Malachi has no shortage of food or men and this is going to be a slaughter. On that we agree, but it's not his slaughter, it's going to be ours. I greatly fear if you do not make peace with Malachi, you will lose your throne." Lucius had stated his opinion as delicately as he could manage given the complete lunacy of his king. He was not surprised when the King again turned red in the face and glared at him.
"If my Council feels that I am incapable of controlling my kingdom and dealing with any invaders, they may all leave these chambers and never come back. I do not need counselors who would advise me to kowtow and knuckle under to a pathetic peasant lad, a farmer who has delusions of grandeur." To King Edmund's surprise, Lucius bowed, turned, and left the room. After a moment, another of his counsel followed. "Good, we didn't need their pessimistic whining anyways." He turned back to his son. "After you have slaughtered everyone in the village, burn it to the ground; then return home and we will decide what our next course of action is going to be."
Christian grinned at his father. "It will be my very great pleasure, Your Majesty. The men and I will leave at dawn."
Dawn the following morning, as Christian exited at the castle, he groaned to see his father waiting for him. "Last-minute orders, Your Majesty?"
"I merely thought since you are correct, as of now you are my only son, I should wish you well. Where is your wife? Why is she not here to bid you goodbye?"
Second Age of Darkness Page 2