A few of his soldiers stood guard over what remained of Mathune’s men, those with no or minor injuries. “Bind them to those trees.” He indicated three small trees to the side of the road. He gestured to the two men tending to the wounded. “Have our wounded brought inside where they can be attended.”
Finally, he looked at the nine remaining wounded – the enemy - lying untreated. “You,” Bain pointed to three of his men, “have them brought to the stables and tend their wounds there. Set guard. They will be dealt with later.”
Bain saw that some locals, both men and women, with grim but proud faces, held knives, one a pitchfork, another a cudgel. All were bloodied. They had joined the fight. Now others gathered to join them, mostly women and children, searching for fathers and husbands. Bain listened to the cries of joy when some were reunited, wails of grief from others who had lost their loved one.
One man stepped forward and accosted Bain.
“What will ye do with that lot?” He spat in the direction of the prisoners. “We demand justice.”
Bain squared his shoulders. “You shall have it.” He paused only a moment before adding, “But it shall be done by law.”
The man looked about to argue, but backed off when Reynce stepped to Bain’s side. “There will be no more bloodshed today. You will see justice served.”
Aside to Bain he said, “Milord, may I see to a more secure place to hold these prisoners?”
“I leave them to you, Reynce. I must see to our wounded.”
Bain trudged into the inn, limbs heavy as logs, but with his mind clear and focused. Inside he found twelve wounded men lying on makeshift pallets receiving attention from the uninjured and two women who had returned. Three had critical wounds. Two of these had already lost consciousness and would clearly never awaken.
The men with lesser wounds had already been bound and tended to. Bain noticed that one of the returned serving women had offered them all ale.
He knelt beside the soldier who was still conscious. The young man had a gut wound. Bain knew that meant a lingering, and very painful, certain death. His own gut clenched at the prospect.
The soldier met his eyes, his expression both knowing and filled with anger. He grabbed Bain’s forearm and spat, “Make him pay, Milord.”
“He will. You have my oath on it.”
“How long…?”
Bain understood the man referred to his own state. “Days at most.” Bain swallowed and took a deep breath. “It is Bennick, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“Bennick, your courage and actions today have helped us capture Mathune, thus ending his reign of terror. Our people will be able to return to peace. They will once again raise their families in safety. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.”
Bain swallowed again, gathering the courage to say what knew he must. “Bennick, you have earned a choice. I think you know your death will be slow and filled with pain and, in the end, delirium. We will tend you as long as you wish it and do our best to lessen your pain … but, if you choose it, you have earned the coup de grace. You will linger no longer than you wish to.”
When Bennick looked as though he wished to speak Bain stopped him. “Do not answer immediately. Think about any messages you have for those back home, what you wish to say to your friends here, and lastly, how you wish to die.” Bain took Bennick’s hand, which had fallen back to the pallet, and squeezed it tight. “When you have decided, I swear, your wishes will be honoured.”
Bennick’s face lost its fear. Bain felt him squeeze back. “Thank you, Milord.” He heaved a sigh that turned into a moan. “Have we laudanum, Milord?”
“Only a little – but it is yours.”
Bain took a tiny vial out of the pouch he still carried at his waist and opened it. He lifted Bennick’s head, let a few drops of the sticky liquid fall between his lips, and waited for him to swallow. “I have enough to do this twice more.” He lay the young man’s head back down. “Rest now.”
Bain stayed beside Bennick, keeping one hand on his arm in comfort, until he saw his body begin to relax and his breathing become steadier.
Reynce had come in but not until after Bain had offered Bennick the choice. Bain watched him assess Bennick and shake his head in concern.
“Captain, where are the rest of our men, those not injured or tending these here?”
“They have found rest in the stables. I have kept them at the opposite end from our prisoners. The local horses are still in the paddock. I have also sent men to gather the horses that are still loose. Those that we can we will care for. Those that are past tending will be slaughtered.” Reynce hesitated. “May I suggest, Milord, that we find a few men who can slaughter the animals and divide the meat among the people. They have been short of meat. It would be a shame to waste it.”
“Yes, of course.” Bain beckoned to the serving woman. “Are you able to find others to assist you? There are good men in the stables who need food and ale. And I need two men who know how to butcher. You will all have meat tonight.”
The woman bobbed a quick curtsey. “I will see to it Milord.” She set down her jug and hurried out.
Bain turned to Reynce. “Come, Captain. I see that things are well under control here. Let us consult in private.”
Reynce closed the door behind them and came to sit on the cot, wiping his hand roughly across his face, leaving the only stool for Bain.
Bain allowed himself a few deep breaths before speaking. I wonder if I look as bad as he does. I am weary to my bones. No matter. Neither of us will find rest yet. He raised his gaze to meet Reynce’s, who said nothing, eyes full of questions.
“Captain, you have seen that Bennick cannot live.” At Reynce’s slow, pained nod Bain hastened to continue. “I have given him the choice of the coup de grace. If he chooses it I will deliver it personally. He has earned that honour.”
Reynce’s expression changed to relief. “I am pleased to hear it.” After studying Bain for a long moment he said, “Lord Bain, you have been tested and proven yourself a true leader. I am no longer your mentor. I am honoured to serve you.”
Bain thought Reynce’s words over. He is correct. I no longer rely on him for my decisions. “Thank you Captain. Yet, I hope I may still rely on your frank counsel.”
“Always, Milord. It will be my privilege.”
“We must decide how to proceed. Mathune’s actions have harmed the peoples of Exalon and Belthorn most. But Kinterron and Marston have also been affected. All must be shown that justice is served.”
“Indeed. A tall order.”
“I am of the opinion that this decision must be delayed until Lords Makin and Danza meet us here, and that we must not remove any prisoners from Exalon until they have arrived and been consulted.”
“A sound strategy, Milord.”
Was that a hint of a smile or did Bain imagine it? “But the people are hungry for revenge. I fear they will not be willing to wait until the law can run its course.” Before Reynce could respond he continued. “I am also aware that capturing Mathune is not the end of this conflict. If stability and justice are to be restored all his men must be found and purged from these lands. Both Exalon and Belthorn will need new rulers.”
Reynce leaned forward and when he spoke he could hear the approval in his voice. “I agree these people do not wish to wait. But it is you who have won this victory. That gives your voice a large measure of authority. I believe they will not challenge you overmuch.”
“So you think I can persuade them to await Lords Makin and Danza.”
“I do, but we will need to move our prisoners to a more secure location – though not far, lest the people see it as a betrayal. As you ordered, I have located a small warehouse around the corner that will be easy to defend and has a storage chamber that can be locked and guarded.”
“Excellent. We will move our prisoners there and set guards both inside and outside.”
Reynce paused. “To your other concern. While we do have Mathune, the c
astles of neither Exalon nor Belthorn have been taken or surrendered. Whoever become the new rulers there will need to be approved by the remaining lords and will need to swear oaths of non-aggression.”
“I had not realized the needs for such oaths. It seems I still have things to learn.”
Reynce acknowledged that with a wry smile. “I expect, as it was you who captured Mathune, the other lords will respect your counsel on this. You may wish to give it some thought while we await Lords Makin and Danza.”
“I see. My training continues, Captain Reynce. I am once more in your debt.” Bain returned Reynce’s smile with a rueful shake of his head. But will they listen to a bastard? Are the others ready to accept me? Am I ready to take this on? With a deep sigh he turned his attention back to the present.
“Now, Captain, will you see to rehousing our prisoners? Is there a separate chamber for Mathune? Or is he well enough to be thrown in with the rest?”
“Perhaps it will be best to keep him here, where we can guard him more closely, lest someone take revenge – even one of his own.”
“Leave him in the cellar here, then, but with double guard.”
“As you wish.”
They rose as one, Reynce opening and holding the door for Bain.
“I will check on Bennick.” As Bain entered the main room of the inn he spotted the serving woman and beckoned her over. “Selia, our wounded men need laudanum but we are running out. Are you able to find someone who has more? Is there a healer about who will come to our aid?”
The woman looked dubious. “Our healer was murdered and her apprentice escaped. We have not seen her since. I will see if I can find her, Milord. ”
“Do your best. It is likely she has heard of our victory and may be found.”
“There are two more women here, now, Milord. The men have been fed.”
“Thank you. And if any more women are willing to help here we will be grateful. We have many more men to feed than before, here as well as in the stables, including the prisoners.” Bain fished in his pouch and drew out two coins. “This one is for the laudanum if you can find some, and this one for your services. The others will be paid as well.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Thank you, Milord. I shall do my best.” She hurried off.
Chapter Thirty-One
NO NEWS
“It was all she could spare, Milady. She sends her regrets.”
Phaera looked at the meager pouch Kort had brought back and sighed. “I expected as much. Nor did I truly think she would come at my request. I well understand how important her work is.”
Kort looked worried. “It would help if we had more news. Have there been no messengers?”
“No, and I do not know what to make of that. It could mean our scouts have been intercepted or it could mean there is nothing new to tell. Both are reasons for concern.”
“I could leave again – to see what I can find out.”
“No, Kort. If you have not met anyone with news in your efforts to bring Nurias I expect there is none nearby to be had. I do not like it. It is too quiet.”
“Then how may I serve you, Milady?”
Phaera had already considered this while she waited for Kort’s return. “I do have a mission for you. I trust you will not think it beneath your station.”
Kort’s expression was a combination of hurt and rebuke. “No service to you or Lord Bain is beneath my station, Milady.”
“Forgive me.” She sighed. Am I losing my balance? Is this confinement to the castle costing me my trust of friends? And the common people I love? Aloud, she said, “This war has made us all suspicious. We look over our shoulders constantly. And now, we even begin to question loyal friends. It must stop.”
“I take no offense, Milady. What is it you would have me do?”
Phaera grasped his hand and squeezed it with a relieved smile. “Healer work.”
Kort’s eyes widened. “Milady?”
Phaera let go his hand to retrieve the pouch of remedies he had brought and look inside. “This will not help me much. I need more supplies … but I cannot go out seeking and collecting them.” She looked up at Kort with a mischievous twinkle. “You can.”
Kort’s jaw dropped before closing again.
Phaera waited, hands on hips, eyes crinkling.
“But I am not trained, Milady. I may bring the wrong plant – or … and I do not know where to find what you need.”
“All that is true, Kort. Even I am new to this part of the land and do not know the location of many of the plants and roots I need. But I will teach you what I can. And though you will make mistakes, I will have you collect things in such a way that I will be able to tell.” Phaera gave a teasing laugh. “Perhaps you will become so interested you will apprentice to become a healer.”
Kort’s initial look of shock faded into incredulity and then curiosity. “Why not? I am already not considered a man by many … and why can a man not be a healer?”
“Why, indeed? Though I expect women in childbirth might object. There would be some limits to what a man might do.” Phaera set down the pouch from Nurias again and beckoned Kort to follow. “Come, your lessons begin.” She turned and headed toward the dungeons and her makeshift apothecary. “Fortunately you read well.”
Phaera stopped a maid they passed in the hall. “Fayni, please fetch ten small scrolls and bring them to my apothecary. Oh, and ink and plume as well.”
“Yes, Milady.” With a quick dip the maid hurried off.
Phaera spent the next days with Kort, making painstaking illustrations of plants and roots, explaining and writing down how to recognize their environments, where and how they grew; some in the open, others at the foot of trees, under rotting logs or on tree trunks. Some grew in shade. Others needed sun. She taught him how to harvest what she needed without killing the source so it would continue to grow. She showed him how to save each item in a way she could recognize to make sure it was correct. “Keep everything in a separate sac. If they do not belong together combining them could create a poisonous result.” She explained which items could be allowed to dry, and which must be closed up in jars to retain their juices.
At the end of the third day Phaera looked at her table - items, scrolls, sacs, and jars neatly arranged. Two empty panniers waited at the foot of the table, ready to receive it all with plenty of space left for what Kort might collect.
“You are ready. Pack these up and name each one again as you place it in. Tomorrow you will be on your way. I have already let the stablemaster know you will need a sturdy, but unremarkable horse.”
“The one I rode last time suited me well, Milady. It knows me now, so might be a good choice.” Kort laughed. “With the exception of how my backside feels riding him I almost regard him as a friend.”
Phaera laughed with him. “Ah, I had not thought of that.” She thought a moment. “But will you be recognized on that mount?”
“I doubt it, as no one seemed to take note of me last time.”
“Very well, I will send word to the stablemaster.”
Phaera saw him off at the castle doors after breaking their fast in the dining hall. “You will not find everything I seek. Even so I want you back here in ten days with what you have. Having some things in short order is better than taking too long to find them all. Besides, I want to know you are safe.”
“Ten days then, Milady. And perhaps there will be news to share as well.”
“I hope so. Farewell.” Phaera stood in the open door and watched Kort as he strode out of sight toward the stables. Farewell, my friend. Stay safe. A wave of loneliness kept Phaera standing there, her two constant guards just outside, to each side of the door. When she heard one clear his throat she ignored him. She looked at the small patch of sunlight that had found its way over the wall and now brightened a few cobblestones outside the door. With one long step she stood in it, closed her eyes and lifted her face up, drinking in the meager warmth from its morning rays. She ignored the urgent steps
of the guards as they came to stand so close they almost touched her. When will I, no when will all of us be able, once again, to walk freely in the sunshine? When will I gather my own remedies? When will we all be safe again? … Bain, are you safe?
She was still enjoying the sun on her face when a commotion from the direction of the stables made her open her eyes. A man ran toward her chased by a guard.
At that same instant the guards at her sides each grabbed an elbow and forearm, lifted her off the ground, and lifted her backwards through the open doors before setting her back on her feet. One let her go and rushed to close and bar the doors. Phaera had only a second to glimpse the man being tackled by the guard before her sight was cut off. As soon as the bar slid across the second guard let her go. Then they both faced her with expressions that said they expected a reprimand.
Phaera had no such intention. The men had done no more than their duty, though it had annoyed her.
“Thank you,” was all she could manage.
Before they could reply she turned to signal another man standing guard half-way down the main hall and strode toward him, leaving her two with no option but to follow.
“Matten, find Captain Raskir. Have him report to me in Lady Flor’s private dining chamber. Something has happened outside the stables. There was shouting. I need to know what it was about.”
Phaera saw the confirming nods from her guards at Matten’s raised eyebrows before he gave a short bow. “Right away, Milady.”
I must remind Raskir that the men need to heed me. I am not Lady Flor.
When the guard was out of earshot she said to the other, “You may escort me to the meeting chamber. Then find and ask Lady Flor to join us. Do not embellish what you saw. Things seemed to be well in hand so there is no need to worry her. Then find a maid to bring food and drink. I will have sage tea.”
As Matten turned to obey, brows furrowed and lips set in a concerned frown, Phaera called after him. “Matten, if Captain Raskir is unable to attend right away have him send someone with news.”
Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn Page 19
