Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn

by Yvonne Hertzberger

“As you wish, Milady.”

  The man’s relieved look told her she had been correct in realizing Captain Raskir might not take well to such a direct order from her. But Lady Flor had not the temperament for authority and Phaera needed to be completely informed and included. She had never acquiesced to expected roles at court and was not about to begin now. Let them chafe if they liked.

  Captain Raskir sent Matten back quickly with word that he would meet with them after he had dealt with the incident.

  “Did he say what had happened?”

  Matten looked decidedly uncomfortable. “No, Milady. I saw guards holding a prisoner and the captain came out only long enough to receive your request.”

  “Then we shall await him. You may go back to your post.”

  Matten gave a short bow, turned and strode back to his position down the hall.

  Phaera took a deep breath to control her frustration before facing Lady Flor who had just been admitted. “It appears our good Captain has the situation well in hand.” With another sigh she added, “It is frustrating to be confined here.”

  “Yes, but surely you now see that it is necessary.”

  “Perhaps, but I need not like it.”

  A worried nod was lady Flor’s only response. She sat rigid in her chair, face pinched, hands between her knees.

  A rap at the door announced the maid with the food and drink. As soon as she left, Phaera looked at Lady Flor. “Wine for you, Milady? Or shall I have mead brought?”

  “Wine will be sufficient.”

  As Phaera poured she said, “We are safe, Milady. The guards are doing their work well, as you see. And I am confident that this war will soon be won and we can return to normal.”

  “I am worried about Lord Makin … and Lord Bain.”

  “As am I, Milady. Forgive me. I do not intend to belittle your concern. I share it, I assure you.”

  Lady Flor answered with a wan smile as she accepted the wine. “I miss my lord husband.”

  Phaera hesitated, not sure what she ought to say. She did worry for Bain, and she missed her home and father. But did she also miss Bain? “I hope they return to us safely, and my lord father as well. I also worry for Nurias’s safety.”

  For Lady Flor’s sake Phaera changed the conversation to more day-to-day topics as they waited.

  The wine and the conversation seemed to relax her a little, though when the knock announcing Raskir’s arrival came she jumped as if burned.

  “Captain, thank you for joining us.” Phaera indicated a chair and poured him wine. “What can you tell us?”

  “We have a prisoner, Milady. His orders from Mathune were to get into the castle and unlock the rear door, the one by the dungeon … and your apothecary … from the inside so others could enter. The goal was to kidnap you and to kill Lady Flor.” When he saw Lady Flor flinch he stopped.

  “Milady, I know this is distressing to hear but I assure you, you are safe inside. We have seen to it that no one new works in the castle or has entrance to it.”

  Lady Flor drew herself up straight. “Of course, Captain. I do not doubt it.”

  Raskir nodded before addressing Phaera again. “As you saw, the prisoner was apprehended outside the castle and is now held in the barracks prison. We will interrogate him again tomorrow but I fear he has not much more to tell. I have increased the guard again on the outer wall and tripled it at the back.” He gave Lady Flor a reassuring smile. “Milady, there is no need for concern, as you see.”

  Phaera, impatient to know more asked, “If he was to open the doors at the back that means there are others nearby.”

  “Yes, I expect so, though I am completely confident they will not get in. The man was drunk and seemed not to know how he was to inform the others the door had been unlocked. Perhaps they saw no need to be told but will go there directly. He said all he had to do was to unlock it from the inside.” Raskir shook his head in frustration. “Perhaps he will recall more details tomorrow, when he has sobered, though I doubt it.” Raskir shook his head. “If this is Mathune’s best this war will be won in short order.”

  “I am concerned that no scouts or messengers have brought news for over a week.”

  “As am I, Milady, as am I. I know Kort brought no new information. I saw he has gone again?”

  “Yes, I sent him out this morning ... to gather both news and remedies. As you know he brought no news other than to say he had located Nurias, she is safe, and she refused to come here.”

  Raskir nodded. “If there is nothing more, will you excuse me, ladies, so that I can return to my duties?”

  “Of course, Captain. “Lady Flor rose to open the door. “Please let us know as soon as you hear anything.”

  “Always, Milady.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  AFTERMATH

  It took a week for Lord Makin to arrive with a third of his men, and another day for Lord Danza. Bain had also dispatched messengers to Marston castle to let them know of Mathune’s capture. Though you are not yet safe from his men, my love. Do not risk leaving the castle.

  During the wait for the two lords Bain took it upon himself, as the best qualified, to act as healer to the injured. While he could have left tending Mathune’s wrist to someone else, with only instructions, Reynce had emphasized the importance of keeping him alive and well enough to stand trial.

  Reynce is right, of course. And am I not a healer? But THIS man? I want him to suffer, to die in agony, to pay for some of the suffering he has wreaked on others. No, not others. I want him to suffer for the fear and pain he has caused Phaera and Kort.

  When Bain had hesitated Reynce had given him a hard, long look before saying, “He will goad you.”

  “So I will provide him a quick death?” Bain scoffed, not bothering to hide his disdain. “No, Captain, that he will not have.”

  Reynce held his gaze, his face stern. “Or to make you suffer.” Another hard look. “You cannot send another. You have too much to lose in the eyes of your men.”

  “So now they want a healer and not a soldier?”

  When Reynce merely looked at him, expressionless, Bain realized Reynce had not deserved the sneer. He gave himself a mental shake, ashamed. “Forgive me, Reynce. You are correct, as usual.”

  Reynce relaxed and ducked his head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps you can use an assistant.”

  Bain felt cold resolve wash over him. “No, Captain, I do this alone.” He ignored Reynce’s furrowed brow and strode out of the chamber.

  Mathune had been moved to a more secure cell away from the other prisoners and from the attention of the locals. The truce Bain had achieved might be broken at any time and they could take no chances. They now kept him in a root cellar with no windows and only one door, heavily guarded and barred. They had allowed him only a pallet and a wooden cup and plate, lest he use them to harm himself or as a weapon. The door admitted no light but they denied him a lamp or torch for fear, like crockery, he might use it to attempt an escape or to harm himself.

  Bain took a lamp down into the cellar and saluted the two guards as he approached. “Let me in and keep the door closed behind me. This light will suffice. I will knock three times when I am ready to come out.”

  The guard closest to the side which swung open hurried to obey while the second came to stand behind him, alert, hand ready on his sword hilt.

  Bain entered holding the lamp in front of him and found Mathune on his pallet.

  Mathune blinked in the sudden light and pulled himself to sitting as the door closed behind Bain.

  “You.” His eyes narrowed as his lips took on a defiant snarl.

  Bain watched him struggle to his feet. He is weak. I must not let him die. He did not have long to wait, though, for the first taunt.

  He watched Mathune’s face twist in hate and derision. “A boy to do a woman’s work?”

  “I am here to see that you live to stand trial.”

  Bain set the lamp to one side and opened his sac of remedies and sup
plies, keeping one eye on Mathune.

  Mathune tried a futile lunge for the lamp but Bain, ready, tripped him so that he fell hard knocking his severed wrist. This elicited a feral scream before he scrambled back to his feet. He faced Bain, eyes glittering, his rage lending new strength to his hate. Spittle spewed from a mouth that seemed unable to find words.

  Bain used the opportunity to do what he came for. “Give me your wrist.” He held out his left hand, a small knife in the other with which to cut off the soiled bandage.

  When Mathune spotted the glint of metal he swung his good arm at it in an attempt to take it from Bain. The swing was wild and weak. Bain grabbed the arm by the wrist, twisted it behind Mathune’s back and forced him to his knees. He is much weaker than I expected. With his free hand he held the knife to Mathune’s throat, pushed him onto his stomach and straddled him between his knees, the good arm pinned underneath him.

  With his prisoner now immobilized Bain grabbed the injured arm and cut off the bandages. Mathune, finding it difficult to breathe under Bain’s weight, gave up struggling. Bain pulled the lamp close to examine the arm. A dark line had made its way halfway up the inner forearm. This may be causing the fever and weakness. I need to stop it or he will be dead in two days. He made a poultice of herbs that would draw the festering away and wrapped it around the wound, followed by fresh bandages. Once finished, he pulled Mathune’s head back to feel his forehead. It was slick with grease and, as he had expected, fevered.

  Without getting off Mathune Bain poured some cold willow bark tea into the wooden cup in the cell. Then he rose and lifted Mathune to his feet with his free hand.

  Mathune drew two deep breaths before his face creased into a sneer. “I will tear it off, bastard.”

  “No, you will not, or you would have already.” Before Mathune could reply he added, “But to be certain I will tie you up such that you cannot.” He grabbed a handful of hair and forced the cup to Mathune’s lips. “But first you will drink this.” When Mathune spat the first mouthful at Bain’s face he once more pushed him to the floor, seated against the wall, pressed a knee into his chest, and grabbed his nose. Soon, choking and sputtering, Mathune was forced to swallow the healing draft.

  Bain hauled him back to his feet, leaving the cup on the floor. To one side he spotted the plate, empty. No he will not harm himself. He wants to live. Bain thought about making good his threat to tie the good hand behind his back but decided against it. He needs to eat and I will not have a man feeding him, exposing him to his vitriol.

  On the way back to the inn he thought about how weak Mathune had been. I expected more from him. More would likely come when Mathune’s fever died – if it did. Do I pity him? Surely not.

  Bain returned that evening to administer a second dose of the tea. Mathune tried to refuse it again, but when Bain threatened to force him he took the cup and downed it in one defiant draft. Bain again took notice of the empty plate and a wet spot in the corner where Mathune had relieved himself. He eats and drinks. Good. He will survive.

  “So your whore spreads her legs for a nursemaid.” The taunt fell on Bain’s back as he knocked the code for the door. “What do you think she does for a real man?”

  Bain clenched his free fist and fought the urge swing back and knock Mathune’s teeth out. The door opened and, lamp in hand, Bain stepped out of temptation. He will do better when the fever breaks. As must I.

  When Bain returned the next morning the fever had broken. He made Mathune drink a last draft of the bitter tea before removing the bandages and poultice and examining the arm. He had decided he would not speak to Mathune at all. If I do not say the first word I cannot utter a second.

  Mathune did not fight him on the bandages after the first day. He did keep up a steady stream of invective and taunts, testing Bain’s resolve.

  Bain clenched his teeth and forced himself not to hear. The litany receded to mere noise. He concentrated on his work. The poison is receding. Tomorrow I may not need the poultice, only bandages. He finished and picked up the lamp, turning to leave.

  The thump of Mathune’s fist on Bain’s back made him whirl back, knocking Mathune to the floor with one violent swing of his free arm. He lost his grip on the lamp, which fell to the floor with a clatter and went out. He heard no sound from Mathune. Did he hit his head? Have I killed him? He felt his way to the door and gave the code. When the light spilled in he looked for Mathune. The man sat on his pallet, eyes glittering, and cackled with glee.

  He knows what I was thinking. Bain gritted his teeth, gathered up the shattered pieces of the lamp and left, seething at being caught out.

  Reynce saw him enter the inn and approached him looking concerned. “Is all well, Milord?”

  Bain’s fury ebbed. He managed a smile. “Well, enough, Captain. We will both live.”

  Reynce acknowledged Bain’s sarcastic chuckle with a relieved half smile. “I am glad to hear it.”

  Makin, Danza, their two captains, Bain, and Reynce convened in the dining hall of the Horsehead, as the other inn was still serving as infirmary and barracks. Soldiers stood guard all around the building, both to keep them safe and to insure privacy.

  Lord Danza began. “Let me be the first to commend you, Lord Bain and Captain Reynce, on capturing Mathune. Your strategy was brilliant.”

  Lord Makin nodded, a proud, but controlled smile on his face. “I concur.”

  “Thank you, Milords.” Bain and Reynce responded in unison, eliciting a chuckle from the others.

  Bain addressed the two lords. “Captain Reynce and I have discussed options at some length. We are fully aware that there are still many of Mathune’s followers who may not have heard of his defeat and capture. They must also be apprehended and dealt with. Here is what we propose. We think that the people who have suffered directly at their hands need the opportunity to accuse each of these men personally, to name the crimes committed against them individually.” Bain made his case. “If the people are informed, before the actual trials, that they will be allowed to step forward, that they may voice their accusations before all, before we pronounce sentence – which in some cases will be death - we believe they will be satisfied and allow us to remove Mathune for trial.”

  After much discussion, and with some reluctance, it was agreed that each fief would have those enemies they captured locally stand trial immediately before the people there. Sentencing would be carried out publicly, on the spot. Both lords had already dispatched men to seek out and bring prisoners to the closest village if they were too far from the central city. Scouts would bring the orders to carry out the trials locally, to be overseen by the local magistrates.

  Lord Danza addressed the final decision to be made. “Lord Makin I am satisfied that Mathune be brought to trial in Marston. Since my daughter has become Lord Bain’s wife and now resides there, and since she has been a particular target of Mathune’s, I will not insist he be tried in Kinterron. I will attend his trial in Marston, if that is agreeable to you.”

  “It is, and I thank you.” Lord Makin agreed, before turning to Bain. “Are you agreed as well, Lord Bain?”

  Bain was pleased to be asked formally for his opinion. It signified full acceptance into the consultation as one who had earned his place there. He gave a short bow from his seat. “I am, Milord.”

  Only Mathune and his two head captains would be taken to Marston to face trial in that city, transported in separate wagons, closed in with wooden sides so they could not be seen. They would travel under heavy guard to deter locals from trying to take them.

  Later, finally alone with him, Lord Makin spoke to Bain. “My son, I am pleased with what you have accomplished, and what you are becoming.”

  “Thank you, Milord. But none of it would be possible without Captain Reynce’s counsel.”

  Lord Makin chuckled. “And that is another reason you have made me proud. You know when to listen, even when you outstrip your advisor in rank.”

  Bain did not know how to ans
wer. Instead he changed the subject. “Mathune will need to be gagged while we transport him. He must not have an opportunity to taunt the populace into action.”

  “Indeed.”

  The two sat in a new-found ease together as they watched the sun descend behind the stables.

  Bain could not sleep that night. He tossed on his cot in the chamber he shared with Reynce, his mind a jumble of thoughts. I am not the same man I was. Who am I now? Father is proud of me. But what of Mamma? Will you approve of what I have become? Indeed, what have I become? And Phaera. I ache to see you again. But I am not the man you wed. Am I? Will you welcome the man I am now? Will I need to woo you again? I have killed. But I am still the son of a healer. How could I kill? Yet, it was easy. I did not even hesitate when the moment came. What does this make me? Oh, Phaera. I need you to be proud of me, too. Have I changed too much? Or is this the man I have been all along? Is this who I want to be? But who is that? Who am I?

  These thoughts raced around his head, with no answers. With the first rosy light of dawn, still sleepless, he rolled out of bed. He dressed and went into the enclosed courtyard to cool off and try to clear his head. He nodded at the guards posted there. “Even here I cannot be alone. Will I ever find peace again?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  IT IS OVER

  When the missive from Bain arrived for Phaera it filled her with emotions she found both vexing and confusing. She had hurried to her private chamber to read it and now sat in her favourite cushioned chair eyeing her bed – the bed she would again share with Bain.

  She unrolled the leather scroll and reread the message.

  My dearest Love:

  I hope you are still safe, as I have had no word.

  Victory. We have Mathune and several of his henchmen. In a few days we will be on our way home. We bring Mathune as a prisoner to stand trial in Marston.

  Dearest, the danger is not over. Mathune has men scattered throughout the lands. They are being apprehended but it will take some time before we are all safe again. Remain in the castle, under guard, until I return or word comes that it is safe to leave.