Black Knights, Dark Dungeon

by Powerone

  John tried to keep everyone quiet, but when the smell of smoke began to seep inside the church, they all knew something was wrong.

  “They’re going to burn us alive!”

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” Panic set in as the villagers raced to the door.

  John couldn’t wait for the hour; he feared the same thing as the other villagers. “Help me bust down the door.” They rushed the door with one of the pews, and it slammed into the heavy door, but it only shattered some of the wood. They pulled back, and this time slammed harder, the sound of splintering wood filled the church. It took four times before the door exploded into slivers of wood. The people rushed outside, and they were greeted with a sorrowful sight. The dock and all the boats were engulfed in flames. There was no hope of saving them; the fire had spread too rapidly. Their fishing livelihood was gone, at least until they could build more boats.

  Chapter 3

  Norman Invasion and Revenge

  In 1166, the King of Leinster, Diarmait MacMurchada, was forced to flee from Dublin and from his kingdom by an alliance of Irish enemies, including the new High King, Ruaidri Ua Conchobair. Not ready to give up his kingdom, he sought an alliance with King Henry II of England. Henry wasn’t to be bothered by the Irish problem, but he saw an opportunity to lay claim to the land that the monarchy had inherited, the island west of England.

  “You may raise an army among your barons,” King Henry II instructed him.

  “Thank you, my King.” But Diarmait had other plans. Instead of his barons, which many of them had deserted him, he sought out an army of mercenaries. He found his army from the Anglo-Normans that were on the losing end of a war in Scotland. In an ugly mood and eager to find a victory where they could recoup the land, peasants, and castles in the Welsh countryside they lost, they quickly signed on with Diarmait.

  “The people are primitive, and the grass is green. Come to Ireland; it’ll be a piece of cake to take the land back,” Diarmait urged them. They came and joined in record numbers. Robert fitzStephen and Richard fitzGilbert de Clare soon signed on and brought their formidable armies. Diarmait knew that these men were the nastiest and greediest of all the mercenaries. He not only wanted his kingdom back, he wanted revenge on those that betrayed him, even if it was his kinfolk.

  * * * *

  It took until 1169 for the main forces of Normans to invade Ireland. While Lord Harkin was off on his crusade to torment the English villages, Wexford was laid siege by the Normans. William de Barry landed a force of thirty knights, sixty armsmen, and three hundred bowmen from three ships at Bannon Bay. The next day, two more ships arrived with ten knights and sixty bowmen. They were met with about five hundred men that King Diarmait had recruited from his loyal followers, and the combined force began the march to Wexford.

  Diarmait was proud of the army that lay before him. His vision of taking back his land was closer than it had ever been. “Are we ready to march tomorrow, William?” He needed William’s support; his soldiers were much more professional and ruthless than his men. They even looked the part, dressed in shiny armor and mail vests to protect them from arrows; they were a formidable lot.

  “I’ll take my men in the lead. Protect our rear, no matter what,” he warned Diarmait. He didn’t trust Diarmait’s ragtag army, but he had no choice. He didn’t expect much resistance, but he still didn’t know the Irish very well. This would be the first test.

  “My men wouldn’t let you down.”

  They set out at first light. The first battle was barely a skirmish. William’s men met a small group of Norse-Gaels. It wasn’t much more than a petty annoyance before they were on their way again, across the river and headed northeastward toward Wexford. “If that is all the Irish can put up to stop us, we’ll be sipping ale in Wexford before the night is out,” William boasted proudly.

  Diarmait knew that they would meet a more formidable army in Wexford, but he let William enjoy the small victory. Diarmait was sure that Wexford knew of their coming and would be waiting for them.

  By sunrise the next morning, they were ready to lay siege to Wexford. There were several outbuildings that surrounded the walled village, all of them defended by men. The first attack was a devastating arrow attack, and then, the knights began their attack on horses. William watched from afar; as he saw the defenders set fire to the wooden outbuildings as they retreated to the walled city after a brief, bloody battle. It was over within an hour. When the bodies were counted, he had lost eighteen Norman soldiers, but they could only find bodies of three defenders.

  “They are behind the wall, protected,” Diarmait wasn’t pleased with the results. He hoped to massacre them in one battle and end it quickly.

  “Not to worry. My scouts tell me they number two thousand, but don’t fear.” William turned to his men. “Burn all the ships in the harbor. Let them see their escape burn up.”

  In the morning, the attack began in earnest. Flaming arrows crossed over the stone walls to find the wooden buildings behind them. They began to storm the walls with crude, makeshift ladders, fighting off the defenders as they scaled the walls.

  Two bishops that happened to be in Wexford and were now trapped inside during the invasion saw the futility in resisting. They would be starved out if they weren’t wiped out in the attacks. The ships were gone, no way to retreat. “It is an Irish king that invades us, not another country,” they foolishly thought. “Send an emissary to King Diarmait to negotiate surrender.”

  Diarmait smiled broadly when the emissaries met with him. It wasn’t long before he accepted their surrender; in return, they would swear allegiance to King Diarmait.

  * * * *

  Diarmait and William’s army garrisoned in Ferns, Diarmait’s headquarters, not far from Wexford. After two weeks, William grew restless. The battle of Wexford was disappointing; he wanted more. He convinced Diarmait to set out to conquer the rest of Ireland and confront the false king, High King Ruaidri Ua Conchobair. They marched to Osraighe then launched raids to the north, in the territories of the Uí Tuathail, the Uí Broin and the Uí Conchobhair. It wasn’t long before they drew out High King Ruaidri Ua Conchobair’s army outside Leinster. Again, the church intervened and mediated an agreement at Ferns. Diarmait won back his title and land as King of Leinster, but he recognized the legitimacy of High King Ruaidhrí Ua Conchobhair. In addition, Diarmait agreed to send the Norman forces back to England, but he told William not to worry. For his part, William was granted the lands of Wexford and the surrounding towns.

  * * * *

  William settled behind the walls of Wexford with his army. The village had surrendered, and William took advantage of it. With King Diarmait content with his kingdom, he’d be no bother in the future. He took to the life of a lord; all of his subjects had to submit to his whims, especially the female ones. Once he settled in, it was time to take care of past business and trample those that fought him. He sent his men out to find Lord Liam Collins, the head of Wexford. It was he that defended the village, and William needed to make sure that he wouldn’t be a threat again. It would be easy, for he had a lovely daughter, Bridget, sure to be a virgin at the ripe age of nineteen. From what William had heard, she wasn’t married because Lord Collins never found any man suitable for her.

  William took over the largest house inside the walls. It was massive, more than big enough for him, but it was the large cellar that he cherished. It took his men a week to get it ready, and his cock grew hard the moment he stepped foot inside it. The long stairs went down into the dark depths of the building. When you entered the main room, your eyes instantly went to the four cell doors; all had massive wooden doors with iron bars. Yet, they weren’t small, cramped rooms, but big enough to allow for the unlucky person housed in it to receive visitors, unwelcome visitors in most cases.

  William had the local blacksmiths and furniture makers build what he needed to his specifications. None said as much as a word about what they built under threat of death or worse. The
y knew from what they built that if they talked, they might find themselves bound in their own evil devices. He pulled back the cloths that covered them to admire the workmanship. Today, he would try them out, but it would just the first time. There were many beautiful women in Wexford and the surrounding villages that William would enjoy in his dungeon.

  He went back upstairs and sat in the living room as he waited for Lord Collins’ arrival. Bridget would be brought in separately, unknown to her father. He poured himself a glass of wine as he waited.

  Liam was surprised by the three soldiers that knocked on his door, though he thought nothing of it at first. Peace had been restored, and he feared nothing. He was too powerful, even against Lord William de Barry. He was sure that he’d be sent back to wherever he came from with haste soon enough, and then, things could get back to normal. He held the door open. “May I help you?” He was cordial to the soldiers.

  “Lord William de Barry requests an audience.”

  “Fine, when would he like to come here?”

  “You’ll visit him,” the soldier said with a lack of respect in his voice.

  “Fine,” he said in a huff to the insolent soldier. He’d report his disrespect to Lord William as soon as they met. “When?” He hoped he could make time for him, running Wexford was a full-time chore, especially in these times. He was still rebuilding it from the attack it repulsed.

  “Now,” the soldier spat out with authority.

  “There is no way I can go now; I have the village of Wexford to run. Tell Lord William that I’ll be there as soon as possible, probably tomorrow,” he said with a huff of indignity in his voice.

  “You will come willingly or we’ll drag you there, that’s the orders of Lord William. I have no qualms about either way.” The soldier hoped he’d refused the request. He’d love to drag him kicking and scratching to Lord William. He suspected that once he was inside Lord William’s house, he’d have another chance at restraining him and teaching him his place.

  “Do you know who I am?” He spat it out defiantly, but he saw the soldier move toward him, his hand went to his side and grabbed the handle of his sword. Liam backed up, a bit of fear in his heart. “Very well; if he insists, I’ll be with you in a minute.” He left the door open and the soldiers stood there as he grabbed his coat, not sure, if it would be chilly when he came home. He hoped that he could get these familiarities out of the way with haste. It was such a bother dealing with these foreign despots, but he’d be rid of him soon. He was glad that Bridget was upstairs and out of sight. He’d seen the way some of the soldiers looked at her as if they were good enough for her. “Let’s go,” he said with a sour note.

  They walked on both sides of him and the other behind him as if he was going to run away. Such foolishness, this was his village. It didn’t take long to get to Lord William’s house, one of the nicer ones, though not as nice as Liam’s house. Lord William had commandeered it from one of the local merchants, the man was wealthy, but he had no political power. The soldier opened the door without so much as a knock and ushered him in. He handed them his coat, and one soldier reluctantly took it and put it clumsily on a hook. Such manners! He was ushered into the living room and noticed instantly it was changed. The furniture was a lot nicer, not sure where he got it from, but he surely didn’t bring it with him. He didn’t have that kind of taste. He saw Lord William seated in a large, upholstered chair. He sipped a glass of wine as he looked up as if surprised by his visit. He had cleaned up, out of the more rough-spun clothes that he had when he arrived to pillage the town. He now wore a nice pair of slacks and shirt; surely, he took them from the man that he took the house from. Liam would make sure that everything was returned to the merchant when Lord William was driven back home by King Diarmait. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord de Barry.” He bowed in courtesy to his title, not the man.

  “Liam isn’t it?” he responded. He turned to the three guards that stood there. “Take care of that other matter with haste.” He dismissed them, knowing they would be back soon enough with their quarry.

  “Lord Liam Collins,” he corrected him.

  “Have a seat, Liam,” as he ignored him. A servant brought in another glass and poured him some wine. “I heard it’s your finest, but it lacks the quality of French wine.”

  “We don’t have the luxury of French weather for the grapes,” he tried to deflect the criticism. He didn’t care to parry with this man all day. “How may I serve you, Lord William?”

  “I thought we should get to know each other and find out each other’s strengths and weaknesses since we might be working together. After all, I do possess the land that you are sitting on as well as the surrounding villages.”

  He certainly was smug, but Liam tried not to show his displeasure.

  Back at Liam’s house, something else was happening that he never expected. The three soldiers found the door easy to open with just a shove, not too much noise to alert anyone. They entered the living room and a servant came out. One of the soldiers put his finger on his lips then moved it to slice across his neck. The servant got the message and scrambled out of the room until they heard the back door slam as he left. He didn’t need to know that it would be dangerous to stay. It was hard to be quiet while wearing armor, but they managed to creep up the stairs. They found the room, just as Lord William had told them. They listened for a second, and then, they opened the door suddenly.

  Bridget lay on the bed with a book of sonnets in her hand as she read. There was a loud noise and the door opened, startling her in her usually peaceful and quiet house. She was confronted by three soldiers. “Father! FATHER!” She yelled out, scared as the men leapt to the bed. She looked at the door, but no one came, not her father, not a servant. “What do you want?” She shouted out bravely, but her heart raced and her mouth was dry in fear. They didn’t say a word as they set upon her. Two rushed to either side of the bed while one spun her down onto her belly and pushed her head into her pillow. Her breathing was ragged as the pillow cut off her air supply, struggling against the overpowering strength of the soldiers. Her arms were grabbed by powerful hands that bruised her delicate wrists and pulled behind her. She felt the pain of rough rope scratch her skin as it was wrapped around her wrists. “OOOWWW!” She cried out in pain when the ropes were tightened, and her fingers began to grow numb from lack of blood. One of the soldiers grabbed her long brown hair to yank it so hard that it brought tears to her eyes as she screamed out in pain. Her head was yanked up until she found herself kneeling on her bed, as her book of sonnets fell to the floor. Her arms were bound behind her back, and she feared how defenseless she was to the three large soldiers that dwarfed over her petit body. She couldn’t understand why they would do such a thing to her. Her father was an important man. He always doted over her and protected her, though, at time, she thought too much. That is why she was still unwed at the old age of nineteen. Not many men would dare risk offending her father. Suddenly, her vision was cut off. She felt the stifling heat as a cloth bag was thrown over her head. Something tightened around her neck, fearing that she’d be suffocated in seconds, but it stopped when it sealed the cloth bag around her neck. She struggled to fill her lungs, fearing instant death, but after huffing for long minutes, the fear diminished, though it was only the fear of suffocation that disappeared. She felt a large hand grab her and yank her off the bed. She barely had a chance to stand up, balancing precariously on her feet as she swayed in darkness, unable to cope with the lack of sight. Another hand grabbed her other arm, and she was pushed. She was afraid she’d slam into the wall, but the men guided her.

  “Down the stairs,” the soldier warned her, but they almost pulled her up into the air to keep her from tripping as they pulled her down the stairs. They went to the back of the house to take her out, away from prying eyes, but one of them stopped. “Remember what Lord William wanted.”

  Bridget grew frightened when she heard his name. Lord William. Her father had warned her of him
. He was the Norman soldier that invaded and decimated Wexford. He was ruthless, a man to be wary of. The soldiers let go of her arms, but one of the men grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her, forcing her to bend over. She could feel her breasts hang down from her dress, but she could do nothing. She felt ropes on her arms again, this time higher up. They were wrapped around her elbows, and she feared when they began to tighten. “PLLLeasee, nooo thatttt hurtsss,” she cried out. It felt like they were trying to break her arms as they were forced together. Her shoulders ached as she was forced to arch her back. The rope was knotted and tied with both of her elbows bound together painfully. They allowed her to straighten her body, but she knew that with her elbows bound, the position thrust her breasts out. They pulled off the bag that covered her head, Bridget grateful that she could breathe easier. Her dress was strained over her breasts; her shoulders were forced back, sure that her young, firm breasts were thrust out obscenely, almost spilling out the low cut of her dress. She couldn’t see it, but she felt it, the cool air blew on her naked cleavage. She felt a strange hardness in her nipples, unable to understand why they betrayed her this way. It was as though they were sharp and pointed, tempting the soldiers to touch them. They did one last thing, wrapping a bandana around her head and piercing her lips with it to seal her silence. The bandana tasted foul, but she couldn’t do anything. Her mouth began to drool. Her back ached as they shoved her outside. She hoped that someone would see them and rescue her, but she stumbled along between them until she heard a door open and she was inside again. It wasn’t her house; it smelled differently. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to breathe.