Dark Warrior

by Donna Fletcher

  “Your parents would be proud of you, Mary. You have grown into a beautiful, courageous woman.”

  She choked back her tears and nodded, not daring to speak.

  They walked out of the room to face Mary’s destiny.

  Reena and Brigid had attempted to make the wedding special, filling the great hall with baskets of flowers and branches of greenery. A plethora of white candles graced the mantel, the tables and the dais and platters of food waited for the celebration to begin.

  Decimus had intended a bishop to wed them but when he changed the wedding date, he had had to make do with the local cleric. He vowed that they would repeat the ceremony with a bishop in attendance.

  Decimus stood next to the brown-robed cleric waiting for her approach. His colors chilled her for he had chosen a blood red tunic over black leggings with a large black cross stitched across the front of the tunic. His shiny black hair hung straight over his shoulders, and his face appeared more sinister than handsome.

  The great hall was filled to capacity. All the villagers had been invited, and dared not refuse, and all of Decimus’s men as well. If there had been time, no doubt the king as well as high officials of the church would have come.

  Magnus walked her slowly to Decimus as if he took every step reluctantly. And when they finally reached him, Decimus stepped forward.

  Magnus took her hand and placed it in Decimus’s. Then he raised his voice for all to hear. “Treat her well, my lord, she is a gift.”

  Decimus gave a brief nod of recognition, though his dark eyes showed displeasure with Magnus’s warning. He turned with her to face the cleric.

  The ceremony went on for some time, the cleric extolling the virtues of marriage and the duties of an obedient wife. Mary was relieved when it was done, and she was pronounced Decimus’s wife. It was over; she now belonged to him.

  The celebration began, Decimus and Mary taking their place of honor at the two center chairs at the table on the dais. Magnus sat next to Decimus and Reena next to Mary.

  Food was plentiful but Mary felt no hunger. No matter how hard she tried she could not get her thoughts off later in the evening when she would perform her wifely duties. The idea of Decimus intimately touching her made her sick, and she did not know what she would do.

  Reena leaned close to her. “You worry.”

  “It is not as easy as I thought it to be,” she whispered.

  “Feign illness.”

  Mary leaned closer. “And put off my duties for one day?”

  “Two maybe three if the illness is good.”

  “A short reprieve.”

  “I can help, as will Old Margaret,” Reena assured her.

  “I think my appetite returns.”

  “It must, so we have something to blame it on,” Reena murmured. “Eat food your husband avoids. I will see that a few others complain of being ill.”

  “Not hungry, wife?” Decimus asked, turning to her.

  “Famished, my lord,” Mary said and glanced over his plate before filling hers high.

  Surprisingly Decimus did not protest when voices were raised in song. But when Magnus requested that Mary sing a song, her husband’s nostrils flared. She looked to him for permission, for truth be told she wished to sing. It could very well be her last chance to raise her voice in song.

  Everyone waited for Decimus to grant his wife permission, and when he finally granted it the hall broke out in a cheer.

  Mary thanked him, stood, and walked around to the front of the dais.

  “I will sing a song of love, for it is strong in my heart this day.”

  No one need know that the love she spoke of was not for her new husband but for another. And she intended to sing it from her heart.

  She started softly, her words clear and crisp, the melody heavenly. Then soon she raised her voice higher and higher until she sounded like an angel from the heavens. She mesmerized everyone in the hall, tears filling many eyes.

  And as she finished, she crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head.

  Silence filled the great hall for a moment and then the crowd broke into wild cheers and applause. Shouts that she sing again rang clear and feet were stamped to encourage her to continue.

  They were soon silenced when Decimus stood.

  Mary dutifully returned to the chair beside her husband and sat. The hall remained silent for a few moments and then whispers began and soon turned louder until celebrating voices returned.

  Decimus turned to her after the voices grew louder. “Who is the love in your heart for, dear wife?”

  “For many, my lord,” she said without hesitation.

  He leaned closer. “Will you find room in your heart for me?”

  “Is it not my duty?”

  He stared at her silently and then without saying a word turned away.

  With Decimus’s attention focused elsewhere, Reena urged in a whisper, “Eat a bit more.”

  Mary did, helping herself to a piece of pie that no one had touched. She had to force herself but then maybe it was best her stomach did feel upset. It would make it easy to feign her illness.

  The day turned to dusk and night drew near. Mary knew there was little time left to her and that she would soon need to complain about not feeling well. She had grown quiet and lethargic resting back in her chair.

  Reena patted her hand and nodded her approval.

  All was ready for Mary to make her move when the front doors of the hall burst open and a man came running in to drop down on one knee in front of Decimus.

  “An urgent message, my lord,” he said.

  The man looked as if he had been riding hard and long, dirt and sweat covering him from head to toe.

  Decimus stood and walked around the dais, ordering the man to follow him. He intended for no one to hear the message.

  They left the hall, Decimus’s men quickly gathering together as if awaiting orders.

  Mary grew nervous and Reena took her hand.

  “Perhaps you will not need to feign an illness tonight after all, perhaps the heavens have intervened for you.”

  “Then my prayers will have been answered,” Mary said.

  Decimus entered the hall and looked to his men. “Ready yourself. We leave immediately.”

  Mary was too stunned to speak.

  Reena was not. “My lord, she needs time to pack her belongings, perhaps you should see to your duties and return for her in a few days time. We will have her ready for you then.”

  “How considerate of you, but unnecessary,” Decimus said firmly. “Mary has few belongings, and it should take her little time to get them together. And of course with your help there should be no problem.”

  Decimus turned to Magnus. “See that she is packed and waiting at the front doors immediately.” He then turned and walked out of the hall.

  There was little time to protest and less time to say goodbye. Her few clothes and belongings were quickly packed. She was rushed to the front door of the keep just as Decimus’s coach pulled to a stop before the steps.

  She barely had given Reena a hug when Decimus appeared and grabbed her arm.

  “We leave now.”

  With a tug and a push she was deposited in the coach, and before she realized she had not bid Magnus goodbye the coach took off. This was not how she expected her departure to be. She wanted time to thank everyone for their generosity and support and to urge them to stay in touch with her so that Decimus could not fully isolate her from the world.

  Decimus sat quietly alongside her, looking deep in thought as the coach traveled with haste along a rutted path. She was jostled and jarred and wondered how Decimus could appear undisturbed by their bumpy ride.

  He remained silent, revealing nothing of their destination to her. And after almost an hour of silence she could stand it no more.

  “Where do we go, my lord?”

  He turned his head slowly toward her. “That is not your concern.”

  She remained silent knowi
ng full well he would only remind her that she was not to speak unless spoken to. She allowed her own thoughts to keep her company. She hoped that it would take until daybreak to reach their destination, then fatigue would surely force him to seek sleep and not her.

  Hours passed by and she grew tired, her head bobbing until finally she tucked herself into the corner of the coach and drifted off to sleep.

  She did not know how long she had slept when Decimus woke her with a start.

  “We are here, Mary, wake up.”

  He sounded annoyed and she wondered who would suffer his wrath this evening. Something important was obviously on his mind, and whatever it was it did not sit well with him.

  Decimus exited the coach first and assisted her as she stepped out. Her eyes rounded at the sight of the looming fortress in front of her. It was large, the stones dark, and the many torches glared like the eyes of a hundred demons.

  She shivered and instinctively stepped closer to Decimus. Surprisingly he placed his arm around her, but then it was his duty to protect her and he would do right by his husbandly duties.

  She could not help but ask, “What is this place?”

  “Hell,” he whispered harshly.

  Her eyes rounded like bright full moons and, as they entered the ominous structure, a chill ran down her spine. He had confirmed her worst fear. She had just stepped through the gates of hell.

  Mary huddled closer to her husband’s side when she thought she heard a horrifying cry. “What is that?”

  His arm tightened around her. “It is none of your concern.”

  There were warriors everywhere in the great hall and the few who looked to be servants appeared fearful and cautious in their manners. It seemed like a lot of activity for so late in the evening.

  A large man approached Decimus. He wore a leather apron, his head was bald and his face scarred. “My lord, they await you.”

  “Did you heed my warning, Edmond?”

  The man dropped his glance to the ground. “I thought only to please you, my lord. I started on the woman.”

  Mary’s stomach rolled, realizing this man tortured an innocent.

  “My orders, Edmond?” Decimus asked with an anger that had the large man trembling.

  “To wait upon you, my lord.”

  Mary trembled when she realized she was in the Fortress of Hell, temporary home to Decimus, and a place where heretics met their fate. She had heard tales about it and thought them just that. She did not think such an evil place could truly exist, but now she knew it did. Its true name was the Fortress of Redemption, but no one was ever released from the fortress; once inside you were doomed, and redemption only came with death.

  “An order you failed to obey.”

  “I—I—but meant—”

  “Be gone from my sight. I will deal with you later.”

  Before anyone else could approach him, he turned with Mary firm in his arms and hurried her to climb the stairs until she thought them at the very top of the structure. They entered a room sparse with furnishings and few candles, though a fire burned bright in the large fireplace.

  Mary hurried to the flames to warm her hands and ease her concern. “Are we to live here?”

  He shook his head. “This will not be our home. This is a place where pagans and sinners meet their punishment and fate. I will not have my wife subjected to such vile matters.”

  Her shoulders slumped in relief, but only for a moment. Decimus pulled his tunic and shirt off and she thought he readied himself for bed and their union.

  Her eyes locked on his naked chest and then his broad back as he turned away from her. He was built magnificently, his body a work of art, tapering and expanding in perfect symmetry and strength. He was powerful in muscle and form and that made Mary all the more nervous.

  She remained by the fire, rubbing together hands that insisted on remaining chilled. How would she ever get through this night? Was it too late to feign an illness?

  Decimus opened a chest near the window and took out a black shirt and gray tunic. He slipped them on and walked toward her.

  “I had hoped to consummate our vows tonight but that is not possible. I have important matters to attend to.”

  Mary’s legs trembled when she asked, “You go to torture people?”

  He grabbed her chin. “Listen well, wife. You will ask me no questions. I have been tolerant of you thus far, but today it changes. Today you are my wife and will now obey me in all matters. Know your place is not to question me; your place is to serve me.”

  He stepped away from her. “Sleep. Tomorrow we seal our vows.”

  Mary watched the door close and she dropped to the floor, her trembling legs not able to hold her up a minute longer.

  She had wed to the devil and had descended into hell.

  Chapter 28

  Mary woke feeling unwell the next morning. She could blame it on all the food she had eaten the night before, but her unsettled stomach had plagued her for the last three mornings, dissipating by midday. She had tried to ignore the signs but they had continued, and she now feared she was with child.

  It was barely a month and yet signs warned of an impending pregnancy. She rose from bed and was grateful for the dry bread and honey, though ignored the fresh milk. It seemed to upset her stomach even more.

  She did not know what to do. If she did not consummate her marriage soon he would never believe the child his. Then she would place Michael’s child at risk. As much as it abhorred her, she would have no choice but to be intimate with Decimus as soon as possible.

  She slipped her husband’s dark green velvet robe over her linen nightshift and sat alone at the table near the window, enjoying the bread and honey. It was a dismal day, rain fell heavily, and she was grateful for the blazing fire that combated the chill.

  The door suddenly opened and she looked to see her husband striding into the room, wearing the same clothes he had worn the night before. Loud voices, shouts and cries echoed in the hall and down the stairwell behind him, though the sounds turned to muffles as soon as he shut the door.

  Decimus walked over to her, his hand reaching out to stroke her face. Mary had to stop herself from recoiling.

  “Are you all right? You look pale.”

  His concern startled her and the truth worried her. “A fitful night, that is all.”

  He nodded, accepting her simple explanation. “Rest today, I have much to see to.”

  “May I be of help, my lord?” she asked, hoping to gain valuable information whether for her or Michael.

  “There is nothing you can do. You will remain in our bedchamber today.”

  She looked concerned.

  “Prisoners have escaped and I must see to their capture.”

  She prayed with all her heart that those who had escaped remained free, and she prayed harder that the Dark One, if involved, remained safe from harm.

  “Will you be long, my lord?” She suddenly wanted to seal their vows and have done with it.

  “I cannot say. The servants have been instructed to see to your care. If they do not serve you well, let me know. You are to want for nothing.” He walked to his chest and retrieved a black cloak.

  “I am satisfied to rest and wait on your return.”

  He walked over to her and grasped her chin. “You learn your place quickly. That pleases me.”

  She looked up at him and he shocked her when he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers.

  “Until later, wife.” He then marched out of the room swinging his cloak around his shoulders.

  She shivered and pulled the robe tightly to her chest. No one but Michael had ever kissed her, and she felt as if she had just betrayed him. Her stomach suddenly rumbled in protest and without warning she lost what food she had eaten.

  Servants arrived to take her tray and see to her needs. They appeared upset when they realized she had been ill.

  She assured them all was well, the food fine, that she was only a bit sick from her w
edding celebration. They sighed in relief and asked if there was anything she needed. She explained that she wished to rest and not be disturbed until well after noon. They left assuring her no one would bother her.

  Mary knew she was taking a chance, but with Decimus gone it would be her one opportunity to investigate the fortress. She did not know what she would find, but her search might prove useful to Michael. And she could not sit all day and do nothing.

  She quickly dressed in a plain brown skirt and pale yellow linen blouse. She plaited her hair so as not to draw attention and to make herself appear a mere servant. Having not been introduced to most of the staff, and with the size of the fortress, she was certain no one would question her as long as she appeared busy.

  With a pile of linens in hand she left the bedchambers and made her way through the halls and down the stairwell. What she hoped to find she could not say. But then Reena had taught her well about being aware and recording her findings, and being she did not possess Reena’s talents for drawing, she would need to record her findings in words once she returned to her room.

  She spent a good portion of the morning searching the ground level of the fortress. It held a great hall, a large cooking area, and a substantial pantry. The cook’s helpers were busy salting meats and paid her no heed, though two young servant girls eyed her suspiciously as they strung mushrooms and onions on strings to dry.

  Her search alerted her to possible escape routes and to the endless number of servants constantly at work. A stench drew her to heavy wooden doors that opened onto a stairwell. It descended down into what Mary was certain was the depths of hell, the torture chambers. She could not bring herself to investigate, not today. Her stomach already protested at the stench that drifted up. She was sure to be ill if she made her way down where the odor grew more offensive.

  Tired and disheartened she hurried to her bedchamber. Only minutes after slipping out of her clothes and into her husband’s robe, servants knocked on her door with the noon fare.

  She bid them enter and had them leave the food on the table. Soft cheese, roasted pork, and cider filled the tray, but she ignored the delicious scent and sat looking out the window at the heavy rain.