She Serves the Realm

They rode north at a quickened pace. After a couple of hours, they slowed, believing the immediate danger to have subsided somewhat. As they neared a crossroads, they discovered they were sorely mistaken.

A group of riders, perhaps three times their numbers, burst forth from behind a grove of trees and galloped directly toward them, their evil intent unmistakable. The horsemen’s speed was such there was hardly time to react. Christina slipped from Pearl’s back and drew her sword, as did Reiniken and Jost. They steeled themselves for their attackers’ onslaught.

Not so Gaveston. Unexpectedly, he spurred his horse to charge directly at their onrushing foes as if they opposed him in the jousting lists. A high-pitched scream burst forth from Plantamor, unmistakably a war cry. The attacking formation halted, then split in panic as the earl’s sword flashed first to one side, then to the other. Gaveston hauled back on the reins and the great beast reared, striking out sharply with its forefeet at a hapless rouncey that fell to the ground from the force of the blow, trapping its unlucky rider beneath it. He wheeled the destrier to the left, his sword impaling another man through the chest as he turned. Gaveston relaxed his arm to allow the horse’s impetus to extract his sword from the mortally wounded man. Great spurts of blood cascaded from the man’s chest, but the earl paid him no mind. He was already seeking his next victim.

Many of the attackers gave the earl and his demonic destrier a wide birth, choosing instead to dismount and seek easier prey in the form of those who stood on their feet. Christina had no time to look for Cecily as she steadily gave ground to two swordsmen who sought to engage her simultaneously, her blade flicking out quicker than a serpent’s tongue to parry theirs to the side. Then she darted forward, dancing to the right of her attackers. This left her opponents one behind the other. The hindmost no longer constituting a threat, she brought her weapon diagonally upward in a slash that parted the skin of the nearest man’s face, digging deeply into the skull beneath. As he fell to the side, wailing as he clutched at his ruined visage, Christina took the opportunity to thrust her sword into his friend’s soft guts. Unlike his companion, the only sound he made was a loud “woof” as she drew back her sword from his body. She had no time to congratulate her clever tactic, however. As she tried to reach Cecily’s side, she was thwarted by more men advancing to take the place of those she had just dispatched.

From the corner of her eye, she noted Reiniken and Jost were positioned back-to-back.

Clever fellows, keeping all their enemies to their front!

While it seemed few of those facing Reiniken had the stomach to venture into the range of his weapon, other than those already on the ground before him, the same could not be said of Jost. The boy was sorely pressed by a single harrying foe whose skill clearly surpassed that of her cousin. Already, Jost had been pinked at least twice on his sword arm, evidenced by thin rivulets of blood running downward. If Reiniken had not been slowly rotating to his right as he fought, a fatal blow would probably have been already struck.

Christina had no time to provide assistance. A swarthy man with a hook nose brought his falchion downward from above his head in a heavy cut directed at her left shoulder. Christina parried it with her blade, the impact almost causing her arm to go numb.

“Hold!” a voice cried loudly from behind her. “Hold or, by Christ, I’ll split her from neck to cunt!”

The man before her smirked and backed away a few steps. Still on her guard, Christina turned her head slightly. What she saw chilled her soul.

One of the knaves had circumvented the fighting. He now held his falchion pointed straight before him, at the point of which stood Cecily.

“Now, drop them toad-stickers and back away, if you treasure her life, that is!”

Having no choice, Christina, Jost, and Reiniken did as they were commanded. Gaveston dismounted and joined them.

“This way, you lot!” one of the men said, directing them to the middle of the road.

“What do we do with ‘em now, Alf?” a younger man with a filthy shock of blond hair asked.

“His excellency only said to bring ‘im this one,” the man who seemed to be the leader of the ruffians responded. “I don’t give a hot damn about the others. Excepting that one maybe.”

He pointed toward Cecily.

“She looks like she would be sport enough for all of us.”

Christina’s ire exploded.

“Don’t any of you fucking touch her or I’ll . . .”

Alf’s gauntleted backhanded blow spun Christina’s head around, knocking her to the ground. Ignoring the sharp pain in her jaw, she immediately rose to her knees, fixing the man with a look of white-hot hatred as she wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.

The other men laughed heartily as Alf exclaimed, “So, she’s yours, is she? Maybe I’ll let you live long enough to watch her squirm beneath me as I pleasure her. I’m sure she’s never . . .”

Alf’s words ended abruptly as his throat suddenly sprouted goose feathers. He stood choking as he clawed at the arrow that transfixed his neck.