“I have surrounded the house,” the Lord High Steward shouted from his horse. “Come out and release the traitor to me!”
A heavy silence met his command.
He made a sound of disgust, and raised his hands to signal his men to go forward. But his hand stopped in mid-air when a large man carrying a long bow appeared at the entrance. Two people followed him: a hooded servant and a teenaged boy.
“I don’t harbor traitors here,” the man said. Although he said the words quietly, it had the effect as if he shouted.
Roldan sat back on his horse, recognition showing in his eyes after a moment. He curved his mouth into a cruel smile. “Ah, Sir Gareth,” he said.
Amelie stared at the giant standing in front of the wooden building. This was the Iron Hawk’s legendary commander? He bore no resemblance to any farmer that she had ever seen. But then again, he didn’t resemble any knight that she had seen either.
“Even I can recognize you under all that grime,” her uncle continued, his voice taking on an air of boredom. He looked around the farmhouse with distaste. “I see that since you have left the king’s service,” his lips curled into a sneer, “you have moved up in the world.”
Sir Gareth shrugged indifferently, and flicked a bug off his rust-colored tunic, a tunic that had seen better days. He seemed unconcerned that there were a dozen guards stationed all around his house, their weapons raised against him.
“The ranks of this world no longer concern me,” he said, letting out a yawn.
Amelie scanned the building behind him and believed his admission. The farmhouse was by no means a dilapidated hovel as her uncle implied. To be sure, the house looked old, but it was well maintained and seemed sturdy enough to weather the elements. It was actually an oasis of civilization set in the middle of dense wilderness. Any farmer in possession of such a house would likely be proud to own it.
“One of you, bring me a tankard of ale,” Sir Gareth said, turning to the two figures behind him. “I have a need to wash away this rancid taste in my mouth. Hearing such flowery words can do that to a person.”
When neither the servant nor the boy jumped to do his bidding, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “’Tis so difficult to get help these days.”
“I did not come here to waste time with idle chatter,” Roldan said, his brow creasing into a frown. “Nor did I come to visit you. Now bring my cowardly brother to me.” He scanned the farmyard. “I know that he is here.”
“You are looking for me, brother?” Lord Stanbury said, emerging from the building.
“Ah, there you are,” her uncle said, his eyes glinting with contempt.
“You are pathetic, Roldan,” her father said in disgust. “Here you are, calling other people cowardly when you just need to look into a clear stream and see the image reflected back at you.” He stared at his brother, his eyes hardening. “Why are you here?”
“Why, to kill you of course,” Roldan said, letting out a laugh that sounded almost maniacal. “I never realized that I had such a stupid brother. But stupid or not, you know far too much.” He paused and bared his teeth. “Do you think that I can have you alive and spreading rumors about my involvement in the plot against the king? King Edward is ignorant, but he is by no means a fool.”
“Well, you will need to kill everyone here as well,” Lord Stanbury said, gesturing to the knights who stood watching the exchange with rapt attention. “Those who did not know about your involvement are fully aware of it now.”
“My followers already know about the scheme,” Roldan said, laughing again although there was no mirth in the sound. “And for those who just found out, they can join forces with me. Those who are not willing will be silenced.”
Lord Stanbury stared at his brother, his tone frigid. “Tell me, what is the purpose of this scheme against our king? Do you not have enough power and status as the Lord High Steward and as the Duke of Hangrov? People look up to you, Roldan. At one time even I looked up to you.” He spat on the ground as if his words tasted bad. “What is Lord Richard offering to you that you would betray your own monarch?”
“Always the purist, even when you speak of things that you do not understand,” her uncle snorted.
“Then oblige me. Make me understand.”
Roland looked at his brother for a long moment, and then he nodded slowly as if he came to some sort of decision.
“King Edward is a poor ruler,’ he said finally. “’Tis sad really how our great country has reduced to such a bad state. He is a weak fool, and every year that he languishes in his so-called peaceful times, the enemies close in, capturing the neighboring territories, stealing away precious resources that are rightfully ours. Soon this great kingdom of ours will be nothing.” He shook his head. “Do not look at me like that, Gordon. I am not alone in thinking this. Many people have already sided with Lord Richard, the rightful ruler. Edward’s brother is ruthless and powerful. He is a man that our enemies can fear.”
“Lord Richard must have offered you a great deal for you to turn against the true monarch.” Lord Stanbury paused. “But you are not telling the entire truth. There is more, I think.”
“You surprise me once again, Gordon.” Her uncle smirked. “At times you appear dull-witted, but at other times you are quite clever. But aye, you are correct. I have another motive for doing away with you.”
“You hate me so much, Roldan?” her father said, his voice falling as a note of pain sounded in it. “You would kill me — your only brother?”
Darkness settled in his eyes. “Aye,” Roldan said calmly. “You will not leave this place alive, I am afraid.”
Her father heaved a deep sigh and put out a hand. “Boy,” he called out without taking his eyes off his brother, “bring me a sword.”
The boy dashed over to Lord Stanbury and handed him a broadsword.
Whatever hurt that her father sustained never showed in his face. He stepped closer toward Roldan. What was her father doing?
“All right,” Lord Stanbury called out. “So you have come to kill me. Do it, Roldan. Fight me, and let fate decide the outcome. If you die in the skirmish, then justice will be served, but if I die, you will get what you wish.”
“Stop, Father!” Amelie screamed. “This is madness! Do not fight him.” She moved to come off her horse, intent on stopping him. But Derrik was quick and he caught her arm before she could fully slip off the saddle.
“Don’t interfere,” Derrik said. She tried to wrench free from his grip, but he only held on tighter. “Trust me on this, Amelie.”
“Get your hands off me, traitor!” she snapped, tugging at her arm until she broke free from his hold. Once again, she tried to come off the horse, but this time Derrik grasped both of her wrists, holding her prisoner. All she could do was twist her head, and watch helplessly as her father stood in the middle of the yard, his legs spread apart, daring Roldan to fight him.
Her uncle urged his horse forward. Looking down, he saw it took some effort for her father to keep the heavy sword steady.
“I am not much of a fighter, as you know,” Roldan said as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “However I see that you are still recovering from your injury. In your weakened condition, I could kill you swiftly. In fact your death will make it easier for me and Edeline.”
“Edeline?” Fury flared in her father’s voice. “Edeline is married to me. Do not speak of her ever again. You tarnish her name just by saying it.” He stared up at Roldan. “Come off that horse, and fight me like a man.”
“Do you think I am daft?” Roldan snorted. “I have a greater advantage atop this horse. I may not have military training like you, but I am well versed in fighting strategies. And in this fight, I intend to be the victor.” He then dropped his voice and sounded almost conversational. “For you see, my dear brother, Edeline will have no use for you once you are dead. You have neglected her all these years, and she likely resents you. I will be doing her a favor by killing you.”
“Neglect?” Lord Stanbury stared at his brother with untold horror and disbelief. “Who told you this lie?”
“I have ways of finding out things,” he said.
“’Twas likely Margery who told him,” Amelie’s voice broke in.
Both men turned around and looked at her.
“Everyone believed that you were punishing my mother because she could not give you sons,” she continued.
“Even you believed this, Amelie?”
She looked down at the ground, unable to answer.
“Well, ‘tis not true, I love your mother and I —”
“It does not matter now,” Roldan interrupted. “You will be dead soon enough, and Edeline will be free to marry me.”
“You bastard,” Lord Stanbury growled. He brought the sword high and began to advance toward his brother.
“Enough!” a commanding voice came from behind her father. The hooded servant moved forward, throwing the cowl over his head. “There will be no fighting.”
Derrik’s hold on her arms slackened slightly. And with one hard yank, she freed herself from his grip.
“Your Majesty,” Roldan gasped. His face paled as he realized the awful position he was in. He looked wildly at Derrik, appealing silently for the knight’s help before he fell to the ground, burying his head into his knees.
For a second Derrik stared dispassionately at the groveling man. Then he raised his fingers to his mouth and let out a piecing whistle. Suddenly dozens of men dressed in red and purple emerged from the forest and flooded the small farmyard.
Egbert and his men separated from Roldan’s followers. Those who remained shrank back in fear, realizing that they now stood on the losing side.
The king’s men, meanwhile, had their weapons raised, waiting for a signal from Derrik.
Amelie took advantage of everyone’s distraction, and slipped down from her horse. Before Derrik noticed that she was gone, she ran to her father. As she embraced him, she caught a glimpse of pain crossing over her father’s face, remembering too late that he was still injured. She loosened her embrace, but his arms tightened around her.
“Roldan de Calmette, you have betrayed God, us, and your country,” King Edward said, his voice echoing across the clearing. “I hereby strip you of your status and position at the royal courts, and your dukedom will be no more.”
“’Tis a misunderstanding, Your Majesty!” Roldan raised his head slightly, holding out his hands, the palms facing upward.
The bored look that constantly played upon the Lord High Steward’s countenance was gone. In its place was a look of helpless fear, like that of a criminal on the verge of getting his head lopped off.
“Lord Stanbury is correct in calling you pathetic,” the king said, dismissing Roldan’s pleas.
“But Gordon was the one who put me up to this, Your Majesty!” Then he stopped, and stared at Derrik, understanding dawning on his face. “You —”
“We said that we have heard enough!” King Edward roared, cutting Roldan off. “Bind his arms.” His eyes then settled on the guards cowering behind Roldan. “Bind them all up. We leave for the Royal Palace immediately.”
Egbert and his men moved forward to take away the prisoners.
“Nay,” Roldan said, stepping back as the knight advanced toward him. He put out his hands and adamantly shook his head. And then saying louder, “Nay!” He shoved at Egbert’s hands just as the desperation in his voice increased. “King Edward, you are an unfit ruler, a coward,” his voice trembled, all traces of his former monotonous tone gone. “The entire kingdom knows of this. A strong leader would have vanquished our enemies, and expanded our territory. Yet you have led our country to ruin. Even if you kill me, I hope to God that Lord Richard will thwart you, and take his rightful place upon the throne.”
“No one will overthrow us from our rightful place on the throne,” King Edward said. His face revealed no emotion, but he spoke with an icy calm. “We have captured my wayward brother. And as we speak, he is locked up in the Royal Tower,” he paused, his eyes narrowing, “and his fate will be yours.”
“’Tis impossible,” Roldan said, his face turning white. “He is too intelligent to be caught.” Shaking visibly, he suddenly was aware of the consequences of his criminal involvement. He locked his gaze with Amelie’s father. “Help me, brother,” he gasped.
Lord Stanbury shook his head, an incredulous expression on his face. “Do you think that I am a fool? After what you have revealed, you are beyond help.”
Egbert brought a horse over to King Edward.
With cursing and sobbing, Roldan and his men were dragged to two guards who waited with rope on hand. In a matter of minutes the traitors were tied tightly from their shoulders to their waists. The excess ropes that dangled from each prisoner were then attached to the saddles of three horses.
“Sir Gareth, as much as we enjoy your humble lodgings,” the king said, giving the knight a rueful smile, “we certainly crave our own comforts.”
The large knight gave a slight bow with his head while Derrik and Lord Stanbury did the same. And as the king’s horse lurched forward, his royal troop along with the prisoners fell into line behind him.