Chapter Seventeen #2
The old knight’s jaw was ticking slightly, the only indication of his emotion.
He knew better than to beg. “I am an old man,” he said.
“I have done things I am not proud of and if it is vengeance you seek, then I ask you to punish me. It is I who deserve it. Spare my family, for they have done nothing wrong.”
“My father did nothing wrong, either, but you killed him anyway!” Bretton exploded, yelling so loudly that it ruffled the front of de Gault’s hair.
“My father was defending what belonged to him but you and de Velt took it anyway and you killed him for doing his duty. To Hell with you, de Gault. To Hell with you and the others who committed such atrocities against my family because now you are going to know what I suffered. You are going to feel that anguish, too.”
De Gault was a steely old man. He met Bretton’s gaze without emotion, at least outwardly, but the dark eyes were flickering with horror.
“I am sorry for what we did to your father,” he said evenly. “I am sorry for your pain, but it was a byproduct of conquest. If I could take it back, I would, but I beg you to spare my family. Please do not make them pay for my sins.”
Bretton was close to throttling the old man.
He really was. How dare he beg for the life of his family when he, in his prime, would hear the pleadings of others to spare their loved ones but would pay no mind to them!
Yet, somewhere in that swirling mist of turmoil that was in Bretton’s mind, a ray of light shone forth.
I believe there is some good still left in you.
Allaston’s word echoed in his head. Was it true? Or was he truly all monster, all Devil?
It seemed, to him, as if this was a pivotal moment.
When he told Allaston of events at Comen Castle, he wanted to be truthful about it.
He didn’t want to lie. Therefore, he needed to show mercy when he truly didn’t want to.
But perhaps that was the true sign of a decent man – showing compassion when one was reluctant to.
Pondering that very question, he turned to the nearest soldier.
“Keep these two here until I decide what’s to be done with them,” he told the man. “Under no circumstances will you listen to anyone else’s orders on their fate but mine. Is that understood?”
The soldier nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
Bretton had meant Grayton or Dallan, the two commanders who were very eager about putting men on spikes.
Bretton didn’t want anything done with those knights, especially de Velt’s original knight, until he’d had a chance to decide their fates personally.
Meanwhile, he headed to the kitchen to see to the lady of Comen and her daughters.
As he passed through the kitchen yard, which was twice the size of Cloryn’s kitchen yard and included a big chicken coop that his soldiers were raiding, he headed into the kitchen structure itself.
Oddly, the box-shaped kitchen was built from a mixture of rock and wood, with a thatched roof that could easily catch fire.
Poking his head inside, he could see a big bread oven and a butcher’s block.
But there were no women waiting for him and he was coming to think that he’d been too late in sending Dallan to stave off his men’s lust.
Just as he was emerging from the kitchen, he heard a commotion off to his right and saw Dallan rounding the keep with a woman and thee girls in tow.
The girls were weeping hysterically as the mother tried to comfort them, especially the oldest girl, who looked to be around six years of age.
The mother was practically carrying her as the girl wept.
As they drew closer, Bretton could see that the girl’s gown was badly torn.
Bretton stood there impassively, arms folded across his broad chest as they approached.
Silently, he indicated for Dallan to take the women into the kitchen structure.
Once the women were inside, Bretton had Dallan and the soldiers vacate the kitchen and take station outside in the kitchen yard until they were needed further.
Then, Bretton went into the kitchen were the four women were trying to comfort one another.
It was a distressing scene to watch. The mother was being mostly stoic about the entire thing but it was clear she was quite terrified.
Bretton had never given any thought to that kind of fear before but, because of Allaston, he was noticing now.
The younger girls were perhaps five and four years of age, respectively, and they were clinging to each other in terror.
After several moments of watching the group, Bretton cleared his throat softly.
“You, lady,” he said quietly. “What happened to your daughter?”
He pointed to the eldest girl with the torn dress. The mother, quivering, responded.
“The enemy soldiers did this,” she said. She wasn’t accusing, simply stating a fact. “They took her to sport.”
Bretton eyed the pale young girl with a big bruise on her left cheek. “Did they accomplish their task?” he asked. “Or did they simply beat her?”
The lady sighed heavily. “One of them mostly accomplished the task,” she said, trying not to cry. “But the others were prevented from following suit. It could have been much worse.”
She was trying very hard to be brave, which strangely impressed him. He saw something of Allaston there.
“What of the other two?” he asked. “Are they intact?”
The lady nodded. “They are,” she replied, now getting a better look at him. “Whom may I have the honor of addressing, please?”
Bretton shook his head. “My name is not important,” he replied. “Suffice it to say that I am the new Lord of Comen and you and your daughters are my prisoners. Do you comprehend, madam?”
The woman nodded respectfully. “Indeed I do, my lord,” she replied. “We are your humble servants. May… may I ask a question?”
For a woman whose home had just been overrun and her daughter raped, she was exceptionally brave and level-headed. A measure of respect sprouted for the woman.
“Not until I have finished with my questions,” he said. “You will tell me your name and the names of your children.”
The lady nodded. “I am Lady Amalia de Gault,” she said, then indicated her daughters in order from the eldest to the youngest. “These are my daughters Lucy, Isla, and Aurora.”
Bretton eyed the girls, who were still quite shaken. “No sons?”
Lady Amalia shook her head. “None living, my lord,” she replied. “There was one, but he died in infancy last year.”
Bretton absorbed the information. Strange that he was starting to see these women as living, thinking creatures and not objects.
Usually, those he conquered were simply items, possessions to be had.
With this foursome, he had names and he had a tragic event in their past. He was feeling emotion whether or not he wanted to.
Please show mercy….
“You had a question to ask me, madam,” he said. “What is it?”
Lady Amalia maintained her composure as she spoke. “I would simply like to inquire as to the condition of my husband,” she asked. “We saw the men taken away and saw… saw what was done to them. I would like to know if my husband was…”
She trailed off, trying to find the right words, and Bretton interrupted her. “Impaled?” he supplied.
The woman was incredibly brave, nodding stoically. “Aye, my lord.”
Bretton shook his head. “Nay, he is not among them,” he replied. “I have your husband and his father held in another location. I have not yet decided their fate.”
For the first time, Lady Amalia showed some emotion.
“My lord,” she said. “I understand that we are your prisoners and you may do with us as you will, but I was wondering… I was hoping… might I see my husband one last time? I would consider it a great show of mercy and would be forever grateful, no matter what comes.”
A great show of mercy.
There was that word again. He looked at the family of girls.
There was no point in killing them or letting his men have them.
He remembered something Allaston had said to him once, that it could have quite easily been her castle he had conquered and then she would have been fodder for his men.
Looking at these girls, he could see Allaston among them, terrified and cowering, and he didn’t like that thought one bit.
God’s Bones, what is happening to me? Am I becoming weak in my old age?
Is that what emotion does to a man, weaken him?
Or does it create bonds so strong that a wife would risk my wrath by asking to see her husband one last time? He wondered.
“Remain here and do not move,” he told them. “If you do, I will kill you. Is that clear?”
Lady Amalia nodded and Bretton left the structure, ducking underneath the low doorway and emerging into the kitchen yard where Dallan and several soldiers were waiting. He went to Dallan.
“Bring the two knights to me,” he told the man. “Make sure they are both stripped of all weaponry and armaments.”
Dallan nodded, heading off to complete his orders.
Meanwhile, Bretton sent the soldiers gathered in the kitchen yard back out to the bailey where all the action was happening.
The men left without question, happy to get back to the process of securing the castle and destroying their enemy.
When they were gone, Bretton stood in the kitchen yard, alone for several minutes, until Dallan returned with the prisoners.