“Just stay with me, and say as little as possible. We’re going to get ourselves some women.”
“ What? ”
Darius ignored him, and stepped around the corner of the barn and into the light of the guards’ torches, pretending to have come from further inside the village.
“Stay where you are,” one of them said upon seeing him. Several drew their blades, and Darius let a heavy drawl enter his voice, as if he’d downed too much liquor. Gregory stood behind him, looking nervous, which was exactly how Darius wanted him to look.
“Them people in there,” he said, pointing at the door. “They’re nothing but trouble. No good, that’s what they are.”
“You should be in bed, farmer,” said the man directly before the entrance. Darius saw the markings on his armor and knew him the highest ranked of the six, so he focused his attention on him.
“Sun’ll rise no matter whether I sleep or not,” Darius said, and he grinned as if what he’d said was the most brilliant thing ever. “But my friend here, Greg, you see, Greg ain’t never been with a gal, and that’s a damn shame. Damn shame. But I’m thinking some of them women in there, well, they ain’t too proud, know what I’m saying? Durham girls, they’re loose…”
The guards shared a look, and it took all of Darius’s self-control to hide his anger. The soldiers knew what he asked, and it amused them, for they had done the same. They’d taken the women inside, no doubt while their husbands watched. The question was…would they let them in?
“Those whores in there won’t be much for a first time,” said the guard, and he laughed. “What’s wrong with your friend? Why ain’t he porked one of the local gals, instead of harassing us in the dead of night?”
Darius tried to think of a reason, but Gregory beat him to it. He opened his mouth, closed it, then made a slashing motion over his throat. Darius bit his tongue to prevent a reaction. He’d told the man to talk as little as possible. Leave it to him to pretend to be a mute.
“Can’t sweet talk a lady when you got no tongue to do it,” said one of the other guards, and they chuckled.
“Lots of things you can’t do to a lady with no tongue,” said another.
“Least if the lady’s got a tongue, she can still be of use.”
Darius’s sword was inside that barn, and it was probably a good thing, too. Fantasies of cutting off all six of their heads turned his vision red. But he smiled, shifted side to side as if he were still drunk out of his mind.
“So you fine men understand,” he said. “Care to let us in? Anyone asks, we’re just there to talk. Right?”
“Talk?” said their leader, grinning at mute Gregory. This sent him to laughing again. “Aye, we’ll tell Cyric we let a mute fucker inside to talk.”
Darius stretched his grin, and acted as if he didn’t understand why it was so funny.
“Let ‘em in,” said the guard. “Worth it for the damn laugh.”
They stepped aside, and Darius grabbed Gregory by the shirt and pulled him into the dark barn.
“Greg don’t know what he’s doing,” he said just before they shut it. “So we’ll be ‘ere all night.”
“Fine by me,” said the guard. “But if they cut off your balls while you’re asleep, don’t expect us to do shit about it.”
The door closed, sealing them in darkness. The two stood there, letting their eyes adjust to what little light streamed in through the cracks of the walls. Darius could hear people shuffling, and knew their conversation had awakened many. They might have overheard why they were there, or deduced the reason, so caution was of the utmost importance. As his sight improved, he saw many lying in piles of hay or under blankets, staring at them with wary looks. Two thirds appeared to be women, and many of the men looked old or frail. One man looked healthy, and Darius recognized him all too well.
“I don’t see no sword,” said Jacob Wheatley, standing before two young girls huddled behind him. “No armor, neither. You think you’ll have fun just like the others?”
“No, I don’t, Jacob,” Darius said. “I expect to hide, and pray, and hope that come tomorrow night I cut off Cyric’s head and present it to you all in penance.”
Jacob’s jaw dropped. He took a step closer, and squinted in the darkness.
“Darius?” he wondered aloud. Before Darius could answer, Jacob clocked him across the face with his fist. As Darius dropped to his knees, Gregory flung himself in the way, just barely keeping the farmer from latching about his throat.
“Enough,” Gregory hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “We’re Sir Robert’s men, and we’ve come to help!”
“Help?” asked Jacob. He pushed Gregory away, then pulled at his shirt to fix it. “You got a lot of nerve coming here, Darius. Thought you’d be out there with that fucking priest, singing praises and sharpening your sword.”
Darius took a deep breath and rubbed his sore jaw. He deserved worse, he knew, and did his best to keep his temper in check.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he said, walking around him while giving him a wide berth. “I’m not going to explain myself, for I’m getting tired of finding a thousand different ways to say I’m sorry I was a fool.”
He reached the far wall, found his greatsword, and lifted it into the air. Soft light enveloped the blade, and it shone upon the people of Durham, all of whom were now awake.
“But I’m here to protect you,” Darius said, his voice falling. “Will you let me?”
Jacob grunted, and he sat down next to one of the women.
“Don’t mean we’re even,” he said. “But if you can kill Cyric, I think it might be a damn fine way to start.”
21
Before they came for him that morning, Jerico already knew the battle had begun. He stood before the bed Arthur had given him, wearing his armor. On the bed lay his armaments. His fingers ran along the symbol of the golden mountain painted across the front of his shield, but his god was far from his mind at that point. All he could think of was Sandra held captive by the priest, Luther, and what his promise had been.
…should I see you again, even hear rumors of your approach, I will sacrifice that whore to Karak.
He had no reason to doubt him, no reason to believe he lied. There’d been such intensity in his eyes, such loathing…
The door opened. Jerico kept his back to it, his head low.
“Jerico?” asked a soldier he did not know.
“Yes?”
“They’re…they’re rushing the gates. We need you.”
She’ll die naked, alone, and screaming in pain.
“I know,” he said, glancing back. The soldier opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Right. Arthur wished you to know, that is all.”
He closed the door as Jerico picked up his mace. The weight felt reassuring in his hands.
Think on that the next time you would play the hero.
By aiding Arthur, he was killing Sandra. He picked up his shield, slung it over his back. By fighting Sebastian, he ended the life of the first woman he’d ever loved. Closing his eyes, he thought of her face, her stubborn smile. But this was what she’d want. He knew that. She could have run, but instead she killed the two men that had threatened him. Cowering to threats, giving in to cruel demands…that wasn’t her, wasn’t something she’d ever do.
But that didn’t make it any easier.
He left his room and made his way to the courtyard. Soldiers lined the walls and formed rows before the rumbling gates. From what he’d learned, there were a hundred stationed within, and approximately six hundred outside the walls. Should they break through, they couldn’t hold. He also knew that. They’d die, without hope of victory. As the wood groaned, and the battering ram slammed again and again, he took up a position at the front of the defense, where the tired men stood, quiet, nervous, watching.
“They’ll hold,” one said to him as he stood at his side.
“If not, then we will,” Jerico said, and he smiled a smile he knew they all needed to see.
