Prologue
` Sir
James Broadwyn had never been left for wanting when he was Lord Godfry’s guest.
Over a decade had passed since Sir James had last feasted in the Lord’s hall,
but the food and drink was still plentiful and fresh. Sir James had already
feasted on mutton, salted fish, and pheasant. Glasses of fine wines from
Muerran and mugs of strong ale from Norlandia washed down his meal. Now James’
belly was full and pushing out against his velvet doublet.
A
decade ago his belly had not been quite so big and there were few who could
have stood before him in battle. That was before the last crusade and things
had been so much simpler for James then. Now the knight’s best days were behind
him. Perhaps a piece of him never returned from that crusade. Many of Godfry’s
sworn men had not returned as well. A decade ago the Lord’s hall had been twice
as full and then some. Now entire tables sat empty and the only thing James
could see was greybeards and green boys. They might of worn mail rings over
boiled leather and armed themselves with spears and swords but James knew they
were soft. Gruff faces and sharpened
spears do not make warriors.
There
were only a handful of true knights in the hall. There was a pair of knights
seated to James’ left. They wore plate armor with colorful tabards over their
torsos. They looked like hardened warriors but Sir James knew they were as
green as summer grass. James tried to remember their names as he gulped down
another glass of wine. Godfry had introduced them earlier but James had not cared
enough to remember. They were both sworn to Godfry’s household so they were
likely the son’s of some of his vassal lords. Across from the young knights
were three aging knights in studded leather armor and heavy fur cloaks. Two of
them were brothers, Sir Arnold and Sir Archibald. Two filthy old cunts who fancy themselves warriors because they have
slain a few brigands over the years. The third one, Sir Reynolds, was cut
from a different stock than Arnold and Archibald. Reynolds was old and grey
like them but he had tasted real battle and proved himself. Still though, he
was the eldest of them all and far past his prime. All in all the sorriest
bunch of knights James had ever seen. I
could cut this lot down as easily as a butcher could carve up a stag.
There
was only one other knight in the hall. He was some sworn sword to the plump
Lord Brummsley, a vassal of Lord Godfry. The knight had been glued to his
lord’s side all night. He was a stranger to Sir James and had quickly rubbed
him the wrong way. The knight was neither too young nor too old. He was shorter
than James but powerfully built with a thick chest and big arms. The knight had
a mace hanging from his belt and James did not doubt that it had smashed a few
skulls over the years. James finished another glass of wine and leaned back in
his chair and patted his belly. He did not like his odds if push came to shove
with that knight. I had better just steer
clear of Brummsley and his little pet.
The
rest of the hall was occupied by men at arms, serjeants, and guards. Some were
strangers and some of the face’s James recognized. There was One-armed Cass who
was using his sole remaining arm to guzzle down mug after mug of beer. Cass had
left his boyhood and one of his arm’s behind in the Shadowlands. There was Zand
Lofter who was so paranoid he kept his spear and shield by his side as he
feasted. Zand had a long brown beard that was streaked with gray and a fiery
temper. Blind Pete was present, telling everyone around him the story of how he
lost his eye fighting in the crusade. The green boys sitting around him were
eating up his story with enthusiasm. No doubt they were eager to go off to war
to earn their own stories of glory. I
wonder if they would be so enthralled if Pete told them the truth of how he had
never even made it to the Shadowlands. On the march east he had slipped off and
visited a brothel and that lost eye was due to dispute with some whore that he
tried to not pay. Oh and he might as well tell them how that whore was a man.
There were serving girls and whores as well.
In James’ experience there was but a fine line between the two. It was
considered beneath knights and lords to share their beds with lowborn women but
that rule was seldom followed after a night of drinking. James was more than
pleased when a plump serving girl covered in freckles plopped down on his lap
and gave him a drunken smile. She could not have been much more than half his
age if even and he liked the way her cheeks were rosy as she kept up her toothy
grin. She was fat sure enough but James had drunk just enough for that not to
matter in the least. Besides it is not
like I am some prize anymore. Old and fat and about to be put out to pasture, I
can hardly be choosey.
James
may have been drunk but he was not a fool. The serving girl may not have been
an outright whore but she saw something in him and it was not his looks. Low
born girls love to land them a knight or lord for the night. Some of the girls
do it for the thrill of it, others do it hoping to win some rich man’s heart,
but most just do it for the coins he might leave behind in the morning. James
knew this one was smiling not for him but for what silver he might part with
for a night with her. She would never admit to it, which would be akin to admitting
to be a whore, but it is what gave her a glitter in her eyes.
James
was starting to feel a bit light headed and everything around him was a bit
blurrier than it was an hour ago. He excused himself to go take a piss and
hoped that the serving girl would be there when he returned. James lumbered
passed two spearmen guarding the door to the hall. The night’s sky was dark and
he could see both the moons shining brightly. A bad omen or so I have heard it said. Not that there could be a fate
worse than this. Looking forward to share a bed with some fat slut who would be
whoring herself out to sailors down by the docks if she had not gotten lucky
and been taken as a serving girl by the Earl. You have really made a work of
your life haven’t you James. Just a fat old knight that hardly deserves the
title anymore.
James
felt a chill as he emptied his bladder behind the hall. He could tell that it
was going to get colder before the night was over. He hurried up so he could
get back inside and hopefully claim that fat wench before one of the other
scrags got their grubby hands on her. He stumbled back into the hall and tried
to scan the room looking for his freckled faced target but couldn’t locate her.
Feeling a bit dejected, James made his way towards a cask of wine and filled up
his pouch stopping to take a few draughts while he did. As James turned to make
his way back to his table he nearly collided with Brummsley’s stocky knight. James
tried to nod in acknowledgment of his near mishap but the knight just gave him
a cold hard stare in return. Fucking
prick. I know your type, always looking to prove to everyone how tough you are.
Hell I used to be you. What a fool I was then. James walked past him
ignoring his challenging tone. He wanted pussy tonight not a broken skull.
When
James returned to his table he found the two young knights nearly passed out.
They had boasted of their ability to drink the oceans dry but the truth was in
their eyes that were rolling back into their heads. The elder knights across
from them were not fairing much better. They were all red in the face and
sloppy drunk. Two of them were clinging to a pair of pox marked whores who could
have been confused with a horse’s ass. The other one had found him a nice
pretty little thing and she was sitting on his lap with her arms around his
neck. He slurred his words as he filled her head with bullshit stories trying
so desperately to impress her. She is not
after you, you old fool! You want what is between her legs and she wants what
is in your coin purse. James knew he was just being a crabby old bastard
because his wench was likely getting her brains fucked out by someone else. That is how the game works sometimes. You
can be sure as anything and then turn your head for a second and another cock
swoops in and takes your prize right out from under you.
James
had all but given up hope when the serving girl plopped right back down on his
lap. He was so drunk he had not even seen her approach but he was delighted all
the same. She smiled at him and he was happy to see that her teeth were not all
that bad. “I thought you had run off with someone else,” James said to her.
She
made an exaggerated look of surprise. “What leave my Lordling for someone else?
Is milord mad?”
James
had to chuckle at that. “I’m no Lord just a poor fellow knight trying to make
his way.” He flashed a smile as he said those words. “Does that disappoint my
lady?”
She
smiled big. James could tell she was not used to anyone calling her a lady. “Me?
A lady? Well I have heard some funny things before but never quite so.” James
was surprised by how well she spoke. He could barely understand most commoners
but this one spoke nearly as good as any high born person.
The
flirting back and forth lasted a bit longer. One of them, James was too drunk
to remember which, finally suggested they retire to his room for the night.
Godfry had arranged for his honored guests to all have rooms in his keep. The
festivities were to last for several days and James had been given a nice room
with a feather bed. He and the serving girl were locked together as the
stumbled inside. His head was swirling at this point. He took a long drawl from
his wine pouch and belched loudly as the contents went down. The serving girl
grabbed the pouch from his hand and took a long hard swig too. Got to loosen her nerves to fuck my old ass
I see.
The serving girl flashed
James another toothy grin and then wasted no time in removing her top and
releasing her giant sloppy tits. James
lurched forward and reached out for them. She let out a sharp squeal as he
squeezed her tits hard in his drunken haze. “Sorry wench.” He said with a drunken
smile. She looked at him with a slight annoyance and said, “Just be easy there
Lordling.”
“I’m not a lord woman,”
James said with unnecessary loudness. “I told you I am just some knight.” She
then flashed him another smile, “Let’s see what my knight has hiding in his
pants.” James watched as she shoved her stubby fingers down the front of his
pants and reached for his manhood inside. He sloppily fumbled with his breeches,
undoing them as fast as he could until his pants dropped down to his ankles.
His cock sat there limp as fish in her hand as she fondled it back and forth.
The serving girl
dropped to her knees then stroked him, then licked him, and then even sucked
him but it was getting her nowhere. James looked down at his penis and saw it
just lazily flop around. Fucking thing is
as useless as I am. Finally James
pulled away from her in embarrassment. The serving girl rose back to her feet
and started putting her shirt back on. James turned away from her not wanting
to see any mocking look she might give him. A
knight with a broken sword. I am sure her and the other wenches will have a
nice laugh at my expense later. The serving girl looked at him and seemed
to have some pity in her big brown eyes. “I am sure you have just had too much
to drink my lordling.”
James felt a surge of
heat flow through him. He snapped around and slammed the back of his hand into
her face. Blood squirted from her nose and a tooth flew out from her mouth. “I
told you whore that I am not a lord. Get out of my sight.” She tried to compose
herself the best that she could as she quickly buttoned her shirt. Much to
James shock though, he actually started to feel some life in his cock. As the
serving girl tried to brush past him he grabbed arm tightly and threw her down
on the bed. “On second thought I think I will fuck you whore.” He ripped off her
pants and she tried to strike him with her hands and feet but James struck her
once more killing whatever fight she had in her.
He forced his way in
her and a few lame thrusts later and he was spent. Tears were falling down her
cheeks as she sprinted from the room. James made no move to stop her. The whole
room was spinning as all he drank that night started to overwhelm him. You showed her didn’t you James. What a man
you are. James sank into his bed disgusted with himself.
The next day the festivities
continued. More guests arrived throughout the day and the hall was a bit more
full than the night before. James had been worried what would come of the mess
from last night but he had yet to see the serving girl today. He knew she was
not likely to say anything. Commoners often think that laws don’t apply to
knights and lords but James knew better. Lord Godfry, the Earl of Laughton,
would have his head if he knew what had happened. When a knight is anointed he
swears a holy oath to defend the weak, the women, and the children. It is death
for any knight who breaks a holy oath lest the gods show their vengeance.
The gathering was for
Lord Godfry’s daughter. She is to be wed to the son of the Earl of Jolene. Sir
James had fought in the crusades alongside Lord Godfry so of course the Earl
would invite him. All lords and knights sworn to Godfry are expected to attend
but quite a few prominent ones were conspicuous in their absence. The realm is in disarray. A decade ago no
one would openly insult their Lord like this.
The son of Lord-Prince Llewellyn
arrived during the evening to much pomp and splendor. He was accompanied by more
than fifty halberdiers from the King’s Army. I wonder what the King would think about one of his Lord-Prince’s sons
using his army to show off. Those men are meant to garrison castles and keeps
in the province not for this pup’s parade. It was of little surprise to
James that Llewellyn himself did not attend. The five provinces of the Kingdom
are each ruled by a Lord-Prince in the King’s name. All of them fancy themselves too good to dine with mere mortals.
As the night wore on
James started to settle in. The first course was a pheasant stuffed with
chicken served with a vintage elven wine. The next course was various kinds of
fish served with a strong wine from Gandon. After that a few barrels of ale
were served while wrestling matches were held for entertainment. Music and dancing followed the wrestling while
cheeses and cured meats were served along with wines of all sorts.
Before long James was
both stuffed and drunk. He even spotted the serving girl briefly at one point.
Her cheek was bruised and her eyes were sad, both of which made James feel
guilty. He thought of seeking her out and saying he was sorry but felt it might
only add to her insult. Instead the knight downed more glasses of wine. His
stomach was starting to feel burdened so he stumbled out of the hall. He made
it to the cisterns and then he shit for what he felt like an eternity. As he
sat there relieving his bowels he heard some commotion outside. Probably a brawl among the lowborn partying
by the docks. The sailors and the local farmers often brawled over gambling
and whores.
James made his way back into the hall feeling
a bit fresher than he did before. He quickly gulped down another glass of wine
as he surveyed the room. He was looking for any whores who might be unspoken
for. Earlier in the day, while he was hungover and regretful, he swore to
himself he would leave women be for the rest of the festival. But promises made
while sober are quickly forgotten when drunk again. A sense of joy filled him
as he finally spotted his prey. She was a blonde headed wench aimlessly walking
around. Hell she might even be pretty if she
was not so fucking fat. James acted quickly before someone else moved in on
his target. When he closed in he grabbed her meaty arm and spun her around and
gave her a sloppy smile. “Come join me at my table lass.” She smiled back at
him revealing more teeth missing than present. “Dat be ‘n order melord?” Great, ugly and sounds like a fucking
dullard. “I am a knight not a lord and get your fat ass over here and sit
by me.” He slapped her massive ass hard as he said that. She laughed so
heartily that spit flew from her mouth. James shook his head in disgust as she
walked in front of him. Not like I have
much to choice tonight. The best ones are already spoken for.
Back at his table the
wench straddled his lap and locked her lips to his. He could feel her tongue
invade his mouth and he did not know whether to be excited or wretch. I am going to need a lot more glasses of
wine tonight. James motioned for a serving boy to refill his cup as he
pushed away from the wench’s embrace. A loud commotion again erupted outside.
Things were loud in the hall but this was loud enough to bring the music to a
halt and for heads to turn. The pair of spearmen guarding the door looked at
each other in confusion and then walked outside. James felt uneasiness in the
pit of his stomach and motioned for the wench to get off him.
The musicians began
playing again and after a brief moment of weariness most people began to settle
back into their drinks and dancing. James could not shake the feeling in his
stomach though and gripped the hilt of his sword. A blood curdling scream
brought the music to a halt yet again. One of the spearmen came stumbling back
into the hall covered in blood with a trio of arrows sticking out of him.
Strange shouts and howling rang out from outside and then suddenly in burst
dozens of spearmen.
It was all such a flash
to James. Beards, turbans, copper skin, spears, arrows, everything whizzing by
as shouts and screams became one. He saw Lord Brummsley’s stocky knight with
mace in hand throw himself into the thick of the fighting and watched as he got
impaled by half a dozen spear tips. He saw the pair of young knights too drunk
to stand get dragged down and hacked to pieces. He saw men from the King’s Army
try in vain to protect the Prince’s son. They fought off the men in turbans for
a few moments but eventually each man met a brutal end.
A man with copper skin
and a thick beard confronted James with his spear leveled. The man howled and
hooted in strange tongues and lunged forward. James tried to parry with his
sword but ended up getting smashed in the face with the butt of the spear. He
dropped down to one knee as blood poured from his nose. James steadied himself
and grabbed a hold of the spearman and wrestled him to the ground. He pummeled
his smaller adversary with his fists until the copper skinned man was a bloody
mess.
James barely looked up
when he felt a sharp pain in his gut. A man in a turban towered over him with
the tip of his spear dripping with blood. The man let out a howl and thrust his
spear back into James’ stomach. Pain shot through his body with unbearable
agony. James tried in vain to raise his hands up in defense but a third spear
thrust sent him tumbling backwards with searing pain. He tried to lift up his
head but the pain blazed over him like a fire. He dropped his head back down as
the spearmen loomed over him. He saw the spear raised and then darkness.
