Battle: Inside the Walls

Kasey

kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: The battle inside the manor.

Rating: PG-13, for violence.

Disclaimer: Not mine and I do not own them.

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When did I, Will Thatcher, become a soldier I wonder as I yank a husky man from the slender, cringing form of Adhemar's twin sister Adele and slice at his throat with the knife from my belt. He falls with a gurgle, blood spurting from the wound. I grab Adele's hand and drag her to her feet, pressing that dagger in her hands and pushing her in the direction Lydia and Jocelyn are finally taking. "Go!" I yell, pulling my sword from the scabbard even as I whirl to face the approaching men. Steel meets steel and I am glad that the sword is my natural talent.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Kate swinging one of those tools of her trade viciously at a man's head. Wat is near her and Christiana has brought her bow inside the manor, her aim surprisingly accurate to me. Dimly, I wonder if Adhemar has been teaching her to use the bow.

Fear for my wife, and for those in the manor fills me, giving me the blessed determination to fight until I either win or am incapacitated. My sword slices through flesh and I know later I shall be sickened by the killing I have been forced to do today. It is necessary though. All of our lives depend upon this, for I have no doubt that this invader will kill any man who could possibly rise up against him.

Any man, woman and child who can fight is doing so. These people do not hate their lord. No, they work these lands and serve him in the manor and call him a fair master, if a harsh one in dealing judgment for a crime. For no other reason than that, my opinion on him must further be scrutinized. I can hate some of the things Adhemar has done, but I cannot hate them all. I will fight to save his home and his family in his absence, and God help me we will succeed.

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"This way!" I call to Jocelyn. Adele is already to the hidden back gate, but Jocelyn is panting, exhausted. I say a quick prayer for Christiana, still inside the manor, fighting for her life while I go for help. "Come on, Jocelyn!" I hiss.

She moves closer, pain flickering across her face. "My back hurts, Lydia. I cannot ride. I will only hold you back." Stepping to the stone wall, she slumps against it. "You will have to leave me. Get horses for you two and go. I will be fine."

There is uncertainty in her eyes, but her voice is strong. In this moment, she reminds me of my mother. I nod. "Head south. There is a village and if our name is mentioned, you will be treated well." Adele opens the gate and we three go through it, Jocelyn moving in the direction I told her.

How in the hell am I going to steal two horses? Or rather, how am I going to ride one? My fear of the beasts is not generally known. Few people are aware that I cannot ride a horse and thus few know the reason for my fear. Adele was not the only one Beatrice hurt. Beatrice was with us for many years, from the time she, Adele and Etienne were six until they were sixteen, learning manners and duties from my mother. Right before the woman left us, she took me out with her, supposedly giving me a riding lesson, though I was very young at the time. She whipped my horse and I fell. I was nearly trampled. I can still pull from memory the sight of horses hooves above my face ready to smash down and crush me.

Adele is quiet beside me, her screams and cries of fear long faded into silence necessary for our survival. We creep in the opposite direction that Jocelyn took, working our way through the woods and around the walls that surround our home. The times we both played right here at hide and seek aid us in our endeavor to be noiseless and hidden and we reach the edge of the army. We crouch in the bushes.

Directly before us is a group of horses, a man I recognize standing by them. It is Sir Einon. He does not look happy, staring at the men who are watching the fighting at the gate. I stand to get a better look, brushing aside Adele's fingers as she tries to keep me down. The man turns and I freeze. His jaw does not look quite right, and I recall that my brother hit him....

His gaze widens, flicking to the men before striding to us. He motions me down, coming around the bush. "Believe me, I did not want this to happen." He whispers with difficulty. "She specifically told me to flirt with your sister-in-law, to sow doubt in your brother's mind or my sister would die. I did so and left when I was told, thinking my part in her schemes done." His head shakes left and right, eyes pleading with me to understand. "I was wrong. She had Owen rape and kill my sister so I would be...motivated to tell of the defenses set up here."

I look at where the horses are, knowing full well that my own gaze is as pleading as his for another matter entirely. "We need two horses." I whisper back, gripping Adele's hand with my own. "Please. You say you did not want this to happen, so help us!"

After a long, agonizing moment, he nods and leaves the bush. I peer through the foliage. He adjusts his trousers as though returning from natures call and, after ascertaining that none is watching, he leads two steeds to us. I am certain we shall be caught, but am pleasantly surprised when we manage to make it through the woods and a quarter of the way to Merrick's without being followed. I hang on to the horse for dear life.

We must reach Merrick's. He has an army large enough to counter the attack and knowledge enough of our home to be dangerous to the invaders. I pray we reach there in time for his forces to save the household, but will he help? I was so confident months ago that he loved me and wanted me as his wife, yet I am not so certain now. Was I exactly what Etienne said I was? A release? Will Merrick ignore my plea for help?

We shall see.

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It is a strange feeling to kill a man, to know that you have been directly responsible for the death of another. I have no choice though. They are invading my home. Can I be blamed in the hereafter for fighting for my life? No, I do not think God will punish me for that.

I am glad that a part of my studies with Patrice were the bow and arrow. It is the weapon she favors and the one she once used in a previous attack on this house. She thought I had an aptitude for it and I am very glad she was correct. Because of her instruction and the time she drilled the use of it into me, my movements are automatic, seamless. I let arrow after arrow fly, retreating from the catwalk with Richard hurrying me along past those who have already given their lives. Dead, honorable men lying cold and still in the dirt.

There is a loud creak, the gate splintering and a jagged hole appearing in the center. These invaders came well prepared for their attack. They had it planned out where to strike. They give a triumphant yell and, as we hurry into the manor, the wood of the gate groans a final time under the combined opposing pressures of the battering ram and the barricade we had erected and cracks open. Splinters fly out, Richard swinging his cape up to shield me from them as we run. Men spill into the courtyard. I hear the ring of steel crashing together.

Inside the manor, we have a few moments to gather ourselves. I look at my friends and my family. Lydia knows what to do. I have already told her to lead those who wish to leave out through the gate hidden in the back wall. The woods are thick and I realize it is a gamble that they will not be caught. They could well die even before reaching the gate. It all depends on this invader and if he has surrounded the manor.

"This is not your home. Go." I say to Will, Jocelyn, Kate and Wat, but even as I say the words, they are shaking their heads in refusal. The bar on the hall door is giving way. We do not have much time.

"I am a knight." Will replies. "I will not leave while any are in danger."

Kate and Wat second the resolve to stay and Jocelyn remains silent. "You go, Jocelyn. For your baby."

She stares at me, her lips thinning into a thin line before she shakes her head. "No Christiana."

And the door gives. The invaders are in my home and we are swept into the fight. Through my own exertions with my bow, I vaguely see Adele being attacked and Will saving her, Jocelyn throwing anything she can get her hands on at the enemy and Kate and Wat hurling themselves into the thick of battle with enthusiasm, as though they fight for their own home and not mine. Richard is struck, blood on his face and clothes. I hear Will yell and then we are retreating across the room opposite the path Lydia, Adele and Jocelyn are taking. We engage our enemy, attempting to draw them away from those who flee.

I am running low on arrows, exhaustion beginning to claim me. I cannot keep this up forever and there seem to be an endless stream of men coming through the door into the hall. I stumble, turning, confused by the many bodies fighting. Who is friend? Who is foe? How does Etienne keep those two separate in his mind when he is at war? Strong hands catch me, drag me back to my feet and I am drawn to a lean hard body, a knife to my throat.

"Halt!" An arrogant voice calls out. Gradually, the fighting ceases, first with Kate and Richard, Richard calling to Etienne's remaining guards to cease. Will and Wat are the last to stop, Will dropping his sword to the stone floor, a look of such failure on his face that it is painful to see. Wat, disregarding the stillness of the others, charges towards us in a suicide run. He is grabbed, subdued by a heavy blow to his head, his wiry body sagging with a boneless limp quality to the floor.

It is done. We are conquered.