Edwin drew up alongside Arthur, atop the battlements, as they leaned out against the parapet. High above them, the moon illuminated the landscape. So bright was the moon on this particular day that the pair could see as far as the horizon to the south and the rolling hills of the north. Behind them, down in the courtyard, the squires still laughed and feasted; beyond, in the great hall of Sonder keep, what few knights remained standing, despite their drunkenness, made noise enough to be mistaken for an army of a hundred strong.
Horses grazed in the fields before the keep filled their stomachs with dry grass. Arnald, carrying a torch despite the moonlight, patrolled the camp. Under his watch, no would-be thief would opportunistically make off with valuables on this night. Edwin knew the most expensive kit was stored in the keep's armory.
Armory, Edwin scoffed at that; it was no more than a walk-in closet of minuscule size.
Arthur stirred beside him, turning his back to the village, his eyes fell upon the noisy keep. "You know," he began, "My father's keep is no different than this one. Since it was raised, it has remained much the same, small in size and power, just poor." Arthur suddenly turned to Edwin, "I meant no offence." He apologized.
Edwin raised his hand to shush him, "None taken." Edwin reassured, "Sonder keep is exactly how you describe it."
Arthur leaned his back against the crenellations of the wall, and Edwin faced the opposite way.
"Do you dream?" Edwin probed.
Arthur shot him a questioning look, "Do I dream? Odd question."
Edwin straightened himself; he could imagine the future of the land before him, prosperous, wealthy, a land of milk and honey. 'Eleanor', the intrusion on his mind was unwelcome; the duke's daughter was far beyond his reach. "And much older than I," He added.
'I mean, do you dream of the future. What will become of you people and lands when you inherit?" Edwin asked. Eleanor.
Arthur shrugged, "I'm a third son, unless my brothers die, being a lord isn't in my destiny."
Edwin hadn't expected that, "Third son? Yet you find yourself as a page instead of being sent to the priesthood." A saying Stuart had told him came to the fore of his mind, "A heir and a Spare." Custom usually dictated that other sons be sent to the church so they couldn't claim their father's land and threaten the succession.
"My father Otho is a martial man; he disdains the priesthood. Once he told me, "The church is full of pansies and power-hungry cravens too afraid to pick up a weapon." I actually welcomed the Idea of becoming a priest." Arthur smiled as he remembered.
When they heard the scream, Edwin had been talking of his vision for his would-be lands. Edwin spoke of Canals, Roads, and trade. Chance had put the scream right as Edwin caught a breath; it was low and muffled, but they heard it. From the battlement, they saw no one else react to it, each man too inebriated to notice.
Again, the scream sounded out; this time, they were able to locate the location. Two cellar doors held together with rusted hinges opened the way to the basement of the keep. Foodstuffs would have filled the cellar, enough to last a lengthy siege, but now it lay near empty. Nearly all the taxed produce from Sonder village had been prepared for the feast and to feed the fifty-strong retinue of the duke, for however long they had decided to stay. Three distinct rooms separated the cellar; the main room was made of stone and served as a place for preserved foods such as salted pork, smoked fish, and pickled vegetables. To the right, barred by a door, sat the Buttery room, where caskets of wine, ales, or beer were stored. To the left of the central room, also barred by a door, was the fresh room, where vegetables, fruits, meats, and other ingredients requiring a dark, cool room were kept.
Arthur led, armed with a short hunting sword with a broad blade more like a falchion. Unarmed, Edwin followed behind closely. Ears against the door, now they listened to confirm inside was their quarry. Just as they began to question the silence, they heard a bang against the wall. Screaming started up again, but now it was almost completely muffled.
"Just hold still bitch." Came a grunting voice.
Taking no time to respond, Arthur kicked the door with a strength no eleven-year-old should have.
Naked from the waist down, a man stood like a deer in headlights; shock filled his face. Blood covered his face around his mouth from a split in the lip. Bent over in front of him was Theda, dress torn in a dozen places and carrying just as many bruises. She stared at the two newcomers' eyes, pleading for the help her gagged mouth can't scream for.
Arthur was the first to break the silence, "What the fuck are you doing, Hugh?" His words sound more like a rage-filled shout than a question.
"He's a rapist," Edwin didn't need an explanation. Hugh was attempting to commit one of the worst crimes.
Hugh pulled up his pants. "The bitch wanted me," he said, smuggling. Theda, bound with ropes, squirmed in an attempt to get as far away from the duke's son as possible. "Put down the sword, Arthur."
Disbelief filled Edwin. "He's trying to get out of this." Fist clenched, Edwin moved towards Theda.
Hugh blocked Edwin. "Not so fast," he said with a taunting smile Hugh pushed Edwin each time he attempted to move forward. "Are you deaf? I said not so fast. I didn't even get started with her yet." He laughed at Edwin's determination, but he had strength at fifteen that Edwin didn't have at seven.
Arthur was frozen solid, fighting with himself over saving the woman or serving the son of his lord.
Edwin fought to keep himself from lashing out, his mind full of rage, screaming at him to fight the man. "He's the son of the duke." Edwin had to remind himself. Edwin knew that fighting the son of the man he needed to impress was the opposite of what he needed to be doing.
"Don't worry, little Sonder, you can have her when I'm done." Hugh mocked.
Hugh fell to the floor with a thump, a welt already forming on his cheek where Edwin's fist had caught him. Surprised at his own involuntary reaction, he cursed to himself.
Regaining his senses, Edwin rushed over to Theda. The rope that bound her arms was tight, but the knot came undone easily enough. Theda looked at Edwin with relief, "He, he was going to..." Her words turned to sobs, the gag of cloth now on the floor.
Edwin silenced her with a wave, "Go to my mother; she should be in her quarters, she will be able to wake the guests," he commanded.
With a nod, she ran off through the door, her torn dress barely hiding her nakedness.
Edwin turned to Arthur, not sure what to say; the page's inner conflict was clear to see.
Arthur's eyes went wide, "Behind you!" he shouted, too late.
Hugh's fist cracked into the back of Edwin's skull.