"Little Bastard!" Hugh screamed at Edwin. He screamed again as he kicked Edwins' downed form on the floor.
Pain flared across Edwin's body as the hardened boot on Hughes's feet impacted into his stomach. Ribs cracked from repeated impacts, and blood flowed freely from Edwin's bitten tongue. More kicks smack his legs and back as Edwin curled into a ball to protect his organs.
"Stop! Hugh, stop!" Arthur pleaded to no avail.
"Shut it, if your father hadn't managed to stick his little prick into my aunt, you would still just be some bastard child." Hugh's words stung deep.
Edwin, taking advantage of Hugh's momentary distraction, picked himself off the ground. Immediate pain tore into his body, "Something is broken," Edwin winced as he tried to put pressure on his leg. He ignored the throbbing agony of his leg and discomfort in his stomach; anger was his painkiller.
Edwin's fist hammered into the half-turned chin of Hugh. Relentlessly, Edwin hammered into Hugh, not letting up. Bones broke in Hughes ' face as he fell to the floor, helpless against Edwin's assault. Useless arms scratched at Edwin's legs as his knees pinned the man at the shoulders. Hughes' face was crimson and wet, his teeth cut gashes into Edwin's knuckles from uncoordinated strikes.
Beneath Edwin, the once handsome face of the duke's son turned into a ruin. Ragged cries of pain died in Hugh's throat as his body went limp. Edwin's fingers grew stiff as his muscles burned from exertion.
A hand ripped him off the ruined mess that was once the duke's son. Reflexively, he twisted around and caught Arthur on the eye with a tired punch.
"Edwin, stop." Arthur clutched his eye; the punch was weak, but he would still develop a black eye. "Look at him, you'll kill him," Arthur's warning dragged Edwin out of his rage. He looked down at the remains of a man, "No, Monster," Edwin corrected. What remained of the monster was a pile of ruined bone and tissue; a tooth was missing, and a perfect nose now sat crooked and broken. "He will never look the same." Edwin smiled at the thought.
Exhausted from the combat, Edwin fell to his knees to catch his ragged breath. Arthur sat beside him, sword across his lap, staring at Hugh where he lay.
"A bastard, huh?" Edwin asked.
Arthur looked away in shame, "My dad lay with my mother, nine months later, I was born out of wedlock. Lord Talbot took me in after my mom, his sister, died." He looked back at Edwin, his eyes failing to meet Edwin's. "I'm sorry I didn't aid you."
"Well, I would say you owe me, after this; however, I don't think I'll be alive long enough to collect the debt," Edwin spoke half-seriously, half-jokingly.
Arthur stood, aiding Edwin to his feet, "Well, if it's any consolation, Lord Talbot is a good man, I don't think he'll kill you." He paused as he steadied Edwin, "Torture, that he might just do."
Despite Arthur's attempt at humor, Edwin found it hard to laugh.
Arnald was the first to come across the scene in the cellars. "Holy!" He shrieked, "You did this?" Arnald looked at Edwin, unsure how a seven-year-old could manage. "Rich prick deserved it. Here, let me take a look at you." Arnald examined the already purple-blue bruises that covered Edwin. He did not attempt to do the same to Hugh's limp form.
"Broken, alright," Arnald confirmed as he pressed a finger into Edwin's ribs. Edwin glared at Arnald over the unnecessary and painful touch. "He did you in good, but you'll be alright with some rest."
Edwin drank water from a skin, careful not to move too much, lest he bring back the pain. He was handling it well. Constant bruising from combat training with his father had gotten him used to pain. Still, he had never been injured to this extent before.
"Where is he! Where is my son!" Lord Talbot burst into the cellars, "Hurry, woman, where is he?"
The dark black eyes of lord Talbot fell upon Edwin, who sat atop a table reserved for foodstuffs. Intensely, Talbot stared at the battered body of Edwin, his thoughts known only to him.
"Urghhh." Besides Edwin, through the door into the next room, Hugh groaned, his pulped jaw failing to form coherent words.
Talbot rushed into the room. He paused; eyes locked onto Hugh's crawling form. Unsteadily, he backed into the main room, looking for confirmation that it truly was his son in there. Edwin nodded, confirming the terror on the lord's face. Theda, clad in the same torn clothes, face full of dried tears, gave Arnald a big hug. She went to hug Edwin but reconsidered after seeing the purple bruising on his ribs in his shirtless form.
With a racket, a handful of knights filled the rooms, each bearing the stench of a night's overindulgence of alcohol. The Burnt face of Old Sam looked good compared to Hugh's.
Robert pushed through the group and ran to Edwin. Fear was not a common sight seen on Robert's face, but as he looked between Edwin and Hugh, he wore it now.
"Speak, what happened?" Talbot's words were directed at Arthur, "Speak, damn you."
Arthur looked as if he soiled himself at the attention. "It wasn't Edwin's fault," Arthur found his words getting tangled on his tongue.
John Talbot took a deep breath to calm himself, "I'm sorry, I let my anger cloud me." His temper in check, he started again, "Arthur, start from the beginning, don't leave out anything."
Arthur started from the battlement. He recounted the screams that alerted them, searching the cellar, and finding Hugh attempting to rape Theda. When he explained the fight between Edwin and Hugh, he hung his head in shame at having been frozen.
John silently processed the information, eyes flicking between Edwin and Theda to confirm the story.
"Robert," with the recounting finished, he turned towards Robert, "I owe you an apology on behalf of my son."
The duke didn't wait for a reply, "Get this waste of seed out of here." Two knights grabbed Hugh roughly; he groaned in pain as they dragged him out. "Edwin, why did you attack my son?"
Edwin was startled by the question. The answer was a hard one; Edwin had both good and bad reasons. Robert rested his hand on Edwin's shoulder, reassuring him. The tone in John's voice did not fail to catch his attention. It was not accusatory or angry; he was not seeking to punish. Edwin realized, "He's judging my response." The notion surprised him.
Edwin gulped as he decided his answer, "He was attempting to rape an innocent woman, a crime of both legal and moral offence." He decided not to leave out any part of his reasoning, "Still, I was trying to avoid fighting him. He is older than me, I should not be better than to engage in a fight I'm unsure I can win. But neither was I willing to stand by and allow him to commit such a despicable act against someone. He offered to let me go after; I didn't realize I hit him when I did." If Edwin's answer was sufficient for John Talbot, he didn't show it.
John turned and walked towards the stairs. Before he ascended, he paused, "Robert, see to your son's wounds,'" To Edwin now, "Child, the road to Blychester will be hard on you, rest well."