Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court (12 page)

She spoke her last words as the air escaped her lungs. “I love you, Anya.”

“I love you, Mommy…I love you!” Anya said over and over through a flood of tears.

Bentley's vision blurred, and his heart broke in two as he watched the cruel sickle of death separate mother from daughter. Eirwyn tried to comfort Anya as she leaned upon her mother's chest. Anya finally turned to Eirwyn and collapsed into her embrace, and their tears mixed together in a pool of deep sorrow.

Bentley put a gentle hand on Anya's shoulder. She looked up and wiped her eyes. “What will happen to me now?”

Bentley looked at Eirwyn, and he could tell by her expression that she had no answer to give the girl. Neither did he.

Just then the door creaked open and Walsch entered. He motioned for Bentley to come to the door. “I spotted Kingsley's guards coming up the way,” he said quietly.

Bentley looked at Eirwyn as she tried to comfort Anya.

“I'll see to it. Stay with them for a moment, will you, Walsch?” He motioned toward the bed with his eyes.

Walsch nodded.

As Bentley exited the cottage, he grabbed Hatty's staff, which was leaning against the door frame. Outside, he spotted two guards taking food from Eirwyn's cart. Parson stood off to the side, glaring at the men but not restricting their raid.

The guards’ laughter ignited a flame of wrath within Bentley, and he walked briskly toward them. “Leave that food alone!” he shouted.

The two men ignored him. Parson looked at Bentley and shook his head as each guard threw a half-eaten piece of fruit on the ground and grabbed another.

Just as Bentley reached them, Eirwyn called to him from behind, “Leave 'em be, Bentley.”

Bentley glared at the men, whose pompous laughter had turned to scorn. “Back away, peasant!” one of them said, moving his hand to his sword.

Eirwyn reached Bentley's side.

“You again!” one of the guards said angrily. “Go tell Sir Avarick,” the guard said to his companion, who rode off in a hurry toward the castle. “You cannot sell your wares without paying the tax.”

“She doesn't sell these goods,” Bentley said, “so there is no tax.”

The man scowled. “Everything produced in Holbrook is taxed.”

“These were not produced in Holbrook,” Bentley retorted, “so there is no tax.”

“Quiet, knave!” The guard drew his sword.

“Come, Bentley,” Eirwyn pleaded and pulled on his arm. “Leave the cart. Let's go.”

“You're not going anywhere!” The guard moved toward Eirwyn. “Sir Avarick will want reparations for your past infractions.”

Bentley shook his arm loose from Eirwyn and stepped forward, holding the staff in a sparring position as a barricade between the guard and Eirwyn. Parson moved forward too, but Eirwyn held up her hand to stop him, and he held his place.

“You will not touch her!” Bentley said. He heard the door of the cottage open behind him, but Walsch didn't speak a word. Bentley stole a quick glance in that direction and saw Anya in Walsch's arms, then turned his attention back to the guard.

The guard looked at Bentley, and his eyes narrowed with anger. He
drew back his sword and made a powerful crosscut that was intended to slice Bentley clean through. Eirwyn gasped and Anya screamed.

Bentley ducked, but it was not enough. He used one end of the staff to engage the sword and deflect it over his head. Once the sword was clear, Bentley swung the staff around and struck the guard on the shoulder with it. He then advanced before the guard could recover and jammed the end of his staff into his opponents abdomen.

The guard grunted and nearly lost his sword as he recoiled from the attack. Doubled over from the blow, he looked up at Bentley incredulously. He yelled and put both hands to his sword, bringing an onslaught of cuts and slices.

Bentley now handled his staff like a sword, being careful not to let the leading edge of the guard's sword directly contact the wooden staff He skillfully deflected most of the blows with the staff and dodged those he could not.

Walsch and Eirwyn stood mesmerized by Bentley's skill and ability to stay alive in spite of his extreme disadvantage. At one point, the guard thrust with his sword. Bentley parried it and then quickly countered with a blow to the guard's head using the end of the staff. The guard cried out and fell, clutching his head, just as Sir Avarick arrived with a contingent of five mounted knights.

They dismounted with swords drawn. Three surrounded Bentley while the two remaining knights pointed their swords at Parson. Bentley stood panting, his eyes lowered. He had allowed his anger and frustration to overcome him, and now he knew he was going to pay for it with this life.

“You impetuous fool!” Avarick, still sitting atop his mount, spoke with hatred in his eyes. “No one questions my authority, peasant. Kill him!”

“No!” Eirwyn screamed, but it was not a plea—it sounded like an order. Walsch grabbed her arm, but she loosed herself and came closer to the wagon.

“Back off, you filthy wench!” said one of the knights and raised his sword to strike her. Parson raised his hands, and the knights near him readied to strike.

“Hold!” Avarick commanded and broke his glare from Bentley to look at Eirwyn. He dismounted and slowly walked toward her. For a brief moment the kingdom seemed to pause, waiting impatiently for the outcome of this dire situation.

Avarick's dark eyes glared as harshly at her as they did at Bentley. He pushed the knight aside as he came and stood inches away from her, staring into her eyes. Much to everyone's surprise, Eirwyn did not cower or back down. It was a moment of defiance, and Bentley was sure she too would be killed for it.

“Leave her be,” Bentley said. “It is I you have come for.”

Without taking his gaze from Eirwyn, Avarick pointed to Bentley, and one of the knights behind him struck him with the pommel of his sword. The powerful blow sent Bentley to the ground. Blood spilled from the gash beneath his hair.

Avarick walked partway around Eirwyn, squinting as if inspecting one of his knights. He leaned over close to her face and sniffed, then crinkled his nose in disgust. With his left hand he grabbed her chin and turned her head once to the left and to the right. Eirwyn actually reached for his hand and pushed it from her face, glaring into his eyes. She then spoke to Avarick in a very stern but quiet tone so that no one but he could hear her words.

Avarick's anger was evident, but he also seemed to be working hard to control it. Much to Bentley's surprise, Avarick clenched his teeth, turned about, and mounted his horse. He looked sternly down at Eirwyn.

“You are banished from this land for ever,” he said loudly. “Should I ever find you within the borders of Lord Kingsley's land again, I will personally make sure that you regret it! Leave now!”

Eirwyn still did not cower but glowered back at him. She crossed over to her wagon and got in her seat. Parson followed her.

“What of him?” One of the knights pointed to Bentley with his sword. By now Bentley had regained his feet and looked toward Eirwyn, amazed not only that she was still alive, but that Avarick was letting her go with only a warning.

Avarick hesitated. He looked at Eirwyn and then back at Bentley. “Take him to the castle and put him in the stocks.”

Eirwyn looked toward Anya, who was in Walsch's arms, quietly wiping her tears. “Find her a home, Walsch,” Bentley called out as the knights brusquely pushed him down the road leading to the castle.

He walked down the lane to the castle as a prisoner and wondered what Eirwyn could have possibly said to keep Avarick from executing him on the spot. He fully expected that once Eirwyn was out of sight, Avarick would immediately pierce him through with his sword. He was quite certain that, at the very least, he would not survive until the next day.

THE LORD OF
HOLBROOK COURT

The walls of Holbrook Castle were not massive, but the castle itself certainly was. It was also incredibly beautiful and opulent—filled with green courtyards, fountains, gardens, and elaborate buildings constructed from the finest timbers and marble the kingdom had to offer. In the center of the castle grounds, where the keep of a castle should be, stood a beautifully decorated manor with wide stone steps and eight marble columns standing guard at the entrance. Brilliantly colored flags fluttered atop the manor and other various towers. The wealth of Lord Kingsley was beyond anything Bentley had seen in Chessington.

Bentley was taken through another set of decorative iron gates and into a side courtyard that was set apart from the rest of the castle grounds. In the center of this courtyard stood two rough, sturdy sets of stocks and another building that Bentley assumed housed other prisoners in cells.

The guards forced Bentley's hands and head into one of the stocks and fastened the lock. In a matter of weeks, he'd gone from knight to peasant to prisoner.

Bentley now began to wonder if his quest to follow the Prince and understand His ways would now also end with a noose.

The guards left him there alone in the middle of the courtyard, his head and hands securely fastened in the heavy wooden stocks. From his bent-over position, he could still see into the main courtyard and observe most of the goings-on of Holbrook Court. But no one spoke to him again before nightfall.

After many hours in the stocks, Bentley became extremely hungry and thirsty. He could not help dreaming about the comforts of his home in Chessington. How much easier life would have been if he'd simply stayed where he was. Would it have been so wrong to take over his father's business and marry the beautiful and wealthy Lady Merivale as his mother had wished?

For a moment he imagined himself living that life and then came to the purpose of the Noble Knights. He smiled within himself and remembered the voice that had called him from that life. The voice that had whispered,
“I am the truth… Follow Me!”

“Well, I followed, my Prince,” he said aloud. “But where are You leading me?”

The cool night brought a measure of relief from the heat of the day but only for a short time. Bentley could not remember ever being so miserable in all his life. There was no place to rest his head, and all his muscles ached. When he did fall asleep for a moment or two, he awoke with a splitting headache and a cramping pain in his neck.

Bentley thought often of little Anya and wondered how Walsch would care for her. He thought of Creighton and Anwen and the girls and hoped his arrest had not brought them trouble. He wondered if Sir Demus would hear of his plight… or if he would ever see his parents again.

It was a long night. By morning Bentley was ready for the warmth of the sun and the courtyard activities to help keep his mind from his hunger, pain, and misery.

By midmorning, one of the castle guards came and offered Bentley a ladle full of tepid water to drink. Much of it spilled on the ground, however, for the guard was not careful in how he gave it to him.

Just before noon, Bentley spotted Lord Kingsley with his son, Braith, and an entourage of staff and nobility strolling through the courtyard with Sir Avarick. After inspecting various aspects of the court and giving orders to his staff, Kingsley made his way to the prison yard.