Chapter 10

It was a dance of silence that day. Men, both friend and foe, lay there on that field, adding to the sludge of that vile-begotten ground. We had won the battle, but at what cost?

The grave units had a particularly arduous task—a dreadful order from me, their newly named Lioness. The Islamic forces had already left with my detachment, leaving their dead for us to deal with. Their commander, seemingly honorable, showed a wretched and dishonorable act: abandoning the men that had bled for him.

I treaded with a heavy heart through the mangled bodies, praying to find Sir Donovan, my master-at-arms, still alive among them.

My cousin was still alive and well—a marvel really.

He did lead the charge from the gates into battle. I should ask the men of his gallantry to see if it truly existed on the battlefield.

"Ahhh!! These infidels will rue the day they maimed me!" Sir Donovan screamed out in the distance.

"I will have more of the heathens blood! More, more!" he said.

His hysterical nature, blood boiling with anger—all the while, his left eye was impaled, bleeding, with an arrow protruding from it. It was a wonder he hadn't pass out from such an injury.

"Enough, my good man; it is done. We have won the day."

"What!" he said, dumbfounded. "No! They left! We must seek them out and... and—!"

"They have left because I ordered it so. Calm yourself."

"Fetch the physician! Sir Donovan must get top priority."

"And what of my men?! Look to care for them first, my Liege! I am in shambles and not fit to serve."

"Ahhh!" he screamed out.

"Nonsense. Even with one eye, you are still my father's man—capable and honorable. I would ask more of you."

With his position secured in his thoughts, his bellowing subsided and turned into stern silence as his surviving soldiers hoisted him up and sent him to meet the physician.

What a strong man Sir Donovan was, I thought.

"My Duchess!"

A soldier from one of the grave units called me over, bringing my attention to one of the enemy's mangled bodies. The soldier had pulled off the cloth wrapped around the dead man's head—or, it was customary to call such a thing a turban—and revealed the face of one of the many would-be invaders.

"I have never seen such a man—an African," said the soldier. "I've read of them in books—their skin the color of copper or black like the night sky. And hair coarse, not sleek like those of this region."

These Islamic invaders have the reach of Sub-Saharan African kingdoms, I thought.

I thanked the man for his insight and ordered the rest of the bodies to be burned to ensure no spread of disease or pestilence.

The day carried on—a day of licking wounds and bandages, a day of even more tragedy as word came to me…

Sir David, my dear chancellor, passed away in his sleep from consumption. Another taken by this invisible reaper. Sir David was my father's dear friend, a true friend to the Orwil name. It seemed the more I looked around, the more people that knew my father were dying off. I wondered if I would be next if I wasn't careful.

The day after passed, and we broke camp and headed towards Saraqustah in the early morning. Leaving Sir Donavon there his injuries were too great. On our arrival, the entire settlement met us with open arms. Word of our victory had already reached their ears. The name given to me by my enemy was hot on everyone's lips. They chanted it.

"Lioness! Lioness! Lioness! Lioness!"

It was far too many people to correct, so I did the natural thing and accepted the nickname. I was now the Lioness of Saraqustah—whether I wanted to be or not.

People looked to me as their leader, a truly bewildering feeling. A few months ago, I was merely my father's child, expected to marry to strengthen our forces. Now, I was the de facto ruler. The responsibility was slowly pressing down upon my shoulders with every order I gave.

"It is a hard thing to rule, but it must be done."

The memories of my father's words gave me some solace in the midst of the crushing weight of my position as Duchess. But I had no real time to brood before the celebration. Because just before I could truly understand the gravity of the situation, I was finally home, staring at the Orwil estate. It felt so good to be home. A huge 17,000 ft² estate that now belonged to me. Not my brothers or close family. All of this inherited upon the death of my father. I felt the magnitude of my position truly then. What huge shoes I must fill now.

The entirety of the Orwil service attendants stood outside over 20 of them, bowing on my approach—a rendition I would do with them as a child after my father would come back from many hunting expeditions. It was a customary thing, I suppose…

It took on a different meaning now. I was their savior. Shouldn't they bow to me after all?

A man aging out of middle age, dressed in butler attire—a slender man, bald with a pristinely kept goatee—stood at the front of all the other attendants.

"My Duchess, we give our sincerest apologies for your father's passing," he said, his face staring at the ground as they bowed their heads. "Please, my lady, how can we be of service?"

I paused, gathering myself at their honorable rendition. How lucky I was, I thought. A few days ago, I was nearly defiled by bandits. Now, to be in such decadence… God truly watches over me.

"Have the maids run me a bath. I must be cleaned for tonight's celebration," I commanded.

And there, in the awning just out front of my manor, lay the sigil of the Orwil name—two mountains and a sword in between, with green and blood-red colors making up the background.

"A life for power."

Our family's words gave me pause as I walked into the estate.

The interior of the estate was exactly how I remembered it. My father wasn't the type to make changes ever since my mother passed. The place was kept in an immaculate state, with ornamentation in the colors of my dynasty.

The hours of preparation melted together in a blur, I chose to not eat due to the fact there was going to be food at the celebration tonight. The more concerning matter was my worn bandages. Which my head attendant/physician, Vincent dressed to the best of his ability with clean bandages. The process was a painful one at which I winced at the pain. Soon after the ordeal of tight bandages and being pampered and dressed, I found myself riding in my carriage with my spymaster, Sir Luke, as we headed back into town.

I do believe Ruben speaks truly for our sakes," Sir Luke said as he looked at the bandages on his hand, rubbing the wound ever so gently.

"I hope you've had a physician look at that wound. I would rather you not have to lose the hand. You are far too valuable for me to do without," I said.

"You sound like the physician, my Duchess." He stopped his incessant pestering of his wound and continued his point. "He could have lied, and we could all be dead. I do believe such action should be rewarded."

Sir Luke speaks well of this murderer and slave trader, I thought. If only he knew of his treachery as I did. I paused, then pondered whether or not I should tell him how I truly met the man…

Him and the other one—I think his name was Russ or Roof.

"What other one, my Duchess?" Sir Luke said.

"There was another imprisoned along with Ruben," I said. "Both of them, along with another, ambushed me and Sir Garfield—and murdered him. I was there when they dug his grave somewhere out in the backcountry."

Sir Luke was obviously taken back by this revelation—it was written on his face. "No wonder Sir Garfield never showed." His eyes opened wide. "And the reason you didn't say anything was to ensure the men would stay encamped and fight for us. You are a most capable leader, my Duchess."

"Now I must see to his fate. He has been very useful to our efforts. It would be a shame to execute such a man," I said, brooding as I stared out of the window of the carriage.

"I agree. Since there is more to be learned and, seeing how I didn't take a brutal approach in interrogating him, he views me as a friend. This can be to our advantage," Sir Luke said, clearly intrigued by the current predicament. It was written all over his face.

"See to his release. You will be the one to look over him. Learn what you can and report back to me. Ruben will be your responsibility. And find out whatever happened to the comrade that was imprisoned with him. When you find him, figure out what he knows about Ruben."

"Should he be punished for his transgression to the Garfield name?"

"No," I said solemnly. "To punish him is to admit that Sir Garfield is gone. They did a rather thorough job in dispatching his body. No one will find it. It will be easier to explain away to his family, and I do not need to be looked upon as the reason for his shortcomings."

"Yes, my Duchess…"

"It goes without saying that this must be sworn to secrecy. Tell no one of these events."

"Secrecy is my expertise, my Duchess."

As the carriage trotted on, we finally reached our destination: the town of Saraqustah.

It was a lively town full of commotion, probably due to recent events. On the surface, people were truly overjoyed to be free of the invasion, but there was also something else written on their demeanor. This plague was clearly seen in the alleys and the various wagons full of dead bodies—you would think they picked up all the dead bodies from the battlefield miles away and brought them here.

The melancholy mood had already peaked months ago, I suspected. The people needed distraction, and their lord's celebration would suffice.

The festivities and music filled the soul with levity that day. The town square was full of people right outside the gathering hall.

As I sat around a large table—my council's table, where my father spent his time fighting, feasting, deliberating, and plotting—I was now the centerpiece of these things.

A cupbearer came with a plate, containing somewhat familiar items known to me since birth.

"There is a shortage of food, my Lady," one of my attendants said. "The hunting men were caught up in the battle. The problem should be solved by next week, but for now, all we have is hog and chicken."

"That will have to be enough," I said, gesturing her to leave.

Finally, out of the crowd came a truly familiar face.

"Justine, you absolute mongrel—I mean, my lioness," she said sarcastically as she burst through the crowd of celebrating bystanders.

She quickly paced up to me and gave me a hug. I nearly didn't have time to meet her on my feet.

"Christina!" I said her name with relief.

"My God, look at you, Justine. Who would've thought you would be your father's heir? Oh, I remember it like yesterday—us playing in that corner right over there, hearing our fathers plot and scheme while we stole cakes from the kitchen and tried to light Sir Donaven's cloak on fire."

She laughed, and I must say, I laughed for a few seconds. Then, remembering my last interaction with him, my expression soured.

"What's wrong, Jus?"

My eyes filled with water. "Christina, your father… he's dead."

She quickly released me and turned, hiding her expression. "I—I know. I told him that if he left, he would probably die. He didn't listen. Sir Luke paid me a visit a few hours earlier to give me the news."

"Justine, what will happen to us now? Our fathers are dead, both our mothers are dead… At least Ron is still alive, right?" I said, reaching out and placing my hand on her back.

"Ron left soon after you did. He went adventuring up north. No one has seen or heard from him since. I've been here all alone. Olga ended up dying a couple of months ago. She was buried towards the end of spring."

"Olga, our dear friend… I must pray for her when I return to the estate."

"We must stick together now, Justine—now more than ever," Christina said as she reached for my hand and faced me with the most solemn demeanor written on her face, clearly holding back her tears.

"Of course. If you like, you can stay with me for as long as you need.."

"Thank you," she said, hugging me again. "What are best friends for, if not for these moments? Stick by me, and I'll stick by you."

"The friends have finally united, I see." I rolled my eyes as Raymon finally appeared. He was dressed in green and red—a true Orwile attire.

"Do you like that we match?"

I said nothing; I just gave him an annoyed expression.

"You look quite dashing, if I do say so myself—dashing and posh." Christina said, breaking the silence. Raymon disregarded the compliment and trained his attention on me. 

"I thought you would have returned to the barony of Barcelona. After all, it was your small detachment that took the invaders to the coast."

"They are capable without me. After all, I do have some words I must speak to you about."

I rolled my eyes in frustration, then righted myself in front of him. Brushing him off now would be an insult. He was the son of a powerful vassal connected to my duchy, I could not deny him my ear.

"Apologies, the day has been quite long. Maybe we can speak?"

"It is urgent, my Duchess," Raymon said in a tone of respect, as he took a bow.

A tense quiet reached over us in that moment.

"Justine, please." he said.

"All right, I will not have you beg for my ear. Christina, we will catch up later. Have my attendants know that you ride with me back to the estate and eat with me tonight."

"Of course, my Duchess," she said, playfully curtsying before going to take her seat at the round table.

"We can speak on the balcony upstairs," I said.

"Perfect," he replied.

He followed me to the balcony in silence, leaving the festivities and music below. I was the first to step onto the balcony. It truly was a crescent moon, the air brisk. Fall was just around the corner, and the weather reflected that. A quiet reached over both of us at that moment.

I looked at Raymond then—his expression was solemn and nervous. I noticed Raymond was hiding something behind his back. Elegantly, he revealed two cups full of red wine and gestured for me to take one. I did. We both took sips and looked at each other then.

"What is this about, Raymond?"

He broke eye contact with me and stared out into the moon. I did the same.

"You remember that day you dropped that whole can of milk on my head from way up here, back when I was Duke Afentis's squire?"

I smirked and said, "How could I forget? You and my brother thought yourselves knights already. Someone had to bring you down a peg or two. Surely this isn't about that."

"In that moment, I really thought you hated me," he confessed. "I thought you hated me all the way up until this very moment, actually."

"I do not hate you, Raymond. After all, you are my only cousin. You're just… overbearing at times."

"Overbearing is a really nice way of putting it." He cracked a smile at the side of his face, turning to look me in the eyes. "Justine, I know we didn't always see eye to eye over the years, but I want you to know I'm proud of you. You did a spectacular job leading us on the battlefield. And I did my best to honor our house."

"What are you getting at, Raymond?" I asked inquisitively. Oddly enough, I could feel my body tense up. I thought to myself then—was he about to make me a confidant?

Raymond took both my hands and looked me straight in the eyes.

"Justine," he said as he got on one knee.

"Will you marry me?"