Devil's Dominion (40 page)

“Were you part of de Velt’s siege at Four Crosses Castle?” he asked.

De Gault nodded. “I was part of every siege de Velt planned,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

Bretton could see hardness in his eyes, the ruthless stare of a man who had killed and killed again. No remorse to his answer, but no pride, either. It was simply a statement of fact, and Bretton’s rage began to build. He didn’t answer the man’s question, not yet. But he would in time. He wanted this man, this knight of de Velt’s, to know why he was here. He wanted to see his expression when he saw that retribution for all of his past sins had come.

“Did you notice what we are doing to your army?” he asked, pointing off to the destroyed gatehouse. “I am employing the same tactics that you and de Velt used in your conquest.”

The old knight’s gaze moved across the bailey, to the gatehouse, where men were being led to slaughter. He could hear the screams and groans of men as they were impaled.

“I see,” he said after a moment. “I assume you are going to do the same thing to me.”

Bretton’s expression remained impassive. “It would be justice for all of those people you put to the pole back in your day,” he said, “my father included.”

That brought a flicker of a reaction to the old knight. A flash of understanding, of realization, and nothing more. Now, the old knight knew why the enemy had come and things were starting to make some sense.

“Who was your father?” he asked calmly.

Bretton shook his head, feeling increasingly angry and embittered by the conversation. “Just a knight who was protecting his home,” he said. “You killed my father and, as a result, my mother killed herself and my sister. I was the only one who survived but because there was no one to take care of me, as a child, I was sold into a life of unimaginable horror. The only thing that kept me alive was knowing that, someday, I would be able to exact my revenge against de Velt. And here I am, preparing to exact my revenge against you and your family. How does it feel knowing that you will watch as I put your son and his family on poles? I will make you watch them as they squirm and bleed and die. How does it feel, de Gault?”

The old knight’s jaw was ticking slightly, the only indication of his emotion. He knew better than to beg. “I am an old man,” he said. “I have done things I am not proud of and if it is vengeance you seek, then I ask you to punish me. It is I who deserve it. Spare my family, for they have done nothing wrong.”

“My father did nothing wrong, either, but you killed him anyway!” Bretton exploded, yelling so loudly that it ruffled the front of de Gault’s hair. “My father was defending what belonged to him but you and de Velt took it anyway and you killed him for doing his duty. To Hell with you, de Gault. To Hell with you and the others who committed such atrocities against my family because now you are going to know what I suffered. You are going to feel that anguish, too.”

De Gault was a steely old man. He met Bretton’s gaze without emotion, at least outwardly, but the dark eyes were flickering with horror.

“I am sorry for what we did to your father,” he said evenly. “I am sorry for your pain, but it was a byproduct of conquest. If I could take it back, I would, but I beg you to spare my family. Please do not make them pay for my sins.”

Bretton was close to throttling the old man. He really was. How dare he beg for the life of his family when he, in his prime, would hear the pleadings of others to spare their loved ones but would pay no mind to them! Yet, somewhere in that swirling mist of turmoil that was in Bretton’s mind, a ray of light shone forth.
I believe there is some good still left in you
. Allaston’s word echoed in his head. Was it true? Or was he truly all monster, all Devil?

It seemed, to him, as if this was a pivotal moment. When he told Allaston of events at Comen Castle, he wanted to be truthful about it. He didn’t want to lie. Therefore, he needed to show mercy when he truly didn’t want to. But perhaps that was the true sign of a decent man – showing compassion when one was reluctant to. Pondering that very question, he turned to the nearest soldier.

“Keep these two here until I decide what’s to be done with them,” he told the man. “Under no circumstances will you listen to anyone else’s orders on their fate but mine. Is that understood?”

The soldier nodded. “Aye, my lord.”

Bretton had meant Grayton or Dallan, the two commanders who were very eager about putting men on spikes. Bretton didn’t want anything done with those knights, especially de Velt’s original knight, until he’d had a chance to decide their fates personally. Meanwhile, he headed to the kitchen to see to the lady of Comen and her daughters.

As he passed through the kitchen yard, which was twice the size of Cloryn’s kitchen yard and included a big chicken coop that his soldiers were raiding, he headed into the kitchen structure itself. Oddly, the box-shaped kitchen was built from a mixture of rock and wood, with a thatched roof that could easily catch fire. Poking his head inside, he could see a big bread oven and a butcher’s block. But there were no women waiting for him and he was coming to think that he’d been too late in sending Dallan to stave off his men’s lust.

Just as he was emerging from the kitchen, he heard a commotion off to his right and saw Dallan rounding the keep with a woman and thee girls in tow. The girls were weeping hysterically as the mother tried to comfort them, especially the oldest girl, who looked to be around six years of age. The mother was practically carrying her as the girl wept. As they drew closer, Bretton could see that the girl’s gown was badly torn.

Bretton stood there impassively, arms folded across his broad chest as they approached. Silently, he indicated for Dallan to take the women into the kitchen structure. Once the women were inside, Bretton had Dallan and the soldiers vacate the kitchen and take station outside in the kitchen yard until they were needed further. Then, Bretton went into the kitchen were the four women were trying to comfort one another.

It was a distressing scene to watch. The mother was being mostly stoic about the entire thing but it was clear she was quite terrified. Bretton had never given any thought to that kind of fear before but, because of Allaston, he was noticing now. The younger girls were perhaps five and four years of age, respectively, and they were clinging to each other in terror. After several moments of watching the group, Bretton cleared his throat softly.

“You, lady,” he said quietly. “What happened to your daughter?”

He pointed to the eldest girl with the torn dress. The mother, quivering, responded.

“The enemy soldiers did this,” she said. She wasn’t accusing, simply stating a fact. “They took her to sport.”

Bretton eyed the pale young girl with a big bruise on her left cheek. “Did they accomplish their task?” he asked. “Or did they simply beat her?”

The lady sighed heavily. “One of them mostly accomplished the task,” she said, trying not to cry. “But the others were prevented from following suit. It could have been much worse.”

She was trying very hard to be brave, which strangely impressed him. He saw something of Allaston there.

“What of the other two?” he asked. “Are they intact?”

The lady nodded. “They are,” she replied, now getting a better look at him. “Whom may I have the honor of addressing, please?”

Bretton shook his head. “My name is not important,” he replied. “Suffice it to say that I am the new Lord of Comen and you and your daughters are my prisoners. Do you comprehend, madam?”

The woman nodded respectfully. “Indeed I do, my lord,” she replied. “We are your humble servants. May… may I ask a question?”

For a woman whose home had just been overrun and her daughter raped, she was exceptionally brave and level-headed. A measure of respect sprouted for the woman.

“Not until I have finished with my questions,” he said. “You will tell me your name and the names of your children.”

The lady nodded. “I am Lady Amalia de Gault,” she said, then indicated her daughters in order from the eldest to the youngest. “These are my daughters Lucy, Isla, and Aurora.”

Bretton eyed the girls, who were still quite shaken. “No sons?”

Lady Amalia shook her head. “None living, my lord,” she replied. “There was one, but he died in infancy last year.”

Bretton absorbed the information. Strange that he was starting to see these women as living, thinking creatures and not objects. Usually, those he conquered were simply items, possessions to be had. With this foursome, he had names and he had a tragic event in their past. He was feeling emotion whether or not he wanted to.

Please show mercy….

“You had a question to ask me, madam,” he said. “What is it?”

Lady Amalia maintained her composure as she spoke. “I would simply like to inquire as to the condition of my husband,” she asked. “We saw the men taken away and saw… saw what was done to them. I would like to know if my husband was…”

She trailed off, trying to find the right words, and Bretton interrupted her. “Impaled?” he supplied.

The woman was incredibly brave, nodding stoically. “Aye, my lord.”

Bretton shook his head. “Nay, he is not among them,” he replied. “I have your husband and his father held in another location. I have not yet decided their fate.”

For the first time, Lady Amalia showed some emotion. “My lord,” she said. “I understand that we are your prisoners and you may do with us as you will, but I was wondering… I was hoping… might I see my husband one last time? I would consider it a great show of mercy and would be forever grateful, no matter what comes.”

A great show of mercy.

There was that word again. He looked at the family of girls. There was no point in killing them or letting his men have them. He remembered something Allaston had said to him once, that it could have quite easily been her castle he had conquered and then she would have been fodder for his men. Looking at these girls, he could see Allaston among them, terrified and cowering, and he didn’t like that thought one bit.
God’s Bones, what is happening to me? Am I becoming weak in my old age? Is that what emotion does to a man, weaken him? Or does it create bonds so strong that a wife would risk my wrath by asking to see her husband one last time?
He wondered.

“Remain here and do not move,” he told them. “If you do, I will kill you. Is that clear?”

Lady Amalia nodded and Bretton left the structure, ducking underneath the low doorway and emerging into the kitchen yard where Dallan and several soldiers were waiting. He went to Dallan.

“Bring the two knights to me,” he told the man. “Make sure they are both stripped of all weaponry and armaments.”

Dallan nodded, heading off to complete his orders. Meanwhile, Bretton sent the soldiers gathered in the kitchen yard back out to the bailey where all the action was happening. The men left without question, happy to get back to the process of securing the castle and destroying their enemy. When they were gone, Bretton stood in the kitchen yard, alone for several minutes, until Dallan returned with the prisoners.

The old knight’s expression never changed but the younger knight, who wasn’t so much young as he was an adult male who had seen at least twenty-five years, appeared rather anxious. Bretton knew why - if Bretton had a wife and three daughters held captive, he would have been anxious, too. Crooking his finger at the men, he indicated for them to follow him to the kitchen structure. When the three of them reached the doorway leading into the warm, cluttered kitchen, Bretton stood back and indicated for the two knights to enter first. They did, and Bretton could hear the squeals of delight and relief as he entered behind them.

Bretton stood just inside the doorway, watching Lady Amalia hug her husband tightly. The woman’s stoic demeanor had broken down and she was weeping softly, kissing his cheeks, her hands on his face, studying him closely in an expression that was nothing short of adoring.

As Bretton watched, he realized that he wanted to see that in Allaston’s expression when she looked at him, too. He wanted that great, all-encompassing adoration that came with true love, something he’d always believed to be a fool’s dream until now. Watching Lady Amalia and her husband, he wanted what they had. He wanted that fool’s dream, too.

In fact, the entire family was hugging and weeping, and Bretton’s heart began to break, just a little. He remembered having that kind of love with his mother and father, too, a love that kept them safe and comforted no matter what happened in life. Even if Bretton was to kill the two men, or the entire family for that matter, they still would have shared something he himself had only had a fleeting taste of – true and pure love. All men searched for it but only the good, the true and spirited man, ever found it.

But he was not a true and spirited man. He was a man who had let vengeance and hatred eat him from the inside out. He was damaged and broken in many ways, whilst Allaston, who had lived a life of such love as he was seeing before him, was true and pure in many ways. She was, in fact, too good for him and it was only just occurring to him now that he did not deserve a woman such as her. She deserved better than what he was. She deserved that love that all women would be grateful for. At that moment, his heart, which was a closely guarded and fragile thing, shattered into a million pieces because he knew he didn’t deserve what he so badly wanted.