The
Elven Chronicles
Episode
Three
The
Fugitive Bride
Chapter
4
Murder
The sound of the rain on
the tent added to Honoria’s despair.
Everything had happened as Duke Indgar had willed
it. For three days he had beaten,
tortured, and raped her in the privacy of their tower
room. At the end of it she was
the obedient and submissive wife he demanded; or at least she forced herself
to be. They had ridden out of
the castle with the King and Queen seeing her off, her bruised face disguised
under makeup and her battered body covered under a proper
dress. The fact that it had been
raining had helped as she was able to hide her features beneath the hood
of her cape.
The Duke had succeeded in
training her all too well. She
was completely cowed and hardly needed the Duke’s forbidding presence
to act as if she was the dutiful bride accompanying her husband
home. “She is a bit
tired,” the Duke said, explained her subdued
demeanour. “She and I have
been rather ‘busy’ the last three
days. But I have no doubt she
will recover on our ride to Magdoran.”
Her parents had smiled knowingly
at the comment as had many members of the
court. And then she and the Duke,
accompanied by his entourage, had ridden through the castle gates, sealing
her fate forever.
Perhaps convinced that she
was truly broken, the Duke had not continued the routine of torture and beatings,
but he had continued what he referred to as their
“lovemaking.” Rape
was a much better description of the nightly event, but at least it only
occurred once a day after they had made camp, eaten, and then retired to
the Duke’s pavilion.
It gave Honoria a chance
to heal physically. However,
it did nothing to improve the shattered state of her
mind. She was completely subservient
to the Duke, but he had left her with one very important emotion -
hatred. She burned with hate
both day and night, and especially when he took her to his bed each
evening. However, there was nothing
she could do about it. She was
completely at his mercy both day and night and surrounded by an escort of
more than a hundred armed men. And
even if she did manage to get away where would she
go? She doubted that returning
to her parents would save her. The
Duke would demand her return and it would be a matter of her word against
his. She would simply be considered
a hysterical young woman attempting to escape a marriage to man much older
than she was.
It had been a grim
ride. Broken in spirit, Honoria
had ridden beside the Duke through six days of pouring
rain. The downpour had reduced
the roads to an almost impassable morass, slowing their progress to only
a few miles a day. They set up
camp each day in wooded areas dripping with rain and with so little dry firewood
that they had only uncooked food such as bread and cheese to eat, and after
a few days even that was stale and
mouldy.
It left Honoria in a severe
state of depression, a situation made even worse by the Duke’s foul
mood, and each night she dreaded the round of forced
lovemaking. Tonight, some matter
had taken him to another part of camp.
The reprieve was almost worse than his
presence. The longer it went
on the more apprehensive she became.
Finally, she could stand it no longer and she peeped out the tent
flap.
There was no one
there. A sudden feeling of excitement
came over her. Where were the
guards? The Duke never left her
alone. She stepped out of the
tent. Over on the far side she
could hear the Duke’s voice raised in
anger. “Stupid
bastards. Who was responsible
for packing the wagons? How could
all of the food be ruined? Well,
there will be no rations tonight.
Tomorrow we will have to proceed with empty
bellies. It is fortunate that
there is a town just four miles away.”
Honoria ducked back as the
Duke stomped toward the tent. She
waited almost trembling in fear. In
the mood the Duke was in she expected the worst sort of
treatment.
She was not
wrong. “Why are you looking
at me like that, you proud whore? I
can see I should have disciplined you more
thoroughly. Well, it is not yet
too late.”
Without warning, he struck
her, but Honoria had expected it and just before his hand made contact she
pulled away from the blow, lessening its
impact. “Bitch,” he
raged. “I’ll teach
you not to duck.” Grabbing
her arm he slammed her on to the sturdy camp bed and climbed on top of
her. Straddling her he pulled
out his knife.
Honoria tried to scream,
but the Duke covered her mouth.
Except for the pliers and his belt he had never threatened her with
anything other than his hands, but now she feared the
worst.
“Mmmmpph!”
she protested as he held the point of the dagger to her left
eye.
“Lie still, you slut,
or you’ll never see again.”
Honoria obeyed and lay helpless as the Duke cut through the laces
of her bodice, exposing her breasts.
“Now,” he said, “where should I
start? Should I take off a nipple
or just put my mark on your teats?”
“Mmpphh!”
Honoria
protested again. She was beside
herself with terror, imagining the pain of the knife incising her soft
flesh. At the very least she
would be scarred for life and perhaps maimed
irreparably. Driven by fear and
without thinking she did something she had never tried
before.
“Ugnnh!” the Duke cried, as Honoria’s
knee came up between his legs. She
had struck with all of her strength and the pain was so great that the Duke
dropped the knife and rolled off her body, clutching at his
groin.
“You little bitch,”
he grunted between clenched teeth.
Amazingly he managed to get to his
feet. “I’ll kill you
for that.” Lunging toward
her he seized her by the throat, his thumbs digging into her
windpipe.
“Aaacch!”
Honoria squawked like a duck as her
breath was caught off. She
couldn’t breathe, her face turning purple as she fought to escape the
Duke’s grip. She struck
at him with her hands, but his grasp was
unbreakable. Slowly she
weakened. Black spots danced
before her eyes. Her hands fell
to her sides and her fingers closed over the haft of the Duke’s
knife. Without thinking she turned
the blade toward her and struck. It
was not a strong blow, but her father had taught her where to
strike. The blade entered the
Duke’s body just under his rib cage and to the right of his
sternum.
“Unnnnhhh!” With a strangled cry the Duke
went limp and toppled to one side.
It was at that moment that one of the serving girls entered the
tent. Honoria managed to get
to her knees, the bloody blade in her
hand.
“Eeeeeee!”
The girl’s scream startled Honoria out of her semiconscious
state. Still gasping for air,
she realized that she had just killed her husband and that the act had been
witnessed in a way most unfavourable to
her. She
panicked. She was in the camp
of the enemy; surrounded by men who owed their loyalty to the man she had
killed. She had little doubt
that that they would seek revenge first and listen to her
second. Escape was the only way
out. Turning, she ran to the
back of the pavilion and used the knife to slit the canvas and then ducked
out into the rain-filled night.
She ran without thinking,
simply heading as far away from the camp as she
could. The rain helped
her. Within a dozen steps she
was hidden from view and then she was into the cover of the surrounding
forest.
Branches caught at her clothing,
ripping her fine gown. In her
haste she had forgotten to take her cape, although she still held the knife
in her hand. Still in a state
of panic she stumbled through the wet darkness, stumbling over roots and
slamming into tree trunks, until finally she collapsed from exhaustion at
the foot of a giant oak and huddled among its buttress roots, soaked to the
skin and filled with horror at what she had
done. In this state she fell
into a sleep that resembled a trance more than anything
else.
The chirping of birds awoke
her. Bewildered she looked about
her. She was surrounded by trees
and had absolutely no idea where she was in relation to the camp she had
fled during the night. Shivering
with the damp and the cold she got painfully to her
feet. Her body ached and the
growling of her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten for almost a
full day. In addition she was
marked by bruises gained during her frantic flight and her throat hurt where
the Duke’s fingers had tried to crush her
windpipe.
Where was
she? Everything looked the
same. The only cheerful aspect
of her existence was the fact that it had stopped raining and the sun now
shone from a clear sky. For a
half hour she stood in a clearing letting it partially dry her clothes and
then she pushed on.
She had no idea where she
was going, but she reasoned that if she kept on in a straight line she would
come to something recognizable.
Using the sun as her guide she tried to keep pushing north, believing
that it might take her back to the main
road. However, her plan was
frustrated by the thickness of the
forest. She constantly had to
detour around thick stands of trees and patches of wild blackberry
bushes. These helped her a
bit. Despite the fact that it
was late in the season a there were still few berries, although they were
somewhat shrivelled. However,
she ate as many as she could find before pushing
on.
A few hours later she realized
that she was hopelessly lost. The
revelation occurred when she came to a patch of blackberry
bushes. It was only when she
began to search for berries that she realized they were the same bushes she
had plundered earlier. She must
have walked in a complete circle.
Almost ready to weep in frustration she sat down on a large fallen
tree. It was at that point she
heard a sound that startled her out of her depression.
It was the sound of someone
moving through the forest and headed almost directly toward
her. Quickly she got to her feet,
looking for a place to hide. But
she was too late. Several ragged
men stepped out of the bush.
Although poorly clad they were all armed and the way they looked at
her sent chills down her spine.
“Well,” said the
tallest of them, “what do we have
here?” He paused and looked
her over like a farmer inspecting a prize
bull. He licked his
lips. “I think we’ve
found us something to keep us entertained for quite
awhile.”
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