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Teddy parried the blow coming towards him and with a well-placed kick he pushed the attacker off him. The man’s head hit the wall behind him hard and Teddy used his brief distraction to his own advantage; he charged forward and ran the assailant through with a savage thrust. The attacker made a choked scream as Teddy pulled back and the sword left his guts with a wet smack. The man tumbled down onto the floor, blood pouring from the wound. He was dead or was soon going to be.
Teddy leaned heavily against the wall and spat a gob of spit, mixed with blood, on the floor where it joined with the widening pool of crimson gore.
“Fuck.” Teddy muttered, removed his helmet and wiped some of the sweat off his brow and from around his mouth. A little bit of blood stained the leather palm of his gauntlet; the attacker's first surprise blow had made a small scrape on his scalp somewhere amongst his blond hair. Good thing that the helmet had withstood the blow. And more importantly; he had put on the thing on the first place.
There was still blood in his mouth; apparently he had also bit his tongue when the blow landed, if the coppery taste in his mouth was any indication. Luckily the tongue was still there and he hadn’t bitten it off; that would have been just humiliating.
But it could have been worse, much worse in fact; if he had not heard the man’s helmet clinking against the wall and thus been able to partly block the first hit, it would have been him on the flagstone floor bleeding to death. Teddy was glad that he had foregone the idea of putting on his plated armour. Yes, it would have given him more protection, but it would have made more noise than the surcoat covered mail he was wearing. Not much, but enough to make sure that the hidden assailant would have gone unnoticed. He placed his dented helmet onto a nearby windowsill; it really only blocked his sight indoors. Though, to be fair, it had helped to keep his brain where it belonged to.
Teddy wiped his gauntlet on his bloodied and dirty surcoat and continued down the corridor, trying to wish away the smell of blood and shit; he must have punctured the dead man’s bowels. Poor bastard, but that was war. War was neither chivalrous nor gallant and Teddy was glad that this would be the final battle in this blasted war.
As he crept down the corridor he stopped and tried to listen whether or not the fighting continued. He had no idea how the storming of the keep had proceeded, he had not seen any of his men for a half an hour or so. But they had had the upper hand when Teddy had stormed the keep after the bailey had been partly secured. And though he was alone, he was reasonably confident that things were not going to go sideways.
He stood still and listened for any hint of the state of the battle; there was a sound of approaching footsteps and Teddy raised his sword in anticipation. The approaching person was hidden by a curve in the corridor and because Teddy wasn’t going to go back, he simply squared his shoulders and prepared to face the possible attacker.
The footsteps got closer and Teddy’s fingers tightened their hold around the grip of his sword and he shifted his weight so as to have the best possible stance for fighting.
Teddy’s posture however relaxed when he recognised the man coming around the curve; a friend, not a foe.
“George.” Teddy sighed happily. “Good to see you.”
“Your Majesty.” He bowed his head, but then his brow furrowed. “You’re hurt, should we send for healer?”
“No.” Teddy shook his head. “It is only a scratch.”
George’s brow furrowed even more. “Where are your guards, I distinctly remember you leaving with a small retinue of knights when you stormed the keep.”
“I sent them to help to deal with the western side of the bailey.”
“And then you entered the keep without assistance. Unsecured keep, if I might add, sire.”
“Royal prerogative.” Teddy shrugged.
“Indeed, sire. You’ve never been afraid to put your royal self into danger, always running into the fray, heedless of consequences.” George replied with an unamused huff. “But, to more important matters. The castle is ours; the outer and inner baileys are secure as is the keep and the gatehouses. The rebels surrendered a moment ago and the royal standard flies on the mast.”
Teddy closed his eyes and sighed wearily but with immense gratitude. The war was finally over, well, nearly over.
“Excellent. Is there any news of Lord Norris?”
“I’m sorry, sire. There is none.” George shook his head.
“Dammit!” Teddy cursed and hit the wall with his gauntlet covered fist.
It still hurt.
“We believe he escaped during the battle, or even before it; most likely in a hurry as our advance was quicker than he, or we, had expected it to be.”
“Before or during, it doesn’t matter. I wanted that treasonous bastard be brought to justice.” Teddy growled. “He should pay for all of the bloodshed he caused. The way in which he sacked Birdenbergh it was…”
“It was barbaric, sire.”
Teddy just nodded grimly.
“There was a large stable in the outer bailey, wasn’t there?” Teddy asked and rubbed his face.
“Indeed there was.”
“Put those who surrendered there for the time being, we’ll sort that mess out later.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“And George,” Teddy glanced at his adjutant. “Any kind of cruel or retaliatory measures towards the rebels are expressly forbidden. I won’t have any of our soldiers descending to the level of Lord Norris and his ilk. Many of those who fought for Norris were forced to do so out of fear, or did it because of lies.”
“Of course, sire.”
“Tell the men that I’ll hang them by their balls if they break my will.” Teddy stated gruffly.
George just nodded with a bemused smile and then continued in a more serious tone. “I just came down from upper levels; I believe we found Lord Norris’ rooms.”
“Show me.” Teddy ordered and his posture straightened immediately.
George turned on his heels and led the way. As they passed one of their knights George relayed the orders to him, and after a quick bow to Teddy the knight left to carry out his orders. As they ascended the stairs both men kept their swords unsheathed; you never knew where a lone enemy soldier might have been hiding and waiting.
When they reached the right floor they came across few men from Teddy’s troops and he ordered them to follow. As they reached a thick, polished door, Teddy told the foot soldiers to stay on guard outside and the young King and his adjutant entered.
The first room, some sort of an anteroom, was a mess and it looked ransacked. Whether it had been looted by his men or even by Lord Norris’ Teddy didn’t know nor particularly cared and they moved on to the inner, main room. It was a spacious and opulent room, or it was opulent when compared to the rest of the foreboding castle. Tapestries covered the walls and a large canopy bed dominated the general view, other smaller pieces of upturned furniture filled the remaining space. The room however could have been full of gold and still the only thing Teddy would have dragged out with him would have been the owner of the bedchamber; Lord Norris himself.
Teddy walked slowly among the litter covered floor, occasionally shifting some of the rubbish with the tip of his sword or squatting down to pick up and inspect a piece of parchment. There were few books on the floor, strewn here and there, and Teddy gently picked them up, dusting them clean. He passed them to George who took them and placed them into a bag he picked up from the floor. Teddy liked riding and swordplay as much as any other man of his age, but books were one of his secret passions, a fact that George knew well. And so, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow when being given the books. Some books however weren’t enough to quell the King’s anger.
There was a silver goblet under an upturned table and Teddy picked it up, it felt heavy in his gauntlet covered hand. Was it originally Norris’ cup, or stolen from some unfortunate soul, Teddy didn’t know.
It still felt satisfying to throw the thing against the wall.
“Fuck!” He growled.
Teddy’s rage however was immediately assuaged when the heavy silver cup hit the tapestry covered wall. Instead of a muted clang, there was a deep thump. As the now deformed goblet fell to the floor he slowly walked over to the wall, looking it with suspicion.
“There’s something behind there.” Teddy whispered to George, who nodded and crept towards the wall with similar misgivings.
The King’s adjutant looked up and pointed at the fastenings holding the tapestry up; it would come down with a hard yank. Teddy nodded and took a step back, making sure the damn thing would not fell on him. George passed his sword to Teddy and took a firm hold of the woven, colourful cloth with both of his hands and yanked it firmly. The whole thing came down with one pull, sending a large cloud of dust into the air as it landed on the dirty floor.
A door was revealed, a solid pine door in a small niche. There was no lock, but there was a sturdy looking latch keeping the door shut.
Teddy passed George’s sword back to him and nodded to the man. He took hold of the latch and looked at the King who again nodded silently. George slid the metal latch open and pulled the heavy door wide open to reveal a smallish room.
It was gloomy, cold, miserable looking chamber, more like a cell or storeroom rather than an actual room. There were shelves on both walls, bathed in the dimmest of light that fell from a window high near the ceiling; it wasn’t even a proper window, just a glazed arrow loop really.
Assortment of different kind of valuables had been stacked on the shelves Teddy noted as he slowly walked into the room, sword still in his hand. Jewellery, golden objects and silverware was strewn here and there in surprising quantities; most likely plundered on one of the rebellious Lord’s raids. The fact that they still were in the room suggested that Lord Norris had indeed left in a hurry. Teddy stopped at the point where the shelves ended and the room opened into a slightly larger space and by standing still for a moment he allowed his eyes to become more accustomed to the dim lighting of the chamber. But then he heard, or rather felt something.
There was someone else in the room with him; someone who wasn’t George.
“Show yourself.” Teddy growled.
Nothing happened.
Teddy’s eyes scanned the room with fierce intensity until finally he spotted the person hiding in the gloom.
There was someone keeping themselves hidden in the corner but it wasn't a knight there waiting with a raised sword ready to attack, nor was there a cocked crossbow aimed to the King's chest, ready to be fired. No, someone was huddled in the corner and Teddy took a step closer, his heavy footfalls loud in the small space as he slowly prowled closer.
A pitiful sight met his eyes.
On a thin straw mattress there sat a boy, or a young man, clothed only in a knee length linen shirt. He looked filthy and his dark hair was messy and shiny from grease. The boy was shuddering like a leaf, wielding a small and broken knife - practically a toy - with both of his trembling hands and pointing it at the KIng. Teddy doubted whether the small blade could pierce even the surcoat on him, let alone his mail.
Teddy lowered his sword and sheathed it.
It wasn’t the small stature of the boy or the fact that he could pose no threat to a large man like Teddy that made the King put away his sword. It wasn’t even the look on the boy’s gaunt, ashen face; he looked terrified, utterly and absolutely horrified by the mail covered man in front of him. His cracked, dry lips were nothing but white lines, just as pale as the rest of him. None of those facts were the reason why Teddy lowered his blade.
No, it was the boy’s eyes: the King had seen that same look in the eyes of horribly injured people. The amber brown eyes looked broken, so broken and tired. Like he had given up and was just waiting for something, something to end the torment; something which Teddy’s sword might have been able to provide.
The boy’s eyes shifted over to George who had entered the room and was now standing behind his king. The huddled figure started to shake even more and with a flick of his hand Teddy told his adjutant to get back, which he did with a small nod.
Teddy removed his gauntlets and dropped them onto the floor; he then slowly walked closer and kneeled in front of the boy. It was a reckless thing to do, really. His throat was now somewhat exposed and with a quick surge the boy could stick his knife into Teddy’s neck. But instead of attacking, the boy just withdrew his knees even closer to his chest, trying to curl into a tight, little ball.
Even on his knees Teddy towered over the boy and it wasn’t a posture he wanted to do as he was reasonably convinced that it just made the boy even more scared. So, Teddy held his arms loosely at his side and his expression soft, hoping to give to the huddled figure some sort of assurance that he was not a threat.
“Hello.” Teddy said gently. “My name is Theodore, but you can call me Teddy. Who might you be?”
Only thing Teddy heard in the room was the boy’s laboured, almost panicked breathing.
“Do you understand me?” Teddy asked and then quickly added: “You don’t have to speak; you could just nod. If you want to.”
The boy nodded minutely, his eyes never leaving Teddy.
“So you understand me?” Teddy asked.
The boy nodded again.
“Good. I know you are scared, I mean, I would be if I were in your place, but we aren’t here to hurt you. We just want to help.” Teddy spoke softly. “I want to help you.” He added.
The boy shuddered and his mouth opened and then closed; no sound came out. Teddy had looked around and he hadn’t spotted any kind of source of water in the room; the boy had to be parched.
“Just take your time, there’s no hurry.” Teddy gently spurred.
Again the boy opened his mouth, and then with a hoarse whisper he croaked; “Billy.”
“Billy.” Teddy repeated. “Your name is Billy.”
The bo- No, not the boy, Billy nodded.
“Hello, Billy.” Teddy nodded and glanced down at Billy’s hands; he was still holding the small knife, clutching it with enough force to turn his knuckles white. Not that you could see the difference; he was so pale.
“I was just wondering if…” Teddy lifted his gaze back up. “If you could give that knife to me?”
Billy tried to pull back as much as the stone walls would allow, which was none. He just stared Teddy with fear, eyes full of hurt and the broken blade just shook more. Billy’s eyes followed Teddy’s every movement and even the tiniest of them caused the boy to flinch.
Teddy raised his right hand, palm up, to show that he meant no harm, and then lifted his left in similar way.
“May I take the knife?” Teddy softly queried.
Billy continued to shake, there was no answer to the King's query and so Teddy decided to risk it and moved closer. He brought his hands near Billy’s and left them there hovering; not touching but keeping his hands close.
“I’m going to take the knife now?” Teddy partly asked, partly told.
He gently brought his hands to cup Billy’s and the raven haired boy made a broken sound when Teddy’s large hands covered his trembling ones.
“It’s alright; I’m not going to hurt you.” Teddy whispered.
Billy’s hands were cold. Almost icy and so thin that Teddy suspected that the gaunt, sallow appearance wasn’t just a result of lack of sunlight.
Teddy curled his fingers around Billy’s hands and then slowly, with care and gentleness, he pressed his thick thumbs between the knife’s hilt and Billy’s palms and pried the trembling hands apart.
The boy’s breathing had gone so shallow that it almost sounded as if he wasn’t breathing at all.
With his left hand Teddy gently plucked the knife out of Billy’s now loosened grip and tossed the blade aside where it landed on the stone floor with a small clink.
“There we go.” The King smiled softly; looking at Billy’s hands he pressed them back together with his own. Billy’s hands were now palm to palm between Teddy’s large ones, completely covered by them.
“Your hands are a tad cool. We need to get them warm or you’ll get sick.” Teddy hummed and raised his eyes back to Billy’s.
There were tears in his eyes and he was shaking just as much as previously.
“Please…” Billy croaked weakly. “Please don’t hurt me. No more… please.”
Teddy felt anguish twisting in the pit of his stomach. “No, Billy. I’m no-”
But before he could finish, Billy’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and his jaw dropped against his chest. As his unconscious body could not fall backwards or to its side, it fell forward into Teddy’s arms and he made a small surprised sound when Billy’s unconscious face hit his stomach. The King however quickly sprang into action and gathered the boy in his arms.
He was thin, so awfully thin that Teddy feared that he was going to break the poor boy if he wasn’t gentle enough. As Teddy slipped his arms around Billy, one arm under his knees and one under his back, and stood up, carrying the boy in bridal style, he noticed the boy’s weight. Or the lack thereof; he weighed absolutely nothing.
Yes, Teddy was a large, strong man, but the fact that he could pick Billy up like a child would pick up a ragdoll; it was a disconcerting thought. Even though Teddy estimated him to be only slightly shorter than an average person, and probably not that much younger than he himself was, Billy was far too thin. He had been with too little to eat for a good while; no one came this weak and famished from skipping a meal, or two. And why was Billy like this?
There was no need for guesswork. Teddy knew exactly who was to blame.
As he was about to turn and leave he noticed a small cloth bundle in the dark corner where it had been hidden behind Billy’s back. The King kneeled to investigate and kept the boy pressed against his chest but allowed Billy’s legs to momentarily fall onto the floor as he opened the bundle with his left hand.
Teddy’s heart broke when he opened the dirty piece of fabric and saw its contents.
There were no great treasures or secrets inside, only two things; a small, dried apple, and an even smaller piece of stone hard, inedible looking bread.
Teddy looked down at the boy in his arms and his heart ached. Billy had guarded those barely edible looking morsels of food like they were made of gold and silver. Even in a situation where someone with a sword had entered his small world, Billy had protected the scraps of food diligently.
Again Teddy gathered the unconscious boy to his lap and stood up, trying to calm himself down. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t. This wasn’t the worst thing he had seen during this war, much worse things had happened and yet, in a way, this was worse than anything he had seen. This was deliberate and purposeful, not random, not just an unfortunate happenstance. No, Billy had been mistreated just for the hell of it.
Part of Teddy was filled with seething rage towards the man who was responsible of Billy’s pitiful state; Norris was going to pay dearly of his cruelty, of this and of all the other horrible things done by him and his treacherous troops.
Teddy closed his eyes for a moment and sighed heavily, then after few deep, calming breaths he walked out into the main room and squinted against the light in there; it felt far too bright after the gloom of the small chamber.
George looked at the figure in Teddy’s lap with furrowed brow. “How is he?”
“Not well. Not well at all.” Teddy said quietly and then nodded towards Norris’ ornately decorated canopy bed. “Could you pass that blanket to me?”
George fetched the blanket and helped Teddy to wrap it around the unconscious boy.
“He’s so light.” Teddy whispered. “Barely weighs anything.”
George nodded grimly and headed for the door. “You might not need the healers help, sire. But I do believe he does.”
“Indeed.” Teddy nodded and made sure that Billy’s head rested comfortably against his shoulder. Well, as comfortably as it could against a mail covered shoulder.
As they walked out of the keep and into the bailey few of his knights and some of the foot soldiers stared, but none said anything. Teddy left George to handle the situation at the castle and he himself headed back to the war camp. As he walked out of the gate and left the relatively protected outer bailey the cold autumn wind blew against Teddy and he was glad that he had wrapped the blanket around Billy. Teddy doubted whether the boy was hale enough to withstand even a common cold, let alone something more serious. And so, the King hastened his stride and headed back to his tent.
Few of the men who were already dismantling the heavy siege equipment - trebuchets being the largest of them - cheered as their king passed them. Teddy’s grim expression however muted most of them rather quickly, and those who were lazing about on top of the earthworks which had provided cover for the attackers soon looked busy and active, thinking that the King’s ire was directed at them.
King Theodore III was loved by his people and by his troops. When he had been crown prince people had called him Prince Teddy and later, unsurprisingly, he came to be known as King Teddy.
A nickname that he himself held in high regard.
He was known to be a gentle and kind ruler with fierce sense of justice and above all, immensely reasonable and level-headed. But when the King was having a bad day, as he now looked to have, most people knew to leave him be and steered clear of him.
When Teddy reached his tent he entered it with a small nod to the sentries and walked over to his campaign bed, passing a tub full of hot, steaming water that the servants had prepared for him. He gently lowered Billy on the bed which was sturdier, and softer, than most of its kind. A small piece of luxury amidst war but damn if he was going to sleep on some bloody rickety thing months on end!
One of the servants walked in and bowed in respect. Teddy immediately sent him to fetch the healer and moments later the servant returned with the elderly healer and his young pupil.
“Master Burnley.” Teddy nodded to the old man.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed his head, as did his pupil.
“I’m sorry I trouble you with this. You must be busy with all of the wounded, even with the other healers, but I must insist if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, sire. I am your personal physician after all.” He glanced at Billy who still remained unconscious. “I gather he needs my help. You seem to be hale and hearty as always.”
“I’m fine.” Teddy sighed, then turned to Billy and brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes. “But he isn’t.”
“Well then, I must begin.” Master Burnley walked over to his patient and his pupil followed with a large case full of remedies and potions.
“If you do not mind, sire. I would like to see to my patient in private.”
Teddy nodded, of course he could stay if he so wished, he was the King after all. But because Billy could not give an answer whether or not he wanted anyone else, beside the healer and his aide in the tent, Teddy decided to head out.
“Use anything you need.” Teddy said before stepping out. “If you need assistance just ask one of the servants, and feel free to use the tub. I’ll wash myself in one of my captains’ tent.”
“Thank you, sire.” Burnley nodded.
“His name is Billy.” Teddy said, looked at the boy for a moment, and headed out.
A bit over an hour and a half later Teddy walked back to his tent, the sky had darkened as evening fell. His tent was lit by lanterns inside and few torches outside, making it look like a safe haven in the cool autumn evening. Teddy felt marginally better, having washed away the blood, filth, and sweat of the day. He had also changed into more comfortable clothing and shrugged off his armour, but still carried his sword with him, just in case.
Sentries outside his tent nodded to their king, they were different ones than earlier; guard shift of the previous ones had ended while Teddy had been away. The air inside the tent felt warm, this thanks to the glowing braziers inside. Well, it was warm when compared to the damp coolness that reigned supreme outside.
Burnley’s aide was gone Teddy noted when he entered the tent. Only the healer remained and he nodded when the King approached the bed.
“Sire.”
“How is he?” Teddy asked, keeping his voice down.
“Better, now that he is here.” Burnley sighed. “But only slightly. He is in quite poor state, he’s underweight and there are bruises and scars across his body. We bathed him, treated his wounds, and managed to feed some broth to him.”
“The bruises; show them to me.” The King sighed. He wanted to see the damage personally.
Burnley lifted the thick blankets and Teddy saw that Billy had clean, soft looking clothes on him; they looked too big for him. Yet again Teddy felt anger bubbling inside him for the treatment of the poor boy.
“My aide had some extra clothes with him and he fetched them for the boy to wear.”
Burnley’s aide wasn’t a large man and still his clothes looked far too big on Billy.
“Relay my gratitude to him.”
Burnley nodded and lifted the linen undershirt to reveal a thin, frail body and Teddy clenched his fists, his fingernails were digging small crescents to the palms of his hands.
Billy wasn’t just thin, he was practically emaciated and to make matters worse, his pale skin was covered in bruises and cuts. Some were old and some were new, the colouring of the bruising ranged from almost recently appeared dark purple to sickly hues of green and yellow. Many of them looked like they resulted from hits with a fist or with a belt. One even looked to be a result of a boot heel, as if someone had just stamped down with his foot, driving the heel into the soft skin.
“It’s the same story on his back.” Burnley said quietly. “Cuts there are unfortunately more numerous.”
“Are they…” Teddy asked and swallowed thickly.
“Made with purpose?” Burnley looked at Teddy. “I’d say so. They are too shallow and precise to be the result of a fight, made only with intention of hurting.” He sighed.
Teddy rubbed his face with both hands and took few deep breaths.
“Nothing but mindless torture.” Teddy muttered to no one particular.
“There is one more thing, sire.” Burnley said and looked pityingly at the boy.
“More?” Teddy whispered and looked at Burnley, then at the figure on his bed.
Burnley nodded. “He’s been assaulted.”
Teddy’s brow furrowed. “Well of course he has, I can see tha-”
Then the penny dropped.
“Raped?” Teddy asked with a hoarse whisper.
Burnley nodded. “Assulted or th-”
“Raped.” Teddy growled. “Let’s call it what it is.”
“Of course, sire.” Burnley replied and continued quietly. “He’s been raped or the person who slept with him was unnecessarily rough.”
“When did this happen, in your estimate?” Teddy asked and sat onto the edge of the bed, gently pulling the shirt back down and covering Billy’s small body with a layer of blankets.
“The most recent one would have happened probably few days ago.” Burnley sighed.
The most recent one...
Teddy closed his eyes and hung his head low. Of course there had been more than one instance.
“Anything else?” Teddy asked with sudden weariness.
Wasn’t this day ever going to end?
“No, sire. That is all.”
“Good.” Teddy swallowed thickly. “Does he need more of your attention or will he manage on by himself.”
“The cuts and bruises are already healing and so there is nothing else for me to do. He requires plenty of rest and a decent meal,” Burnley glanced at Billy with a small, sad smile. “Or two.”
Teddy nodded and covered Billy’s hand that was lying on top of the bedcoverings with his own.
“He should not start eating with anything too hearty; broth and porridge with moderation for the first few days, after that he can proceed to something more substantial.”
“Thank you master Burnley.” The King smiled tiredly at the old man.
“Your Majesty.” The healer bowed.
“Keep him warm, sire.” Burnley added as he was leaving. “I fear that even a slightest of colds could be fatal, his constitution is simply too weak.”
Teddy nodded mutely and the old healer left. Now it was just the two of them in the tent and Teddy gently lifted the bedcoverings and slipped Billy’s hand under them. He still looked cold and shivered slightly in his sleep; the tent and the thick blankets just weren’t cutting it.
Billy was simply too thin to stay warm just by himself in the coolness of the tent. Getting him back to the castle wasn’t an option either, for the rooms had been unheated and it would take days to drive the cold and damp away from the thick stone walls.
So, Teddy did what he could; he dragged couple of the braziers nearer to the bed, as close as he dared, moved some of the lanterns to dim the area around the bed, and finally kicked off his boots. He took off his belt along with the tunic and after a moment of hesitation he slipped under the blankets, gathering Billy gently against his chest. Teddy spooned the boy from behind and wrapped one of his thick arms around him, warming him up. Now that the only things separating them were their trousers and linen undershirts, and Teddy could actually feel how thin Billy was; it all became so horribly real. Billy was barely more than skin and bones, so horribly skinny when compared to his own muscular, well fed body.
A surge of protectiveness coursed through Teddy as he breathed in Billy’s fresh from the bath scent. No one was going to hurt the boy in his arms ever again, not if he had anything to say in the matter.
No one.