Thanks go out to Robin for her great beta work. I hope you all enjoy. Char :-)
Once Upon A Time Part 8
The dark haired girl crept silently down the ruddy corridors of the Pict stronghold toward the locked bedchamber. She had watched the tortures of the Jester's captured victim from the shadows. She remembered the words of the taller brother "Not his woman." If the flame haired girl was not the fiend's woman, then who was she? And who were the three who sought her? She would have her answers and she would have them now.
Entering the room, she made her way to the bed. The knife that had been in her belt was now in her hands as she leaned over the red haired girl. This girl who seemed so very important to the Jester wasn't much older than the Pict girl who stared at her sleeping form. With catlike reflexes, the Pict was beside the girl, one hand covering her mouth while the other held the knife to the red haired girl's throat.
"Why HE want you here?" she asked.
Barbara's green eyes had opened when the Pict grabbed her. Her breathing was heavy as she felt the metal of the blade against her skin. "He's crazy. Please "
"Who dark haired boy?"
"Who?" Barbara asked as she tried to sit, only to be pushed back down by the raven haired Pict.
"Dark haired boy. Eyes like sky. Who?"
Eyes like the sky? Barbara felt her heart jump. "Richard? Richard is here? Where? Please, please take me to him. Please."
The Pict girl released her hold on Barbara and stepped back. She watched the stranger's face as she sat up on the small make shift bed. She read the girl's face, her emotion. Yes, this girl did not belong to the one she hated. She belonged to the one chained on the other side of the fortress. The young Pict girl smiled. "I take." She held her hand out in a gesture of friendship.
Barbara's face brightened into a smile as she tentatively reached out to the now friendly hand. The Pict girl still held the knife, but Barbara felt sure it was to protect and not harm her.
The Pict girl took the Princess' hand and moved swiftly to the door. She looked out into the hallway before they entered. As they made their way down the corridor, she whispered, "I Cassandra."
The Duke of Wayne and his men, all bound by heavy chains, were led into the grand hall of King James' palace. They took their place in the center of the hall as the King and the assembled nobles sat around the wall. The Duke's eyes defiantly met the king's.
"The Court of Nobles has been summoned," King James began. "Bruce, the former Duke of Wayne, and his men are charged with the highest of treasons. Included in this number are the former Duke's sons Richard and Jason, also stripped of their titles as knights of this realm. We have tried them in absentia. What say you nobles of the charges."
"My liege," the Duke of Kent began. "I have known Wayne for many years. I consider him my friend. I do not now, nor will I ever believe him capable of the treachery you suggest. The evidence presented to this Court has been circumstantial at best. If even that."
"Were you even listening?" the Earl of Queensbury belowed across the hall. "Wayne himself threatened the Princess' life if King James didn't allow his sons to go bring her back here! And I see, we haven't seen those sons of his OR our Princess."
Sighing, the head of the house of Allen stated, "What Lord Oliver says is true." Then he looked to the man who had been his friend for the last twenty years. "Lord Bruce can you deny making that statement?"
Bruce stood in the center of the room where he had silently watched the proceedings. "No, I made that statement."
"Then what are we questioning? Isn't that enough proof that the king's charges against him are valid?" Lord Oliver of Queensbury yelled as he stood from his chair. "Wasn't it Wayne's men that attacked our king?"
Roy turned to his compatriots before hanging his head. There was no doubt that he had led his men into battle against the king's guard. For that, he knew they would surely die. He wasn't worried for himself, but for his friends, and even more, for his lord who was more than liege to him. Lord Bruce was the father Roy had never had, his sons had been his brothers. Unless Lord Bruce could make them understand, all that he fought for and believed in would perish along side him. Looking up, he turned his eyes toward Lord Bruce, silently pleading that he explain himself.
The Duke of Kent stood, asking the question. "Why Bruce? Why did you say that?"
Bruce turned calm eyes toward his friends. "To save my sons."
Kent smiled a sad smile at his friend. "You lied to save your sons."
Lord Bruce simply nodded.
King James' face reddened in anger. "It was not a lie! His son took my daughter. For what purpose, I can only imagine." He stood, picking up the tunic found in the Princess' bedroom the night she was abducted, and he walked down the diadem holding it up. "THIS was found in my daughter's bedchamber. This tunic with the sign of the bat WAYNE'S totem!" he said as he pointed to the former Duke. "Both of his sons were seen wearing these tunics. They left Gotham, at my orders, and my daughter disappeared the very same night. Nothing remained except this. IF the Duke wasn't responsible for Barbara's disappearance, IF what he said was a lie, then it was a lie that allowed the real kidnapper freedom. Wayne's men attacked my guard, attacked me. I want justice! I want your verdict nobles. I say Wayne is guilty of treason! How say you?"
One by one the nobles stood voicing their assent to the Duke of Wayne's guilt. All save one. The Duke of Kent sat motionless in his seat until he felt all eyes upon him. He looked up at his king, then turned to the man who was his friend. "I'll not condemn a man for protecting his family. Lord Bruce is not quilty of the crimes you have charged him with and I'll be no party to this." He stared into the eyes of his friend once more and then stood and walked from the hall. The room echoed with the sound of the heavy doors slamming shut behind him.
King James glared after Kent only a moment before turning on the condemned. "A traitor's death for Wayne and all his party. His sons too, when they return."
Richard leaned his head onto his arm as he closed his eyes. How long had they listened to Jason's screams before they were silenced ... silenced he feared forever. His heart was heavy ... at his loss and at his failure. Their father had entrusted his brother's safety to him. He was the eldest, he should have protected Jason and Timothy. Instead, he had led them to their deaths. This ... all of this ... had been his fault. Everything his family was suffering, all resulted from his stupidity.
He opened his eyes and turned to his right at Timothy's muffled cries. The child was trying to be so brave, but he was only fifteen years old. The most sheltered member of their family. It was only two days ago ... or was it three ... that he had happily played with their new puppies and now ... now he was going to die. Cruelly, from the sounds of Jason's screams.
"Timothy." Richard started in a soft soothing tone. "Timothy please look at me."
Timothy turned watery blue eyes toward his brother. "Jason? Is he "
"I don't know," Richard lied. In his heart, he knew ... their brother was dead. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Hearing it would make it real and he couldn't face that reality. Not now, maybe not ever.
Before either could speak again, the door creaked open. The brothers turned their eyes toward the laughing pale Jester who swaggered in carrying a bloody tunic. He moved between them, rubbing the blood soaked garment on them. "Are we having fun yet my pets?"
Richard stared at the bloody cloth before him. His brother's blood ... Jason's blood ... Wayne blood. He heard Timothy as a hiccoughing spasm caught him. Richard's icy blue eyes bore into the enemy before him. "You will pay for that."
"This?" The Jester said as he held the tunic high then dropped it on the floor like a piece of rubbish. He grabbed Richard by the hair, jerking his head backward. "That was just the first of what the whore's cur's will suffer."
"Let me go and face me," Richard growled.
The Jester only laughed at him. "I think your threats are empty boy," he said. "My plan is working so very well. Princess Barbara is mine, your family is destroyed, and I have the pleasure of killing you and your brothers personally. Then, my triumphant return to Gotham with my lovely new bride. Perhaps I'll take your head to King James as a memento. Bwahahahaha."
Richard struggled in vain against the Jerster's hold. Then the Jester's fist collided with his abdomen knocking the wind from his lungs. The Jester then calmly turned his attention to the youngest person in the room. Tilting Timothy's chin, he started stroking his cheeks. Timothy tried to turn away but had nowhere to turn. The Jester took his long fingernails and raked Timothy's cheek drawing blood and laughing at the youngster's yelp. He slapped the youth's bleeding cheek hard.
"This just felt so right...like it was meant to be." The Jester turned to leave and walked toward the door stomping Jason's tunic as he did so. Then, he turned back, taking a deep satisfied sigh. Spreading his bloody hands, he smiled a wicked smile. "All the little birds came home to die. The little bird dies next."
Richard struggled against his bonds as he watched the Jester slam the door behind him. "Damn him!" His eyes met his younger brother's, "This isn't over Timothy. I promise you that."
Lady Leslie checked on Garth's wounded shoulder. "Is it feeling any better?"
"Yes my lady," Garth answered with a sad smile. It didn't matter anymore whether his wound healed, soon they would be executed. Yet, Garth couldn't disappoint the kindly lady who had cared for him.
Leslie smiled at him and patted his arm before moving across the cramped cell to her husband. She sat on the floor beside him, locking her arm into his and resting her head on his shoulder. Alfred's hand wrapped around her's.
"This isn't right. Isn't fair," Garth said as he turned to look at Wallace and Roy. "The ladies have done nothing. Lord Alfred has done nothing."
"None of us are guilty Garth," Roy said, leaning back against the cold rock wall. He pulled his leg up, resting his arms around his knee. "It doesn't matter though," he sighed. "They're going to kill us all."
"Not the ladies," Wallace interjected. "The sentence was just for us. They didn't mention the ladies."
Roy looked at his friend. "King James doesn't intend to leave any of us alive. I just pray he's merciful in their deaths. He's spared no mercy for any of the rest of us."
"What ... what is he planning on doing to us?" Wallace asked.
"Don't you know what a traitor's death is?" Roy asked. He watched as Garth and Wallace both shook their heads. Roy remembered the stories Lord Bruce had told Richard, Jason and he as they were growing up, stories of a time before the young Duke married the Lady Selina. Of an uprising that occurred shortly after the Roman's had left their lands and the death that had befallen the traitorous leader of the rebellion. "He's going to have us tortured to death. Hung, drawn and quartered."
Wallace looked down as Garth turned and started nursing his wounded shoulder. Roy leaned his head over on his knee as silence overtook the room.
Bullock, Captain of the King's guard, entered the small cell followed by two of his men. He looked around the room. A wicked grin formed on his face. He pointed at Bruce, Duke of Wayne and his men moved over. They grabbed the Duke by his arms and drug him from the room.
"NO!" Selina cried as Alfred and Leslie moved to her. "NO!" she screamed again as Lord Alfred and Lady Leslie held Selina, keeping her from trying to follow her husband.
Garth and Wallace looked down. Wallace's hands went to his ears, he didn't want to hear his Lady's screams. Roy's green eyes glared at Bullock as he watched the king's men take his struggling liege from the cell. He watched Bullock laugh as he left and slammed the heavy oak door behind him.
Richard tugged at the chains binding his arms. If only he could get the chains to move, to give just a little. He looked over at Timothy who was trying the same. "Maybe, we can get this to work," he said trying to offer some hope to his younger brother.
Timothy nodded as his fingers tried to wrap around the links and pull, all to no avail. "It'll work, if we keep trying."
Richard couldn't help but smile. Despite their predicament and despite the fear he knew his younger brother had, Timothy had the Wayne determination. He wouldn't give up. Not as long as there was breath in his body. Richard's face became as mask of sadness as he wondered for how much longer that would actually be.
The heavy wooden door creaked open. Richard looked across the room to the door waiting for someone to come in. Waiting for the Jester or his men to come and take Timothy away. He looked above his head and pulled at his chains as hard as he could. He failed Jason, he couldn't fail Timothy.
"Richard."
He turned back toward the door and couldn't believe his eyes as Barbara stepped into the room. Tentatively at first, then her steps quickened as she crossed the room to him. She crossed the distance between them and threw her arms around him, sobbing as she did so. "Barbara."
"I never thought I'd see you again," she cried as she looked up at the chains that bound him. She turned to Timothy and smiled. "We ... we've got to get you out of these chains. How Richard?"
Richard nodded his head, "The wheel ... over there ... turn it to give us slack."
Barbara turned to call out to Cassandra only to find she was alone in the room. She ran to the wheel and started turning it. She stopped as Richard and Timothy cried out in pain. Her trembling hand started turning the wheel in the opposite direction. Barbara bit her lip as she heard the relieved sounds they made as their arms were released from the torturous position they had been in.
Richard felt the thobbing in his arms radiate all over his body and into his ears. Despite the pain, he smiled and reached out for Timothy. "Are you all right?"
Timothy nodded as he pulled himself closer to Richard.
Barbara was at Richard's side. "How do we get the chains off?"
His eyes met hers, "I ... I don't know. I "
"Step back Princess," the Gaul's voice said.
Three pairs of eyes turned to see the Gaul standing over them with drawn sword. Holding his sword over their heads, he glared at Richard. "Finally cur, you will taste my blade."
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
