Chapter 3

Suddenly the man on top of me quickly stumbled off of me and the main man tried to pull up his pants as he stood up. As did the other men. I was confused for a moment and continued to lie there, but then I slowly forced my body upward so that my elbow was keeping me up. Then I turned around.

There I found Francis, his figure covered by the moon's light. He almost looked like a beast. "What are you doing to this man?" The words that rolled off his tongue were menacing, none I have heard before.

"Your majesty. This isn't-"

"I want these four men arrested. Immediately!" Francis ordered the guards behind him.

"Wait, my lord-" The main man tried to speak but he was dragged away by one of the guards, along with the rest of them. While the chaos of dragging them away was happening I quickly tried to pull up my pants and to correct myself. When they were all gone I noticed Francis was still standing in the same spot, staring at me.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he extended a hand. I took it and helped myself up. "Yes, Fran-" I coughed to cover my mistake. "My lord. Thank you for your help."

I could feel my hands shaking and my whole body wanting to shut down. I wanted to collapse into Francis' arms, just so that I could feel his safe embrace.

"I didn't realize my men would-" Francis stopped and scratched the back of his head. It seemed like he had no idea what to say.

"I'll be on my way," I said quietly. I took a step forward, but Francis held out his arm, stopping me from going further. "Why didn't you tell me these men were following you?" He asked. Without letting me answer he raised his eyebrow. "You only wanted to protect my tent for your own protection, correct?"

I opened my mouth but nothing would come out. "Goodnight," Francis waited for a name.

"Anthonie, my name is Anthonie," I replied.

Francis nodded and turned toward his tent. "Well goodnight, Anthonie."

I didn't understand if he was upset at me that I used him or that he understood. I was hoping he knew why I did that. I never meant for him to feel used, but I never meant to be followed by soldiers either.

Morning came quickly and the men were all up, packing and dreading for the next few hours. I could tell how frightened some of the men were because I was the same exact way. I kept thinking about what could happen. What if I wasn't near Francis when he was attacked? What if I died? If I really wanted this to work and to succeed I needed to stay focus. Focus only on saving Francis.

I felt bad for the men here. They were not fighting because of their loyalty to their country. They've all been forced to serve. They were pulled from their families and handed a weapon. No one here had a choice whether you wanted to serve or not.

I hadn't slept all night out of fear. I stayed close to Francis' tent even though it felt like he didn't want me near him any longer. I came here to protect him and I wasn't going to stop now, even after what happened last night.

With the sound of a horn, the army of men started to march out of camp. I followed the men, my hand squeezed onto the handle of my sword. I could see Francis far in front, leading the men into battle on his Destrier horse. It was his favorite horse and one he trusted deeply.

I noticed the landscape began to change under my feet. We were approaching Calais and it became more obvious when I heard the sound of cannon fire and shouting.

The other half of the army had split off and the men in my half began to line up side by side, awaiting a few words from Francis. He came down the line on his horse saying something to get the men riled up but I couldn't hear a word he was saying. My ears were ringing and my heart was pounding. I was surprised the men next to me couldn't hear it.

Suddenly, the men were charging forward, shouting their war cries. This was it. I was going to war.

The men I was with were the ones going through the main gate. We were the most important part of this siege because with our element of surprise the English wouldn't have any time to get to their arsenal. If they did then the men going through the merchant gate would be slaughtered.

We made it through the main gate but were greeted with a large group of English soldiers. Without warning the man next to me dropped to the ground. I turned to find an arrow in the man's chest. When I looked up I saw they had archers in the towers shooting our men from above. I looked back at the man on the ground. He was grabbing at the arrow in his chest and was screaming. I kneeled down and held my palm against the wound, trying to stop any more blood coming out from the wound. "Don't take it out, not yet." I looked around urgently, trying to find anyone that could help this man. But when I looked back down the man's eyes were wide open.

My armor was pulled up with a jolt and I was standing on my feet. "Don't waste your time on the dead ones." An older man screamed in my face. He pushed me forward, causing me to tumble over the bricks that created the walkway. It was mayhem, men ran around covered in blood and dirt as they screamed at their next opponent. Mud was being splattered as men ran from all over. I stared in horror at the chaos before me, then my eyes singled out an Englishman pulling a sword out of a young French man. He whipped around as he searched for his next victim. His long brown hair was covered in mud and was drenched in sweat. When I saw him my whole body chilled, but then I noticed his eyes settled on me. Suddenly he ran toward me, his blood covered sword waving in his hand as he charged at me. I quickly pulled my sword out of my belt and placed my feet firmly on the ground, as if that would stop me from the strength of a full-grown man.

He clashed his sword against mine. I tried to push him back but he pulled away and quickly threw his fist into my face. I stumbled back and grunted, but I swiftly recovered and rushed to the side. I tried to stab his side but he was quick. He blocked me and tried grabbing onto me. I pulled my sword away from his and quickly slid my sword into his gut.

The man coughed violently, causing blood to escape his lips and spraying on my face. I jerked back, ripping the sword out of the man. He fell to the ground, his body laid there unmoving.

I watched as blood continued to slowly pour from his body.

This is what men did in battle. They took each other's lives like they were meaningless, but only so they could save themselves.

I pushed my way through the anarchic crowd, trying to find Francis. There were so many men though, fighting for their lives. Every time I thought I found him I was pushed into a fight. I either managed to avoid them or finish them.

Then finally, I saw Francis in the chaos. He was fighting a man with only his shield. Even with just a shield, Francis managed to kill the man by slamming the shield against the man's head, causing him to fall. Francis grabbed the man's sword and stabbed him in the chest.

I forced my way toward him, only to freeze. There was an Englishman approaching Francis from behind, his hand tightly grasping a sword. My eyes widened and suddenly I was running toward him. I stuck out my hand as if that was going to stop the man from harming Francis.

"Francis!" I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow. My body was screaming at me to run faster, to get to Francis, now!

Francis turned his head toward me as he pulled the sword out of the man he had just killed. His eyes widened as he saw me running toward him. Don't look at me! The man in the vision is right behind you!

It was as if I was told a story and I was watching it happen in front of me and I couldn't do a thing.

Francis would die during the battle of Calais. One of the last men standing would come from behind and shove his sword in Francis' back, causing Francis to fall to his knees, gasping for breath. He'd fall to the ground and would be dead by the time his chest hit the ground.