Lords of Freedom 2 - Chapter 4
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Introduction
Lords of Freedom is an exciting trilogy that includes adventure, realistic action, surprising insights, and a touch of romance.
The serialization of Lords of Freedom book one is complete, with all 33 chapters published in the Gene Van Shaar Substack. Here is the link to all the chapters: Lords 1
The serialization of Lords of Freedom 2 (book 2 of the trilogy) is in progress. Lords of Freedom 2 includes many intriguing parallels with Joan of Arc, George Washington, Francis Marion (The Swamp Fox), Henry Knox, and the American Revolutionary War.
Lords of Freedom 2 - Chapter 4 - Traitor Dauphin Percival
Gareth looked up from the soldier on the raised cot before him. Entering the medical tent was a bedraggled girl, her cheeks smudged with dirt, her uniform muddy and torn with wisps of brown hair hanging around her face, having escaped their plait. Though her eyes were worried, she bore a cheery smile.
“Courier Eva,” he said in greeting.
“Incoming wounded, sir. I was on my way back to Farland with a message from General Beauregard when I came upon them.”
Gareth finished cleaning the gash in the soldier’s side, just below his ribs, then beckoned a colleague over to re-bandage the wound. Gareth was a squat man, ginger haired with hazel eyes and a pointy chin.
Stepping to a nearby basin, he washed his hands, dried them, and walked out of the tent. The fresh air was welcome, and he drew a deep breath.
“Jayn and her troop were ambushed by a band of Vlad soldiers,” Eva said, following him.
Gareth paled, blowing out a hard breath.
“Three of Jayn’s guard survived though: Maynard, Trahern, and Quillan; also Counselor Johann is alive, barely, in and out of consciousness. The others are worried he won’t make it.”
“And Jayn?”
“Nowhere to be found; Maynard suspects the Vlad soldiers took her captive, but she and Johann were out of sight, and a lot was going on, you know?”
Gareth cast his eyes heavenward a moment. “How far out are they?”
“Several hours: Johann is on a makeshift sled, which makes the trek here slower, but there isn’t any other way to transport him. I thought perhaps a wagon could be dispatched.”
Gareth gave a decisive nod. “I’ll order it readied at once and come along.”
“Bring a spare horse as well. Trahern and Quillan are sure they can ride, but Maynard took a solid blow to the head and may be concussed. He’s walking but unsteady on his feet, and they told me he’s fainted twice, howbeit briefly,” Eva said. “They have but one horse: Johann’s stallion, Leif, and he’s lashed to the sled.”
“I see; let’s get cracking then,” Gareth said and led off.
In less than an hour, Eva, leading the medical team, saw a stir of dust ahead. With a shout and a wave to the trailing wagon, she urged her bay filly, Beryl, into a gallop.
Maynard, Quillan, and Trahern whooped when they saw her and stopped walking, moving to check on Johann. His mount Leif had trotted into sight earlier and led the three surviving guards to the fallen advisor in the gully. The chestnut stallion now stood harnessed to the makeshift sled. The remaining horses had been either driven off or taken by the Vlad ambush team.
“How is Johann?” Eva asked when she reached them.
“He came to for a bit but then drifted out again. I think we’d have lost him, if you hadn’t happened by,” Quillan said.
“How about the three of you?” she asked, as they’d all sustained injuries in the ambush skirmish.
“We’re no worse for wear; it’s Johann to be concerned about,” Trahern said, glancing down at the unconscious advisor.
“Gareth is in the wagon, with supplies. He’ll see to each of you on the way back to the medical camp,” Eva said, as the wagon pulled to a stop nearby.
Gareth quickly leapt to the ground and hurried over to Johann, followed by two other medics. After a quick assessment, Johann had the others unlash the sled and lift it carefully onto the wagon.
Once settled, Gareth tended to Johann’s slashed throat, cleaning the wound and stitching it up. The others had managed to stop the bleeding for the most part and gradually, his pulse steadied. Propping a pillow under his head and covering him with a blanket would have to suffice for the trek back to the medical camp.
Maynard, now on board the wagon, was next. He’d been struck from behind and knocked senseless, but all that could be done now was to watch him and wake him when he dozed off for a while. He wasn’t nauseous, which was a good sign, but he had blacked out twice, which was worrisome to Gareth.
In turn, Quillan and Trahern boarded the wagon. Quillan had a broken arm he’d lashed tight against his side and Trahern likely had a few cracked ribs. Both insisted on riding into camp, after Gareth splinted and wrapped their injuries—Trahern astride Leif and Quillan on the medical camp mount.
A moan sounded, and Gareth turned to see Johann raised up on an elbow. He looked understandably disoriented and reached a tentative hand to his neck.
“Easy there, Johann,” Gareth said, taking hold of his arm and lowering it. “I just stitched you up and we want to keep it that way. How do you feel?”
“Jayn—where is Jayn? They took her…I tried to stop them but…”
Gareth settled the advisor back onto the pillow. “Just lie still. We’ll get her back, but we have to regroup.”
“What happened down in that gully?” Maynard asked.
“Two Vlad soldiers came out of nowhere. Jayn didn’t have her armor or any weapons. One of the men yanked me off Leif and put a knife to my throat; it happened so fast I couldn’t even draw my sword. The other man took control of Elihu, threatening Jayn with my death if she didn’t surrender.
“When I realized they were taking her away and meant to kill me, along with all of you, I resisted. The man holding me wasn’t expecting that, but his knife did cut me badly. When I drew my sword, he backed off, quick as can be. The last thing I recall is charging after Jayn, to free her…and her screaming out my name…
“I failed her,” Johann finished bitterly and looked away.
*****
At a certain crossroads, Eva branched off from the wagon and riders. Gareth had things well in hand and she had a message yet to deliver to the Farland palace. At dusk, she stopped Beryl by a little stream to set up camp for the night.
Once she had the horse rubbed down and tethered near the stream where she could drink and graze, Eva got a fire going. Then she pitched her small tent and took some oats to Beryl, who nickered appreciatively.
Digging into her pack, she pulled out some jerky and fruit. As she ate, her thoughts drifted to Jayn. Seeing her the night before, just after the battle wound down, had been bittersweet. She’d hoped Jayn would come over and talk to her, even briefly, but she hadn’t. Too much had been going on for that. Eva had known it, but still. Then again, Jayn had crossed her arms in an X over her chest, like old times, which came as a surprise. Eva had forgotten about their little gesture until that moment and it had touched her.
Jayn had always been in her own world, to a degree, and was never happier than when church was in session. The thing was, she never focused on the preacher; her eyes were always trained on the stained glass windows on the east wall. She’d smile now and then, bow her head briefly, and even nod occasionally, as though there was another speaker altogether, floating in the air near the chapel ceiling.
The other kids ignored her for the most part, but sometimes they teased. They treated Eva much the same, only she was teased mercilessly. She and Jayn had been outcasts and had banded together early on. They’d come up with the crossed arms gesture to signal their undying friendship—"Sisters couldn’t be closer than us,” they’d said.
Jayn never grew angry or burst into tears when the others teased her; instead, she’d ignore them or offer a compliment on one girl’s new shoes or another’s hairstyle that day. Oftentimes that diffused things, but Jayn and her distance from reality was a lightning rod for bullies.
Eva, on the other hand, was bothered by teasing and argued back…or burst into tears. Frequently she got into minor hair-pulling-slap fights with the other girls and even the boys in her pre-teen years. By the time she and Jayn were teenagers, Eva was a force to be avoided at all costs by the village youth and, by default, so was Jayn.
That was when Jayn told Eva of her visions—that she saw and talked to angels. Church was the most reliable place to see and hear them, but angels visited her in her room and in the forest regularly. At church, she couldn’t very well converse with them, but when she was alone she did talk to them, asking questions, seeking advice, and expressing gratitude.
Jayn swore Eva to secrecy on this, and Eva had never breached that trust. She’d believed Jayn from the start. It explained so much: why Jayn was so kind and good, so distant much of the time and so steadfast and fearless. With angels ever present, how could you be otherwise?
Now Jayn’s visions were known throughout the land, and although most in Farland revered her, others thought her a witch. As a captive of Vlad, what would become of her? Most in the kingdom of Vlad undoubtedly viewed her as a witch. Would they torture her, starve her, burn her at the stake? Eva shuddered at the thoughts and hoped heaven would step up and protect her.
Bowing her head, Eva prayed: “Please watch out for Jayn. I guarded her when we were girls and kept her secrets safe. Now she is on her own in enemy hands…please…don’t let her down…”
The prayer ended in a sob.
The following morning, Eva broke camp and headed out, eating a rather stale biscuit as she rode. By mid-day, she’d reached Farland and was greeted with waves and cheers. She waved back as she rode through town, smiling wide. It was a far cry from her childhood exile, but as an official courier, she was somewhat of a celebrity.
She’d since let go of her own grievances and grudges against her peers, due exclusively to Jayn’s example and influence. It hadn’t been easy, but once done, a weight had lifted from her shoulders. Just as Jayn had promised it would.
After leaving Beryl with the capable stable hands, she strode into the palace with General Beauregard’s message in hand. She was directed to the usual anti-room to await Dauphin Percival’s summons to the throne room and began pacing, hoping he’d see her soon. If he was in council though, she could be here awhile.
At last, she took a seat in one of the plush, high-backed chairs, turning it to face the window. After gazing out at the cloudy sky and the forest beyond the castle awhile, she closed her eyes. She’d been racing all out for three days straight and had slept fitfully the night before, worried about the ambush and Jayn’s capture, not to mention the delay in delivery of General Beauregard’s message.
Voices from the hallway roused her as she half-dozed. About to straighten in the chair and stand, she froze, focusing on the voices and what they were saying. The scribe, Ulric’s, voice was notable: high pitched for a man and nasal; the other voice she could swear was Barak’s, but what would he be doing here, at the palace?
Barak was a cook, stationed at the supply encampment, a day and a half’s journey from here—riding hard. She’d seen him after leaving General Beauregard, about an hour before she came upon Jayn’s guards and Johann. His voice was distinctive as well, laced with a foreign accent.
“You didn’t tell Dauphin Percival that Jayn’s entire party was slaughtered in the ambush,” Ulric said. “He will be most displeased.”
“You tell him then, once I’m well away from the palace,” Barak snapped. “He’ll need a target to vent his wrath, which I don’t care to be. It isn’t my fault. I wasn’t even there—the Vlad soldiers are a bloodthirsty lot.”
Ulric snickered. “Dauphin Percival is in good spirits; why spoil his mood? In the end, Vlad is our enemy, an enemy who can’t be trusted to abide by even a temporary truce.”
“We both have much to gain, remember that. The war is bloody and brutal—you’re insulated from that. The conflict must end, just not quite yet,” Barak said.
“I’m aware of that, but if we’re caught we both have our lives to lose. You keep that in mind,” Ulric snapped.
“Treasure and station we’ll earn, the longer the armies battle: you’ll be promoted to the tax collection office and I’ll move my family to a beautiful manor near the castle,” Barak said wistfully. It will be wonderful to return to Vlad, don’t you think?”
“It will indeed. I miss my family and country as well. Take care, friend, on your journey back to the supply encampment,” Ulrich said.
Eva imagined the two clasping hands in farewell and ground her teeth. They were both Vlad spies.
Jayn had been set up—by Dauphin Percival no less. Looking down at her message from General Beauregard, she wondered if she should even deliver it—or was the general a conspirator as well? She couldn’t fathom that.
As bootsteps faded in the hall beyond, she stood from the chair and turned it back around. She had to deliver the message; the palace knew she’d arrived. General Beauregard had been pleased with Jayn’s arrival on the battlefield and inspired along with everyone else. He’d led the charge in pursuit of the retreating Vlad soldiers and had talked at length with Jayne, Johann, and her guard that night over supper, after things wound down.
Eva hadn’t been seated with them, but was able to overhear most of what was said. She knew the general and was positive his words had been sincere.
The message she bore told of the battle, the hopelessness of victory, and the Farland soldiers’ despair. Then he’d written of Jayn’s miraculous arrival on the scene and how quickly the tables turned.
“Courier Eva,” a voice from the hallway said.
Startled, she whirled to see a page there.
“Dauphin Percival will see you now.” He motioned her to follow him.
She nodded and fell into step, out of the anti-room and down the long corridor. After climbing two flights of stairs, they continued to the throne room, where the page departed with a slight bow.
“Courier Eva; come in,” the dauphin said, beckoning her forth.
Crossing the room, she forced herself to hand the message over, looking away as an angry flush rose in her cheeks. She felt like a traitor.
Dauphin Percival was a large man, but not at all fleshy. His solid frame and muscled build promised strength and might, and his royal aura commanded respect. His hair was dark brown and neatly trimmed, his square jaw clean-shaven, and his eyes emerald green.
He unrolled the parchment and read it through, furrowing his brow. Muttering under his breath, he re-read it and then dropped it to the floor, angry, it seemed, at the good news.
“Jayn’s arrival was spectacular. I was there with General Beauregard,” Eva said, as a plan formed in her mind.
Dauphin Percival forced a smile. “I imagine it was. She is indeed inspiring and fearless…to a fault. I was expecting her arrival by now, to discuss strategies. Her joining in the battle explains the delay.”
“I was delayed as well—would have arrived yesterday with the general’s message, only I encountered Jayn’s guard, or what was left of them.”
Dauphin Percival's eyes snapped to meet hers. “What?”
“A troop of Vlad soldiers ambushed them and captured Jayn, so I learned. The only guards to survive are Maynard, Trahern, and Quillan. Johann survived as well, barely. I rode to the medical camp and fetched Gareth and a wagon.”
Dauphin Percival slammed both hands on the chair arms with a curse, then muttered, “Johann and the guard were to have been left unharmed, as far as possible. That conniving scoundrel Nigel will rue the day.”
Eva thinned her lips and narrowed her eyes. That confirmed what she’d overheard in the hallway: a conspiracy against freedom and peace was underway in Farland.
“Highness?” she asked, trying to sound puzzled.
The dauphin met her eye again, looking chagrined, if only briefly. “Vlad and Prince Nigel will answer for this. Jayn and her men were on their way here, on my summons; they’d best not lay a hand on her.”
He sounded like he meant that. Genuinely puzzled now, Eva shifted on her feet.
“You’ve done well. Go clean up and relax for a day or two,” the dauphin said.
Eva nodded, turned on her heel, and strode out of the throne room.
She left the palace and, instead of heading home, returned to the stables. As good as a hot bath and a nap on an actual bed sounded, she had a mission to complete.
Saddling Beryl, she mounted and urged the filly out of town, bound for the battlefront and General Beauregard. He’d know what to do about the conspiracy.
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