A Knight’s Dilemma
Sir Elys Prester had always done good deeds in the name of his lord. Often times it was what he and the other knights in his retinue did even before he was knighted at the age of sixteen. He remembered vividly when the Master of Arms had knighted him when he deemed him worthy of knighthood. He received his spurs, and loved being called “Sir.” It filled him with pride and honor. His father was also a knight for Lord Andros, sworn into service at age fourteen, and went on for eighteen years, until he killed in battle. It was a shame he did not live long enough to see A force of good under a virtuous lord is what they aspired to be. Lord Andros was always good at heart, in the eyes of Sir Prester, though was rumored to be quick-to-anger when the eyes of the court were not on him. The eldest of the servants of the castle, those who have been alive during the youthful Lord Andros’ reign, said he was the kindest man in all the realm. One old cook had told him how merciful he was, how his forces crushed a rebellion, and pardoned the recalcitrant vassal lords that had taken up swords against him, though his advisers strongly opposed it, telling him they could not be trusted. However, the vassals and their subjects never rose up again and sang the praises of their forgiving overlord. Their songs became begs for mercy and dirges for their bold neighbors. Bold was the skinny boy, who was a little younger than he was when he became a knight, who managed to get close enough raked his steel armor with a pitchfork. Though he meant to grab the tool away from him and push him aside without harming him, a fellow knight, young Sir Ron it was, for some reason, thinking he was in grave danger from this farmer’s boy, cut him down quickly and without a second thought. Rage had boiled inside Prester’s heart when he saw the poor boy fall and die, but dissipated when he looked into Sir Ron’s red, teary eyes. “I thought...he got you...killed you.” His first kill, thought the knight, and not even someone in armor or who has ever swung a sword in their life. Prester’s first kill was on a battlefield, fighting the forces of a, now extinct, house whose lord wanted to usurp the old King Lorcas’s throne. He never knew who the knight was, but he was a little older than he was. He slew him, though it was not an easy task, and later received many honors for his valor when the usurper’s forces were suppressed and the war was won. Oh, how battles have changed, thought Sir Elys Prester. He never knew that in only seven years later, a knight’s most feared adversary would be that of a farmer or his children. Elys was looking for those who may have been the dead boy’s parents when Sir Lymond, a brusque and terrifying beast of a man, dragged out Lord Kenning, he who had escaped Lord Andros’ dungeons two nights ago. Elys did not know his lordship personally, but he did, however, know his son, Criston, briefly, who had served with him in his retinue for a few months until one night, when he rode-off from camp with some woman he did not know a fortnight past. Old Lord Kenning tried to negotiate with Sir Garland, the captain of his retinue, hoping that at least he would have a fair trial to defend himself. Ever since Lord Andros’ son died of a sudden, and suspicious to some, illness, his lordship has changed. Once where a cheerful, benevolent man sat on the throne, one cold and scowling now sat. He was a rough man after his loss, but the accusation of Lord Kenning’s son poisoning his own son shocked the everyone. Some of the household had accepted Lord Andros’ son’s death as tragic, but blameless, a product of adversity, but others, his lordship himself included, had difficulty accepting it, and that fabled short-temper threatened to show at the mere mention of it. “No! My vassals have betrayed me!” One servant claimed to hear his lordship shout behind a closed door. Elys did not know why the ill-fated Lord Kenning was chosen to take the fault, out of the other vassal lords. Most likely his son’s disappearance was suspicious to Lord Andros, though most men in the retinue thought differently. Some cursed him for a coward and ran away, claiming they saw him shiver in fear at the start of a battle. Some presumed the woman he was seen with was a camp follower, a prostitute, that he had fallen in love with, and exiled himself, knowing his lord father would never approve of such a match. Lord Kenning said as much when they first brought him before Lord Andros, however it did not convince his overlord. He ordered his guards to lock him in the dungeon and the next morning, he would be executed for the supposed murder of his son. His proclamation was greeted with a wave of murmurs, suggesting that Sir Elys was not alone in thinking this was odd, and unlike the king he knew. It became even more clear when the next morning, when Lord Kenning was missing from his cell and so were the guards appointed to guard him. The once mirthful, now wrathful, king, once hearing about Kenning’s escape, ordered his retinue to search the realm for him and bring him back. Now, we have found him. I wish we hadn’t, thought Sir Elys Prester, a vassal lord executed for nothing, and lord who is on the verge of going mad will only spell doom for all of us. Though he would rather have Kenning return safely back home, what was he to do? Betray the lord he had served loyally as a knight for nine years and his father for eighteen? He had fought for him without question and he had earned his respect as a great lord who was just and morally righteous. Not only does a knight serve his lord, but also those who are in need, those who cannot defend themselves. Justice and virtue are what we are. His father told him this the day he decided to be knight. He wished he could ask him right now what he should do when Lord Andros’ justice betrayed every sense of virtue he felt. Tomorrow morning, or rather this very night, if his lordship was feeling impatient, an innocent man would die for a crime he did not commit. No, not even a crime, no one has betrayed Lord Andros. There is no proof that his son was even poisoned. After a brief talk, Sir Garland had Lord Kenning fitted with manacles of rusty iron, connected with lengths of chain, ankle to ankle, wrist to wrist, and locked in a study wooden carriage with an iron-banded door. A noble lord, carted away like a common thief. Some villagers cursed at the captain and his retinue. Many called for the death of Sir Ron, full of remorse and fear. “He attacked Sir Elys.” Said Garland “Isn’t that right?” Sir Elys did not know how to answer. Now, he felt like he shared the blame with Ron. The eyes of the villagers were on him, filled with hate. Even though it was true that he was attacked by him, it was not like that the crowd would be satisfied with the answer, since the attacker was a young farmer’s boy killed by a knight, a trained warrior, in steel armor. He hated Sir Garland for drawing attention to him, so much that he wanted to cut him down with his own sword. But what would that solve? Just another meaningless death to come before Lord Kenning’s. “Yes.” Sir Elys managed to say. Just as he expected, the crowd was not pleased. They continued to call for the death of Sir Ron and insult the knights. One villager threw a stone at Lymond, and unable to run away, due to the press of the crowd, Lymond caught him by the wrist and drove his fist into his belly. As Lymond threatened and the crowd grew noisier, a messenger on horseback rode into the village and spoke to Sir Garland. The messenger rode back to Lord Andros’ castle, and the next words to come out of Sir Garland’s mouth made Sir Elys Prester deeply regret cutting him down. “Torch the village, kill any who stand in our way.” Ordered the captain. “No! Please don’t harm them! Garland, was it? Please I beg of you!” Pleaded Lord Kenning from the cart. “They harbored a fugitive. They are all traitors, so says Lord Andros.” Sir Garland responded coldly. “And that’s Sir Garland.” Insults dissolved and yielded to screams of horror as the torches were lit and thrown into windows, doorways, and on thatch rooves. Sir Ron, who probably felt he had done his part in causing unneeded suffering, lit no torch are drew his sword. He made his way to the cart and said he would guard it. Sir Garland eyed him warily. Sir Elys was about to do the same until a man larger than himself swung at him with a bloody cleaver. He twisted and dodged the cut and drew his sword. The fight was quick and he did not have to kill him. The butcher ran off with a nose broken from the flat of Sir Elys’s blade. With the bravest of the villagers fleeing, the rest followed, leaving behind their homes and businesses to be turned to ash when or if they returned.
The way back to the castle was silent and somber. Most of the knights in the retinue took no joy or pride in the village's destruction. He could tell by everyone’s expression that they disagreed with Lord Andros’ orders, but did not have the courage, or knew better than, to speak openly about it, especially in front of Sir Garland, who was known to be a lickspittle to his lordship, which awarded him the rank as captain of the retinue. “This is not why I became a knight...” said Sir Ron, in a whisper to Sir Elys. “Me neither.” He replied. The trial was short. Andros, still believing that Kenning’s son killed his own, ordered him to be executed the next morning. Unsatisfied with how Lord Kenning was guarded before, he decided to have some of his own knights on guard this night. His lordship had chosen Sir Elys and Sir Ron, however, when Sir Garland told the lordship that Sir Ron’s apparent reluctance to follow orders at the village, he chose Sir Lymond instead.
That night, as Sir Lymond and Sir Elys were keeping watch, Sir Elys told Lymond he needed to step outside for fresh air. The air in the dungeons was always oppressive, even more so in the summer. Lymond nodded at him and he took his leave. He was out in the bailey and the night air was refreshing to him. To his left, something caught his eye. He looked and saw a shadowy figure move behind a bush. “Who goes there?” he called out, drawing his sword. He approached, and a familiar face appeared. It was Lord Kenning son, and it seemed like there was someone hiding with him. “I know him.” said young Kenning to the bush. “It’s alright.” “Criston?” asked Sir Elys. “Yes. It’s me, you’re Sir Elys right?” Sir Elys nodded. The owner of the other voice Criston was talking to showed himself. It was Sir Ron. “You too?” asked Sir Elys. “Yes. There are more of us, some from the retinue who have agreed to help Lord Kenning escape. I wanted to help to repent for killing that boy in the village. Also, Sir Garland convinced Lord Andros to strip me of titles, saying I was a coward and disobedient.” “I’m sorry to hear that, Sir Ron.” Said Sir Elys. “Please, just Ron, now.” Criston Kenning broke in. “We don’t have much time, Sir Elys, Ron has told me that you may help us, you don’t agree with my father’s imprisonment, yes?” Sir Elys had a great decision to make. Either betray the lord he has sworn fealty to, or save an innocent man from an unjust death. When he made his decision he did not know if his father, had he lived to see this day, would either curse him for his dishonor or praise him for this righteousness. Dawn had broken over the hills. The flight was a long one, taking the back roads to avoid any trouble. “Are you alright, Sir Elys?” asked Lord Kenning asked, sitting across from him in the wooden cart disguised as a merchant’s wagon. “Please,” he responded, “just Elys, my lord.”
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