Prophecy Of Kings: Volume 1 ✔️

Chapter 4 -A Dance with a Druid

Two days prior...

Athelstan and his men faced very little resistance entering Carlyle Castle. They strode confidently over the small drawbridge that was left unmanned. The Clan Chief of Carlyle ordered any man or woman fit enough to fight to rally to the Clan's aid. There was no one left. A few worn wooden shacks were spread out around the inside of the outer curtain wall, the windows of each like watching eyes over the soldiers.

Firmin felt the sharp shiver of adrenaline spread throughout his body, causing his grip to tighten around the hilt of his sword. Too quiet, he thought to himself as they moved deeper into the castle grounds. He knew the force he led was enough to overpower any remaining resistance, but leading the advancing group left him in a vulnerable position.

They continued past the watchful windows to the second drawbridge, which led way to the inner ward. Three women gathered around a small fire in the shadow of the keep. The two on the left and right sat void of all expression, knowing that the arrival of the imperial army meant the ones they loved likely lay dead on the battlefield just outside of the castle. As Firmin got closer he noticed the young woman in the middle had a desperate look about her. She wore a floaty tartan dress, which she had pulled down on one side, an infant made suckling noises as it clung to her breast.

"Excuse me," said Firmin speaking up. "We're looking for a druid, have you seen one?"

As much as they didn't want to reply, the women knew they would soon be conscripted into a life of servitude under a new English master. It would not be wise to rouse their captors.

The young woman removed the infant from her slender breast, grimacing as she did. Firmin caught a flash of her perky nipple as she pulled up her dress and draped the heavy woollen shawl over her shoulders once more. He averted his eyes, but suddenly felt a fire ignite beneath his gambeson. He hopelessly tried to remain composed, after all he was the Knight Commander.

Clearing her throat, the beautiful young woman parted her flaxen blonde hair and met eyes with Firmin. She timidly replied to the Knight, "S...S...Sorry Sir, we haven't. He usually spends most of his time at the top of the Chief's tower... in the library."

Firmin's eyes widened and his heart thumped a little bit harder, however, this was a different jolt of adrenaline than moments ago. It felt warm and inviting, both of which he was unfamiliar with.

"Uhh, thank you Ms," he replied flustered. Before he had time to respond further, he was interrupted by the baby who began to scream inconsolably.

"Shhh Shhh Shhh." The woman bounced the baby on her lap in an attempt to comfort it, but she was unsuccessful. Her jaw whimpered violently as her eyes began to fill with tears. Her head dropped causing her hair to obscure her face, as the baby continued to cry.

"What is the matter my Lady?" said Firmin in an attempt to comfort her.

"Cannae you see she's in pain?" snapped the brunette sitting on her left, wrapping an arm around her. "She's been trying to feed the peer thing since its real mother died...nae thanks to you lot." She scowled at Firmin and continued, "Her breast has no milk, the baby will likely starve in another day or two."

The reality of the situation smacked Firmin like the dull end of a sword. The flutter in his heart turned sour and felt heavy in his chest. "W...What is your name?" he uncharacteristically blurted out.

"Oh uhh..." the young woman's face lit up like the colour of a crimson sunset.

"Leave us alone would you!" the brunette interrupted. "We've told you everything we know."

Firmin bowed his head, his facial features scrunching together conveying a sense of displeasure. He headed for the door which led to the Library.

"It's Barabel... My name is Barabel," her trembling voice barely registered above the whining of the child.