Tag: castle

Credit: Thib Ault via Unsplash.

Belle grew-up in a castle with winding staircases, spirited dances, and fragrant boar meals eaten in the great hall. However, life was never safe, and one day an army of Viking attacked Belle’s father (as they had before) with merciless warriors.

Black-eyed soldiers terrifying in torch lights, ended Belle’s family’s meal as the Viking army approached The Vikings waged war against the castle and village, against tear-stained women and bloodied men. All her father’s soldiers wore chain mail, wielded giant swords, and fought hard with each breath.

As Belle fled the castle that night with her sister, Mayleen, she almost ran into a Viking warrior cutting down their father’s men. The girls hid themselves behind some buildings, not yet aflame. They concealed themselves from all kinds of weapons–pointed poles, knives, axes, and fiery arrows.

The girls covered their ears as wounded villagers moaned and shrieked. Bodies fell and caustic smoke made the courtyard and village suffocating. Slick blood was on everyone, splattered on each person common or noble who battled in the castle village. All around Belle and Mayleen lay dying men, women, and children. Many who’d never had a chance at defending themselves.

Mayleen would later help nurse soldiers and citizens back to health. But, on many occasions their meager medicine and alchemy wasn’t enough. Herbs, poultices, stitches, branding irons, and leeches were plenty; nevertheless, many cures were not enough to heal deep or festering wounds. It was often better to die from a battle wound quickly, than to suffer for days with fever and infection.

Belle didn’t understand why her father’s castle was under attack from Viking tribes again, and why other tribal enemies warred against them at earlier times. She didn’t know why her dagger and the self-défense her brothers’ had taught her felt insignificant. Why fighting men leered at her and Mayleen, barely women at twelve and eleven-years.

As both girls shook from fear of discovery, a Viking warrior passed them. Belle wielded her dagger and bared her teeth at a giant Viking with soulless painted-black eyes and a huge axe. Her skirt tore as she tripped, then gouged the chain armoured man’s belly. Belle’s dagger sunk deep into the soldier’s belly. He screamed and staggered almost crushing Belle and Mayleen beneath him.

Belle couldn’t comprehend why Vikings fought against her father, a well-liked Anglo-Saxon vassal. She didn’t know why various tribes had to destroy her family, the livelihoods of merchants, peasants, farmers, monks, and soldiers alike.

Nonetheless, as they did now, Vikings (in particular), assaulted widows, wives, the helpless, sick, and elderly — status or religion meant little to pagans. Her father’s soldiers battled gallant, but the death toll would be high.

Belle blinked climbing away from the soldier she’d pierced. Mayleen waved and the sisters ran. They stowed away where they could within the the chaos, behind or in other buildings, in hay, in water buckets, and any other place safe from chaos, blood, and smoke.

The sisters fought only when needed, attempting to disappear with other women, older men, and small children. At least the older men were trained to slice and fight with swords. With constant attacks everyone gained battle skills to some degree; although, they weren’t often powerful enough against trained Viking warriors.

Belle and Mayleen, continued to conceal themselves in a pile of hay as fire’s blazed and the darkness loomed. The enemy kept decimating her father’s soldiers, the crops, and fields where food was harvested. They were anxious as they waited for soldiers from a neighbouring vassal to aid them — the men never arrived. Anglo-Saxon dogs yipped biting the enemy as did wolves trained to kill, their masters nearby with swords.

In the end, in a twilight of blood, Belle and Mayleen’s father was executed and decapitated. The sisters cried as they witnessed their father’s execution, their cheeks and eyes reddened, and their hearts beating with fear and pain. Still, their brother Francis defeated the Viking army.

Belle and Mayleen’s oldest brother would rule, but not for long. Francis was a dubious king and a tyrant to his people (and siblings) almost as much as the Viking warriors. But, his kingship was short as Belle, Mayleen, her brother Henry, and his supporting army mustered and destroyed ‘Francis the bloody.’ Due to his strict taxation, starvation of peasants and soldiers, and wretched punishments, Francis and his supporters would die.

Henry’s army and arrows of fire sadly burned the village to bits of straw and mud, but most of the charred stone-castle survived; all siblings would rebuild.

There’d be wonderful celebrations in the great hall again. In the castle, rebuilt first, was a large wooden cross with woven tapestries and banners. Smelted Gold and silver was used for goblets and platters at the dinning table. Alloys would create stronger weapons and armor.

For awhile, they could forget war. Everyone, brick by brick and reed by reed, would reconstruct their kingdom. Henry aided business, the fields were replanted, and the castle army increased to better guard their territory.

Belle and Mayleen could once again sit, overlooking the ocean without fear. But, the memories of war would never leave Belle. Eventually, she’d arise not only the former king’s daughter, but a Queen when Henry passed.

With Mayleen she’d forge battles, rebuilding as she conquered tribal enemies. She knew well the lives of those in the village and the castle who relied on her, whatever their class; Mayleen was a reknowned healer and Belle a mighty Queen.

Nightmares of the their father’s death also haunted Belle from her childhood. She dreamt of the Viking soldier collapsing after she’d stabbed him; she tossed and shouted in her sleep from these terrors. Belle recalled her, Mayleen, and other people hiding beneath the dead as she cared for her children at present.

Belle believed her family and castle were constantly saved not by cunning, but by God’s truth — His providence, and His truth against pagan truths.

Years later, Belle was no longer a spirited youth. Sometimes she thought she was forever broken, never understanding why battles razed homes, castles and reed huts. Why businesses, and barns full of grain, food, and mead were also destroyed She was an ever-vigilant Queen who in rest pondered why war was at times necessary, but never just.

For now, Belle sipped wine with Mayleen and watched the sunset; their children lay sleeping in bed. What blessing they’d both received to survive such war and atrocity. To still live in their father’s rebuilt territory, enjoying a rare quiet moment as she prayed for peace.

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