Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(110)

It was either that or die.

Somewhere near the nooning hour, the skies cleared and the sun came out, drying up the wet ground as well as a wet Kristoph. He’d had no protection from the rain. The wagon came to a halt at some point and the men around him began to break out rations of biscuits and wine. Kristoph was starving but he knew they wouldn’t give him anything so he didn’t ask; he simply looked away, trying to look anywhere that men weren’t eating and drinking. Inside, his gut gnawed away painfully.

“Norman.”

That was what they called him these days. Norman. He didn’t even have a name to these people. Kristoph turned to see one of Alary’s henchmen standing beside the wagon, coming in his direction. Kristoph knew the man; he was the one who had survived the fight in Warwick, although he was still showing signs of the beating Kristoph had given him. His left eye was still bruised and he was missing two front teeth. Kristoph braced himself because whenever this man was near, bad things happened. He continued to watch the man as he came closer.

“If I unchain your arms to allow you to eat, will you swear upon your oath not to fight?” the man asked, standing out of arm’s length.

Kristoph’s hunger was stronger than his will to resist at the moment. He nodded shortly. “I swear.”

“If you break this promise, you will spend the rest of your life in chains. No one will help you.”

Kristoph simply looked at the man, his blue eyes circled with malnutrition and fatigue. “I told you that I would not. I may be many things, but a liar is not among them.”

The henchman hesitated for a moment before he motioned several men behind him. In a group, Alary’s soldiers moved forward to both watch over Kristoph and unfasten his chains. As a result of his poor treatment and the heavy shackles, both of Kristoph’s wrists and ankles were heavily chaffed and bruised. The skin was so very painful to the touch. As one of the soldier’s removed the binds around his wrists while another handed him a big loaf of dirty brown bread, Alary suddenly appeared at the end of the wagon.

Kristoph saw him and he paused a moment before taking a massive bite of the bread. There was grit in it, and sawdust he thought, but it didn’t matter. He was starving. As he ignored Alary and accepted a bladder of cheap wine to wash down the bread, Alary came around the side of the wagon bed.

Now, he was closer and Kristoph could no longer ignore the man. He was eating as fast as he could, fearful that Alary would grow enraged over something, anything at all, and take his food away, so he was determined to eat it as fast as he could. As he swallowed a massive bite and washed it down with the terrible wine, Alary spoke.

“I see you have recovered from killing my man back in Warwick,” he said. “But you did not kill Emred. Did you recognize him?”

He was gesturing to the henchman. Kristoph knew the man by sight but not by name. Returning to his bread, he nodded. “I recognized him.”

Alary watched him eat the bread like a lion devouring its prey. It was rather exciting to watch; it gave Alary a sense of power knowing he could starve this man so. Perhaps he couldn’t physically defeat him, and mentally he hadn’t been able to break him, but he could starve him. He could cause the man to eat as if he’d never eaten in his life. To Alary, that was a small victory.

“I have a need to speak with you, Norman,” he finally said. “There are things you should know.”

Kristoph was hesitant to ask the obvious question. He knew Alary was expecting him to. Therefore, he would not. “Oh?” he said.

He didn’t seem concerned, which caused Alary to smile thinly. “We are nearing Kidderminster,” he said. “By late tomorrow, we shall be at my fortress of Tenebris.”

Kristoph had suspected they were drawing near the end of this journey simply because of the increased pace of travel. “I see,” he said. “And once we reach there, then what?”

Alary leaned on the edge of the wagon. “I will not release you if that is what you are asking,” he said. “I still consider you something of value even though you’ve yet to provide me with any real worth.”

“Then why keep me?”

Alary shrugged. “I have told you why,” he said. “If I keep you, the Normans are less likely to force me to their will. News travels fast. I heard last night whilst we supped in the small town of Redditch that the Normans were marching on London. Everyone is fleeing north to get away from them and I know that, sooner or later, they will come north. When they do, you will be my assurance that they will leave me in peace.”

Kristoph was near the end of his bread so he wasn’t hesitant to speak his mind at this point. “I told you that it would not matter. They will come and they will take your fortress whether or not I am your prisoner. Do you honestly believe they would allow one knight to divert their plans of conquest?”

Alary didn’t like that answer. “You seem to have little faith in your worth.”

Kristoph was becoming annoyed. “That is because I have no worth in the grand scheme of things,” he snapped. “Did you really think William of Normandy would bow down to your pathetic plans? By all that is holy, if you are going to kill me, then kill me. If you are going to fight me, then fight me. I have never seen such a foolish excuse for a man in my entire life, so if you are going to do something to me, then get on with it. I grow weary of your idiocy.”