Mercerian Tales

Fitz and the Witch: Part I-2-3

Sir Dudley was called over with the horses, and he began the process of wrapping up the ranger's body. The woman watched them intently as Sir Rodney tied her hands. Fitz wondered who she was, but was too busy directing the others to begin any interrogation.

Sometime later they were on their way back to the Keep. Lord Richard and Sir Rodney took the lead, with Sir Maynard and Sir Lionel following directly behind. The prisoner was tethered to Sir Maynard's horse by a rope which ran from his saddle to her hands that were bound securely. Sir Dudley and Sir Ethan rode behind her, eyes darting about in case the creatures returned to finish what they started. Sir James brought up the rear, leading a horse with the ranger's body slung over the saddle.

“What do you make of it, Lord?” asked Sir Rodney, his cold all but forgotten.

“It’s most curious,” said Fitz. “I’ve never heard tell of anything like it.”

Sir Rodney turned in the saddle to look at the prisoner, struggling to keep up. “Isn’t it dangerous, trying to hold a witch?”

Fitz likewise turned to view the woman, “She doesn’t look very dangerous now. Anyway, it’s for my brother to decide, he’s the baron.”

He was about to turn back, but the woman stumbled as Sir Maynard tugged abruptly on her line. She fell, and the knight, laughing, sped up his horse slightly, dragging her painfully along the uneven ground.

“Enough of that,” said Fitz, irritated at the young knight's actions. “Let her get to her feet. It’ll do no good to bring her back dead.”

Sir Maynard halted, dismounting to drag the woman to her feet. “You’re a pretty one,” he said, almost spitting in her face, “I bet I could break you.”

“I said that’s enough!” roared Lord Richard.

Sir Rodney had turned his horse and now rode up to the younger knight. In a flash, the older knight's sword was at Sir Maynard's throat. “You were given an order,” he said, “or do you choose to dishonour your oath?”

There was a tense moment as the two men stared at each other, then the younger man cast his eyes to the ground, “No, Sir Rodney. My apologies. I was just overcome by the death of the ranger.”

“Understandable,” said Sir Rodney, “but we must still carry out our duty.”

“I wonder,” said Fitz, “if we might make better progress by putting the woman on the ranger's horse?” He rode over to look down on their prisoner. “Can you ride?” he asked.

She nodded her head.

“Very well, let’s put her on the horse, and just to make sure there are no further improprieties, she’ll ride beside me.”

“Is that wise, Lord,” pressed Sir Rodney.

“You take the lead, Rodney, and we’ll keep a man to either side of us in the event she tries to make a break for it. Just in case, we’ll keep her hands bound and tie them to my horse. Will that suffice?”

The elder knight nodded, “Indeed, Lord. I should think those precautions would be entirely adequate.”

Rodney settled the prisoner on the ranger's horse, in front of his body. The sky was starting to darken with clouds, and they would be lucky to arrive before the rain came. The ride continued in silence until the Keep was in view, then Fitz turned to the prisoner, pulling the gag from her mouth. “You haven’t told us your name,” he said. “What shall we call you?”

“It matters not,” she replied. “I am your prisoner, and I expect no mercy from you. Call me what you like.”

Riding on, he let her words sink in. Who was this woman, and how did she control the animals. Was she indeed a witch? He knew little of them. They were said to be the masters of nature, what one would call an Earth Mage, but his knowledge of the arcane arts was very limited.

Fitz considered himself a well-read man, but magic had been in decline for generations, and now there was only one mage left in Merceria, the King's Healer, Andronicus. Could there be other mages that the crown didn’t know about? He thought it unlikely, but in truth, it wasn’t his place to worry about it; that was the prerogative of his brother, the rightful Baron of Bodden.

“What will the baron do with her?” piped up Sir James, who was just behind them.

“I know what I’d like to do with her,” said Sir Maynard. “There’s only one way to break a woman!”

Fitz turned in his saddle, ready to explode in rage at the man's tone, but Sir James had spurred his horse forward, and struck the younger man, sending him to the ground. “I’ve had enough of your disrespect for Lord Richard, you ungrateful cur. I don’t know what they teach you in Wincaster these days, but here we respect the chain of command.”

The young knight got to his feet and stared daggers at Sir James.

“Mount up,” said Sir James, “and I’ll have no more of this talk.”

The earlier silence descended once more while the sullen group rode through the village. Soon, they passed the gates and headed straight toward the stables.

“I’ll take care of disciplining him,” offered Sir James, “even if I have to beat some sense into him myself.”

Lord Richard and Sir Rodney escorted the prisoner to the great hall where Baron Edward awaited them.

“Is she the cause of the attacks?” Baron Edward asked, without preamble.

“Yes, Brother, at least we think so.”

“And how did she accomplish this?” the baron demanded.

“She is a witch,” blurted out Sir Rodney.

“A witch? I suppose that would explain things.” Baron Edward stepped forward, holding up her chin with his hand, “What is your name, witch?”

Her look of defiance was visible to all. “You caused this,” she spat out, “by your attacks on the Whitewood.”

Edward smiled, “You’re my prisoner now, I suggest you conduct yourself in an appropriate manner.” He looked to his younger brother, “It would have been better if you had killed her,” he suggested, “and spared us the trouble of locking her up.”

“She surrendered herself,” Fitz protested. “What was I supposed to do?”

Edward gave him a look that told him what he thought of the situation. “So, witch, what shall we do with you, eh?”

The woman spat on the ground, “That’s what I think of you, Baron.”

“Take her to the dungeons, Sir Rodney. Perhaps after she’s had some time to rot in the darkness, she’ll reconsider her attitude.”

The knight led her away while Fitz remained to talk to his elder brother, but it was Edward that spoke first.

“I don’t like this,” he stated. “Having a witch locked up here could be dangerous. You should have killed her; it would have made it easier for everyone.”

“We have to determine what is happening here, Edward. Find out why this war started.”

“War? This isn’t a war. It’s a witch that’s been ordering some attacks.”

“Perhaps we can reason with her?”

“Reason? She killed a King's Ranger; there can be no reasoning with that, the woman is insane.”

“Still,” offered Fitz, “we're at an impasse. I would like to try and resolve this. The animals are still out there, and our men are not safe."

“By all means,” replied the baron, “but she stays in the dungeon until I say otherwise."

Lord Richard left the hall, his mind in turmoil. Who was this woman and why did she feel compelled to protect the Whitewood? Was there some secret held within the forest that she was defending?