I reincarnated in game

48 Attack in the Square

Tom had become bored with the local scene and thought it was time to head back to the castle.  It was then he realized he was standing in front of the very inn where the bishop had stayed.  He recalled the gossip had been that the cleric had been murdered behind the inn.  His curiosity got the better of him and he headed towards the alley. 

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Right after Tom had so rudely left their meeting; Elizabeth went to stand next to king who had remained seated, and silent, pre-occupied with his thoughts.  She extended her hand and touched him lightly on his shoulder.  “That was an excellent proposal,” she said.

He looked up at her with weary eyes.  Patting her hand, he said, “Thank you, my dear.  It just came to me as I faced that petulant child.  Now all I need to do is get the word out to those who are having trouble to feed their families and pay their taxes.”

“I will be your emissary; the people know me and will heed my words.  I could start as early as mid-day,” was Elizabeth’s spontaneous offer.

“Very well,” the king replied, knowing how committed Elizabeth was to the citizens.  “I am however, concerned for your safety; please do take a couple of guards with you.”

“Thank you, Archibald.  I will do so,” Elizabeth replied.  She left the room and headed to the kitchen to arrange an early lunch …

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After the rather blustery start, the skies cleared and the day became sunny and bright by mid-morning.  Everything looked so clean and white with the fresh blanket of snow.  In spite of his earlier misgivings about the winter climate, Kenneth looked out on the winter scene and thought how nice it would be to take a walk in the crisp air.  He approached Hugh and Judi.  “How about we grab a bite to eat and then take a walk down to the square … it looks so inviting outside,” he enthused.

Judi looked through the window.  “Sounds good,” she replied.  “What do you think, Hugh?” she asked.

“Yes.  We could go if the two of you would like to,” Hugh agreed.  “We have nothing planned; James is away until this evening and we haven’t heard from Anne yet, so why not?”

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Tom proceeded down the alley to the back door of the inn.  His military mind kicked in.  He turned and saw the garbage containers.  “That must have been where the assassin laid in wait for his target,” he said to himself.  He approached the presumed hiding spot; he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword as he bent down to check the line of sight to the back door and assess whether there was enough room to conceal a would-be assassin.  “If it were me, this would be where I would have been waiting,” he speculated.  He stepped back into the alley and approached the back door of the inn.  As he did so, he heard muffled footsteps in the snow.

His right hand moved to rest on the handle of the dagger in his belt.  He turned.  Two men were approaching from the direction of the square.  He could see they were a couple of the locals, not too well off, based on their attire and lack of hygiene.  He was not intimidated by the fact they outnumbered him; he took a couple of steps towards them.  “What do you want?” he asked in a cavalier manner.

The two men facing Tom pulled knives from under their cloaks; the taller of them said, “We want your pouch!” 

Before he could respond, Tom heard another set of footsteps behind him; looking over his right shoulder, he saw that a third man was standing about five feet behind him.

Tom raised both his hands in response.  “You don’t want to do this!” he said in a calm voice.

The shorter of the two men in front of Tom walked towards him.  With his knife held firmly in his right hand, he warily reached across to remove the pouch from Tom’s left side.  Just as the pouch was within reach, Tom grabbed the assailant’s wrist and held it in a vice grip.  Tom’s delivered an open hand jab with his right to the would-be robber’s throat.  The man staggered backwards a step, dropping his weapon, to hold his injured throat.  Tom pulled his dagger and dealt the man a death strike, pinning the man’s hands to his throat.  The stricken man’s eyes widened; he fell to the ground as Tom withdrew his dagger.  At that moment, the man behind Tom leapt onto his back; he wrapped his arms about his target’s neck trying to overpower him.  Tom slashed backwards, opening a wound across the attacker’s ribs; he then used the man’s own arm as leverage to flip him over his shoulder and send him crashing into the brick wall of the inn.

The last of the trio saw his one friend was already dead and the other, wounded.  He lost his nerve and turned to run back towards the square.  Tom flipped his dagger in air and deftly caught the blade in his hand.  The man fleeing the scene had made it several yards down the alley when he felt a searing pain just above his left knee.  He fell to the ground with Tom’s dagger protruding through his leg.  Tom was right behind him. 

Tom retrieved his dagger and pulled the man by his injured leg back to where his friend was propped up against the brick wall.  The maimed man sensed that Tom meant to kill him and started screaming for mercy, begging Tom to let him live for his wife and family’s sake. 

Several townsfolk who had been in the square came to the entrance of the alley, alerted to the activity by the man’s incessant screaming.  Tom stooped down and placed his hand over the man’s mouth.  With his dagger in his hand, he said in a quiet but menacing voice, “I am going to ask you some questions.  When I remove my hand, you will give me the answers.  If you start screaming, or say anything other than the answers to my questions, I will use you as a pincushion until I get the responses I need.  Do you understand?”

The wounded man could see that Tom was deadly serious.  He nodded and gave a muffled reply in the affirmative.  The crowd remained, watching from the end of the alley.

Tom figured this is exactly what happened to the bishop; only the bishop didn’t have his ability to defend himself!  He removed his hand.  “Who are you?”

“I am just a poor man.  My family is hungry.  We need food …” the man began.

Tom slapped his hand over the man’s mouth to stop the flow of words; he pushed his thumb down into the man’s wound and applied pressure until the man grunted in pain.  “Keep your answers short and to the point … I am not a patient man!” he said.

Tom removed his hand slowly.  The man remained quiet.  “Who sent you?” Tom continued.

“Nobody sent me,” was the succinct reply.

“Did you kill the bishop or do you know who did?” Tom inquired.

“I didn’t do it and I don’t know who did!  I am just a poor, hungry man …” the man whimpered.

Tom had to stop the man’s rant with his hand once again.  “What did I tell you about keeping your answers short?” he said.  He took his dagger and gave the man a quick jab in the shoulder with the point of his weapon.  The man screamed in pain through Tom’s fingers.

All of a sudden, a clear and distinct female voice spoke.  “What is the meaning of this?” she asked.  The crowd separated to allow Saint Elizabeth and the two king’s guards access to the alley.  As she continued down the alley, Elizabeth could see where the conflict had occurred; the blood stains stood out in stark contrast to the snow … it was apparent that one man was already dead.  She recognized Tom as the man bending over two injured men.

Tom wiped his dagger on the man’s shirt and stood up; he turned to face the person who had just addressed him.  He recognized Elizabeth from their morning meeting.

“I was just conducting my own investigation of the crime scene here and was jumped by these three men who tried to rob me.  I defended myself.  You have just interrupted my interrogation of this fellow here,” Tom explained.  “The way I see it, this was what befell the bishop.  Maybe it was simply a robbery gone wrong and not an assassination,” he said.

“I am just a poor, hungry man, Your Grace.  I am not a murderer!” said the wounded man.

Elizabeth saw the man’s desperation and said, “The king has decreed that any man who paid their taxes can register for assistance to receive food and fuel for their families.”  Then, looking at Tom, she said, “Tom, this is not the right way to get answers.  It is not your place to question these men; that is for the authorities to do.  Based on what I observed while coming down the alley, you were not interrogating them, you were torturing them!  These men need medical attention.   Now, please stand aside!”

“Firstly, you cannot speak to me like that,” Tom retorted.  “Secondly, these are my prisoners.  I will fight any man who tries to interfere with them!”

 He walked towards her. 

Ignoring Tom’s challenge, she turned to a couple of the men in the growing crowd and asked them to escort the two wounded men to the local doctor for their wounds.  She motioned for two more men to take the body of the third man to the local morgue.  As the locals moved in to do her bidding, Tom placed himself between the volunteers and the men behind him; his stance and demeanour showed that he was not about to stand down.

Hugh, Judi and Kenneth had been part of the crowd who had responded to the commotion in the alley.  They had recognized Saint Elizabeth and witnessed her address the ill-mannered man who was standing between her and the wounded. 

When Tom challenged Elizabeth’s authority to move the dead and injured, stating he would fight any man who interfered, Hugh stepped forward.