Chains of Duty

“Some legacies shine in the light. Others survive in the dark where no one looks.”

About three days’ hard ride northwest of the Capital lies the seat of Gilbert, known simply as Gilbertown. Legend has it that an ancient king—some five or six thousand years ago—bestowed this land upon a valiant brother, the hero of legend, Jimmy the Hammer. With this gift came an oath of service to the crown. From Jimmy and his bride came six sons: the eldest to rule, the younger five to serve.

Forged in blood and sealed by ancient magic, this bond made the Gilbert Knights the unbreakable shield of the King, generation after generation.

But on this day, the weight of duty isn’t upon the brothers, but on a young girl—Hope, who is receiving another lecture on duty by her older sister, Elizibeth, the Lady of Gilbertown.

The Lady is dressed in an elegant black silk dress with orange trim; little orange rams decorate the hem. This dress has been stitched to ensure comfort for the woman as she is deeply with child. Her brown hair has been elaborately decorated by her ladies in waiting.

Her appearance is stark in contrast to the younger, who is sporting a long black braid that is hanging over her left shoulder and wearing a modest dress that would make her look like a peasant girl except for the coloring and the ever present rams.

 The young girl has the appearance of a servant in this place of opulence. As always, she is wearing her hair in a thick braid, even still, her beauty is known all around the city; almost as much as her reputation as the Lady of Gilbert’s petulant little sister…

“Hope, you’ll turn sixteen with the next moon’s change. It’s time you fulfill your call for the strength of Gilbertown.” Her authoritative tone reverberates off the walls of the Great Hall of Armor. Her words stab with a strong bite of stone and steel. The older sister is already tired of this conversation; they have had it every day for weeks. Ever since she gave the word to her little sister that she has arranged a marriage for her.

It is a match far above the younger sister’s station. Honestly, Gilbertown is far above the station of the elder sister, but in the current state of the kingdom beauty is often rewarded by men in power. A marriage that will ensure she lives in great luxury compared to her upbringing at Stonewall, their familial home.

“This isn’t my home,” Hope responds. “Mother died two years ago, and Father sent me here to be your problem. My home is Stonewall. This place means nothing to me.” Hope says absently looking over a set of armor from a forgotten age. Orange and black… everywhere. Rams heads on everything…

After their mother passed, Stonewall became a darker place; it wasn’t quite home anymore.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Since you came, I’ve tried to be a sister to you.”

This marriage, though expected of every maiden, is a welcome relief from the demands placed upon her. She cannot bring herself to admit it but arranging it has been one of the few highlights of her adult life—a brief distraction from the daily agonies of pregnancy.

“Why? You married the Lord when I was learning to walk. We’ve always been strangers. You were a daughter of our parent’s youth, while I came to them in old age. Please, just leave me be.”

“I am sorry you feel that way. Ouch!” the Lady cries out, clutching her stomach. A pain that the Lady has endured before. The magic of her Lord husband’s bloodline builds strong soldiers in the womb. Many Gilbert physicians have said that birthing a Gilbert Knight is like giving birth to ten regular boys at once. The mother of these future knights must be strong women.

“Is it time? I’ll fetch the physician!” Hope exclaims, her anger momentarily forgotten; the visible discomfort of her sister has lowered her guard just a bit. Her compassion for her sister’s discomfort outweighs her distain for her actions for a single moment.

“No, the boy is just moving. Probably practicing his hammer swing in the womb. I’ll be fine.” Elizibeth replies as she clutches her belly.

“Are you sure? At least let me go get one of the wise-women for you.”

“This is my fifth son. I know this battle well.” The older sister says as she endures the discomfort.

“And you have one battle left after this.” The younger sister reminds her of that more was expected of her beyond this childbirth.

“Six babies who will hold the most powerful weapons in all the land. Four I have plus this one; one more to come. My life is bound in this magic as much as theirs… But I have a unique position among women… I do not have to worry about my sons, their paths are laid out before them, I can take comfort in that… I suppose.”

The Lady sits on a bench before an ancient set of armor with a plaque that reads the history of that generation of brothers. The set of the brothers that abandoned the King and returned to Gilbertown during the schism. Placed in the center of the Great Hall as a place of honor. The armor has fresh blue roses placed around the display to honor the modern shift of the Gilbert family. Brothers John, Jimmy, Jay, Jacob, and James are all heroes of the boys of the region. The Plaque reads- returned home to defend their home in the 17th year of the reign of King George the XI. Elizibeth once sat on this bench looking at the armor of these brothers in awe, but being here for all these years has numbed her to the romanization of the family legacy, so she cares not to read it. “I was your age when Father agreed to marry me to James. I didn’t want it either, but I did what was expected of me.”

 “Duty.” To Hope, it’s just a word women throw around to rationalize the lot they have been given in life.

“Your marriage was all Father ever talked about. You—a maiden from Stonewall… Stonewall! A small tower built by a lowborn knight two centuries ago. Marrying into the Gilbert’s was more honor than our family could ever hope for. It was the greatest honor of our father’s life, but at the cost of yours!”

“Him becoming grandsire to a generation of Gilbert Knights is his greatest pride. Poor man—two daughters, when all he wanted was a son, he couldn’t have them, so I am giving him the next best thing- six grandsons.” The pregnant sister responds with a bit of irony in her voice.

Hope hears a hint regret in her sister’s voice. “Elizibeth… you were forced to marry a stranger. Bearing sons. Stuck in this magic cycle. Why are you trying to marry me off to suffer as you have?” The young girl says looking in her sister’s eyes hoping to find compassion.

But it is anger that flashes across her sister’s face—Hope has said too much. She had wanted to remind her of her own plight with a marriage she didn’t want, but it seems that all these hard years have hardened her sister to those feelings, or perhaps caused her to spitefully yoke her sister in a bad marriage.

“This is not suffering! This is the path ladies like us must walk. My struggle elevated Stonewall. You will continue our family’s rise—by bearing sons and daughters for the Lord of Sunny Meadow.”

“That man is older than sixty—he has great-grandchildren already. I will not marry him! It is vulgar to even suggest it!” Hope retorts, her own anger flaring.

The Lord of Sunny Meadow, a man not long for this world. A man of great ambition and appetite for young girls apparently. Just the thought of him forces Hope to shiver in disgust. Yet her words of distain fall on deaf ears. Because in Elizibeth’s mind, she has given her sister a future of comfort and wealth, even if it means a few years of lying with an old man.

“You deserve no more than the hand of a fiddler or a minor knight. But you will dwell in a true castle with a noble man of royal blood. You will bear him children. Perhaps one day, your granddaughter will marry my eldest grandson. This is a great honor!”

“No, it isn’t. And I will not have it!” Hope exclaims in a fury that has been boiling below the surface since first hearing the marriage pact. Defiant as ever, the young maiden stands her ground in this Great Hall filled with the empty shells of armor from hundreds of generations of hammer wielding warriors.

“The ink is dry! Father will spend his last days rejoicing over your marriage. Two daughters of Stonewall—risen far above our place in this world! One day, you will thank me for this honor. I worked hard to arrange it. Your days will be in comfort, you will want for nothing, and your slightest whims will be taken care of by your Lord husband.”

Hope stares, disgusted. “So that’s it? You’ve had your sons. You get only one marriage to arrange—and you use your little sister for your amusement. I promise you; this marriage will not happen.”

Elizibeth awkwardly stands from the bench holding her belly “I expected you to say that. Tell Father yourself when he arrives in a few days. And tomorrow, when the Lord of Sunny Meadow comes, you will show every courtesy. You will voice no ill opinions.”

“He’s older than our father!”

“He is your future Lord husband. I will speak no more of it. A proper Stonewall dress will be sent for you in the morning. I’ll have a bath drawn. We’ll get that hair out of that braid for once. Sleep well, little sister. My Lord husband expects you to behave like a true lady tomorrow.” With that, Lady Elizibeth Gilbert leaves the Hall of Armor.

Hope sits heavily on the bench, gazing around the Grand Hall, the armor of countless sons gleaming back at her. Almost judging her with the brightness that the light shines off the breastplates. She reflects on the reputation of the family of knights and can’t help but wonder what is so great about them. Of the five current brothers wielding the mighty Gilbert war hammers, four of them have made passes at young Hope. Only the youngest has been able to maintain a sense of decorum around her.

Sons… They have it easy. If only she had been born a boy. She would have inherited Stonewall. Her father would have found a fair maiden for her. Instead, she is to be sold off to an old man and Stonewall will fall to her father’s brother’s son.

The thought of lying with Ser Patrick of the Meadow sends a chill down her spine. A man who has buried two wives and sired sons with their own sons older than she. A man whose lingering looks had always made her uneasy. She has never felt comfortable around that old man and never will. His occasional visits to Gilbertown have been enough for Hope, she has no desire to give herself to him!

Maybe he had planned this all along. It’s no secret that kings often marry young brides, then remarry later under the guise of political unity. Maybe this old lord knight is doing the same—in reverse. Duty, honor, strength—all the words her sister had used, but none benefiting her. They were shipping her off, just as Father had once shipped her sister here.

Anger rises, pounding in her head.

“NO!” she grits through clenched teeth looking back at the shining suits of armor that stare back at her with the ghosts of long dead men memorialized with their blue flowers. It’s almost as if she is daring them to stop her. Who’s stronger? The hallowed knights with their magic hammers or one teenage girl? Right now, Hope feels like she could defeat them all. Her resolve is unbreakable. She stands to leave the hall and the legend of these knights behind once and for all.

Hours later, well past midnight, Hope emerges from her room. She is dressed in black to match her long braid. She has stolen clothes from a nephew—those hammer boys grow fast—and has a small bag and a purse of coins across her shoulder. She has been planning this for a few weeks and had begun hoarding supplies just in case she got up the nerve to actually go through with the fantasy that has dominated her mind lately. Life on the road is better than life as a conquest, one way or another she will walk her own path.

Her nerves are a mess, but her mind is clear. This is her life, not her sister’s, and this is her body, not that creepy old man’s. She has resolved to take control of both!

Hope’s timing couldn’t be better.

The Gilbert Lord and his brothers are away on a hunt and won’t return until midday. Escaping the castle and city should be easy in her mind—but word will spread quickly. She needs to make good ground fast. The stables are guarded, so she must start on foot, hoping to buy a horse later.

For the last few hours, Hope has been contemplating her journey should she get outside the castle walls. North is the hunting grounds where the brothers are and her capture would be certain. East leads to Sunny Meadow and the old man, no doubt the second he hears of Hope’s escape he will send out his entire garrison to find his prize. West—back to Stonewall and her father who will only deliver her into the hands of the man she is trying to avoid… All out of the question.

South is the only real option. If she can flee south, she might find a place in this unforgiving world where she is not merely someone’s possession. Perhaps find a small town or village and work for a seamstress, or serve drinks in a bar, or work the fields. Anything to keep that dirty old man’s hands off of her and to stay out of his bed.

She navigates the castle surprisingly easily. Perhaps having the five greatest weapons in this world at their disposal has given them a sense of security without feeling the need to lock every door and gate. Hope makes it out of the family holdfast without incident, even the portcullis was up without a guard.

Is it always like this? Surely not! Maybe she’s just lucky.

Hope’s nerves begin to settle as she approaches the outer castle wall. She has made it in mere minutes where she expected to have to sneak her way over an hour or more to get this far. No guards in sight anywhere. Could this really be the state of the castle every night?

Almost there!

The gate is closed, the first sign of resistance! But she had expected this, however, once again, no one is around so she just goes for it. Luck has been on her side thus far, may as well double down.

How could she possibly raise this gate alone? And without waking the entire castle?

How do you raise a gate? She finds herself wondering. A young maiden of a minor tower, she may be, but the mechanics of opening or closing a gate was not part of her curriculum.

But there has to be a way. Just one more gate and she can emphatically put this nightmare behind her. As she studies the gate her nerves begin to fail her. Panic begins to set in. Whatever she decides to do must be now! How can this be her undoing?

Just one more gate!

“That’s not the path you must take.” A voice from the dark shadows to her left said, “You will find nothing but trouble with that gate.”

“Please! I cannot go back!” Hope snaps around looking for the owner of the voice.

“A girl with planted feet? She can’t go forward; she can’t go backwards. Something tells me that you cannot stay here either” the voice responds.

“Please don’t turn me in!”

“But I am a guard, it’s my job to do just that.”

“I have gold! It’s yours if you just help me.” She says as she reaches for the large coin purse draped over her shoulder.

“You’ll need that gold outside these gates, or you will never make it.” The voice says apathetically.

“Then what do you want?” Hope asks fearing the answer. A young maiden of marriage age knows exactly what men want. They are all the same.

“Not what you expect.”

Relief rises up in Hope as she had resigned herself to give the voice whatever he wanted to get out of the castle. “Who are you?” She asks.

“No one important.”

“Come out where I can see you.”

A young man in a guard uniform steps out of the deep shadow “See? No one of importance.” Hope notices that the guard uniform doesn’t quite match the guards normally at the gates of the castle. Sure, it’s generally the same but this one looks faded and well worn, very old. The orange is heavily faded and the black is more of a gray now. That ram’s head is unmistakable though.

“What’s your name?” Hope asks with trepidation.

“I am Jaye.”

“Of course you are, does any boy in this place have a name that starts with any other letter?”

“Yes, you know they do.”

“Jaye, right now you are the most important person in my life, you have all the power to set me free or to condemn me” Hope pauses momentarily to catch her breath “please don’t take me to my sister.”

“Oh, you can’t go to her, but you can’t go out that gate either… What’s a girl to do then?”

“Please! I will do anything!”

“That’s right, a girl can always ask for help.” The young boy says with a comforting smile “And I will help you—not for reward, but because it must be so.”

“Why would you help me and not get payment of some sort? What makes you a man of honor among all these villains?”

“Duty, honor, strength… and sacrifice.” The words that had been at the core of the debate with her sister in the Hall of Armor earlier. Was he in the room? Hope was certain that no one was with them during that heated discussion.

“What does that mean? Are you taunting me?”

“Not at all my Lady. This moment… it has taken longer to arrive than you know.”

“What?” The words seem to come from her mouth before she could even think them.

“My Lady, we can stand here and discuss my words but we both know your moment is slipping away with each passing second.”

A hushed tendril of terror runs down the young maiden’s spine as she feels the pressure of the moment.

“Please…” Hope whispers in desperation.

“No need to beg, just take my hand.” Jaye says as he reaches out to the young maiden.

Hope thinks over her options—then realizes this is her only choice. She must trust him. Hope reaches for Jaye’s hand; he gives her a comforting squeeze and leads her into the shadows along the wall. Blinding shadows of pure darkness envelop them; Hope cannot see directly in front of her yet Jaye walks with confidence as if he sees everything. He leads her to a door, the creaking is undeniable, they have entered the wall through an unseen door. He navigates a maze in complete darkness. The strong stench of long laid dust kicked up by movement hits her nose hard. They end up going down a set of stairs and before she can understand what is happening, a door opens into the city outside the gate of the castle.

Jaye turns to her “Now make haste down that way” as he points down one of the many city streets.

Hope embraces him with a tight hug “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Your path is south for now, walk it with strength for you will be tested but you are strong!” Jaye says as he places his hands on her arms and looks into her deep green-brown eyes “you flee this place now, but should the winds of fate guide your steps here once more, fear not. The path you tread is veiled in shadow and starlight, and of all the destinies it holds, this is not the darkest.” He slides something into her hand while maintaining eye contact. “Do not worry, you will not walk this path alone.”

“More riddles.” Hope responds.

“Go now, beautiful girl.” Jaye says with a smile as he reaches up and kisses her on her forehead just below her widow’s peak.

Hope turns toward the south, taking the first real steps of freedom. “I will never forget you, Jaye,” she says as she glances back—but the young guard isn’t there. She looks left and right. Gone. She looks toward the base of the wall a few dozen feet away, but there is no door in sight. How can this be?

A gust of wind hits her face as the faintest of whispers gently hits her ears “Now!”

The young maiden dressed in the dark black clothes of a future Gilbert Knight grabs her braid over her left shoulder and begins to walk.

This time, she doesn’t look back.