1 PROLOGUE

The room was dark and filled with the sour iron stink of old blood and unwashed men. He pushed himself up slowly, each hitching movement bringing a new version of pain that lit him up inside. It felt like old pain he'd lived with for years, as if it had set up home in his body. It was the deep ache of bruise and cut and scrape, not the grinding agony of a broken bone or the cold penetrating sharpness of a stab or puncture. He'd survived worse. Of course, he'd been younger then. Some meager light filtered into the cell allowing him to see that other men—men who'd traveled with him, been with him at war in God's Name—were now imprisoned with him. He would ask the count once his head stopped throbbing. Damn barbarians with their damned war hammers. He would also ask how long he'd been unconscious.

Long enough for the battle to be lost by them, to be brought wherever here was, and then locked up. From the steadiness of the ground he knew they were on land, and not sea. The living shadows that had seemed to overtake them with the ambush did not seem present, though. Only normal shadows existed in this dark and dank place. Once his back was against the damp stone wall a voice came from nearby. "Finally back among the living." He blinked. Even if he hadn't recognized his friend's voice, there was no mistaking his noble features, even in the deplorable conditions they found themselves in. "I am, Milord." "Use my name," his friend chided. He grunted, half from the pain, half from annoyance at the persistence. "Richard the Lionheart," he responded, "you will always be my lord and liege above all else." "So, I should refer to you as 'Lord Longstride,' despite the circumstances we find ourselves in?" "Don't be ridiculous." "Don't be ridiculous… what?" "Don't be ridiculous… Richard." The king's teeth gleamed in the low light. "I would never, my friend Philemon, I am the soul of propriety." "You are very cheery for a sovereign imprisoned by a madman."

I wouldn't consider myself a madman." The voice broke in from outside the bars of the cell. Instantly the men around them who were able rose to their feet, many of them cursing under their breath. Philemon Longstride was right there with them. King Richard remained sitting on the ground. The man on the other side of the bars stood in hobnailed boots of the Roman fashion, all leather straps and buckles to the knee. A heavy horsehide cape with a wide collar made of wolf fur hung over a simple square tunic of wool, held there by a thick gold chain clasp. He stood solid and built low to the ground, but with the wild ranginess of the wolf whose fur he wore. The tunic was belted with a wide strip of stiffened leather, and even in his own keep he wore an arms-length, wide-bladed sword and a short hawkbilled axe, ready at hand. He stroked his plaited beard, fingers laden with heavy rings worn between swollen knuckles. "You do not stand in the presence of your better?" He spoke to Richard. "You're nobody's better, you vicious little cur." Philemon lunged, reaching through the bars. The man ducked back, twisting away so that Philemon's fingers merely scraped along his tunic. His heavy knuckled hand clamped on Philemon'swrist and he pulled, slamming Philemon's face against the bar, teeth chiming against iron. With his other hand he pulled out the hawkbilled axe, and he drove the heavy ash handle against Philemon's arm, sending him to his knees inside the cell. "I am a cur and a mongrel, and yet you are the beasts in my pen." He shoved Philemon back, letting him stumble between men stunned by the ferocity of the maneuver. "Stick it out again and I will cut it off." "Leave him be." King Richard spoke up. "You do not command here. You are my prisoner, Lionheart." "And I can tell that brings you much joy, Wulfhere." "King Wulfhere." "You are no king," Philemon spat. "A mere robber baron, and a pagan to boot!" "You say pagan as if it is a bad thing, Christ-worshiper." "Barbarian." "I have carved out my holding here, and I am lord and liege in the name of my gods." Philemon pushed up from the ground, holding his arm. "Here in the wilds where you were driven by a proper Christian king." Wulfhere snarled, baring square teeth. "Yes, I still remember yourattacks on me and mine simply because we would not bow knee to your Christ." "I never cared whether you worshiped the One True Lord," King Richard said. "I only sought to stop your continued assaults against my people." "You attacked me." Wulfhere lifted his chin, causing the beads in the plaits of his beard to click and clack. "That is all I care about. I shall be revenged, Lionheart." "Then let us duel." King Richard pushed off the wall, rising to his feet. "You and I with whatever weapons you choose." "You would face me by the river at dawn, swords in hand?" "Gladly." "That would answer my personal affront, if I were to leave you bleeding in the mud, but what of the blood debt you owe for my men and my property?" "You filthy—" Philemon growled King Richard put his hand out, stopping Longstride's rant before it started. He sighed, then spoke. "Very well, take me out to the field, cut open my belly, and leave me for the ravens and the wolves to chew on. Whatever makes you satisfied, just let my men go free." The men around him gasped, several crying out in protest at the suggestiontheir king had made. Philemon grabbed King Richard's arm. He shrugged it off, still watching their captor. "Ah, they do not like such talk." The pagan king grinned. "I am their king," Richard replied. "They will obey regardless of their feelings, because they are men of honor." "And I am not?" "You were captured many times by me—did I ever place you in a cell like this?" "No, you put me in a room with a feather bed and a servant to bring me meals from your cook," Wulfhere spat. "Rubbing my nose in how much you have, how much you prevented me from having simply because my blood was not good enough." "Blood does not matter unless you shed it." "You claim that, surrounded by your nobles?" Wulfhere snarled. "You shunned me and then drove me out because I had no nobility." "Och, Wulfhere." Richard shook his head sadly. "That was never the intent." "To hell with your intent. I only care about your actions." "You wished to be nobility, yet without effort. Your father was a scoundrel and did you no favors. It fellupon you to prove you could be trusted with decisions that affect people's lives." "You never gave me the chance. You judged me on my blood." "It gave me pause," Richard said, "but only because a son is often like his father. You had your chance to prove it not so." Wulfhere spat on the ground. "Petty offerings. You allow a noble's son—no matter how thin-skinned or milk-fed—more power at the start than you would ever give the son of a thief." "And there is your problem, Wulfhere. You seek power over service. That's not the way my court runs. No one stays who seeks power. Only those who seek to serve, even imperfectly, are given a place at the table." "Nonetheless, I carved my own from here. Now Odin has delivered you unto me, and I will have my full ransom for you." "Be reasonable, and John should pay it without fuss." Wulfhere's smile pulled his face crooked. "Ah, much is different since you crossed the sea to kill pagans, Richard. You are in for a rude awakening." He turned to leave. "What news, you bastard?" Philemon demanded. The pagan king ignored him and rounded the corner in a swirl of horsehide cloak and rough laughter. Longstride stood a moment more, staring, waiting, but the mongrel was gone. "That went well, I think," he said. Philemon flopped onto the ground and regretted it instantly as new pain shot up his spine. "Well enough." Richard shrugged. "But our fate may not depend upon the man who holds us captive." "What does that mean?" "Lawrence is not among us." "Lawrence with the…" "Yes, him." "Where did he go?" Richard waved his hand to indicate a vague outside. "That is slim hope," Longstride said dubiously. "Hope is still hope." Richard leaned back and closed his eyes. "And that can change everything"

it is just an beginning not an end 😎😎😎

if you like than please like it and comment how is it