Broken Oath

Sir Leofwine Westbrook sat down at the table with his superior, to the ever so delicious meal of pottage. He wasn’t too hungry, nerves wrecked his stomach and he felt nauseous. It was a big day, some might argue that this was the biggest day of his life. Last time he was so nervous was the day of his official knighting, the day he became one of the King’s main soldiers, swore protect Him and the Kingdom with his life.

But from this day he was to become even more. He would be taking the position of his boss and will become The Lord Commander of Knights, while the current one retired to the village. On this day, he would be given the responsibility of looking after the King directly, protecting the castle, everyone in there and manage the army, a big one at last.

“Dost thou tremble, boy?”

“Nay, Sir Kennard, I am not troubled. I am well content.”

“This is a heavy burden, but I am certain thou art fit to bear it.”

Sir Leofwine nodded and took a first sip of his stew. He should eat his portion, all strength will be needed to carry the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders.

After the meal, the two men put on their armors, adding their own cloaks as an accessory, which symbolized their rank, but also the importance of the ceremony they were about to attend. Sir Kennard had a dark purple cloak, one which only The Lord Commander of Knights could wear, while Sir Leofwine had a dark red cloak, one which every other royal nobleman had as well. All was about to change in Sir Leofwine’s life, including the colour of the cloak he was to wear.

Suited up in their armors, the two knights headed for the Grand Hall in the castle, where the ceremony was to be held. On the servants queue, they entered the Hall, where the inside was wealthily decorated. Each side of the room had 6 thick columns, from which hanged banners with the Kingdom’s crest - two eagles facing each other with a cross in between them. Between each column there were windows tall to the ceiling, letting in bright streaks of sunlight, which made the room seem blessed from the heavens. Sir Leofwine took it as a sign from God, that he was the right man at the right position.

Sir Kennard asked him if he was nervous - of course he was. There is a huge responsibility coming his way, and even though he was trained for this day for years, he was still nervous. The last thing he should be doing, though, is show it. As the most important and trusted knight he shall show no fear nor stress nor doubt.

Sir Leofwine looked at the soldiers in their armors standing in attention, lined up next to each other in a path that lead to the King and his throne. Other guests of honour were standing on both sides of the room, completely silent, their eyes locked on him. There were two long tables full of incredibly looking food on each side as well, a big feast to celebrate the occasion. Sir Leofwine never got the pleasure to eat with the King, and it made him excited to be able to try the meat and spices.

The two knights slowly walked on the purple carpet, their armors clinking in the silence of the room, until they reached the throne. The King was old, with his long grey and tidy beard, narrow eyes that seemed to have gotten smaller with age, wrinkles all over his light-skinned face. He was short, with a big belly, dressed in his celebratory gown. His face remained serious as the men approached and bowed to him. With a subtle nod he allowed them to stand up.

“Sir Leofwine of Westbrook, thou hast come unto me, with thy heart laid bare, to swear thine allegiance and devotion to the Kingdom. Thou art about to be sworn to the highest rank in the army, to stand beside me in all matters. What I command, thou must obey. This is the final hour for thee to turn back, should thy heart waver.” The King’s low and loud voice has echoed through the Hall’s walls like a thunderstorm.

“My King, I wouldst never waver in mine resolve. I long to serve thee until I can no longer stand nor speak.”

“Very well.” The King said and stood up, a cue for Sir Leofwine to kneel, which he did immediately, with his head bowed to his chin. A heavy steel sword was placed on his shoulder, but the knight did not move or squirm from the weight. “Dost thou swear, by thy sword and by thy blood, to protect the Kingdom of Azamin, defend its honour, and serve me and the realm with unwavering loyalty, steadfast commitment, and undying devotion, until the very end of thy days?”

“I swear, by my sword and my blood, to uphold the honor of the kingdom and fulfill my duties as Lord Commander to my last breath.”

He put out his hands, with the sword still on his shoulder, for Sir Kennard to place neatly folded purple cloak, the same one he wore as he walked into the Hall. A moment later, the red one was taken off him and put away to the side.

“I, King Edmund III, do hereby declare thee, Sir Leofwine of Westbrook, as Lord Commander of the Knights of Azamin. Take this title and bear it with honour and courage.”

The celebrations lasted until early morning. There was music, tables full of food, wine and beer. People were congratulating the newly appointed head of the army and Sir Leofwine never felt happier and more content. The highest honour of his life, anyone’s life. His mother would have been so proud.

He went to bed earlier than the people celebrating, since he had a long day ahead of him the next day, he wanted to be rested.

As Sir Leofwine walked into the King’s war chamber, he bowed and was put at ease by his superior.

“Sir Commander, well met. This day, we shall speak of our next course of action to bring under our rule the village just beyond our kingdom’s borders. It is of great import to us, for this village holds vast lands most fertile for harvest. Their toil may yet be turned to the betterment of our realm.”

“Aye, my liege.”

“I bid thee devise a means to bring the village under our rule without stirring unrest among its people.”

The King picked up his glass of wine and took a healthy, big sip. Wincing slightly from the dryness of it, he put it down and nodded at his servant to have it refilled immediately.

“But ere we set forth, I must reveal with thee the plan for the cleansing of the kingdom.”

“Cleansing of the kingdom, my lord?” Sir Leofwine asked with a surprised tone.

“Aye, thou seest, our kingdom is overrun with wretched thieves and faithless sinners. We must purge these lands of their filth if we are to expand and prosper with only the worthy. To that end, I have devised a means most certain—a cleansing by poison, cast into the wells and rivers, to rid us of the unworthy in one swift stroke. And once the land is made pure, we shall take children from beyond our borders—spirited away in silence during our travels—and raise them as our own, shaping them from their first breath to serve our kingdom as it should be.”

The longer the King was talking, the heavier Sir Leofwine felt on his stomach. Poison the whole Kingdom as a punishment to thieves and sinners? Not everyone is one, there are some faithful and loyal people living in their villages, it would be a huge mistake to do that to King’s people.

But he was not at liberty to argue. Just the night before he swore a complete loyalty to his King and now he needs to follow the path he has been laid out with. As surprised as he felt, a disappointment came over his heart. He has always seen the Head of the Kingdom as a strong and intelligent man. Someone in who's best interest were people that served him. This man standing there was not the same.

The Monarch took another sip of his wine, narrowing his eyes slightly, and leaning on the desk to keep his balance.

“I charge thee to set in order the cleansing and present unto me thy plan of action.”

“Aye, my liege.”

These words were difficult for Sir Commander to say, as the last thing he wanted to do is organize a genocide against his people. Some of whom he grew up with when he was a wee boy, from a poor family.

“Thou art dismissed. And see to it that the servants prepare a fresh flask of wine in my chambers.”

As Sir Leofwine walked through the empty and cold halls, his footsteps echoing annoyingly, his heart was pumping with worry. On his first day he was tasked with such a horrible thing to do, something he would hate himself forever for, killing innocent people, at the word of his King. As soon as he knelt by his wooden bed, his hands tied together, his head thrown forward, he cried.

“O Lord above, what course am I to take? I cannot bring myself to commit this grievous deed—I cannot slay so many innocent souls. Yet my liege hath spoken, and my oath binds me to his will. I have sworn fealty, sworn to be ever loyal. But how can I honor my vow and still keep mine own soul unstained? What am I to do?”

But God stayed silent, seemingly uninterested in Sir’s gut wrenching nerves. Leofwine cried again, terrified of what he has to do.

He had been a part of the King’s army for 10 years now, since he was a young man, eager and full of need for adventure. He had been loyal to the orders given to him, fought other Kingdom’s bravely and had taken many lives before. But this was different. The people he killed were fighting him, it was either kill or be killed. This time he had to do this to innocent people, some who have never hurt a fly before, who were living a peaceful, faithful and loyal to the King lives. Who kept animals and harvested vegetables to feed him.

The streaks of sun came through a small window, landing directly at Sir Leofwine’s face. With closed eyes, he felt as if God was finally listening and would give him guidance.

But nothing came to him and he was still conflicted. Then the knock on his door brought him back from his thoughts and he immediately stood up to open it.

“Mine own father hath revealed unto me his design for the cleansing. Now he lieth in a drunken stupor within his chambers, and I daresay he ne’er meant to speak of it. Yet thou must halt him—this must not come to pass!”

Prince Harold walked into Sir Leofwine’s room, pacing nervously back and forth.

“Mine own Prince, what wouldst thou have me do? I cannot betray the King.”

At moment, His Royal Highness stopped in his tracks, looked at the Commander, with his eyes widening and smile forming on his face.

“We must needs slay the King. When he falleth, I shall take his place, and ne’er again shall such dreadful decrees be spoken!”

Leofwine gasped loudly, putting a hand on his chest, using the other to lean on the table. Dizziness came over him from the shock.

“How darest thou utter such treasonous words? Slay the King? I should have thee seized in but a trice!”

Prince Harold shook his head, put his hands up in a surrendering matter and took a step closer to the Commander.

“I prithee, Commander, this matter is of grave import. The King hath turned ill with drink, his mind clouded and his judgment astray. He doth not truly will the slaughter of his own realm. We must needs save our faithful folk.”

Prince’s face turned into a begging expression mixed with worry for his people, and Sir Leofwine took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Kill the King to save thousands of people - a moral dilemma he never thought he would have. He prayed for God to give him a sign, some sort of guidance on how to proceed - and then Monarch’s son came with this plan. Is this what God is telling him to do? Is this the sign, the guide that he is supposed to follow? Can he betray his King like this, even if the drunken illness has taken over the once sharp mind of the Kingdom’s Monarch?

“A few days, mine own Prince, grant me but a few days to ponder this matter.”

Those few days later the Commander had no other ideas in how to deal with the problem. He promised the King he would present the plan the next day and time was ticking mercilessly. Action needed to be done.

He visited the mad lady, living in the woods all by herself. Not many people in the Kingdom knew about her existence, as she liked her loneliness and made sure to scare off any wanderers with creepy and loud noises whenever they approached. She was a very smart lady, Sir Leofwine thought, knew a lot about flowers, herbs and mushrooms. Enough to help him with his task.

After purchasing a poisonous herb with no scent or taste, he left back to the castle. His heart heavy with guilt, his mind dizzy with nerves and his pocket heavy with the importance of the weapon he was carrying. Every time someone stopped him on his way back to chat, he would snap back at them that he is now busy, has important matters to attend to and walk off. This is what Sir Kennard used to do for the duration of his service, and now Sir Leofwine needed to uphold.

He collected the wine from the servants and put the poison in the glass. His hands trembling, heart pumping in his chest, he immediately felt more guilt wash over his body. Is this the right thing to do?

Before he changed his mind, Commander walked into the war chamber, bowed to his King and offered him the wine. Happier than ever, the Monarch took the glass and emptied it with a few big gulps. He then rang for the servants and asked for a refill.

“Speak to me of the plan, Commander.”