As he lifted his helmet's visor, he felt the battle fever vanish in an instant.
Dozens of mutilated corpses lay in the field, friends’ and foes’ body parts all mixed together in death’s final peace treaty. His men began cheering, but he hushed them – “This was not a foreign enemy we have defeated, these are our brothers and sisters lying here dead, misguided though they were. There will be no rejoicing!” The cheering stopped, and the men continued expressing their joy in hushed tones. It was not victory they were celebrating, but the prospect of lasting peace, a prospect that had seemed fantastic and unattainable for so long.
Helena came up to him and kissed him softly.
“it’s over” she whispered in his ear.
“not quite..” he responded, “we still have our prisoner waiting for us”
The castle was a day’s ride away, and they arrived at dusk the next evening. Arriving from the east, their first view of home as they topped the last hill before the castle grounds was backlit with the red glow of the setting sun, every tower standing out like a blood washed sword. It was beautiful and awe inspiring to behold.
They were received with a somber tune played by four trumpets, and after a short court sitting went down to the dungeons.
The stranger was nearly six feet tall, with a muscular build and ebony black skin. They had removed her primitive leather clothing, and her scant pubic hair glistened wet – they had not dared to untie her to answer nature’s call, and apparently she had recently urinated as she hung, chained to the large Iron rings embedded in the cell ceiling. Her breasts were large and full, tipped by large nipples a shade darker than the rest of her skin.
The cell was dark and small, the floor covered with old straw, and the one small barred window near the ceiling was no match for the intense stench of human excrement.
King Leo turned to the guard who had escorted them to the cell. “You have interrogated her?”
“Yes your highness, but she won’t speak”.
No-one was allowed to torture prisoners in Leo’s realm but the king and Queen. Leo found this method actually worked best, since the unique setting encouraged legendary descriptions of their prowess in the field of torture, portraying them as demonic sadists. These stories persuaded prisoners to talk under no more duress than the threat of calling in the royal couple, and it also so happened the descriptions were not very far from true…
His questioning table had been prepared in advance and stood in the corner of the cramped cell. His Iron stood in a small bucket filled with glowing coals, and was red till approximately 2 inches above the coals. A 3 tailed steel studded whip lay on the table, beside an especially sharp garden cutter, a poker, and an assortment of blades in different shapes and sizes.
As Helena examined the equipment, making sure it had all arrived safely, Leo walked up to the prisoner, and slowly dragged his finger along her body, starting from her jaw, and stopping in the sweaty crevice on the right side of her pubic mound.
“Please tell me your name and nation” He whispered softly.
To be continued…