Rose Thorns (The Cimmerian Cycle #3)

Prologue

                  

Prologue

The jail door rattled and the man within the cell lifted a weary head. All of the years he had known the King were all for nothing. Their childhood friendship clearly had meant nothing to the man. The guard unlocked the door and it creaked open slowly. The man remained seated on the bench. He knew what time it was. He knew it was the end.

"Get up you filthy maggot," the guard jeered.

The man looked up at him. Once he had been someone. He had held power and he had almost had control of the Kingdom. His velvet attire was bloodstained and dirty, a stark reminder of who had once been.

"I said get up," the guard spat in his face and yanked him to his feet by his overgrown hair.

The Lord said nothing. He was still above the low-lives that the King hired to protect him.

He was forced forwards out of the dark and dank cell into the tunnels that ran beneath the palace. The march to his death began.

Each step brought a new memory forward, a new regret. He had never married, never had children. He had wasted his years away on his island, waiting for the right moment to strike. His father's death lay on the hands of the King and he was going to make the King pay. He was going to seize the throne and rule over the four Kingdoms.

He clumsily ascended the stairs knowing there was no way he could escape his fate, only that he could make them regret the day they ever crossed the Hidefield family.

The sunlight burned his eyes; it must have been weeks, even months since he had last seen the light of day. Before he could drink in the suns warmth he was roughly shoved into a corner. A fragile looking serving woman rushed forwards and did her best to clean the man up. She wiped the blood from his forehead and brushed back his hair. She avoided looking at his face and as she turned away, Lord Hidefield gave her his best smile. Her eyes widened with fear and she scurried away.

Then he was back out into the sunlight and walking across a wooden platform. The rope hung before him. He was outside the palace walls and he could hear the jeers of the peasantry who lined the streets. They cursed names at him for, he was a traitor to the king.

"Lord Hidefield," The King's voice boomed and he craned his neck to see the King standing atop the high palace walls. The sun was rising up from behind the ocean, surrounding him in a halo of light.

"Lord Hidefield," he repeated, "You are no longer a lord as I strip you of all of your titles and land ownings. You have been found guilty of treason, your crimes being disloyalty to your kingdom and to your King!"

The crowd roared but Lord Hidefield did not quiver away. He stood tall and proud. At last his efforts would be recognized. The people would know the true genius of the man who had almost pulled the Kingdom right out from underneath the King.

"You amassed a secret army, you conspired to kill my wife and my son, your queen and prince as well as conspiring to kill me, the King. For your crimes you will pay for your life."

The King nodded to the guard at Hidefield's back. He was shoved forwards onto the platform under the rope. The crowd roared once more. The rope was lowered around his neck. A man in white robes stood forward and gave him the blessing of the Ancestors.

"Do you have any last words traitor?" The King demanded.

Hidefield almost smiled, "The worst is yet to come."

And at that moment there was a single thud as the body dropped to the ground.