You Are My Light Part II

218 - The Abandoned Queen *reupload*

The ground beneath the northern French monastery seemed to shake with the echoes of men's yells and rapid hoovesteps. There was a thunderous boom that suddenly shook the monastery, and the monks and nuns let out shrieks as the walls crumbled like sand. The Lord Haine let out a furious curse as the next cannot shot rang out from beyond the monastery's thin, sandstone walls. It crumbled like a castle of paper, the stones shattering and collapsing in on themselves with horrid efficiency.

Roughly, Lord Haine reached over and grasped the Queen of France's thin wrist, yanking her to safety before the walls could crumble even more and take the King of France's wife down with them. She didn't even try and move herself from what would be obvious death. More than anyone, Haine knew he had to preserve the Queen's life, or, even if he himself managed to survive this siege, he would most certainly be dead by the end of it. The Queen's life was his bargaining chip to attain his own.

The Queen of France didn't even protest as Haine roughly yanked her down to the dusty flooring, though there was a look on her face, one Haine hadn't seen in a long time. It wasn't exactly relief, nor was it surprise, but something that bordered on illness and a mix of exhaustion and depression. Then the walls hiding them came crumbling down, and an army made up of almost five thousand men descended upon the small monastery that had once housed the Queen of Scotland for a few short weeks as a child.

The determined army broke down the sacred walls as if it was sanctuary for an enemy, not the religious sanctuary it was designed to be. Never in his life did Haine see such an abominable thing happen in his life. A King or anybody for that matter, desecrate a monastery in such a final way. He couldn't help but feel the shudder that run up his spine as he saw what was to come for his life. If their enemy sank to such a level for something that only housed their own enemy, then he anticipated what they would do when they actually found he and his prize. He had bet his life, his head and his prize on them leaving such a sacred place in peace. Apparently, the King of France and Scotland was not adverse to such depths.

"This-this-" the head monk stuttered, soldiers swarming the rooms that the entire monastery had gathered upon. The soldiers ruthlessly lashed out at any monk or priest that stood in their way. Even a few that did not, just to prove a point, Haine thought. "You will not shed even a drop of blood in such a sacred house!" he cried out. "Or you will risk eternal damnation!"

"Father," a cool voice said, from the impromptu monastery's entrance. "I do believe that the souls that hide like vile cowards are at such a deeper risk of damnation than I or my men's will ever be, don't you agree?" the coll voice continued from behind his soldiers. Haine stiffened into one of those stones that damn near took his head off, for he would have quite comfortably bet his life and his dwindling fortune on not hearing that voice ever again. The monks and the residents and the nuns fell to their knees in almost unison, neither having the gaul to wince as they no doubt bloodied their knees and shins on the rough debris of the King of France's attack. Haine was too stunned to bother with such an empty act. He knew that it would be a wasted effort.

The French King of Scotland and France was changed a tenfold from what Haine could remember the then Dauphin being. For the few times he had glanced and caught sight of him at court, the son of Henri II of Valois-Angouleme had been famed for his handsomeness, beautiful spun of golden curls and eyes so blue that they bewitched the hearts of women -and some men- although after the Dauphin was wed, he took none other than his Queen and Dauphine to his bed.

But this man Haine had not seen in almost three years. Not since the now King impulsively run into plague at the height of it, for whatever reason. But to Lord Haine, it seemed the King of France had aged over a decade. Hair a dull yellowish grey that spoke of ill health and impressive years, although Haine was certain that the King hadn't even reached his second decade of life. His stance upon white horseback was stiffer, as if an aged wound plagued him.