The Beekeeper

Chapter 7

Late January, 1194

Guy felt the cold of the weather deep in his bones. Despite the heavy cloak that covered him, his body ached from the chill - and though he pulled the fur collar closer around his neck, it did little to provide him with warmth. The misery further stirred an already flaring temper.

A poor harvest had been followed by a bitterly cold winter, which had led to an epidemic of disease and hunger. As such, poaching had become a serious problem of late, despite it being a treasonous offense. Briewere had assigned Guy the task of finding and arresting anyone suspected of the crime. Which meant, of course, that it was Guy who was forced to venture out on long outdoor treks – no matter the weather.

It was enough to drive any man to madness.

How many times had he lain awake at night, asking himself why he didn't just end it all?

I am meant to suffer, he answered himself. It is my penance, and I am deserving of it.

Only his mad desire for self-punishment kept him alive. He knew he deserved this fate...this living purgatory. For all the wrongs he'd done, he wanted to be punished. And if death came to claim him in the meantime, he would accept it. The fiery pits of hell were where he deserved to be, for he had destroyed something pure, something innocent. He had destroyed the only woman he had ever loved. And an eternity of punishment would never be enough to right such a wrong.

In the distance, a movement caught his eye. Two figures were hunched over the carcass of a deer, preparing to hoist it onto the back of a horse. He knew the men before him. One was a tall, grizzled beast of a man. The other was slender and tow-headed, garbed in dark green with a quiver of arrows across his back. The two of them paused for a moment, looking up.

Guy's eyes narrowed dangerously at recognizing his enemy...and he shouted the command forward.

"Seize them!" Giving his horse the spur, he charged forward with his men close behind. The two criminals abandoned their kill, mounting the horse together and fleeing fast.

Guy led his men in a mad dash across an open meadow, keeping the outlaws in sight. He was almost upon them.

In his haste, he had not seen the signs – the evidence that the lane on which he rode was a flat expanse covered by a blanket of white. It was not a field he now rode upon – but a hidden lake, frozen over and covered with snow.

It happened all too quickly. His horse began dancing in fright. All of the horses followed suit – their instincts warning them of the danger they were in. The men were in a panic, and Guy shouted an order - his voice barely heard above the chaos.

"Move forward! Go!"

There was a melee of shouting men and screaming beasts as the entire band tried all at once to escape – some of them finding solid ground...and others sinking into the now collapsing patches of ice and partially frozen water.

Guy's horse reared up in a panic - and he could not hold his seat. He felt himself being thrown backwards and down – and then he screamed in pain as there came a violent twisting of flesh and bone at his left foot - his boot tangled in the stirrup and his ankle breaking as he dropped down into the freezing waters. All became sudden inky blackness around him, the icy water shocking his heart - sapping the air from his lungs.

Instinct screamed at him...

Breathe! Breathe!

In his head, he knew that if he opened his mouth, it would seal his doom. But his panicked survival instinct was too strong...his lungs burning for air. And he could not keep from gasping.