Old Stones

In some ruined places, the old stones still hold memories.

Sometimes, in empty fields, old granite blocks, concrete chunks, and standing stones lie; remnants of a lost and forgotten past that still linger. Even if people have long forgotten those who built these places, who walked the ancient halls, who loved, fought, lived and died in these places that are now lost to time.

Sometimes there is an awareness, a lurking malice beneath the stones, or sometimes even a dark malevolence. Sometimes shadows still move through the empty stone walls and crumbling monoliths. Sometimes sad memories still permeate the grey stone walls, like a tape stuck on endless loops, dead, but yet still dreaming.

But some ruins are truly unconscious, just forgotten blocks amid the trees, hills and fields, remnants of a distant past that is long dead and forgotten.

A sudden cold wind blows amid the tumbled stones. Not much more than a faint shadow, but yet still bearing the memories of the distant and forgotten past...

"Aelfhelm and his men are coming!" they called. "Man your posts!"

He remembers the taste of fear, heart pounding. He remembers hammers and axes falling against the shield wall. It was hopeless, there were too many of them. Somehow, they had been betrayed. Someone...

Perhaps someone he knew and loved.

Because above all else, he remembers the first time he saw her, her clear blue eyes, and her long, curly black hair. Hedwig, daughter of Offrigeld, youngest niece of Aelfhelm. He remembers how those eyes had pierced him, and the way her smile had seemed to light up the day. And the way her golden bracelet had sparkled when he took her hand, with its pale blue gems that seemed to reflect the sparkle of her blue eyes.

She had come seeking refuge, she had said. To escape a forced marriage to a brutish and angry man. Would not the lord Lotharic and his son Eanwulf offer her shelter at Caer Wycleff?

Her tale had wrenched at young Eanwulf's heart. This beautiful, sweet girl deserved better than to be enslaved in marriage to such a horrid brute.

"Guard your heart," his father had warned. "Because sometimes it can betray you, and make you blind to deception. Sometimes it can make you see what you want to see and not what is really in front of you."

"Yes, I trust your wisdom, father, and I will be careful. But if we can protect her here, what difference will it make? I don't think the Mercians would risk war for one runaway bride?"

Lotharic replied, "Perhaps not. But I don't want to risk war either, or any more needless suffering and death. The longer we can remain on good terms with Aelfhelm, the less likely we will suffer the same fate as Aeltearbrycga and Gafolmaed."

"I understand. Perhaps, though, in the meantime, I can show her around the castle?"

And so, Eanwulf done just that, spending the day showing her around the castle and the fields. Then, the next few days they had spent sneaking off together to the woods, lying under the trees, dreaming of an undying happiness away from the dreary rumors of war and hardship. For it was not long before he had realized he was falling in love with her. She was not only beautiful and sweet, but intelligent, and seemed to have a deep inner strength that he found so delicious. And, what's more, she seemed to enjoy his companionship every bit as much as he did hers.

Lazy days drifted by. They took refuge in the archer's blinds his father had built on the wooded ridgetop above the castle as a line of defense, stealing longing glances in the concealed wooden bunkers as they held hands. They laughed together as they skipped rocks across the small lake in the narrow dell just beyond the ridge. They gathered rocks and branches and began to stack them, building a fort that they pretended could one day be a real house. And they climbed trees, stole apples, and stole kisses, away from the watchful suspicious eyes of his stern father. Eanwulf was by custom a man grown, and was it not time for him to find his own place in the world? He began to dream of a future with Hedwig of Mercia, daughter of Offrigeld, perhaps in the very stone house they had playfully begun to build.

One afternoon, as they lay next to the small lake in the woods, Eanwulf had told her, "You needn't worry about your father, or that man who wants to take you away. We won't let them! I won't let them! You can stay with us...stay with me, it won't need to be like that."

"Would you risk the wrath of King Aelfhelm then? You don't know my uncle, or my family. I've seen him mad."

"Yes, I know he wants our lands. I know he thinks he can make us bend the knee towards him. But we are free, and we are strong. We bow to no tyrants here, or to any self-proclaimed lord of Mercia! My father and his men are strong. We can fight him. Hedwig, I would fight and die for you if you wish, I...I..."

"Shhhh...." She said, putting her finger to his lips. Then she kissed him.

And what happened later between them, in the soft reeds by the small lake in the woods, Eanwulf remembers that perhaps most sweetly at all.

Until that fateful day, the day that Aelfhelm and his army had marched on Caer Wycleff.

Somehow they had known exactly how to breach their defenses. Lotharic had secretly hidden a band of his best archers in the blinds atop the wooded ridge beyond the castle, to pick off the attackers from afar. But somehow, Aelfhelm had discovered them and outflanked them from the rear, slaughtering most of them well before they got a single shot off. With the main force attacking the castle from the front moving in at full strength, Caer Wycleff had quickly been surrounded on both sides. Meanwhile, a scout party that had been sent to ambush the attackers in a narrow canyon to the west had instead been caught unexpectedly in open ground, and quickly surrounded and overrun.

And there were just too many of them. Lotharic and his men had simply not prepared for such a large attacking force.

"Give yourself up!" She had begged. "It's not worth your life to fight for me. Trust me. You don't want to fight for me, you DONT." He could sense the tears in her voice, choking back sobs. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to protect her forever.

"They will spare your life, I know they will, I'll make sure of it! You and your men can't win this battle!" She pleaded.

"I can't let them hurt you! Your uncle, your father...that horrible man, what do you think will happen to you if you go to them? What do you think will happen to ME?"

"You don't understand..." she cried, now tearfully.

"Okay then, maybe we can escape. You and me. Just slip away while we have a chance!"

"Then we would BOTH live with the stain of dishonor. Me, and you too. There would be no place for us. You are a lord...there would be a price on your head. And as for me..." She replied.

"But, Hedwig, I love you,... I would fight and die for you if you wished- even if you didn't wish, I cannot bear to see your pain..." He had grimaced at the thought, choked with tears. The thought of what would befall her, if they should all fall in battle, was too horrible to bear.

"Aelfhelm himself would have to hack through my bloody corpse to touch you! This I swear!"

She had only smiled, a sad, drawn smile, and shook her head and said, "You won't need to worry about me. I loved you too. I realize that now. I truly do, but you have your honor, and I must have mine. Do not be sad, for that must be the way of the world."

"I DIDN'T WANT THIS!" he had screamed. "Loyalty...Honor...Should these things defeat love?"

Again, she had only smiled sadly and answered, "In the end, the darkness must always win. For all of us."

"Then so be it, my lady. I pray you remain safe. For now I must do my duty and see to the defenses of my father's castle."

Must darkness always win? Somehow the pain of her words hurt far more than the stabbing in his chest, his own groans amid the dying and suffering, praying for the sweet blackness of death. They had been too badly outnumbered. Eanwulf had indeed fought bravely, but the impenetrable shield wall of his adversaries had quickly broken down their own defenses, and he had been trampled under and slain. Aelfhelm had not needed to hack through his bloody corpse. By the time the invaders had breached the walled central keep, Eanwulf had fought his last fight.

Had he lived but a while longer, he would have heard an angry voice rise among the wail of weeping, amid the burning ruins of the keep.

"You LOVED him! Traitor! Witch!" Keric cried angrily. "Your father promised you to ME!"

"No... I swear! I swear upon my father! I only did this for you! I did EVERYTHING you asked of me! I swear upon my honor, my lord..."

"LIAR!" Keric screamed. "You swear on your father, you say? You have DISHONORED your father. And you DISHONORED me! Did you think you were the only spy in this house? I KNOW you lay with him. I know you loved him. You will die for your treason! Foul harlet!"

With the fury of battle lust still upon him, his mailed fist struck her face. Though she fought back, clawing and screaming, Keric could not contain his rage.

He drew his sword.

By the end of the night, all of the weeping women and children who had survived the slaughter had been carried off. Flames rose into the night. The steel gates were tossed aside, the stones tumbled down, and bodies were burned. However, those who had fought to defend the fortress were not spared. Their honor could buy them no mercy.

But in his remorse at what he had done, Keric saw to it that his betrothed was buried with honor, still wearing her golden bracelet with the blue stones. He would later blame her death on a certain Sir Eanwulf who had discovered her treachery.

Centuries passed, and kingdoms, nations and empires rose and fell. Grass grew upon old stone. As time went by, farmers turned their fields, livestock grazed, kids ran and climbed on the ruins, until even the very stones themselves crumbled and became nothing more than ill-defined lumps half buried in grass. Kings, lords, and even the very names of kingdoms themselves were forgotten.

As time passes, houses are built, modern towns grow and thrive, and cars speed by on newly paved roads.

In some ponds deep in the woods, kids skip rocks and fish for minnows, and lovers steal away to lie on the soft reeds near the bank.

In some forgotten fields, greedy little treasure seekers dig holes in search of sparkly little trinkets, to pocket before the museums and the antiquities law can get a hold of them. Sometimes it is said that a curse of blood and fire, or perhaps some strange spirit of malice attaches itself to these trinkets, bringing ill luck and misfortune upon these illicit seekers.

And perhaps once, long ago, one of these intrepid diggers had found a golden bracelet set with blue stones amid a pile of bleached white and crumbling bones.

But now there is just mute grey stones, poking out of the fertile grassy ground, just an empty mound lying near a range of low hills.

Afternoon wears on, bringing with it an early evening chill. No more than a name now, in fact, even less than that. Restless memories. Just a hint of a shadow, a voice on the wind that drifts by.

Eanwulf touches the grey stone and whispers her name. There is no answer.

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(NOTE: This had originally been intended to be submitted for a short fiction contest, but due to a missed deadline, I revamped it and submitted it here.)