Everything Begins

Chapter 13

“Thank you, my son, but I do not think it will be. I appreciate the thought, though.”

Elise moved close to them and hugged them both.

“Can you do anything to make Baba feel better, Mama?”

Jarda grinned when Elise looked at him with a twinkle in her eye.

“I will do my best, little one,” she said.

“Good. I do not like it when he is upset.”

“None of us do, Ga’briyel. Now, off to bed with you.” Elise gave her son a kiss, and Jarda put him down.

“Good night, Mama.”

“Good night, my son. Sleep well.”

When Frank disappeared into his room, Jarda stepped up to his wife.

“And just how do you plan on making me feel better?” he asked, running his hands up and down her arms.

“By having you focus on something else for a while,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to their room. She glanced back at him and smiled. “Hopefully for a very long while.”

First light came with dark gray clouds that covered the sky and sun and cast a deep gloom over the training grounds. In addition, thunder rumbled ominously above the assembled men and boys, and lightning flashed high in the clouds, creating an eerie light show.

Perfect weather for what is to come, Jarda thought as he stood on the platform before the entirety of the Guard and the Chatra except for the eight men standing guard at the gates and palace. All told, there were not quite two hundred men and boys lined up in front of him. They all stood at attention and waited for their general to speak. Only a few of the assembled knew exactly why they were there, but there was fear and unease on many of the faces before Jarda, for behind him were five stocks, each built for two prisoners, four of them brand new. In addition to them, a whipping post had been erected with stocks built in for hands and feet. It was positioned so that the back of the condemned would be to the assemblage.

Jarda stood at the center front of the platform while Captain Stiphen Phransa and Guardsman Tero Rabina stood to his left along one edge of it. Tero had asked to be part of this tragedy so that the other guardsmen knew that it was not only the officers who believed these actions necessary. Captain of the Guard Clithar Asgier had immediately agreed. Ma’ikel and King Tomas stood together on Jarda’s right side. Jarda had thought to have Frank accompany him, but after talking with Elise, he had decided that, rLisarkable as Frank might be, he was too young to watch what was about to happen.

Jarda let his Guard fret for about five minutes before speaking. He kept his eyes fixed on them all, and more than one Chatra dropped his gaze when Jarda stared at him. Many of the guardsmen looked as if they wanted to do the same, but they stood straight and tall and received Jarda’s glares without flinching. Finally, Jarda spoke, and his voice could have frozen a bonfire’s flames. “I regret to tell you all that you are here to witness a punishment that has not been meted out in the palace guard for more than a century. The reason for the lengthy time frame is because it has been that long since any behavior has been so heinous as to merit such punishment. And so that no one thinks that this punishment is unjust or unfair, I want you to see the victims of the crimes that were committed.”

Jarda gestured to Tero, and the guardsman walked down a set of steps. When he placed his hand on the bare shoulder of Dinton, the boy slowly walked up the steps, and the other eight boys who had been beaten followed him. They walked to Jarda and stopped, saluting him. He returned the salute and stood behind them as they faced the multitude who now stood as straight and motionless as the marble statues outside the palace.

“Look closely!” Jarda’s voice became even harder. He motioned to the boys, and they slowly turned, their hands on their heads, and showed off their bruises. “This is what has been going on in my Guard, in our Guard, and I am disgusted by it, as you should be. It makes me want to vomit knowing that some of our own committed such atrocities on these boys. It is because of this that the punishment you will see today is just and fair. Some of these boys have been tormented for almost a year, and they were threatened with worse if they told anyone what was happening.”

Jarda paused and listened as a rumble, deeper than the thunder above them, passed through the guardsmen. Many of the Chatra looked sick. Then he gestured to Tero again, and the guardsman led the boys off the platform. They put on their shirts and joined the ranks.

“Now, Captain Phransa.”

“Yes, sir, General Mistri.” Phransa and Tero left the platform and almost immediately returned with the ten offenders between them. Their hands were bound behind their backs with rope, and they all had on plain white shirts, linen breeches, and coarse brown shoes. Jarda could tell that none of them had slept the night before, and he thought it only right since he had not either. The captain had them line up at the edge of the platform. All of them paled when they saw the instruments of punishment that had been built the day before, and Juston and Eran looked as if they were about to faint.

Tero took the first in line, Brynjar, and led him to the whipping post. At twenty-three, he was the oldest of the group, and therefore the first to be punished. Tero untied his hands, stripped his shirt off him, and placed his hands in the upper stocks on the post before inserting the pin to hold the stocks closed. Then he put his feet in the lower stocks and stepped back.

“He is ready, General Mistri.”

“Proceed, Guardsman.” Jarda joined Phransa behind the other prisoners, partly to make sure they watched and partly to catch any who might faint or try to run.

“Yes, sir.” He picked up a knotted scourge with seven tails and stood so that the shackled man could see him. “Brynjar, you have been found guilty of brutalizing and terrorizing nine Chatra over the past year. You have been sentenced to receive twenty lashes and five days in the stocks, after which you will be dismissed from the service of the crown. You are hereby stripped of your rank and all that goes with it by order of King Tomas of Mahadesa. Do you have anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

“No.”

Tero frowned at the contempt and arrogance in that single word, and he said, “Very well.” His general had told him not to hold back with his strokes, and he twisted his body to get the most force behind them. The first landed with a sickening sound somewhere between a slap and a thud, accompanied by a scream from Brynjar and several red welts, two of which immediately oozed blood. Tero simply said, “One.”

The screams continued as Tero swung again and again and again until Brynjar’s back was covered in red and purple stripes, and the blood pooled at his feet. As expected, Juston had collapsed after the fifth stroke, and Eran had followed him after the tenth. All of the condemned and many of the assembled Chatra were trembling as Tero swung for the last time. None of the guardsmen were, however. They looked to be made of stone. Very angry stones. By the last stroke, Brynjar was no longer screaming; he was merely whimpering.

“Twenty.”

Tero put the scourge down and removed Brynjar from the post, but he immediately led him to the first set of stocks and placed him in them, hands and feet. The former guardsman simply laid his head on the top stock and cried.

Phransa stepped forward and took Iskander with him, securing him to the whipping post. Tears were streaming down the faces of the five former Chatra by this time, but the captain was just as harsh with his strokes as Tero had been. The captain and the guardsman took turns administering the lashes until all of the former guardsmen were in the stocks. Not one had made a statement before the flogging. At that point, Phransa secured Glaucus to the post.

“Glaucus,” he said, “you have been found guilty of brutalizing and terrorizing nine Chatra over the past year. You have been sentenced to ten lashes and three days in the stocks, after which you will be dismissed from the service of the crown. You are hereby stripped of your rank and all that goes with it by order of King Tomas of Mahadesa. Do you have anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy sobbed. “I am so, so sorry I was ever a part of any of this. It was wrong, and there is no excuse for my actions. I am sorry, sir.”

Phransa paused and looked at Jarda. The general knew what he was asking, but he could not show leniency, even though the boy showed clear regret and remorse for his actions. If he did, he knew that the other four would try the same thing, whether they meant it or not. Therefore, Jarda just hardened his eyes and nodded to his captain to continue. Phransa nodded back and swung the scourge.

“One.”

The boy’s scream permeated the entire training grounds from one end to the other. Phransa gritted his teeth and swung again.

“Two.”

The scream changed to a strangled gurgle, and Glaucus sagged in the stocks. A third swing followed.

“Three.”

The boy was gasping for breath, and with the fifth lash, he had passed out. Phransa once again looked at Jarda.

“Wake him up and finish.” Jarda was feeling sick himself by that point, but he kept his voice cold, knowing he could not show any sign of indecision.

Phransa swallowed. “Yes, sir.” He got some water and splashed it on Glaucus’ face, rousing him. “Only five more,” he whispered to the boy before he stood, steeling himself against the whimper that came from the former Chatra and continuing the lashes. When he finally counted out the tenth, he carefully led the sobbing boy to the stocks and locked him in. He joined his general behind the three boys left after the guardsman led Ricard to the post. He felt physically ill, and it only got worse when he thought about the fact that it would be he who delivered the lashes to the youngest, thirteen-year-old Juston, who was curled up on the platform at that moment, soft moans coming from him.

The process continued with the next three boys all fainting at some point in the punishment. They were each roused so that they could receive the full number of lashes. When Eran was placed in the stocks, Tero walked to Phransa and told him with his eyes how sorry he was that the captain had to be the last to wield the scourge. Phransa nodded and reached down to his feet and tried to pick up Juston by his arms.

“No! Please, General, please no!” The boy started screaming, and wrapped his arms around Jarda’s legs. “I am sorry, sir, so sorry! Please let me just go home! I will just go home, and you will not ever see me again!”