Underestimate Me

Thoughts raced through Rowen’s mind. A hurricane blasted its way through his skull as he tried to focus on anything other than the tent that was always located behind him. These women watched his movements closely; some eyes held the safety of curiosity while others held the ferocity of hatred. Yes, he would admit freely to being a hopeless philander; he even admitted to trying to teach his sweet younger brother his way with women though the charm never quite wore off on Merek. Still, Rowen never hurt a woman in his life. Not until he found Josselyn still alive.

He whistled on his way back from the market. Fancy bread, fine cheese, and spiced ale should make good enough to break his fast on this exquisite morning. Good enough? Rowen had kicked himself for thinking the horrid words, especially after looting his father’s kitchen for the right ale. It should be perfect, not simply good enough. He could not find her favorites at the market, and that was why he raided Elrik's kitchen.

Setting his eyes upon his once closed but now opened chamber door forced worry into Rowen’s mind. Had she left him already? No, she could not for it was too soon for her to quit him today, but his door was ajar, not the way he left it on his way out. The fear and worry left his mind as he thought of the events of the previous night. The soft tapping on his door, those words from her lips. Nothing could cease his eternal happiness.

“Good morning, Sweet,” he called as he entered his chambers. Turning away from the open room just long enough to shut the door tightly behind him, he called, “I brought your favorite cheese!” As he turned back, Rowen did not find what he expected. The sword at his throat caused a severe ache in his chest as his parcels fell to the ground. “No!” He whispered, before he screamed the word. The cold of the steel blade pressed against his skin which prickled in both fear and anger.

“This is for your own good!”

Animals, tangled in the darkening thicket of the large trees, kept a more watchful eye than the women of this group. He could sense something licking its jowls, biding its time, until Maa felt it time for his death. Rowen bowed his head, and then laughed at himself. The irony of praying to a God that only brings you misery. “I have prayed long enough,” he stated more to himself than the new guard. She stood holding the lit torch unlike Evelyn which is most likely the reason he did not bother to learn her name when she spoke it. His thoughts were far away from her, those animals, that light.

Rowen thought only of his father. That foot soldier, he wished he took the time to learn the name of the man who saved his life, should have made it to Elrik’s table by now. Rowen could almost see the punishment being dealt to the scoundrel who deserted his leader, though leadership only continues so far. There were no men left in his regiment; why should that man be punished for saving his own life?

Merek was next in his brother’s thoughts, or maybe he was first and the hurricane circled him around to this position. Rowen prayed to whoever listened in those darkening clouds above him that his younger brother would not do anything stupid. Merek often sought trouble out just to get attention when he felt he needed a little more abuse from their father, and the boy would need a lot of attention now that his older brother was trapped. Rowen let a growl slip out of his lips. His guard shoved her boot into his thy, a clear signal. He lowered his head.

His thoughts turned rapidly to Evelyn. If memory held true to its account, then Evelyn was betrothed to a councilman, the youngest after Hadrian. He spewed minor details of a secret chamber meeting, but blamed his loyal wife for letting him drink too much. Rowen remembered Elrik talking about forcing secrets out of her using some new form of water torture. How could a woman who went through something like that be so pleasant?

Rowen shook his head viciously in hopes of shaking the memories and thoughts loose from his mind. The action failed him, and turned him to a new miserable memory instead. Elrik asked the questions, the endless onslaught of abominable questions. Each unanswered question left with a piece of his flesh, licked away by the cracking whip. Rowen remembered every sensation of the thick leather against his flesh leaving small cuts not deep enough to dread a bloody death, but open enough to cause festering if not carefully tended.

He deserved this. Behind his eyes, somewhere nearly forgotten, Rowen knew he deserved every ounce of what he had gotten and what he was now dealt. The doubts he had on that day. The things he let himself believe just to lessen his own pain, only to hear the most grotesque lie imaginable coming from his own father’s lips. What else must Elrik have said, what other lies has he spewed?

Footsteps approached from the rear. He wanted desperately to turn his eyes toward the soft sound. Something was not right thought, he did not usually hear the new guards approaching, and this one, loitering over him with a burning torch, just arrived when the sun nearly bid its farewell. “Why do you approach,” the woman called. Her voice was strict and commanding. Rowen flickers of shadows of memories tried to form upon hearing her voice. It reminded him almost of his mother when she was angry with him, but the memory and the thought vanished quickly.

“Our leader has sent me to fetch our guest.” He could almost see the endearing round face and wide eyes of the child he spoke to earlier. He wished he had asked his question in a more suitable manner, but there was no turning back from here.

The guardswoman turned her face away from the light and her assignment. When she turned back she quickly unfastened the binding around his wrists, but the manacle stayed round his neck. Rowen was snatched into a standing position before he faced the little girl. Her eyes seemed to look more and more familiar, until something overtook them. The innocents was shoved aside for much worse, but she could not hold the harsh gaze.

“I do know you,” Rowen spoke softly, “do I not?”

“I shall not answer your questions.” Her voice was soft but stern. A tone well practiced.

“No matter,” he stated. “I will remember by the bye. I have nothing else to do beside remember.”

Her eyes turned on him, wide with shock. He could see in her face that she believed the guards to speak kindly to him, and most did, but he was nothing more than the son of some tyrant who ordered their demise. Those wide eyes, filled with shock and something resembling fear. nearly as blue as her fearless leader’s struck Rowen in an odd fashion. He thought back suddenly to the people watching him, scorning him. He heard his father’s question, refused an answer and felt the thick leather against his skin.

“I changed my mind,” Rowen whispered as he adverted his eyes, “I do not wish to remember you; and I pray you do not know me.”