Read Online Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan by Kerri Hawkins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kerri Hawkins
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had given him. He dropped his weapon and stumbled out into the cool night air, collapsing in the wet grass.
They came for him the next morning, the clergy and the soldiers from the next town. He was bound and placed on the back of an ass, and did not get the chance to say farewell to his mother who stood in the doorway as he was taken away. She knew she would never see her son again.
The men treated him roughly and he was hungry and thirsty by the time he reached the town by midday. He had never been to this town, or indeed, any town. He had never been anywhere outside his own village and it was surprising to see the number of strange faces. There was a growing crowd as his hands and feet were placed in the stocks.
He glanced to his left. A man was pinned there, alive but with his head hanging down and his swollen tongue protruding from his mouth. His stench was nearly unbearable as both his hands and feet were rotting off. The boy turned to his right where another young man, perhaps a few seasons older than himself, was confined. He had not been there as long but the skin on his face was beginning to crack and peel from the constant exposure.
The boy turned his attention to the crowd. They looked at him with a kind of malicious glee, hoping his sentence would be carried out immediately. When it was not to be, they expressed their disappointment by throwing rocks and whatever objects they could find at the three prisoners. One young man even defecated in the street then picked up his own excrement and threw it at the stockade.
The boy was glad it hit the prisoner to his right and not him, but he was left with the stench of the feces and the rotting vegetables as the crowd tired and left the three in their misery.
The boy did not want to talk to either of his companions. The man to his left occasionally shouted out in delirium, but beyond that it was largely quiet in the town square. The boy began to cramp in the awkward position and tried to shift his weight, but it was no good. The cuts and scratches he had received from the thrown objects began to itch as the blood mingled with his sweat.
Finally the unrelenting heat began to diminish as the shadows lengthened. The older boy to his right began to fidget in fear and he wondered what could be worse than what they had already endured.
He quickly found out as a group of leering men stumbled over to their location.
“Are you sure we can’t have the pretty one? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much.”
Another man punched the first good-naturedly, but with warning. “No, can’t touch that one. He’s a priest-killer anyway. You don’t want to bugger the damned.”
The man moved behind the boy and smacked him on his rear. “I don’t know, might be worth it.”
The other man laughed uneasily and pulled him away from the boy. “Stop foolin’, Tom, we got this one here.”
The boy could not see what the men were doing behind him but he quickly pieced it together by the squeals of the boy next to him. The men, four or five at least, began to rape the older boy. They took turns and it was apparent from the different voices that others came and went. The boy next to him was slammed forward and back in his stocks as the men took him from behind.
The younger boy swallowed hard, feeling his backside cringe although he was not being touched. Although sympathy was deemed of little worth, he could not help but feel it for the other boy.
“Hey Nell! Too bad you don’t have a tool, you could come over here and give us a hand, so to speak.”
The men all laughed raucously at the joke and a female joined in. “I got the only tool I need right here.”
The boy tried to look over his shoulder. The woman was just barely in his field of vision and was moving out of it as she came toward them. But not before he saw she held a broom in her hand.
The men laughed even louder at her crudeness. “Then by all means, m’lady, join us!”
There was a chorus of
They came for him the next morning, the clergy and the soldiers from the next town. He was bound and placed on the back of an ass, and did not get the chance to say farewell to his mother who stood in the doorway as he was taken away. She knew she would never see her son again.
The men treated him roughly and he was hungry and thirsty by the time he reached the town by midday. He had never been to this town, or indeed, any town. He had never been anywhere outside his own village and it was surprising to see the number of strange faces. There was a growing crowd as his hands and feet were placed in the stocks.
He glanced to his left. A man was pinned there, alive but with his head hanging down and his swollen tongue protruding from his mouth. His stench was nearly unbearable as both his hands and feet were rotting off. The boy turned to his right where another young man, perhaps a few seasons older than himself, was confined. He had not been there as long but the skin on his face was beginning to crack and peel from the constant exposure.
The boy turned his attention to the crowd. They looked at him with a kind of malicious glee, hoping his sentence would be carried out immediately. When it was not to be, they expressed their disappointment by throwing rocks and whatever objects they could find at the three prisoners. One young man even defecated in the street then picked up his own excrement and threw it at the stockade.
The boy was glad it hit the prisoner to his right and not him, but he was left with the stench of the feces and the rotting vegetables as the crowd tired and left the three in their misery.
The boy did not want to talk to either of his companions. The man to his left occasionally shouted out in delirium, but beyond that it was largely quiet in the town square. The boy began to cramp in the awkward position and tried to shift his weight, but it was no good. The cuts and scratches he had received from the thrown objects began to itch as the blood mingled with his sweat.
Finally the unrelenting heat began to diminish as the shadows lengthened. The older boy to his right began to fidget in fear and he wondered what could be worse than what they had already endured.
He quickly found out as a group of leering men stumbled over to their location.
“Are you sure we can’t have the pretty one? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much.”
Another man punched the first good-naturedly, but with warning. “No, can’t touch that one. He’s a priest-killer anyway. You don’t want to bugger the damned.”
The man moved behind the boy and smacked him on his rear. “I don’t know, might be worth it.”
The other man laughed uneasily and pulled him away from the boy. “Stop foolin’, Tom, we got this one here.”
The boy could not see what the men were doing behind him but he quickly pieced it together by the squeals of the boy next to him. The men, four or five at least, began to rape the older boy. They took turns and it was apparent from the different voices that others came and went. The boy next to him was slammed forward and back in his stocks as the men took him from behind.
The younger boy swallowed hard, feeling his backside cringe although he was not being touched. Although sympathy was deemed of little worth, he could not help but feel it for the other boy.
“Hey Nell! Too bad you don’t have a tool, you could come over here and give us a hand, so to speak.”
The men all laughed raucously at the joke and a female joined in. “I got the only tool I need right here.”
The boy tried to look over his shoulder. The woman was just barely in his field of vision and was moving out of it as she came toward them. But not before he saw she held a broom in her hand.
The men laughed even louder at her crudeness. “Then by all means, m’lady, join us!”
There was a chorus of
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