An Eye for an Eye

Rolandus and Percyvell concocted the ultimate plan to steal 3 prized painite rings from the King of Astilat. But when Percyvell is captured and sentenced to death, a rather different tale of grieving and vengeance unfolds. ~A short historical and fictitious novel about revenge and death in the middle ages~

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5. Chapter 5

Rolandus stood, solitary, in the forest by the castle, watching through the trees for the Prince's return. In his right hand was a well-crafted crossbow, and in his left was a sharp, poison tipped arrow. His plan was simple; as the Prince rode through the forest towards the castle, he would aim the arrow at the chink in the Prince's armour - located under his sword arm - and fire, praying that the arrow met its target and the poison would ensure fatality.

Rolandus was not afraid. He had killed many times before and it was certain that this kill would be the most satisfying; the revenge of his murdered son would taste so sweet.

But nothing could ease the pain he felt.

A tear sprung to his eye as his mind replayed the scene....Percyvell's decapitated body, the vile axe dripping blood - Percyvell's blood - and his head rolling on the ground like a gruesome trophy. Rolandus would make the King think twice before taking a life again.

The ground beneath his feet trembled as horses' hoofs pounded the powdery dirt path. This is it, Rolandus thought, slotting the arrow into the crossbow. His finger rested softly on the trigger as he waited for Prince Galot to emerge.

Suddenly, the horses thundered through the trees and into view. Rolandus knew that the Prince would have the grandest horse at the lead of the party and so he knew which rider to aim at. He raised the crossbow and aimed it cautiously, precisely. He slowed his breath to allow a steady arm...and tightened his finger on the trigger.

The arrow released with a harsh crack that snapped his wrist backwards. Rolandus sucked in his breath and watched not only the arrow, but the Prince. He didn't have to wait long for a reaction. As the arrow jolted into the chink in his armour, the Prince slid slowly off his horse and landed with a soft thud on the ground.

"Sire!" one of the knights shouted, flinging himself off his horse to help his Prince. Rolandus didn't even throw him a glance but instead was fixated on the Prince. Galot attempted to heave himself to his feet but collapsed to the ground again. His body convulsed once, twice, and then lay still. Unmoving. Forever holding its peace.

Rolandus felt his eyes swell with tears for his dead son and hoped that the King would soon feel the same. For the Prince of Astilat was dead and his revenge was complete.

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