The Siege

Chapter 3

A sharp pang of pain emits from my hand. Suddenly I'm awake. Confused thoughts tumble through my head and I try to get them straight. I'm lying in a puddle of... Blood? I feel a weight trapping my leg, and I can't shake it off. I'm bruised and aching all over and my head is banging like a hammer on an anvil. I taste a metallic tang in my mouth. My hand doesn't hurt now. Where am I? What's happening? As my ears tune in to the world, a din of yelling and clashing pummels my eardrums. With that noise it all comes rushing back to me. How long have I been out? I gingerly open my eyes, and a host of colours temporarily blind me. As I adjust, I notice that the noise of fighting has faded slightly. Are we winning? I feel guilty now - where was I when my fellow men needed my help? Lying down because I didn't want to go on. Pathetic. I'm looking round and see a carnage. The room I'm in is probably a hall, with the grand tapestries depicting great battles now ironically covered in drying blood. Bodies are strewn across the stone floor, some I recognise but most are the enemy. The weight on my leg is a dead body, lying where he fell. I recoil in disgust, then carefully wriggle out of the embrace and shakily stand up. I clutch my head - the pounding is vibrating through my body and a wave of nausea sweeps over me. I retch and stumble over heaps of blood covered men, slumped over like sandbags. The stout wooden door creaks as I push it open. I peek round and see no one. I slowly stumble down the stone corridor, following the noise of the battle.
The blood is roaring in my ears and blizzards of black dots sweep across my vision. I feel my head, and am surprised to come across a large egg-shaped lump. Eggs... I haven't had eggs since we first arrived in Britain... I shake my head, trying to focus on walking, but shaking makes it worse and swarms of dark shapes taunt me. I stagger and fall into the nearest door. I fumble with the handle and suddenly it springs open - and I fall into an abandoned feast in the Great Hall.
I blink and gaze around with my mouth open, too shocked to comprehend what I'm seeing in front of me. Tables upon tables of luscious steak, tender pork, succulent venison, juicy grapes, apples. Heaps upon heaps of untouched food... I rush into a chair and tear into a leg of chicken and help myself to a bunch of green grapes. I'm reaching for a gilded goblet and I get this sinking feeling of deep shame, a reproachful wave of dishonour flooding through me. I pause and my hand shakes. What should I do? I know I can't stay here even though I really want to. But I'm in no condition to fight... Oh this is ridiculous. I'm a soldier. I must fight. I will fall. But I know it will be for the right cause. And with these martyr-like thoughts and some cherries in my pocket, I march out of the lonely banquet and through a maze of dark, damp corridors.