Johnlock: The Prince and His Personal Guardian

Pt. 9 Learning to Hold On

After a moment's reflection, St. John sat up as straight as he could and proceeded with his formal princely request.

John stared cautiously into his father's eyes. "Father, I want... I need... to punish the Captain, but I cannot think of what would be appropriate... without actually killing him, that is. If I were to decree lashes, the number I have in mind would more than finish him.  I will have to read the laws and familiarize myself with the levels of punishment to suit a crime. But summarily, if five lashes is appropriate for simply grabbing someone's arm, how many lashes would be appropriate for hurting my Sherlock as badly as he did?"

The anxious prince glanced at Locke who stood at attention with a blank visage, seemingly completely oblivious, as if he had not heard the entire exchange. John looked again at his father. "I have a choice of two sentences in mind. Neither is a law, as far as I know." He turned to look at Locke again. Not a muscle did Locke move.  He could have been a marble statue for all the cognizance he exhibited. 

"Father, I would match Sherlock's five lashes, plus the Captain should be stripped of all rank and removed from the Guard, so that he cannot intimidate another guard or soldier ever again." He looked again to Sherlock and added, "I would also like to banish him from the kingdom, but I believe that such a harsh punishment should be reserved for further or worse transgressions." Still gazing at his Sherlock, he asked, "Could we allow Sherlock to do the drumming out ceremony?" He turned a concerned face to his king, not his father. "What say you, Sire?"

The king replied, "Yea to both, Prince John." John smiled ruefully and nodded at Sherlock.

"Father, I have another declaration. It may be my first new law as Regent."

"Go ahead, son."

"I will marry my love, my Sherlock."

"Of course you will, my son." He pulled the boy into his arms and kissed the top of this head. "It would break your mother's heart to allow you two to be parted now. She's already planning an elaborate wedding to take place next week during your birthday celebration with your visitors as guests." He held John at arm's length. "If that is all right with you, both of you." He reached a hand out to Sherlock, who stood quietly sniffling where he stood.

Locke took three steps and went to his knees in front of the king. "My deepest gratitude, My King." John took his hand to help Sherlock to his feet, and standing himself, pulled Sherlock up into his arms for a fervent kiss.

They stood, arms around each other's waist, facing His Majesty. "Thank you, Father."

"Before I let you go, we have something we must do." His Majesty signaled three soldiers. They quick-marched to his presence awaiting orders. He very discreetly gave them their instructions, for which they deserved applause for their lack of reaction. One of them took off at a run to arrange the proper military ceremonial preparations. The two remaining troopers returned to the main room and collected the Captain of the Guard. "'Tis best done, were it done quickly."

King Eric strode into the room, gathered his entourage and led the Prince and Locke out into the courtyard. Much the same as when Locke was dragged out there, the Captain was marched into the courtyard by his erstwhile underlings. He was walked through the gauntlet while drummers played his "dirge." When he stepped from the two rows of soldiers, the drummers stopped, and he came face to face with Locke, and behind Sherlock a few steps stood both the Prince and the King.

The Prince intoned in his best "commander" voice. "This person has been found guilty of gross dereliction of duty, bearing false witness, and attempted murder. He has been sentenced to five lashes, loss of rank, and dishonorable discharge from the Kings' Guard service. Further criminal activity will result in banishment from the land. It has been decided that the injured party will conduct the ceremony of dishonorable discharge." Prince John bowed formally to Sherlock and indicated he assume his position in front of the lashing post.

Scores of commoners and nobles had already gathered and were milling around muttering about the proceedings. A sturdy lashing post being erected in the middle of the bailey was nearly complete. Two lines of guards stood at attention in a long "gauntlet" from the castle door out to the post.  A long drum roll could be heard from four drummers standing just off the gauntlet run. A shiver passed through Sherlock at the sound of the drums. Prince John noticed Sherlock's paling face and placed an hand on Locke's shoulder. Sherlock lay his hand on John's fingers and smiled a tremulous smile at his prince.

Far to the right, two armed guards held swords at salute flanking the Captain and urged him in a slow-march into the yard. The drums silenced. Sherlock stepped in front of the Captain. The Captain faced Locke with a sneer. He had expressed no remorse when the sentence was read, and showed a facade of non-caring. Having had his short sword removed before coming to the courtyard, Sherlock thought that the captain looked naked. 

Sherlock lifted the Prince's jeweled dagger and sliced the buttons from the captain's jacket. He clipped the stars from his collar and the bars from his lapel. Children, as they had during Locke's defrocking, scooped up all the metal detritus.The two soldiers flanking the Captain attempted to drag the jacket's sleeves from the his arms. The captain snatched his arms away, took the jacket off himself and threw it to the ground. Thin-lipped in disapproval of the captain's non-military demeanor, Locke stepped around the Captain, lifted the suspenders from his shoulders and let them fall. He snipped the captain's stark white shirt from hem to collar.  Not waiting for Locke, the captain grabbed his shirt from the front, ripped it off his own torso, and threw it spitefully to the ground.

The drummers started again, and the guards started down the gauntlet line. The Captain stepped in front of them and marched at a standard pace between the rows of guards. Two soldiers secured twelve-inch manacles onto the ex-Captain's wrists. Pulling the disgraced guard to the post, manacles were looped over hooks, stretching his arms up and apart, to more or less hang him from the lashing post.

Caressing the two-stripped leather whip with his fingers, the lash master then lifted his arm over his head and lay the lash firmly across the ex-soldier's back, who stood stoically straight and refused to sound his pain. Two red bloody welts appeared on his back. The master struck again and again.  When the lash landed the fourth time, the stoic attitude vanished and with a loud gasp, the ex-captain slumped.  Hanging from his lacerated and now-bloodied wrists, the fifth strike elicited a strangled moan as he threw back his head.

Two soldiers lifted him none too gently from the pole and set him on unsteady feet. He wobbled a couple times, but regaining his anger, he forced himself to stand more or less straight.  When the drummers began again, the soldiers marched him to the courtyard's gate and shoved him through, followed by a barrage of rotted vegetables, small sticks, and pieces of gravel picked up off the bailey floor and thrown by the disenchanted populace.  

Locke released a long-held breath.  He couldn't find it in himself to forgive the man, but he did feel a moment of pity. He turned, seeking John.  Finding the prince standing near King Eric, he made his way to John's side.  They stood a couple minutes just staring into each other's eyes and then moved off to re-enter the castle. The walk back to the prince's apartments was made in silence.  The memory of the violence that just occurred held them both in the grip of horror and sadness.

The need for comfort from the depressing events they had just experienced was nearly as compelling as the need to love each other. When the door closed behind them as they entered John's rooms, Locke sort of buckled to his knees onto the floor.  John dropped to his knees next to him, and for a long time, he held Sherlock's shaking body as he sobbed out his personal misery.