Under Willow's Spell

Ch 1: Death Sentence

An involuntary gasp escaped Willow's lips when the name was announced. There was an uproar around her but all she could do was stare at him. His face was red as he glared at the Duke seated on an ornamented chair on the platform at the back of the banquet hall. Duke Dunstan had a wicked smile on his wrinkled face as he leaned on the arm of his chair. Beside him, his wife looked vacant, as though she did not wish to participate. Her once beautiful brown hair was peppered with white. Willow tore her gaze away from the Duchess to look back at Becket. His light brown hair glistened in the sunlight coming through the open window. His jaw was clenched and he did not say anything. What could he say anyway, there was no escaping this. Becket, her Beck, was about to be sacrificed to the gods. Beside Willow, her good friend Marilyn was sobbing.

"And what if I refuse?"

The Duke barked a laugh as the hall grew completely silent.

"It is amusing that you believe you have a choice. " He sat straight as his gaze pierced through Becket.

Becket grinded his teeth.

"It's obvious, isn't it," Beck said. "I always opposed these ritualistic sacrifices. I unfailingly protested every year. But you never paid any heed. I don't believe in your Lord. If you are so inclined to send human sacrifices, perhaps it should be you."

This time, the rest of the hall gasped in unison.

"Is this how you talk to your Duke, boy?", the head priest bellowed, his face red with anger. It is the priest who receives these prophetic visions. It is the priest who calls out the names. Yet all their anger has been directed to the Duke for letting this get too far.

It was the Duke's turn to get angry. His face got red as he sat straighter and glared at Becket.

"I don't have to listen to such nonsense," the Duke said, tearing his eyes away from Becket to look at his guards. "Seize him."

There was an uproar as the guards approached Becket. Willow was pushed back as the crowd gathered around her friend, forming a protective barrier between him and the guards. There was a momentary struggle, but the guards were stronger than the ordinary townsfolk. Willow tried pushing her way to Becket, but the crowd was vehement and she could not break her way through.

Her face was pushed against someone's back. The heavy stink of a day's worth of sweat overwhelmed her senses. Willow was suffocating in the sea of people. She tried hearing what was happening around her but the screeching was too loud. Screams of terror and fury mingled together. Trying to look through the crowd, she could only catch glimpses of the chaos. She saw guards tearing people away from Becket. Becket and some of the stronger men throwing punches at the guards. She lost sight again and when she looked back, the guards had their swords pointed at Arden. Willow tried pushing harder but she could not move at all. She caught a brief glimpse of Marilyn's terrified face in the crowd because she disappeared as well.

Willow looked around and realised she had been separated from her family. She found her father at the back of the hall. His tall stature made it easier for her to find him. But her mother and brother were short enough to be lost in the sea of faces. She looked around for dark brown hair and found various shades. None of them belonged to her family.

Then everyone's attention was drawn towards the large wooden doors. Armour clad guards entered the moment the doors were opened. Some held crossbows in their hands and others had swords. The chaos and panic grew more ferocious as the hall was thrown into complete disarray. Willow tried harder to get to Becket but she was pulled away again. Weary of effort, Willow let herself be swept by the crowd.

Distracted by the guards, she had not noticed what was happening at the platform till a loud ear-piercing shriek rose above the din. Everyone stopped in their tracks. Willow was pressed up against a wall with the rest of the townsfolk in their attempt to evade the path of several crossbows. She looked to the platform and noticed the Duchess pressed up against the wall. Her son was in front of her, a knife to his throat. Duke Dunstan inched towards his son and the attacker but was pulled back by his arm by the doctor. The Duchess screamed her son's name this time, 'Rowan', loud enough to reverberate across the entire hall. The attacker's name was Greyson. A large man and a close friend to Becket. It did not take a lot to restrict the boy with one hand and hold the knife with the other. He said something at the Duke and the boy grew pale as though he was about to vomit. Rowan's hair was light like his fathers. Even though he dressed older, in this moment, he looked like his age, a boy of fifteen.

"S-stand down," the Duke stuttered. The guards unwillingly lowered their arms but still held a firm grip on their weapons.

Willow's eyes were drawn back to Becket. He was still surrounded by friends who jumped to protect him. But they looked hesitant. Arden was bleeding from his nose and his shirt sleeve was torn. Alfred had what would soon be a very prominent black eye. Becket looked unharmed, but Willow knew he would not stay behind and let the others fight for him. They stood to defend but Willow knew would attack unflinchingly at a moment's notice. Alfred, Arden, and the others she only knew by name; Blake, Warwick.

For what seemed like hours, both sides stared at each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

The Duke was whispering furiously at Greyson whilst the young man looked calm and collected. A heartbeat later, Greyson abruptly let go of the boy, who fell to his knees. Greyson stood eerily stiff, his hands outstretched. Protruding through his chest was the blood-stained tip of a sword. Behind him was Cornell, the Duke's personal Doctor. Cornell stepped back and Greyson fell forward, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Cornell helped Rowan to his feet and looked at the wall. From the darkness, a woman appeared. She took the boy by his hand and they walked out the hall through the side door, the Duchess following them both. Willow was surprised it was the doctor who got this kill and not one of the guards. Perhaps he took the risk because he knew no one would expect him to strike.

The movement at her peripheral brought her attention to Becket. He and the others were encircled by the guards aiming their crossbows at them.

"Enough of this," the Duke yelled. His face was still red. "Listen, boy. You are the only one who has to die tonight. Tell your friends to stand down else they shall join you in death. If they surrender, they will be held in our holding cell to be released after the sacrifice is complete. There is no escape for you. If you die here, right now, we will leave out ten sacrifices tonight, including any friend who survives this encounter. It's your decision."

Becket stood transfixed, staring at the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Even from a distance, Willow recognized his expression. He was deep in thought. He was contemplating the offer. Willow wanted to yell at him, tell him to stay and fight, but her voice was stuck in her throat. She couldn't fight even though she wanted to. She did not have the skills and she was smaller and frailer than the puniest guard. She did not have the right to tell these men to fight for Becket when she couldn't. And knowing Becket, he would not allow them to squander their lives.

Becket opened his mouth and said something to his protectors that Willow was too far away to discern. They talked for a good minute before his friends drew to the side. Becket turned to look at the Duke, his head held high and shoulders straight. His gaze was unwavering even under Duke Dunstan's cold stare that seethed with resentment. .

Two of the crossbow holding guards took Becket by his arms and escorted him out of the hall. Not a soul amongst the crowd stirred for a while, but after they noticed that the Duke and his party left through the side entrance, one by one the townsfolk started leaving. Willow stayed in her place.

By this time tomorrow, Becket would be dead and there was nothing she could do about it. But he was never truly hers. She loved him, as a friend first, then something more. But she never said anything and now it was too late.