Source: @wakeupkitty for contest purpose...
PART 1
Dark grey clouds overhead rumbled past just as the shrill caw from a large crow approached. Alphonse, messenger on behalf of his village of Herdeshire and surrounding areas, navigated his way to the meeting. In a quarter of an hour, he reached the old man's cottage.Stepping inside, he met Vicar Tibost of Gonjolard and proceeded to deliver the plans and names of those willing to participate in change for their livelihood.
Of the fifty presumed faithful, Tibost remained hopeful, but disappointed at the small number who pledged their support in the call for freedom. Tibost learned of the dire situation in the remote villages. Together, he and Alphonse collaborated on the plan.
They raised their cups to the "SONS OF BODARS". In this group's hands, all hope for freedom rested.
But hope in the midst of underlying betrayal by one trusted, all hope may be lost.
Now, PART 2
From outside, dull rays of light flickered the closer Alphonse ran through the tunnel toward the opening. At the end, he noticed the gate ajar. He pushed hard several times, but the rusted bars prevented him from escaping. His pulse beat rapidly as he glanced back hoping the sound that filled the tunnel wasn't from soldiers' footsteps.
But they were.
I've come to the end. I delivered the message. I knew the danger. My part in the plan is finished, he thought, praying his torture and death would come swiftly.
Instead, a force stirred inside. The Sons of Bordars, SOB as they were named to preserve secrecy, are depending upon my success, he rallied. Heaving one last breath, he thrust his entire body onto the bars. To his surprise, his shoulder landed hard finally breaking through. The power in his motion propelled him forward to the ground.
The moment he landed, his upward glance was met with the sharp end of a glaive only inches from his eye. He turned to see other sharp objects in the rear.
Alphonse shrank back as one of the soldiers, a tall fellow, stepped forward. The soldier yanked his hood back hard and grabbed his hair, painfully stretching strands from their roots. The action exposed Alphonse's face.
The soldier laughed heartily, then shouted to his men. All gathered around Alphonse. None of the men he recognized were from the villages.
The soldier had no problem hoisting Alphonse to his feet. He searched his cloak and pockets. Removing the papers, he held them high for his men to witness.
"It's him. Leader of the Sons of Bordars. He carries with him plans for rebellion. But he has failed. Tonight our luck has turned. The Vicar did well. He has served the Crown faithfully. And we'll all be rewarded handsomely for this traitor's capture. They stir trouble to the lowly to rise up against the Crown. They promise riches and freedom from the rule."
Alphonse heard other soldiers whisper Vicar Tibost's name in agreement. Chills crawled up his spine. Tibost, he frowned, then cried silently in disbelief.
The discovery unleashed renewed strength. He struggled violently, but to no avail. They clutched him tightly, kicking his body and beating his face as he curled to protect himself. Blood oozed from his swollen lip. One eye closed partially. His head felt heavy as each pulse of throbbing pain twisted and tore into his senses.
The soldiers continued to press forward their assault, delivering pain to every inch of his body. Feeling the pain would worsen, he relented. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the pain away as he grimaced, swallowing each new stab.
To rebel against several soldiers was useless. I'll be of no use to our group if my limbs are torn and scattered in all directions for the animals to devour, he thought. I must remain whole for the sake of the plan.
But the group's plan for the peasants' rally to freedom felt futile as those plans waffled on the air of change far beyond the moors, his part in it that he'd planned for so long slipping away on the winds of treachery.
"How about a bit extra merriment. It'll teach him a lesson in loyalty," one of the other soldiers laughed with a twinkle in his eye, grime on his teeth, and bloodthirst on his lips as he surveyed Alphonse.
"No!" the lead soldier commanded. "He'll be made an example of in due time. The Crown must decide this traitor's fate once he has spent time in prison." The soldier in charge released Alphonse abruptly. His face landed hard in the dirt.
In no time, the wagon arrived.
Alphonse had seen on numerous occasions over the years the wagons hauling unfortunate and often innocent peasants to the debtor's prison. There, they would work off the sums proclaimed to be owed. Cruel yes, especially since they would be working twice as hard without pay. The same as in their villages.
Alphonse knew it was a possibility with his secret workings in the group that one day he might be discovered, but he would flee far into the other side of the country. He never envisioned riding inside the wagon of death to prison.
The soldier in charge clasped the iron chains on his hands and ankles, then herded him into the wagon.
Once the door locked in place, Alphonse sat hanging his head in shame. His cloak torn from his body, he was now exposed as a common criminal. He didn't mind being placed in prison by his own wayward pursuits. But to be deceived by a monk spoke of his lapse in judgement.
Although peasants, Bordars, of which he was one, were a class above the lowly Cottars. He'd expected betrayal from that lot. They had nothing to lose because they had nothing to call their own.
However, Tibost had obviously risen in the ranks of the Crown. Alphonse knew nothing of the man, except that when they met, he discovered him to be a vicar. Someone respected by all classes. A man of faith and good will.
What gain would he possibly hope to inherit or position to aspire to that he would betray his own or other members of the clergy? he wondered.
Alphonse surveyed the downtrodden-looking men. They must be from another village, he presumed. Instantly the thought flew from his mind as he pondered the fate of the thirty-six men who pledged their loyalty to the SOB. He would trust no one again. But he must get word to the SOB of Tibost's betrayal so that they could warn the others of a traitor in their midst.
How stupid of me to have the list and other plans on my person. Instantly, he remembered that Tibost insisted he take the documents with him. Sickened by the thought, his heart felt heavy for those whose names were listed. They would all be rounded up.
What would happen to the plan for freedom then? he pondered.
Unable to figure out Tibost's reasons for his betrayal, Alphonse's thoughts turned to his village and surrounding areas.
As a child, elders would tell of the beginning.
No more than twenty-five miles from the town of Gonjolard, the villages consisted of fields as far as one could see with farms dotted every so often.
Only twenty years ago was this memory. The land and all who dwelt there had since changed. No longer did gentle breezes caress one's face as the pleasing feel of the warm sun filtered through. Where birds chirped as farmers toiled their lands. Where the women worked alongside their men or inside, and the children ran and played with no worries in the nearby fields.
And now, Vicar Tibost had ruined any plans to return to that time of peace and prosperity before the Crown changed hands and descended everyone's lives except theirs, into the depths of poverty and despair.
His father's words rang in his ear. A dire wolf in sheep's garments.
[to be continued...]
Welcome back to my freewrite prompt story for this week. The photo that is the subject of the story spoke to me about a person who is determined not to be recognized.
Describe what you see.
A crow overhead approaches at the same time as a dark thundercloud. Castle buttresses is situated in the distance past the end of the street. Cottages sit on both sides of the street. Items are lined up against the cottages. Perhaps buckets to empty waste. A man dressed in a black, tattered robe is crossing the cobbled street. Two other individuals in the distance appear to be walking in the opposite direction.
Describe what you feel.
I feel that the cloaked man is on a mission. A secret one perhaps.
Write a story or poem about what you think is going on. I leave with you my story for: A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words - 3/22/24.
Image used with permission of contest owner
For your convenience, I have included below a Spanish translation from DeepL for "Uprising In Gongolard" - Freewrite: 3/22/24 | Prompt: A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words.
Spanish Translation Click here
Source: @wakeupkitty for contest purpose...
Sublevación en Gonjolard (Parte 2)
Bienvenidos de nuevo a mi historia de libre escritura de esta semana. La foto que es el tema de la historia me habló de una persona que está decidido a no ser reconocido.
Describa lo que ve
Un cuervo se acerca al mismo tiempo que un oscuro nubarrón. Los contrafuertes del castillo se sitúan a lo lejos, pasado el final de la calle. A ambos lados de la calle hay casas de campo. Hay objetos alineados junto a las casas. Tal vez cubos para vaciar los desperdicios. Un hombre vestido con una túnica negra y andrajosa cruza la calle empedrada. A lo lejos, otros dos individuos parecen caminar en dirección contraria.
Describe lo que sientes
Siento que el hombre encapotado está en una misión. Una secreta tal vez.
Escribe una historia o un poema sobre lo que crees que está pasando. Os dejo mi historia para:
A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words - 3/22/24.
Desde el exterior, unos rayos de luz mortecina parpadeaban cuanto más corría Alphonse por el túnel hacia la abertura. Al final, se dio cuenta de que la puerta estaba entreabierta. Empujó con fuerza varias veces, pero los barrotes oxidados le impidieron escapar. Su pulso latía rápidamente mientras miraba hacia atrás con la esperanza de que el sonido que llenaba el túnel no procediera de los pasos de los soldados.
Pero lo eran.
He llegado al final. Entregué el mensaje. Conocía el peligro. Mi parte en el plan ha terminado, pensó, rezando para que su tortura y muerte fueran rápidas.
En cambio, una fuerza se agitó en su interior. Los Hijos de Bordars, SOB como se les llamaba para preservar el secreto, dependen de mi éxito, se animó. Exhalando un último suspiro, empujó todo su cuerpo contra los barrotes. Para su sorpresa, su hombro aterrizó con fuerza, abriéndose paso. La fuerza de su movimiento le impulsó hacia el suelo.
Nada más aterrizar, su mirada hacia arriba se encontró con el extremo afilado de un glaive a escasos centímetros de su ojo. Se giró para ver otros objetos afilados en la retaguardia.
Alphonse retrocedió cuando uno de los soldados, un tipo alto, se adelantó. El soldado le tiró con fuerza de la capucha hacia atrás y le agarró del pelo, arrancándole dolorosamente mechones de raíz. La acción dejó al descubierto el rostro de Alphonse.
El soldado se rió a carcajadas y gritó a sus hombres. Todos se reunieron alrededor de Alphonse. No reconoció a ninguno de los hombres de las aldeas.
El soldado no tuvo problemas para poner a Alphonse en pie. Registró la capa y los bolsillos de Alphonse. Sacó los papeles y los mostró a sus hombres.
"Es él. Líder de los Hijos de Bordars. Lleva consigo planes de rebelión. Pero ha fracasado. Esta noche nuestra suerte ha cambiado. El Vicario lo ha hecho bien. Ha servido fielmente a la Corona. Y todos seremos recompensados generosamente por la captura de este traidor. Causan problemas a los humildes para que se levanten contra la Corona. Prometen riquezas y libertad de la regla".
Alphonse oyó a otros soldados susurrar el nombre del vicario Tibost en señal de acuerdo. Sintió escalofríos. Tibost, frunció el ceño, y luego lloró en silencio de incredulidad.
El descubrimiento desató fuerzas renovadas. Luchó violentamente, pero fue en vano. Le agarraron con fuerza, patearon su cuerpo y golpearon su cara mientras se acurrucaba para protegerse. El labio hinchado le supuraba sangre. Un ojo se le cerró parcialmente. Sentía la cabeza pesada mientras cada pulso de dolor palpitante retorcía y desgarraba sus sentidos.
Los soldados seguían avanzando en su asalto, infligiendo dolor en cada centímetro de su cuerpo. Pensando que el dolor empeoraría, cedió. Apretando los ojos, hizo desaparecer el dolor mientras hacía muecas, tragándose cada nueva puñalada.
Rebelarse contra varios soldados era inútil. No serviré de nada a nuestro grupo si mis miembros son desgarrados y esparcidos en todas direcciones para que los devoren los animales, pensó. Debo permanecer entero por el bien del plan.
Pero el plan del grupo para la libertad del campesino se sentía inútil mientras vacilaba en el aire del cambio más allá de los páramos, su parte en él que había planeado durante tanto tiempo se escapaba en los vientos del dolor.
"¿Qué tal un poco de alegría extra? Así aprenderá una lección de lealtad", se rió uno de los soldados con un brillo en los ojos, mugre en los dientes y sed de sangre en los labios mientras observaba a Alphonse.
"¡No!", ordenó el soldado líder. "Se le dará un escarmiento a su debido tiempo. La Corona debe decidir el destino de este traidor una vez que haya pasado un tiempo en prisión". El soldado al mando soltó bruscamente a Alphonse. Su cara cayó al suelo.
Al instante llegó el carro.
A lo largo de los años, Alphonse había visto en numerosas ocasiones las carretas que transportaban a campesinos desafortunados, y a menudo inocentes, a la prisión de deudores. Allí debían pagar las sumas proclamadas como debidas. Cruel sí, sobre todo porque trabajarían el doble sin cobrar. Igual que en sus pueblos.
Sabía que con su trabajo secreto en el grupo era posible que algún día lo descubrieran, pero huiría lejos, al otro lado del país. Nunca se imaginó montado en el carro de la muerte hacia la prisión, pero nunca pensó que su destino le llevaría al interior de una.
El soldado a cargo le ató las cadenas de hierro a las manos y los tobillos, y luego lo metió en el vagón.
Una vez cerrada la puerta, Alphonse se sentó con la cabeza gacha, avergonzado. Con la capa arrancada del cuerpo, ahora estaba expuesto como un vulgar criminal. No le importaba haber sido encarcelado por sus propios caprichos. Pero dejarse engañar por un monje hablaba de su falta de juicio.
Aunque campesinos, los Bordar, de los que él era uno, eran una clase por encima de los humildes Cottar. Esperaba la traición de ellos. No tenían nada que perder porque no tenían nada que llamar suyo.
Sin embargo, Tibost obviamente había ascendido en las filas de la Corona. Alphonse e no sabía nada del hombre, excepto que cuando se conocieron, descubrió que era un vicario. Alguien respetado por todas las clases. Un hombre de fe y buena voluntad.
¿Qué ganancia podría esperar heredar o posición a la que aspirar para traicionar a los suyos o a otros miembros del clero? se preguntó.
Alphonse observó a los hombres de aspecto oprimido. Debían de ser de otro pueblo, supuso. Al instante, la idea se esfumó de su mente al pensar en el destino de los treinta y seis hombres que habían jurado lealtad al hijo de puta. No volvería a confiar en nadie. Pero debía informar al SOB de la traición de Tibost para que pudieran avisar a los demás de que había un traidor entre ellos.
Qué estúpido por mi parte llevar la lista y otros planes encima. Al instante, recordó que Tibost insistió en que llevara los documentos consigo... Asqueado por la idea, sintió pesar en el corazón por aquellos cuyos nombres figuraban en la lista. Todos serían detenidos.
¿Qué pasaría entonces con el plan de libertad? se preguntó.>
Incapaz de averiguar las razones de Tibost para su traición, los pensamientos de Alphonse se volvieron hacia su pueblo y los alrededores.
De niño, los ancianos le contaban los comienzos.
A no más de veinticinco millas de la ciudad de Gonjolard, las aldeas consistían en campos hasta donde se podía ver con granjas salpicadas de vez en cuando.
Hace sólo veinte años de este recuerdo. La tierra y todos los que la habitaban habían cambiado desde entonces. La suave brisa ya no acariciaba el rostro mientras se filtraba la agradable sensación del cálido sol. Donde los pájaros cantaban mientras los campesinos trabajaban sus tierras. Donde las mujeres trabajaban junto a sus hombres o en el interior, y los niños corrían jugando sin preocupaciones por los campos cercanos.
Y ahora, el vicario Tibost había arruinado cualquier plan de volver a la época de paz y prosperidad anterior a que la Corona cambiara de manos y hundiera las vidas de todos, excepto la suya, en las profundidades de la pobreza y la desesperación.
Las palabras de su padre resonaban en su oído. Un funesto lobo con piel de cordero.
[continuará]
SOURCES:
a) JustClickindiva's Footer created in Canva utilizing its free background and images used with permission from discord admins.
b) Unless otherwise noted, all photos taken by me with my (i) Samsung Galaxy 10" Tablet, (ii) Samsung Phone, & (iii) FUJI FinePix S3380 - 14 Mega Pixels Digital Camera
c) Purple Butterfly part of purchased set of Spiritual Clip Art for my Personal Use
d) All Community logos, banners, page dividers used with permission of Discord Channel admins.
e) Ladies of Hive banner used with permission of and in accordance with the admin's guidelines
f) Thumbnail Image created by me in Canva.
g) "Flames." What is Apophysis 2.09. https://flam3.com/
If translation included, I use DeepL to assist my readers.
Thanks for your patience an understanding.
Si se incluye traducción, utilizo DeepL para ayudar a mis lectores.
Gracias por su paciencia y comprensión.
Oh no! oh no! What a gripping tale of betrayal and deception! I did not expect this of Vicar Tibost and honestly believed he was in league with Alphonse. Well, how else would the Crown get it's hand on the resistance other than from within? A wolf in sheep's clothing!
Once I realised Alphonse was betrayed and the soldiers after him, I hoped he would escape them. Sadly, he didn't. And the list of the SOB is with Vicar! Alphonse seems resourceful and resilient so I'm hoping he finds away to escape prison or get the news over to his comrades to warn them of Vicar Tibost's betrayal before the Crown gets to them. Or will a new character emerge to save the younger resistance leader? This is a compelling read. Can't wait for the next part. Justice must prevail. The SOB deserves this much! 😄
!PIMP !LADY 💕
Yes, @kemmyb. "A wolf in sheep's clothing." Those are the ones we bare ourselves to and end up being hurt. In the overall scheme of the plan for freedom for the villagers, I wonder what part each character has to play. Certainly Vicar Tibost showed his hand first. Let's see where the shoe drops next in this quest for control of a people.
Alphonse is resourceful; as is the Vicar. Clearly, they both have different endgames they're pursuing.
Thanks so much for your visit and insightful comment for my story. I appreciate the engagement and support and am pleased you liked the sudden twist the story took.
Take care.
!ALIVE
@kemmyb! You Are Alive so I just staked 0.1 $ALIVE to your account on behalf of @ justclickindiva. (7/10)
The tip has been paid for by the We Are Alive Tribe through the earnings on @alive.chat, feel free to swing by our daily chat any time you want, plus you can win Hive Power (2x 50 HP) and Alive Power (2x 500 AP) delegations (4 weeks), and Ecency Points (4x 50 EP), in our chat every day.
View or trade
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Oh this betrayal is too much. How could the vicar do this to his own fellows. What profit could actually be greater than a person's life?
Can't wait to read the end parts
Hello @beckyroyal. We each have our own paths to follow. Whether right or wrong, they cast the die, and it fell on opposite sides of the issue. But at what cost when the lives of impoverished people are at risk. Others see hurting people as just pawns in their end game.
Thanks so much for stopping by and viewing my story. I'm pleased you liked it. Take care.
!ALIVE
@beckyroyal! You Are Alive so I just staked 0.1 $ALIVE to your account on behalf of @ justclickindiva. (8/10)
The tip has been paid for by the We Are Alive Tribe through the earnings on @alive.chat, feel free to swing by our daily chat any time you want, plus you can win Hive Power (2x 50 HP) and Alive Power (2x 500 AP) delegations (4 weeks), and Ecency Points (4x 50 EP), in our chat every day.
Thanks ma'am.
Happy Easter
!BEER
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Glad the story has not ended yet!