“Everyone, outside! Now!”

Frederick stood up from the table so quickly that the dishes beside him clattered to the floor. Their shattering startled the maids who jumped at the sound. Frederick grabbed Roger by the hand and turned to the servants.

“Take them! Quickly! Annette!”

Annette reached over and grabbed Frederick II and gave him a squeeze.

“Freddy, we’re following your father outside. Go quickly.”

Lord Viemen waved over the remaining staff to follow them. Together they tore through the house towards the front of the manor. The smell of smoke was growing fowler and more pungent the closer they came to the foyer.

“Find this damn fire! NOW!”

As the front door came into view, Frederick turned his shoulder toward it and burst through. Once outside, he flew down the front porch steps two at a time, searching frantically for the source of the smoke.

“Keep up Roger!” Frederick commanded as he dragged the boy along.

“Papa! what’s happening—?”

Clang!

Frederick stopped suddenly, grabbing Roger and pulling him close.

In the distance, several men were fighting. Six or seven men of various sizes had with them sharpened farmer’s tools and a burning torch. Lord Viemen’s four guards were fighting with them now, trying to restrain them. Beside the fray, a dark cloud of smoke was billowing out from the store houses that stood next to the manor.

“Traitors!”

“Cowards!”

“Burn like they did!”

The men hurled their insults at Frederick and his family, even as they fought with the guards.

Annette reached the stairs. Keeping her son close, she called out to her husband.

“Frederick!”

Lord Viemen bent down to Roger and spoke quickly.

“Go to your mother, Roger. Do as you are told!”

Roger stood with glassy eyes and looked at his father as the fear welled up inside him.

Annette appeared beside Roger and patted his head.

“Come on, dear. Do as your father says.”

Just then, one of the men wrestled himself free from the grip of Viemen’s guard and broke into a sprint toward them.

“My Lord!” the guard called out.

Annette grabbed both the children and pulled them with such a force they nearly fell over.

Frederick pushed them forward and shouted.

“Run, boys! RUN!”

Annette took off with their two children toward the fields, dragging them along by their shirts.

Frederick balled up his fists and ran to intercept the man. He was roughly the same size as Frederick — though a good bit sturdier— and came toward him like a fury.

“YOU FUCKING COWARD!”

The two men crashed into one another. Frederick tried desperately to grapple the man but he was no match.

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“LORD VIEMEN!”

Fearful for their Lord, the guards rushed after Frederick.

The other men were not prepared for their companion’s actions. Assaulting the Marquess was more than they had intended, and so they turned tail and stole away into the night. Meanwhile, Frederick managed to throw a few punches before the man landed his elbow across Frederick’s face. Lord Viemen reeled from the pain; then another punch came from below and knocked the wind out of him. The man shoved Frederick to the ground and sprinted after Annette.

“NO!”

Frederick scrambled to his feet and charged after them

Annette was halfway to the fields when she saw the man take down her husband and come running after her.

“Freddy, Roger, go! RUN!”

Tears burned at her cheeks as she shoved the two crying boys toward the palisading wall of uncut wheat.

She stood with her arms wide as the assailant continued toward her. She had never felt such a rage. But at the last moment, the man changed course and turned toward the boys.

“Come at me, you bastard!”

Annette rushed him with all the strength she had; nearly loosing her footing as she attempted to tackle him. She dug her nails into his bare skin and bit at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and doing everything in her power to keep him occupied. The man threw himself from side to side, trying to get her off. With a powerful swing of his upper body he managed to loosen Annette’s grip. She felt the full impact of his fist across her face and gasped as she fell to the ground.

Frederick roared from behind as he saw him strike Annette.

Then, Lord Viemen came from the side and lunged at the man with all his might, knocking them both onto the ground. Before she could get up, Annette heard the sound of pounding boots as the guardsman rushed towards them. The first two guards rushed passed her and grabbed at the man on the ground. The third man reached Annette and began to help her up.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

She shoved him off.

“Where are they!?”

“Mommy!”

“Mother!”

The two boys came bolting from the fields toward her. She ran to meet them and wrapped her arms around them both, tucking their heads to her chest.

“Shh, its alright. Mother’s here…”

Annette turned suddenly over her shoulder at the sound of Frederick’s grunting.

The two guards had wrestled the man away from Lord Viemen who was standing now, panting with a dirtied and blood covered undershirt.

“Son of a bitch!”

Held down by the two guards, Frederick punched the man several times until he was good and bloodied. Then, he reached for the waist of the nearest guard, ripped the sword out of its sheath and stabbed the man in the gut.

Annette gasped as the blade went into the man’s torso and came out the other side.

“Frederick!”

She grabbed her children’s heads and turned them away; keeping their faces buried into the cloth of her nightgown and away from the grizzly scene. Her two sons, more precious to her than anything, were trembling with fear and sobbing between breaths. The air stung at their lungs as the smoke rose higher.

“Guards!” she cried out. “Put out the fire! Please!”

Frederick let go of the sword handle and held his hands on his knees for support.

“Do as she says,” he panted, “You three, rally the servants and farm hands. Bring as much water as you can, and be sure to keep the fire from spreading to the house!”

Three of the men ran off toward the manor.

“And you!” Frederick yelled as he grabbed at the armor of the guard nearest to him. “Chase after those men! I want them! Do you understand me!? I WANT THEM!”

Frederick gave the man a shove as he sprinted down the road and out of sight. Then, he wiped the sweat and blood and dirt from his face with the back of his forearm. Below him, the anguished face of his attacker stared up at him.

Frederick glanced over to Annette and their children; huddled together in the dark and bathed in smoke.

Lord Viemen then felt a renewed anger fill him once again. Adrenaline was pulsing through him; a liquid rage that tensed muscle and moved bone. He threw himself onto the ground and began wailing on the man, one hit after the other. He felt his skin tear and his nails dug so deep into the meat of his own palm that he began to draw blood.

“AGH!”

He continued punching wildly until he was too tired to move. Then Frederick fell backward onto the ground and tried to catch his breath.

He caught a glimpse of Annette; her eyes were locked on him.

Frederick tried to steady his breath as he stood up. With one painful step at a time, he made his way over, collapsing onto his knees and wrapping his arms around them. Frederick looked over his shoulder toward the manor. A crowd of staff and farmhands had been awakened and summoned to the front yard. Dozens of men and women ran back and forth carrying buckets of water from the well and fields to try and douse the flames.

As Frederick watched the chaos unfold, the words of that man were still ringing in his head— clawing at the inside of his skull.

Burn like they did.