Sophia was terrified. Her actions had cost Talbot Company a devastating blow; one that most enemy armies could only dream of inflicting upon a host of mercenaries. She paced around in circles, pulling her beret down on her head as she did. Her companions, Vincenzo and Fabiano, had long since scattered and were now attempting to get as far away from Schwedt as possible.

Who would Sophia talk to without repercussions? If there were to be repercussions, how severe would they be? She had heard stories of armies punishing undisciplined or bad-mannered soldiers using whips and canes. The worst offenders were executed. She had so much to live for yet, and neither of these penalties were particularly appealing to her.

In her desperation, she decided to go and find Don Alfonso; he would know what to do. She had to find his company’s command tent. The thumping of her heart reverberated through her head even though she was making the slowest, calmest steps towards the don’s tent. She could feel her teeth chattering from the fear, and she had to grip the handle of her sword to keep her hands from shaking.

She did not realize it, but she was going around in circles again. All the tents looked the same to her in her state of panic. This only made her feel more helpless as she started breathing heavier. Her knuckles became white from gripping her sword, and she gritted her teeth as she walked faster and faster around the sea of tents, nearly forgetting what she had been searching for.

Suddenly, the thundering of hooves interrupted her thoughts. A horse stopped just short of trampling her. It gave a complaining neigh as its rider halted it. He was hauling along two prisoners behind him on foot, tied together with a long rope – two Venetians had been caught trying to desert the camp. Otto Koenigsherr dismounted and approached Sophia.

“Lieutenant Bianchi.” He said in French, with a genuinely concerned tone, “Is everything all right?”

Sophia’s lips began to quiver as she looked up at Otto. Before he could continue, she gave him a tight hug. Otto, taken aback, gently hugged her back, taking great care not to cut her with the couters of his armor.

“What is wrong?” he said, softly.

“I was distracted by a game of dice for this necklace,” she said, holding up the dazzling red jewel on her neck, “and then some men came by and stole all our money.” She pointed at the two prisoners Otto was dragging behind him, “Those two fell asleep and failed to stop the robbery.”

Otto’s face turned pale. A mercenary company with no funds was the beginning of a mutiny. He was thankful that many of these men were so far away from home that desertion would be hard for them, but the danger was still absolutely clear.

“We have to report this to Colonel MacRae.” He said, “Also, this is faker than the kiss that Judas gave our Lord.” Otto said as he examined Sophia’s new necklace. “This is red glass, plain and simple. Also, this chain is copper. Lieutenant, you have just been arse-fucked.” he said with a sympathetic grimace. Sophia looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. She was terrified.

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It was dusk. The blood-hued sun crested the rooftops of the City in the distance. While the other mercenary companies prepared their beddings and began to post night watches, the entirety of Talbot Company had gathered in a circle around a tall, thick wooden post, two nervous Venetians, and a scared teenage girl. Colonel MacRae convened with his officers and his client while Otto watched over the prisoners. The officers spoke in English, outside of everyone’s earshot.

“Gentlemen,” MacRae said solemnly, “This be an unprecedented act of treachery. Because of the negligence of three of our own men, we have lost our entire advance. The punishment meted should be fuckin’ harsh and unforgettable.”

“Hang them all.” Gunther said, his expression stone-faced.

“We would be losing a valuable officer, sir,” said Don Alfonso in Sophia’s defense, “I suggest something more tempered. Perhaps we can simply deprive them of rations or throw them in a pit?”

“We have no time to build a pit, and everyone will be starving soon anyway.” Warwick interjected, “We should just have at them with the cat o’ nine tails.”

“I propose that we hang the two common enlisted men and flog the officer,” said Bjornsson as he scowled at Sophia, who was trembling nearby.

“All those in favor?” MacRae asked. His proposal was received by silent nods all around. Satisfied, the colonel clapped his hands with finality and had his circle of officers disperse to face the prisoners. Gunther marched over to Otto, whispered the sentence to him and walked back to MacRae. Otto shook his head in dismay.

“Vincenzo Rossi, Fabiano de Luca, Lodovico Bianchi.” he said, without his usual air of sarcasm, “You have been found guilty of the crime of dereliction of duty. What do you have to say in your defense?”

Fabiano threw himself at Otto’s feet, grasping at his boots with an expression on his face that could only be described as absolute fear.

“You would not execute a fellow Christian, would you signore?” Fabiano said in Italian, his grip tightening.

Otto looked down at him and replied, “That is not for me to decide. Now, do you want the whole company to think you are a sniveling cowardly runt or do you want to take your punishment like a man? Let go of my boot.”

Fabiano relented and stood back up, while Vincenzo stood there angrily, gritting his teeth.

“All we did was fall asleep, God damn you!” he said.

“Yes,” replied Otto matter-of-factly, “and this is one of the worst crimes a guard can commit.”

“You will burn in hell for your injustice!” Vincenzo said, before he suddenly pulled a knife out of his boot and charged Otto.

The German mercenary deflected the blow of the blade with his armored gauntlet and delivered a swift punch to Vincenzo’s gut with his free hand. The steel-clad fist delivered a blow like a mace and Vincenzo collapsed on the dirt, gasping for air.

Otto kicked the scoundrel as he was down for good measure and turned to Sophia.

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“Lieutenant Bianchi. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Sophia’s reply came in jumbled French. Her nerves had given up on her.

“I took good necklace from handsome man, and then he took box. I very sorry.”

MacRae secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Sophia’s confession was not made public, and before she explained herself in such an unintelligible manner, no one knew why she was even out there. Her French had become so bad that people thought she was being punished for taking a bribe, and the fact that the money was all gone was still a secret to everyone but the officers.

Otto, slightly confused, refused to respond to Sophia’s questionable defense and proceeded to the sentencing.

“Vincenzo Rossi, Fabiano de Luca. For your negligence, you have been sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.”

The two men began shouting all manner of curses as they were restrained and led to a nearby tree.

“Lodovico Bianchi.”

Sophia stared at Otto, her eyes pleading with him. He did not acknowledge her.

“Given your status as an officer in the honorable Talbot Company, you are to be given thirty lashes with the cat o’ nine tails, after which you are to be relieved of command. The company of swords is henceforth to be commanded by Captain Thomas Warwick.”

Suddenly, a voice rose from the otherwise silent crowd.

“I have something to say!”

The officers turned their attention to the source of the noise in the crowd. They were surprised to see James Fletcher elbowing his way through the larger soldiers to make it into the center of the circle.

MacRae looked like he was ready to shoot this peasant for his insolence. Gunther waited patiently and listened to what the boy had to say. Otto stared at him with anticipation, while Don Alfonso and Warwick both wanted him to get out of there. He did not know what he was getting himself into.

“If I understood her correctly, my lords,” he said in English, “she mentioned something about a necklace, did she not?”

Don Alfonso was visibly surprised. Perhaps all this time around the men had given the Englishman some knowledge of French. But why was he standing here at a court-martial mentioning the necklace?

“I was the one that gave her that necklace! Punish me instead!” he lied.

Don Alfonso slapped himself in the forehead. Warwick buried his face in his hands. They had both gotten to know MacRae by know and knew his sense of justice. This was just going to end badly.

Otto silently mouthed, “Was zum Teufel”, what the hell, before switching to English for Fletcher.

“Boy, do you have any idea what you are asking for?”

“Yes, sir. I take full responsibility for the consequences of my actions.” Fletcher said, swallowing.

Sophia looked around, confused as to why everyone was suddenly staring at Fletcher.

“Gott verdammt. What are your orders, sir?” Otto said, turning to MacRae.

“If this boy was partly responsible for this heinous act, it be best to mete him equal punishment. Divide Bianchi’s punishment in two – fifteen lashes for the lieutenant, and fifteen for the boy.”

“What?” Fletcher shouted, “My lord, I must protest! This is unfair and cruel!”

MacRae crossed his arms and replied, “You asked to be fucked, boy. We now oblige you.”

Don Alfonso, puzzled, wondered why he would want to do something as rash as this. The only logical explanation he could find was that perhaps he had feelings for Sophia, which was hard to believe since they could not understand each other.

“Pero es posible.” he muttered.

The pair was led up to the pillar in the center of the circle as the roped were tied around the necks of the two Venetians by the tree nearby.

Sophia’s eyes were fixed on Fletcher as they walked, her brow furrowed and her mouth agape.

“Che cosa fai, idiota?” What are you doing idiot, she said.

He merely smiled as they met in the center of the circle. His eyes spoke to hers, reassuring her that he would be with her. Her eyes only showed fear and confusion.

Gunther moved to join them, undoing the straps of his red and black gambeson as he walked. He removed the thick cotton jacket and the shirt underneath, tossing them on the ground to reveal a back covered with dozens of welts from punishments such as these. In his hand, he held the cat o’ nine tails.

“Is this your first whipping?” he said to the pair in French.

Sophia nodded slowly. Fletcher struggled to understand. Gunther continued in French, seeing as the girl needed reassuring more than the Englishman did.

“Do you see these scars, Bianchi?” he said, turning around to show her the numerous welts on his back. “Six I received for dropping a bucket of water, twelve for calling my commanding officer a ‘lout’, and fifteen for drinking while I was on watch.”

“The fool will never drink again.” Otto chuckled as he looked on.

Gunther hushed him and placed his heavy hand gently on Sophia’s shoulder.

“This is going to hurt, very badly. Cry, scream, curse, do whatever you want. No one is going to think any less of you.”

Sophia nodded.

“Now, remove your breastplate and shirt.”

Sophia lowered her head in shame. They were finally going to know the truth. The whole company was going to know that one of their members was a skinny teenage girl in men’s clothing.

Gunther leaned closer to her and whispered, “We know. We have always known.”

Sophia’s eyes shot open. How had she not been chased away or executed?

“MacRae believes in giving chances. He did not care that you were a woman when he first saw you. Now, I am sorry to say this but you have failed him.”

Sophia bit her lip. The shame came in tears that rolled down her cheek.

“Now, please, take off your clothes so that we can get this over with.” Gunther said being as tender as possible. He said the same to Fletcher in English.

Sophia’s heavy leather kidney belt and steel breastplate fell on the ground. With tears rolling down her face she took off her colorful cotton doublet and put her hands over her breasts to hide them in shame. A single lecherous howl erupted from the crowd.

Don Alfonso pointed towards the howling soldier and barked, “Who did that? Who did that!? Bring that man here!”

Two pikemen grabbed a teenage mercenary by the arms and dragged him forward in front of Don Alfonso. His eyes were wide in fear as he just realized the gravity of his actions. He was no older than fourteen.

Don Alfonso drew his sword and looked to MacRae for approval. With a nod of the colonel’s head, Don Alfonso’s sword pierced through the boy’s gut, causing blood to splatter on himself and the ground before him. The boy screamed and cursed in pain as the pikemen dropped him and returned to their places in the circle.

“We have no women here, gentlemen!” Don Alfonso yelled to the crowd as a pool of blood formed around the lifeless corpse of the slain teenager, “Only soldiers! Just because this particular soldier has different body parts does not mean she should be treated any differently!”

MacRae, patting Don Alfonso on the back, stepped forward himself to speak.

“Men, this be what happens when we fail in our duties.”

Gunther tied both Sophia’s and Fletcher’s wrists to the pole with their backs facing him. Fletcher reached out and interlocked his fingers with Sophia’s. He gave her a weak smile, which she returned.

“Let it not be said that I be an unjust man.” MacRae continued, “Let it not be said that I be cruel or unkind. I make no favorites and treat all of ye based on merit. The just will be rewarded, and the lazy, the cowardly, and the treacherous will receive justice.”

Gunther cracked the cat and stretched his arms.

“Executioners, perform yer offices.”

As the two men hanged in the distance, their bodies writhing in suffocation, Gunther let loose his whip, striking Sophia first. She let out a piercing scream of anguish as her eyes, already wet with tears, gave way to more from the pain. Birds flew out of nearby trees in panic.

Fletcher was struck next. He too let out a great yell. His feet almost gave way to the shock, but he fought to keep balanced. Gritting his teeth, he braced for the next blow.

The whip alternated back and forth between the two of them. With each strike, they held each other’s hands tighter until their knuckles were white. Their screams filled the air and woke some of the sleeping mercenaries from other camps.

As MacRae looked on, he said to himself, “I will fuckin’ kill Toscana; sending me a sheep to do a wolf’s job.”

“I admire the way you run your company, MacRae,” said Bjornsson in French as he looked on, “But we must endeavor to keep this lack of funding a secret from the men for a while longer. My liege will pay you gladly once we retake what is rightfully his. From here on, austerity and temperance must be our watchwords.”

After thirty cracks of the cat, the whipping stopped, but the wailing and crying would not cease for another hour when the two were finally released from their bonds.