Lamenting Ashes

67th Day of Summer

766 Karloman’s Peace

Ekkehard couldn’t remember how he had ended up sitting outside, but he was outside.

He looked around, confused.

He was sitting under a tree on the edge of the manor’s courtyard, Auriana beside him. She stared expressionlessly, seemingly at nothing, her face having taken on a featureless appearance. Ekkehard wasn’t sure if she knew he was there.

He wasn’t entirely sure he was.

He surveyed the area some more. The sky had darkened to blue tinged with mournful orange, signalling the day's end. An earthy scent filled the air. Looking into the sky, Ekkehard noted that the black plumes of smoke had now turned white, suggesting that the barns at the rear of the estate had finished burning.

He scanned the courtyard for the rest of his family.

Audomar sat near the manor entryway, next to the body of the man he had been beating the last time Ekkehard saw him. All that remained of the soldier’s head was a gruesome pink clump. Audomar's face and clothes were stained with blood and gore, and Ekkehard suspected his brother had been unresponsive for hours, just as he had.

There were more people about than Ekkehard had expected.

Several farmhands, workers, and servants who had managed to escape the attack had returned to assist Florentin and Evroul in collecting the dead. Remembering those who had fallen, Ekkehard looked for the bodies of Corbus and Otker.

They were missing.

They moved the bodies of all the manor residents elsewhere, gathering them in some respectful place while they prepared funeral rites.

The bodies of their attackers, however, had been left to rot.

Ekkehard noted a horse with a boar’s carcass on its back tied to a hitching post. He searched until he spotted Gisla and Marcovefa sheltering in the shade of the stables, where the newly arrived Aldedramnus was attempting to comfort them.

Next to the stables, Gerwald was chopping wood, his eyes red and puffy. Ekkehard wasn't sure what the wood was for, and he suspected Gerwald didn't know either. Yet, he couldn’t fault his youngest surviving brother desire for distraction. Ekkehard wished he too could pretend this day hadn’t happened.

Ekkehard turned to his wife and tried to meet her eyes. They were still fixed on the ground, and she seemed as if a statue. Someone had found her a robe to cover herself and wiped some of the blood from her face.

“Does she know?” he thought. He went cold with the realization that after all her suffering, he would have to wound her further with the news of their murdered babe.

“Aurie?” he softly called to her. She didn't seem to hear him. “Aurie?” he called again. “Wife?”

She slowly turned and lifted her head, her neck almost stuttering as she did. Her eyes vacantly met Ekkehard's.

Ekkehard questioned whether she even recognized him. Her face was bruised, her cheeks had turned a dark purple, and her lips were swollen and chapped. Yet, for some unknown reason, when she finally recognized Ekkehard, she smiled. A small smile but a smile nonetheless.

“Ekkehard,” she replied, “look at the state of you.” She reached into the pocket of her cloak and retrieved a bloodied handkerchief. “You're a mess.”

Auriana dabbed the dirty cloth against Ekkehard’s cheek. Pain pricked the side of his face sharply. He inhaled and shook at the sensation, feeling corporeal once again. Reaching up to pat his face, Ekkehard winced. He remembered then that he had been cut in the battle. Noting the blood on his fingers, he realized the wound on his cheek was still weeping.

His eyes moved from his bloodied fingers to Auriana. He attempted to return her smile. "You are not exactly at your finest yourself, you know," he replied with a croaky voice and a strained laugh.

She continued to dab the blood from his face. Each time she touched his cheek, Ekkehard flinched.

"I think that's going to need stitches," Auriana said.

A moment of silence followed.

"Auriana?" Ekkehard started, but she didn't reply. "Auriana, I'm sorry," he said. "I am so sorry." If his eyes could well up again, they would have.

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Auriana shook her head. She continued wiping the blood from his face, not meeting his eyes.

A shameful dagger cut into Ekkehard’s heart.

"I'm so, so sorry," Ekkehard continued as he reached up and grabbed Auriana’s arm, preventing her from fussing over him anymore. "Cheldric," he tried to say, but the name caught in his throat.

"No," Auriana replied, shaking her head, her own eyes welling up, "I can’t." She pulled her arm free of Ekkehard’s grip and returned to cleaning his wound. Tears began to stream down her face. She ignored them.

Ekkehard took hold of her arm again and attempted to pull her close to him. She resisted, trying to shake him off. He pulled her harder until she collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Ekkehard looked down at her, her body shaking with each wail. As he watched her, his sorrowful thoughts left him.

He looked out across the ruined courtyard once more.

He understood. This was not the time for grieving. He needed to remain strong for her. He looked at Audomar, who remained motionless and catatonic. He had lost his wife and daughter, and Ekkehard wished he was unable to imagine his brother’s pain, but the feeling came all too easily to him. He pushed it away. He needed to be strong for his family. His time for grief would come later, for now, he had to carry the others through theirs.

Ekkehard saw Florentin and Evroul stand hesitantly before the manor door. They had gathered all the bodies of their friends and family from the courtyard and were contemplating collecting those from within the house. Yet neither seemed capable of crossing the threshold. They had seen Audomar and Ekkehard’s reactions to the sights within, and Ekkehard suspected neither wanted to experience the same.

Eventually, Evroul took the first step toward the house.

"Stop!" Audomar barked.

The two younger brothers were startled by the outburst, but that fear was followed by relief. Audomar was the respected head of their family. They all turned naturally to him for guidance, and many of the brothers would have felt lost during his absence. Just hearing him speak again would have made them feel significantly better.

"Don’t go in there," Audomar commanded.

"But we need to collect," Evroul started to say before Audomar cut him off.

"Don’t go in," Audomar repeated more sternly. "They deserve for you to remember them at their best, not as they are now," Audomar explained. "Don’t go in there."

"What do we do about them then?" Evroul asked with a tired shrug.

Audomar turned and examined the manor. After a long pause, he said, "build a pyre for those you've gathered. We will burn the house at the same time, and then we will leave."

"Leave?" Evroul exclaimed, shocked. "But this is our home. We aren't going to just abandon it, are we?"

"Of course we are," Florentin interjected.

Evroul gawked at him in disbelief.

"Those were imperial guards Evroul,” Florentin explained. “Imperial guards don’t attack for no reason. Someone sent them, and they came armed with spears and swords, not bludgeons. They didn’t come to arrest or detain. They were on an execution order."

Evroul looked to Audomar, who simply nodded.

"Right," Evroul said. "I get it, we need to disappear. Okay, at least we have a use for Gerwald’s firewood." He looked at his brothers, then nodded decisively. "Best get to it then," he said before heading in the direction of Gerwald and his lumber.

A pained groan resounded through the courtyard.

Ekkehard jolted, startling Auriana who still rested on his chest. He reached for the dagger at his belt and began to scan the courtyard for the source of the sound.

"What the fuck was that?" Audomar hissed through his teeth, leaping to his feet.

All the Reubke brothers surveyed the area with violent anticipation, but Audomar was first to spot the movement. One of the green and yellow cloaked men was alive, the one struck by the burning horse. He was injured and he struggled to crawl through the courtyard, seemingly unaware that the Reubke brothers were marching toward him.

Audomar reached him first.

"Where are you going?" Audomar raged. "Where the fuck are you going?" He kicked the man in the ribs, causing him to cry out. "You think you’re leaving, do you?" Audomar taunted the man, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck.

He lifted the man slightly off the ground before throwing him back down, pushing his face into the dirt. Audomar held him down and began to repeatedly punch the back of his head.

"You’re not going anywhere!" Audomar shouted and screamed as he continued to hit the man.

"Stop!" Florentin shouted as he charged Audomar, pushing him clean off the injured man. Audomar rolled through the dirt before vaulting back to his feet, his face seething with rage.

"What is that, huh?" Audomar shouted at the younger Reubke as he squared up to him. Audomar’s frame dwarfed that of the skinnier Florentin. He grabbed Florentin by the chin and throat, pulling him close. "What the fuck was that, Flor?" he shouted in his brother’s face before throwing Florentin to the ground.

Ekkehard was on his feet rushing toward the confrontation, but Evroul and Gerwald both beat him there. The rapid beating of Ekkehard’s heart came less from exertion and more from fear of what a wild, grief-stricken Audomar might be capable of.

Evroul ran between the two brothers, blocking Audomar’s path to Florentin. Gerwald came from behind to hold Audomar back, then Evroul moved in to assist. Both the younger brother fought to hold Audomar in a grapple.

"I would fucking kill you, Flor!" Audomar shouted, struggling against the two brothers. "I’m a fucking veteran. I killed hundreds. I would kill you. I would fucking kill you!"

"We need to question him!" Florentin shouted back, still lying in the dirt. Audomar calmed surprisingly quickly in response to Florentin’s words, as if they had pierced the haze of his anger like an arrow.

Ekkehard finally reached the group and offered Florentin a hand. Florentin took it, and Ekkehard helped him to his feet.

"Someone sent these men to kill us, Audomar," Florentin explained as he brushed himself off. "I’d like to know who. Wouldn’t you?"

Audomar nodded; his two younger brothers released him.

"Yeah," Audomar responded. "Yeah, I would. You’re right, Flor," he continued, turning his attention back to the injured man. "You’re so very right."

There was something wholly unhinged in the way Audomar’s eyes darted from his brothers to the wounded man. It reminded Ekkehard of the most bloodthirsty warriors he had known during the war, the men who had lost themselves to the violence and become slaves to it. It chilled Ekkehard to see those eyes on the face of his elder brother, his steadfast guide through hardships uncounted.

Audomar kicked the wounded man in the ribs again, and he groaned helplessly. Then, he flipped the man onto his back, grabbed his tunic, and hoisted him up. "Come on, you," he said. "We’re going to have a little chat."

Audomar dragged the injured invader behind the manor and out of view of the Reubke women.

"I’ll get the axe," mumbled Gerwald, as each of the Reubke brothers followed their elder.