Caspian’s chamber was dark and cold. As the old chamber door creaked open, Emelisse felt a chill of despair run through her. It did not seem right to her that her brother should be laying in such a cold and dismal chamber, with the shutters nailed closed against the Winterhold siege. Caspian had always been such a vital man, always so full of life and so full of opinions. To see that vital life ended in such a dark and dreary place simply did not seem fitting.
Emelisse’s gaze moved over the room, seeing the familiar objects and familiar sights. The same old chair was in front of the hearth, and the same old cowhide rug that had been there for many years. But she looked further, into the shadows of the room, and she could see Caspian’s bed. It took her a moment to realize that she was looking at his feet as his body lay upon the straw mattress.
Quietly, she made her way over to the bed.
Emelisse wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but what she saw wasn’t horrific. Her brother simply looked as if he were sleeping, a peaceful expression upon his ashen face and lips that were a strange shade of blue. The blond hair was the same, as was the neatly trimmed beard he kept. Everything was the same.
Except he was dead.
The tears returned with a vengeance.
“Oh… Caspian,” she murmured, reaching out to touch the stone-cold flesh. “I am so sorry it came to this. I am so sorry that I could not help you. But know that I am well and I intend to staywell. There is so much I want to tell you, so much to say, but it all seems so futile now. But trust me when I say that I will do what needs to be done. I promise I will. God bless you and keep you, my darling Cas.”
With that, she bent over and kissed him on his cold forehead, standing next to the bed and holding his stiff, cold fingers. There wasn’t anything more she could say to him, or anything more she wanted to. She simply wanted to be with him, to think about a future without her father or brother in a world that was very different from the one she’d always imagined.
Everything, and everyone, she knew was gone.
Behind her, Caius and the others stood in the doorway, watching the tragic scene before them. It would seem that Emelisse was the only member of the de Thorington family left, and there was great irony in that. She had been a prize, and she had also been a prisoner, which should have very well been a death sentence. The woman had no way to fight back, yet she was the last of her family to survive.
Weapons or no weapons, she had managed ably.
Emelisse remained by her brother’s side for quite some time, not speaking, but simply standing. Caius and the others continued to stand by silently until Caius finally herded everyone out into the dark landing and quietly shut the door, allowing Emelisse some privacy to grieve. Once they were out on the landing, he faced the old Hawkstone soldier.
“How many men are in this keep?” he asked.
The old man was thoughtful. “Thirty-one, my lord,” he said. “I have them all down in the storage vault below.”
“What is their condition?”
“Some are wounded, but not badly. Mostly, they are cold. We’ve no fuel for fires unless we want to burn our stores, and no one wants to do that.”
Caius nodded in agreement. “I will see that fuel and more stores are brought for you,” he said. “You may be here a while.”
The old man looked at him curiously. “You’ve not come to send the Winterhold bastards back where they came from?”
Caius shook his head. “My position, at the moment, is neutral,” he said. “I do not have the authority to send Winterhold back, but I do have the power to ensure you have enough food and fuel to last a while. My squire, William, will see to it. It is a very big task, but he is capable.”
At the mention of his name, William perked up. He realized very quickly that Caius was giving him an order and he was eager to prove himself to the man he was coming to respect a great deal. Upon hearing Caius’ directive, he nodded his head smartly and dashed down the stairwell, on his way to secure wood and provisions for the remainder of the Hawkstone army.
That left Caius standing with the old soldier, waiting patiently for Emelisse to conclude grieving for her brother. His thoughts lingering on Emelisse, Caius looked at the old soldier.
“We will take the body with us,” he said quietly. “I will send the man to Whitchurch to be buried with his mother.”
The old soldier nodded. “What of his father? Is he there, too?”
Caius shook his head. “Rupert de Thorington’s death is more complex at that moment,” he said. “For now, let us worry about Caspian.”
As the old man nodded, the door to the chamber creaked open and Emelisse appeared. She wiped at her eyes before looking up and realizing that everyone was looking at her.
She smiled weakly.
“He is at peace,” she said. “I can see that in his face; helookspeaceful. He’s not looked so peaceful in three years, ever since this madness started, so I am grateful that he finally knows peace. I am just sorry that he had to find death to achieve it.”
Caius thought that was a sad statement, but he understood it. He’d known plenty of men who had only known peace after death.
“We will send his body to Whitchurch to be buried with your mother, if that pleases you,” he said. “I will have my men start on a coffin immediately, though it may be difficult to find wood with which to build it. We may have to be creative.”
“If there are any tables or benches left in the great hall, they may use that,” she said. “And thank you for your foresight. I appreciate it.”
