Soldier Boy - BFF prompt

Sunlight filtered through the foliage above the pair. The elder lay against the sturdy oak trunk, his chin sunk deep on his chest, hands limp in his lap. The younger took point, scanning all sides from beneath the shade of his hand. The sound of crows squabbling, macabre tenders of the battlefield, screeched across both weary minds. The elder heaved a thick sigh, coughed, spat ruby blood onto emerald grass and rasped;

“Robert, here.”

Conditioned through the years, the younger snapped his attention to his superior, scurrying, dropping to one knee beside the struggling man. His muscles screamed their exhaustion, trying to aid the mail-clad knight to greater comfort.

“Do you see them, boy?”

Robert cast another look about, desperate hope in his eyes, sunk deep in weary bruising.

“Nothing, Sire. They will come...”

It was as much question as reassurance. The knight forced his mangled right arm to hold his weight as he strained to reach the pendant about his neck. Frustrated, he ripped it free, the effort causing a rivulet of fresh blood to trickle over his chin. He waved the boy's solicitous, ragged, kerchief away and forced breath into his lungs.

“Listen to me, Robert, listen well. Take this to Lady Alicia. Place it in no hand but hers and give her my last words.”

“No, Sire!” the boy's mingled terror and grief tore at the knight’s faltering heart, “Help is coming. They...”

“Hush, lad.” The words were firm, but held kindness, understanding, “I am no man's fool, and I do not fight with the gods. It is my time. I die on the field, as a man should. Not for me the enfeebling burden of years. I go to glory, Robert, allow me to go with your love and obedience to lift me.”

Tears flooded the boy's eyes, but he knuckled them away, strained, achieved a faint smile and nodded.

“Keep a place for me, Sire.”

“Not just yet, huh? You have a task to fulfil. Your last as my squire.”

He pressed the locket into the boy's hand. A hand so small, so tender and untried, unlined and innocent of blood. Praying silently that it was also a strong hand, capable of the task ahead, he continued.

“Give this into Alicia's hands, along with these words. 'Alicia, my heart, I did the best I could for you, for our sons. The land is secure, our foes defeated. Care for our boys, teach them who I was and, I hope, to be as I was. I will await you above. Hold me in your heart as I do you.'. Do you have that?”

Robert nodded, but repeated the message twice for the knight's surety. Content he had done all he could to ensure his words and his pendant of office would reach his widow, the knight sighed. He allowed his gaze to alight on the pale rose and glowing pink of the setting sun. His life left him as darkness fell. The boy wept, burying his face against the unforgiving, beloved mail. Mail he had polished until his hands bled, his love for his sire so deep and true that nothing would stop him completing his final task.

“I cannot leave you thus, Sire.”

He murmured, gently closing those staring, blind eyes, binding limp arms to broad chest with the saddle cloth from a slain warhorse which lay close by.

A battered, abandoned shield served for a spade. He did not note the hours passing, only deepening the hole, eyes often blinded by tears. He winced at the unholy thud accompanying the knight's final journey into the earth, summoned an almost forgotten prayer of childhood, hoping it would send the knight blessed upon his way, and began to fill the hole. The sun lifted above the horizon with the final clod dropping into place. Robert found a broken blade, used it to scratch rough letters into the shield, marking the knight's final resting place clearly for future return to his home and then stood. His back stretched and spasmed, eleven summers not enough to cope with the strain of burying a full-grown man. His body ached to sit, to lay, to sleep, but the task remained. He began to walk.

It was three weeks before he came in sight of his Lord's lands. Returning knights had given him occasional rides. Once, a hay wagon had taken him four days on his way. He had longed to sleep in the prickly, sweet-scented hay, but sleep would not come. His bleary mind tried to tell him he hadn't slept since the knight's death, but he knew that could not be true. Just fancies of an exhausted body. The grey, solid towers of his home since birth swam into view, appearing through cool morning mists and Robert began to run, the pendant clutched tightly in his hand, creating a bruised echo of itself on his palm.

He stumbled across the drawbridge, weaving clumsily between scurrying servants and clattering knights, chased by hounds and cats, eager to join his fun. He fled through corridors, his internal compass, laid down over his tenure as pot boy and general 'go-fetch', guiding his numb feet to the doors of the great hall. Bursting through the doors, he was brought to an abrupt halt, a gauntleted hand grabbing his collar and lifting him clear of the floor.

“No entry, kiddo.” a gruff voice announced, but Robert was not to be denied.

He waved the pendant in his hand, agilely keeping it out of reach.

“My Lord, I was with him at the last. He ordered me to bring this to Lady Alicia.”

“Give it here, boy.”

“NO!”

Robert flung himself about wildly, desperate to be free. His action brought the clip of gentle feet, a soft, tired voice.

“What problem, sir knight?”

“This boy...”

Robert finally wrangled his way free, the arrival of Lady Alicia enough to give him strength. He fell on his knees before her, proffering the pendant. Her gasp of recognition was enough, the knights grouped about drawing back, giving the boy his due respect as he poured out his tale. All lowered their heads, many shedding tears, as he told of the final battle, of his Lord's victory and isolated death. Lady Alicia wept openly as Robert repeated her husband's dying words, she swearing to do as he asked.

Their two sons arrived, drawn by the commotion. Only two and three years older than Robert, they were yet bigger, muscled and already to be reckoned with on the field. They took their mother's attention, offering her comfort, Robert gradually being pushed to the rear of the growing crowd of mourners. With no little relief, and no chagrin at being forgotten, he sank against a vaulted pillar, allowing his eyes to slowly droop and close. A strange feeling grew in his chest, a deep ache accompanied by a comforting warmth. It grew and suffused his thin, bloodied body.

Even as Lady Alicia caught a glimpse of the boy sinking limply to the floor, calling for aid, Robert was gone, seeking the place his Lord would be holding for him in eternity, his final duty performed.