The young woman made eye contact with William briefly, before she looked away and around her. He could see she was fearfully scanning the surroundings, looking for an escape route through the smoky air.
There wasn't one, of course. Unless she wanted to leap out a window and almost certainly die.
The circle of mercenaries slowly closed around her, the burly men laughing and staring avidly. One of the men glanced over his shoulder and roared at William, "Look at what we just found, Your Highness! A pretty wench, hiding from us! Probably the only woman in this godforsaken castle we've yet to rape."
"That's no mere wench! Look at her. Wenches don't wear jewels." noted another man, his eyes glittering with malice.
It was true, this could be no mere castle wench or kitchen maid. Her blue-gray gown was expensive looking silk, and she had gems winding around her throat. Duke Robert had been a widower for years and by all accounts, had remained faithful to the memory of his beloved late wife all this time. No mistresses or doxies. Which meant this girl had to be…
William felt like he'd been struck in the head when it dawned on him who the girl was.
She had to be the duke's only daughter and youngest child, Princess Camilla Stephenson.
And the moment the mercenaries realised it, she would be as good as dead. There would be hardly anything left of her to bury after the beasts were finished with her.
Maybe throwing herself from a window would be a more merciful end.
He remembered Richard's earlier words about how the soldiers and mercenaries considered pillaging and attacking enemy villagers as their right, as fair compensation for risking their lives for the crown of Islia.
William had never agreed with the viewpoint and didn't believe any soldier had the right to violate foreign women just for the sake of it. At the same time, he knew he couldn't supervise the conduct of every soldier he commanded.
A large hand lunged at the princess's slender throat, yanking off her necklace. The girl instinctively shrunk back in fear and then brought her hand to her bare neck, crying out, "Give that back! It belonged to my mother."
The bearded mercenary merely laughed and dangled the necklace above his head, well above the girl's reach. Baring his yellow teeth, he challenged her, "I could be persuaded, for a kiss perhaps!" The other soldiers roared with laughter as the ringleader loomed over the princess. "Come on, just a kiss. Promise I'll give your necklace back. You are a pretty little thing." He grasped her jaw roughly between his fingers of his free hand and leaned forward.
The princess recoiled from his touch and then slapped his face hard. The sound rang out.
The mood of the crowd instantly changed, the jeering men falling silent. The ringleader let go of her chin as his own face turned red with rage.
"Uppity bitch!" he snarled as he swung his fist, striking the side of the girl's head with a sickening thud. She silently crumpled to the floor.
William finally came to his senses and reacted. "Enough!" he yelled. "Our duty to the King of Moraigth is complete. The duke is dead, I've seen him with my own eyes. I've been informed that all of his sons have fallen as well. We need to leave Arlington immediately and start retreating towards the border, not waste time stealing from innocent women. Now, leave!"
The mercenaries started trudging out, grumbling to themselves about their fun being cut short. When their ringleader tried to slip out of the room unnoticed, William cleared his throat and gave him a pointed look with his hand outstretched.
With an angry glare, the mercenary silently dropped the broken necklace into William's palm and stomped away.
The billowing smoke was growing thicker in the room and the crackling sound of the flames was becoming louder. It wouldn't be long before the entire castle was ablaze and escaping became impossible. William turned to make a hasty retreat and reunite with his men.
He knew they would only be truly safe once they crossed the border into Islia, as there was always the chance of their Moraigthian allies turning against them once they knew their common enemy in the duke had fallen.
That pretty much sums up this breed of feral people, William thought in disgust. You risk your own skin to help them and the moment your back is turned, they'll happily knife you.
William paused and glanced over his shoulder at the unconscious girl on the floor.
She's not my responsibility, he told himself sternly.
Why is she even here? She should have fled earlier instead of taking refuge here. Never mind that Arlen Castle had stood proud and unconquerable for over a century, she still should have sought protection somewhere else. Women have no place in a battlefield.
William continued walking away quickly, determined to meet up with his knights and cousins.
He stopped again and grappled with his conscience. With a resigned groan, returned to the room. He couldn't bring himself to leave a blameless girl to die in a burning castle, no matter who her father was.
Crouching over her, he placed two fingers on her throat. Her pulse was strong and her breathing steady, even though she was completely unconscious. Lifting her into his arms, he strode out of the room and out of the castle.
What was he going to do now? It's not like he could take her across the border and into Islia, could he?
Or maybe he could?
But how would he explain this to his king and queen? This girl belonged to Moraigth. Then again if her half-uncle King Kenneth knew she'd survived, he wouldn't hesitate to execute her as a traitor's daughter.
"This is probably your only hope of survival." he muttered to the girl in his arms. "You can thank me later for saving your life, I guess."