Daily Bread

"-Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

The door to the house opened and Sir Alfred turned to see his men return. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating their mud-covered armaments. They dropped their hoes and shovels by the door and Sir Edgar walked to him. A grave expression drawing down his face.

"So, it is done?" Sir Alfred inquired.

The man nodded.

"Then let us eat."

The four men sat around the table. Blackened charred meat lay on the table before them. Yet their eyes were averted to it. Sir Edgar lifted a wineskin then, to which all of them looked surprised at. He explained, "Found it under the floorboards…"

The three men looked to Sir Alfred then for his guidance.

"Let us drink and be merry."

A swig in each of them and they were reaching for the meat. As if the sweet nectar of the wine was enough to rid them of their guilt, allowing their hands to become unshackled.

The meat, though fresh, was stringy and tough. It made their gums bleed and hurt their teeth. Yet they devoured it as if it were mana from heaven. And slowly, Alfred began to feel his strength returning. His armor that hung on his body no longer felt heavy. He was feeling like the warrior he used to be.

One of his men began to cry.

The meal once finished, the four men sat around with bellies now so full it was painful. They passed around the skin, savoring every drop. Sir Alfred gazed about the small farmhouse, seeing where a hall no doubt led to rooms.

"No reason, that I see, that we shouldn't bunk here for the night. We'll keep the fire in the fireplace going, to ward off the cold. And we'll sleep as we once did before this war."

Again, their eyes began to avert themselves from looking at each other, as if to look each other in the eye was to acknowledge this night. What had happened.

The eyes are the window to a person's soul, Alfred had once heard. If that was true, not wonder his men did not peer upon one another.

It was up to him then, as their leader, to guide them faithfully.

"What's done is done, and what is done is buried. No reason to dwell on it further," Sir Alfred stated plainly.

There came a weak nod from each of them, and then Sir Edgar passed the skin one last time to Sir Alfred. The knight finished it with a heavy swig, suckling on the lip of the skin like a baby to a teat.

I want to go home.

—

Alfred felt the warmth of the sun caress his face like a lover. A pair of small arms wrapped around his neck, and he knew it to be the arms of his youngest. He was just a baby before he left. And now he was so grown. He pulled the child back and looked at him, seeing his blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair, his pink cheeks and playful smile. Looking out before him, he saw his other three children running and dancing in the grass.

A warm breath crawled over his neck, and he looked upon his beautiful wife. Her hair, the same blond as their children, and the same blue eyes that she gifted them also, peered into his. A smile upon her face, one that always drew a smile across his.

"You've come back to me," his wife said then.

"I have…" Sir Alfred stated, as if surprised by his own statement.

She cocked her head in that teasing way that he always loved, “Did you resist any and all temptations?”

He chuckled and made to answer but stopped. His mouth suddenly dried at the sight of a figure in the fields ahead.  

A cow stood off in the distance. It was not their cow though. It was a stringy thing. Skin to bones. A cloud of flies hovering over its twitchy skin, its ribcage barred, its large head dangling from its scrawny neck, as if searching desperately in the field of full grass for something to eat.

Sir Alfred could taste its meat in his mouth. He looked back at his wife then, shaking. She, not comprehending his fear.

"What is it, my love?"

He tried to swallow, feeling the meat getting caught in his throat, “I…I…”

Something caused him to turn back, perhaps a noise or a cold shadow. And he saw his homestead was not his own. It was the farmhouse he and Sir Edgar and his two other men had seen in the distance, the one that stood like a beacon of heavenly respite. He remembered how they ran to it then. He remembered the family that were there to greet him, but they had no food for their starved bellies.

And then there was the cow. But they wouldn't let his men take it. They got in the way.

Sir Alfred's gaze turned sharply back to the field where the cow stood, only to see it lying in a pool of its own blood, circled by the bodies of the family around it.

Squeezing his son closer to him, his teeth began to chatter, "My love, you must forgive me…for I have done a terrible evil…"

A warm spray of liquid hit his face then and he flinched towards the direction, seeing his wife falling back, a deep red gash in her throat. He reached for her as she fell, only then noticing how his son's young body hung frailly from his hip. He screamed but no noise came to him. He turned and saw the bodies of his three children lying in an open grave.

—

Sir Alfred woke with terrible relief. Sweat covered him, but his body shook from the terrible cold night. He gazed about in the darkness, his eyes just barely making out the new room he had taken for himself.

Just a dream…just a nightmare. He swung his legs over the bed frame, when he suddenly realized there were footsteps in the hall outside. One set was heavy, and the other set sounded as if something were dragging across the floor.

He heard Sir Edgar's voice from outside. A voice normally so deep and strong, now trembling in fear, "We buried you…"

A scream, followed by a thudding sound as if something hard hit the wooden floor and Sir Alfred went for his sword. He pulled it from his sheath and stood guard, eyes on the door.

There was movement below it. A dark shape in the darkness of the room. Sir Alfred glared down at it, then realized what it was.

Blood. Slowly seeping underneath the door frame and spilling out onto the floor.

The door creaked then and slowly began to open.

A woman stepped into the room. Her step was crooked, as if she were to lose her balance at any moment. And from head to bare toe, she was covered in wet dirt. Yet through it, Sir Alfred could still see the deep red gash in her neck, where blood still flowed like a river.

Sir Alfred shield himself with his sword, made the cross with it, and stammered, "B-begone evil spirit!"

The woman screamed then and swung her arm from behind towards him. It was only thanks to his battle-hardened reflexes that Sir Alfred was able to bring up his sword in time to block the axe blade.

He moved to the side then as she pulled backward and swung again. The axe tore through the bedding sending feathers flying. Sir Alfred swung his sword into her side, "Begone evil!" yet the blade did not remove itself cleanly. Instead, it stuck in her, as if her pale frame was as strong and thick as an oak. Her head slowly turned to regard him.

A smile upon her face.

Sir Alfred ran then, releasing his sword and bolting out the door. His bare foot snagged on something that sent him smacking into the hallway wall. Gazing down, he saw the dark mound of what remained of Sir Edgar. His brain matter spilled out from his skull. Sir Alfred screamed once more, terror and sadness at the sight of his old friend before running back into the living room.

He stopped then, his eyes transfixed to a spot by the fireplace where the bodies of his other two fellow knights lay. Three little mud covered figures sat beside them, their tiny hands reaching into their stomachs and pulling out their guts, lifting them to their small mouths.

Stepping back in horror, the floorboards creaked under his weight and the three heads turned to him. Eyes glazed over, blood-soaked lips and rotten teeth as they smiled.

Sir Alfred had no air left to scream, and only enough strength to expel himself out the front door.

He ran into darkness as if it were a safe light, providing him with a haven. Soon he could not see where he was, though he could hear the leaves of the forest crunching beneath his bare feet now frozen from the cold.

Then his foot stepped into nothing and he fell forward. His mouth tasted fresh dirt as he collided face first with the ground. Once his breath returned, he tried to lift himself up, just then a flash of lightning revealed what he had fallen into.

A fresh dug grave. Large enough to bury a small family bundled together.

Sir Alfred turned around and cried to the sky, "Forgive me! Lord forgive me! We were starved my Lord! Starved from fighting Your war! We had to eat, less we be perished ourselves! Please have mercy! Save me from this hell!"

Yet all that witnessed him were the now glowing eyes of the farming family, staring down at him.

Terror overtook him then.

—

"Give us this day, our daily bread-"

Sir Alfred woke. Eyes barely opened. His body was naked. The crackling of a fireplace to his side. He laid as if he laid upon a bed, and for a moment his mind thought that this nightmare was over. But when he tried to move, he felt his body constrained. He forced his eyes open then, seeing the familiar farmhouse that they had come to.

Then he saw them. Three bloodied younglings sitting ever so diligently beside him. Their heads bowed and palms clasped in prayer. Behind them the bodies of his two men, their gutless cores still glimmering the fire light. Sir Alfred tried to move then but was only able to shake. His eyes darting about his body swiftly to see himself bound to the dining table.

He realized her voice then and turned to see the mother standing on the other side of him. Her head bowed also and her hands clasped over the handle of the axe.

"-For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen."

She opened her eyes then, lifted the axe, and smiled.

And Sir Alfred screamed one last time.