The Story of Arabella and Samuel (working title)

Prologue

Her Royal Highness Princess Arabella Genova was walking in her garden when it happened; when her life was turned on its head. The petunias were in bloom. She was inhaling their potent fragrance as she walked though the peacefulness of the flowers. Then the tranquility was broken by the sound of rushed footsteps on cobblestones coming towards her. A page boy was sprinting through the courtyard, face pale with fear. After dropping a short bow, he hastily told her of the orders from her father to move to the stronghold immediately. The kingdom was under attack.

The words were a slap in the face. She collapsed onto the nearest stone bench in shock and dumbly sat there for a moment, stock-still and silent until the boy snapped her attention back to reality. “Serenity?”

“Yes, yes of course. I’m going right now.” She regained her composure and quickly stood, walking off in the general direction of the castle doors. She strode along the corridors of the mighty fortress as if she was in a trance, down to the stronghold.

Inside, she moved straight to the one of her many personal chambers that she had hoped never to be forced to enter. Walking in, she waved away the lady in waiting by the door and collapsed onto the soft, goose-feathered bed.

***

A few miles down the road from the castle, there was a man named Samuel Friedman in just about the same position, except he didn’t have a nice protected stronghold to escape to. Instead, he was forced out of his home by the enemy knights and down into the street where he was chained by the feet to another man, who was chained to another, and so on went the procession, following the general of the Rianon army. Samuel had no choice in the matter. He had to be taken captive. To fight back would’ve been suicide, even if he knew he was going to die in the hands of these horrid men anyway.

All around him Samuel saw lives being ripped apart. Soldiers were tearing open doors and dragging families out of them. Children screamed and cried for their parents. Mothers fought against the strong men to get to their babies. And one by one, person by distraught person, the chain of prisoners grew. They marched together, one after the other towards the outskirts of the village. And once outside of it, they were loaded onto horse-drawn carts and take away into the unknown lands of the enemy.