Sir William - A short story for Halloween

He picked up his glass of red wine from the table, the dark red liquid reminding him of the blood of his enemies that had been spilt on the battlefield many years before. Back then he was a young man, eager to serve his masters and do what needed to be done. He didn't think twice about running through his enemies with his rapier, as they would have done the same to him if they had the chance.

Battle after battle he fought. Marching from one end of the country to another, to wherever the army was called upon. He was a lieutenant-corporal in the cavalry, but unlike his colonel he didn't shy away from the fighting, he looked forward to it, enjoying the rush of adrenaline as he charged towards the parliamentarian soldiers with his sword drawn. He lost count of the lives he took and the injuries he inflicted. Riding into the group of soldiers, massacring as many as he could before turning the horses around and retreating back to his own army, regrouping ready for the next attack. Wave after wave of destruction was caused by his unit with him leading from the front.

It once took him over an hour to fully clean the blood stains from his sword after a battle, the dried blood forming a hard crust on the cold steel. He looked down into the glass in his hand and smiled at the memory.

His family was on the royalist side, ever loyal to the King. It turned out to be the losing side, leading to an era of difficult times under Cromwell, but only until the new King was restored to the throne. His loyalty to the old King was recognised with a knighthood and a gift of land by the new King's court, adding to his already generous land, unlike the traitors who had signed the King's death warrant that were chased down like petty thieves and beheaded for the treason they had committed.

He picked up the glass and sniffed the bouquet of dark fruit and spices, before taking a large mouthful, gulping down the expensive liquid with little care for the years of fermenting and the arduous journey that it had taken across the English channel from France to reach him. The recent wars had made the supply of French wine extremely difficult, but he had contacts in the right places that could smuggle whatever he desired, all for the right price of course.

Walking back to the grand chair in the middle of the room, he sat down and looked out of the large glass windows of his newly built country house and then took another mouthful of wine. The liquid warmed his throat as it slowly slid its way down into his stomach. The view in front of him stretched out for mile upon mile of countryside, the boundaries of his estate too far for him to see.

"This just won't do." He said to himself as he gazed across the patchwork of unspoilt green fields. He wanted, no, he needed, the grounds to be the envy of the rest of England. He needed an estate so grand that even the King of England would envy him. Statues, follies, temples and lakes. Where there was currently the English countryside, as it had been for the past thousand years, he wanted order and design. It would show his command was so powerful that he could even control nature itself.

He raised his right hand and clicked his fingers. His nearest manservant approached quickly, but stopped at a respectful distance, ready to receive his orders.

"Fetch me Androse. We have much work to do here!" Sir William exclaimed. The manservant left the room immediately to pass on the urgent message.

He sat back into his comfortable chair, a vision of his future estate slowly forming in his mind.