Evening had already begun to descend on the town of Norwich.
The sky, which in those days had always taken on a clear and blue color, illuminated by the golden and warm rays of the sun, had that evening started to take on a sort of darker and colder color.
It had been some time since Diane had come to that place: weeks, months maybe, she didn't know, when she was afraid time passed so quickly that everything had become relative.
She worked in the fields during the day, under the sun, she helped as she could the owners of the farm who had allowed her to stay with them.
It was stressful and frustrating at times, when she was a teenager, not long ago, she had always imagined and partially wished to become someone important, a woman who would set the course of history, but all these expectations had ultimately led to a big disappointment.
From her command of thousands of men she had gone to work in the fields, she had become a sort of slave, as her mother was before her marriage to her father.
Working in the fields was demanding, tiring, she had never considered it, in the morning she had to help milk the cows, take the sheep to the fields and take the remains of the meal to the pigs so that they could eat.
She had to carry heavy wooden buckets full of water back and forth for hours to water the plantations and in the short free time she had she had to take care of the twins.
Those times were stressful for her, yes, also because her original family had long since closed the bank account that linked the young woman to them, so, right now if she hadn't worked she would have starved in a short time.
Diane had also made the acquaintance and closed a sort of friendship with Damien, the bastard of House Courcy, a fairly ordinary teenager boy with a great motivation and Sam, a girl who always wore a smile on her face and in her heart a great love for everything she did.
Diane and Damien walked the wide streets of the town, they were covered for the most part with massive and flat whitish grey stones, which mostly had the use of passageways for carriages or horses, but very uncomfortable for the human foot.
The wind, light but constant slowly blew into Diane's soft curly hair, stirred it, on her shoulders, where her hair slowly began to lengthen.
She kept her eyes closed for a few moments, it was so nice to feel that feeling on her skin, to feel how the wind blushed her dark and delicate face.
She hid with her lids her eyes of a deep and clear blue color, which with the dark complexion of the girl created a magnificent play of colours.
The last time she had had the opportunity to remain so silent, to enjoy such a sweet and delicate wind was the same night during which Francis had lost his life.
A couple of tears began to accumulate on her cheeks, slowly falling.
Why was she crying? Why right now?
Diane opened her eyes slowly, observed the dark summer sky, observed the thousand little stars, little silver dots, how beautiful it all was, how beautiful it was that despite all her difficulties she had lived over 24 years and could have been there in that moment.
-You don't have to cry- Damien consoled her by pushing against her a precious white silk handkerchief, handing it to her -all will be fine, be sure of it-.
Diane observed the friend's face, it was reassuring seeing how he had placed a slight smile on his lips, she understood it was slightly forced but she also understood how her friend wanted to console her at that moment.
She appreciated his help, watched how his gaze was dry and sincere, how his black, straight hair rested lightly on his forehead.
Diane smiled, wiped away with some of her fingers the tears that had started to flow at that moment, she smiled slightly.
-I know I shouldn't cry...it's just a pretty hard time for me-.
-You too have lost someone you cared about, haven't you?- asked Damien Courcy, immediately turning his gaze towards the floor.
The lady was almost struck by that statement, how did he know what it meant and who could he possibly have lost?
She was kind of embarrassed to ask and she didn't want old wounds to open in his heart.
Diane couldn't explain who this person could be and on the one hand she also felt that it wasn't exactly her business to allow herself to ask such a thing, so she just shook her head slightly...
They had walked so far that the calm and silent environment that had accompanied them in the first part of their walk had now begun to be replaced by more mundane and urban smells.
From a certain lateral point of the street they could perceive the strong smell of urine and feces that was thrown into the sewers by the citizens every morning.
On the other hand, having passed seven in the evening, that was the time when most of the taverns opened their doors to every person who was looking for alcohol to stifle their suffering or generally for a good drink with friends or for people who took advantage of being able to end up in bed with an evening acquaintance.
Not only could the laughter of the people come out from the doors but also the seasoned smell of beer or the smoke of some cigars and weed.
With the outbreak of war most of the population was letting go, enjoying the likely last months of life before dying on the battlefield.
Soldiers drank to forget or often ended up chasing their last carnal passions before death.
Diane looked up, her eyes were no longer wet with sadness, but with the strong smell of smoke and grass.
She twitched the muscles in her forehead, what she was seeing was not possible, surely a hallucination or perhaps a stupid coincidence but she seemed at that moment to observe one of her older half-brothers sitting there, at the entrance of the local.
Diane saw him sitting on a wooden barrel outside the wide open door, he was alone, he was not talking to anyone, he was slightly folded on his own back.
He was holding a mug of fresh, golden beer in his hands and drank it slowly, sip after sip, little by little.
It was Samuel, he must have been, she recognised him by his wavy blond hair closed behind his neck in a short ponytail, by the man's dull eyes, by the pale color of his face and by the pale and few freckles that covered the tip of his nose.
He didn't seem happy, at least he didn't seem to be enjoying that evening.
-Samuel...Samuel Stanley?- babbled the lady, immediately turning Damien Courcy's attention to herself, she knew it was dangerous to name that surname in enemy territory but she wanted to try to see if the man presented any reaction to her call.
He turned and immediately the tired eyes of the man widened with surprise and fear.
-Diane?- he stammered with surprise and happiness -I didn't expect you were still alive, not after the fire, not after everything that happened...-.
Samuel was also an illegitimate son of their father but with a different mother.
His mother, unlike Diane's, came from the Danish high aristocracy, almost on a par with a princess.
Diane smiled lightly, she was proud of herself, she wasn't easy to die and although she had never put up with any of her half-brothers she had to admit that she was happy to finally have met a familiar face after all that time.
Samuel had grown up, he must have been about 33 years old but to the appearance he seemed to show some less.
-Why did you come here brother? After all that the three of you have brought me I should also rethink calling you my brother...- the lady complained, crossing her arms under her breasts.
What did they think they were doing? Her half-brothers were always in a pack, alone they were too weak, she knew it, if she had a chance to meet Samuel, this meant that Walter and Marcus had to be nearby and this was not a bad thing at all, it was good sign.
The man lowered his gaze to the ground, he was sorry, she knew it, she perceived it, she observed his pale hands clenched in fists tremble, he was afraid and awe of something.
-I'm really sorry for what happened but I can't say it was my fault...- her brother tried to feel better -I and our older brothers wanted to find you most of all, Diane...your mother has given us this task, to find you and take you back to Man, in complete safety-.
Diane's eyes widened, her pupils dilated, this was bad if indeed that was her half-brothers plan to bring her back home to Man, she could not finish what he had started, she could not have personally killed Isabelle.
But her ideas were suddenly strangled by the voice of Damien Courcy behind her.
-Stanley?! Have you brought these assholes inside the walls of my city? How could you, Diane?!-.
Samuel immediately placed one of his shaking hands on the gun he kept closed, attached to his belt.
-Be silent Courcy, as a bastard yourself you don't own any territory and for this reason you have no right to offend me-.
Diane knew for the last time that she had to avoid a carnage between her own brother and one of her closest friends.
She sighed, closed her eyes, squeezed them so that they almost hurt, left her lips parted, let some of the cold evening air in and out of them.
-Where are Walter and Marcus now?-.
These words allowed the two rivals to relax and unwind for a few moments from their challenge, which in any case could have turned into a duel in a few seconds.
Samuel pointed inside the noisy tavern.
Their brothers were in there, not at all unexpected by them.
Walter, Marcus? Where were they?
Samuel at least had the guts to stay out on his own, in enemy territory but for two cowards like their two other brothers there was no hope.
So many people populated the room, talked, discussed, smiled inhibited by alcohol, it was sad to see how so many people, each with their own story, each with their own family, each with children but without ever having the chance to see them to grow up.
War was a hideous slaughter machine for the innocent, Diane knew this and if only she could save their lives by offering hers she certainly would.
After all she had done, the last of her problems was death.
It was noisy, that noise was hateful, the presence of those people, the fact that they were so happy, inhibited by alcohol, made Diane more nervous in a certain way.
She turned her gaze at her left and right, noticed face by face, person by person, until she finally noticed what she had long been waiting for.
Salty and heavy tears began to roll down her cheeks.
She placed one of her aching hands on her belt, grabbed the weapon, lifted it heavily, took it in her hands, touched the iron with which it was made, stroked the wood for one last time, pulled the trigger.
The shot went from the barrel.
Everyone was silent.