“You alright?” It was Fife, the servant.
James brushed his hand quickly across his eyes, “I'm fine. Allergies perhaps.”
The look on Fife’s face told James that these people didn't know what allergies were.
“It's trees and grass making my eyes water.” James explained.
“Ah yes, I know it well, though for me it is stable hay.” Fife reached into his saddle bag, “I brought these for you.” and he handed James two biscuits that looked better than the usual.
James looked over at him sharply to see if he knew anything about what had happened to his breakfast, “What are they for? Does everyone eat so soon after breakfast?”
Fife smiled and said, “Not those who had breakfast, no.”
So he had seen. James wondered how many others had noticed. “Well, thank you. I suppose it was a waste,” he said as he bit hungrily into the biscuit, “but really, we would've never left if I'd had to finish it.”
“Yes, I understand. But you see, it has to be this way until we run out and begin hunting fresh meat. The meat we are eating now is venison we brought with us. It travels better cooked so it is cooked before we leave. It is then cooked again when we are ready to eat it. So much heat makes it that way. We eat it because we know we need the strength and energy and I would advise you to try to eat more of it too. I noticed you didn't eat much last night either.”
“But how am I to eat it when I can't swallow it without gagging?” James asked, “You all seem to just wolf it down without a second thought.”
“That is precisely what you have to learn to do. We leave off chewing altogether and let our stomachs do all that for us. It's when you start chewing that it becomes almost impossible to swallow.”
James squinted his eyes and tilted his head, “Isn't that bad for your stomach?”
Fife shrugged his shoulders, “Not sure. Maybe, maybe not.”
“Huh.” and James thoughtfully sucked the crumbs off his fingers, “Well, I thank you for those and I'll try to do better about the meat in the future.”
Fife smiled and moved back to make room for Terragone who was riding up and passing him. He was moving to the front for a while. Sir Lavison was also moving forward but not up towards the front because once he was alongside James, he kept pace with him.
“Master Redmond, would you come and take the rear with me? Terragone is going to lead while we go through this forest, and I want some company in the back. It will be quieter back there and the prince wants me to get to know you a bit better.”
“I guess.” James had his reservations about the plan, but he still turned his horse to follow Sir Lavison back.
They rode quite a distance from the others. James could hear their distant voices, but couldn't hear what they were talking about.
“Why does there need to be such a big gap between them and us?” he asked as they turned and began following again.
“We must be almost out of earshot of them, so that we can properly guard the rear. If we rode closer, then the sounds of the others would drown out the sounds of any animal or man that might be behind us, either in pursuit or in flight. I must be able to hear the smallest sounds sometimes and that is nearly impossible when you’re near that crowd.”
“I see. But wait. Why then would you want anyone to ride with you?”
“One other person hardly drowns out the alarm sounds.” and Sir Lavison chuckled. It made James feel like an immature child asking silly questions.
They were in the forest now, on a narrow road that wound its way alongside a brook. The company ahead was out of sight most of the time due to the many bends in the path, but James could still hear them whenever someone would burst out in laughter. Honestly, it was nice being further from their ruckus for a spell.
James chose to remain quiet for awhile, realizing the starting of a conversation would be more awkward than just maintaining the awkward silence. In fact, he was beginning to accustom himself to these awkward silences. He was a bit surprised at himself for being more adaptive than he'd thought was possible for a man at his old age.
“So, you aren't from this world. Hard to understand, and yet very intriguing.” Sir Lavison said, settling back and glancing over at James.
James swatted at a mosquito, “So just like that you believe me and everything I said? Or are you all just humoring me?”
“We don’t know if we believe you yet, but for now, it works.” Sir Lavison said as he too brushed away a mosquito, “You seem sane enough to me and I don't see any immediate motive for you to lie about it. You may have made it all up and are just a clever old fox who’s scheming trouble for us all, but you don’t look it and I'll take my chances that’s not your plan. To your benefit, the prince agrees with me, otherwise he would have sent you away. Still we will most certainly check the details of your story when we can.”
“Fair enough, though if it is any relief to you at all,” James said as he rubbed the slowly swelling spot on his arm, “I have no secret or dark schemes. I'm honest enough, but that might take time to prove.”
Sir Lavison nodded, “But, what did you do in your world before you were brought here?”
“I was father and grandfather to some very interesting people. I liked to read a lot, but that was before tragedy struck.”
James paused and Sir Lavison sensed he was suppose to encourage him to go on. “Oh? And what tragedy was that?”
“Yes, I went to my physician and was told I had severe eyestrain and that I would have to stop reading. It was devastating. Reading was the only thing I lived for in life. My family was unsympathetic and cruel. Life was very bleak for me.”
“What did you end up doing?” Sir Lavison asked when James didn't continue.
“I had to finish the last book I had ben reading, I just had to. It might have been wrong and the doctor told me not to, but I did it anyway. I had to wait until the rest of my family was asleep. But then Sandra, that is the name of my daughter, just stood at the door of my room for forever, probably wondering whether or not I was awake. She waited so long I must have fallen asleep with the book under my pillow. Next thing I knew, I was here.”
“Punishment I suppose, for disregarding your physician's advice.”
“Probably, but I rather think it has turned around for the better.”
“I wonder where your family thinks you are.”
“I wonder if they even know I'm gone. Does time move at the same pace in both places? I don't know.” and James sighed contentedly for he believed his lot truly had fallen in pleasant places.
“Well, I still feel sorry for them—” but Sir Lavison was cut short here by a sharp shush from his companion.
James had heard something and his head snapped around to catch whatever it was in the act of making the sound.
Sir Lavison also looked back but he saw nothing. “What is it?” he asked very quietly.
James just shook his head and held up a hand for silence. Sir Lavison strained to catch whatever it was James was listening for. After a minute or so, James shook his head again and turned his head back and prodded his horse back into a walk.
“What did you hear?” Sir Lavison asked.
“Just a cracking twig, or something like that.” James said as he again swatted at the oppressive insects.
“Probably just a small animal.”
“Bigger.” James stated.
“A deer then.”
“It sounded bigger than that. You're sure there aren't cyclops around these parts? It sounded heavy enough.”
Sir Lavison smiled a superior smile and anyone who's had older siblings knows exactly what that smile looks like, “No, there aren't any cyclops around here.”
James felt piqued, “Well, it wasn’t a deer, I know that.”
Sir Lavison just smiled again and they rode on.
10
Of Kings and Their Doings
Gailli was in a kind of golden age. There was peace inside and out, domestic and foreign. Of al
l the surrounding countries, Gailli was by far the most prosperous. Gaillians were in general a content, happy, and fulfilled people. Crime was at an all-time low, poverty percentages were small, work was plentiful and renumeration fair. Yes, it was a good time to live in Gailli.
Things were so well off that Harvest wanted to set up a monument to this time of peace and prosperity. So it was that the plans for Rella Height came into being, a grand and glorious new castle for himself and his queen. He had already sent for supplies from the south and was diligently searching for the very best of master craftsmen. There would be no cutting corners with Rella Height. The site was decided on. He had a landscaper going over it to see about any topographical alterations tomorrow. It was the perfect spot, several miles southwest of Hermin Druer on the crest of a grassy, wild-flower strewn hill, with a glorious, clear view of the surrounding hills and valleys, and far off, the sparkling sea. A castle would stand out strikingly in such a panorama.
Harvest had just returned from going to gauge the current state of things and rushed to find his wife, eager to tell her about the exciting progress.
“It sounds perfect, dear.” Laurelina placed her wrinkled hand atop her husband’s, “But what will happen to Hermin Druer once we vacate it?”
Harvest eyes sparkled and danced in his excitement, “Terragone will stay here and will get a taste of what it will be like when he is king. Perhaps he will settle down and marry too, and then they could both live very nicely here. We would be close enough to visit any children they might have and yet far enough away so he is still independent of us, grown man that he is.”
Laurelina smiled, her husband’s excitement contagious, “Your plans just get better and better, my dear. I wonder if he's chosen a bride yet?” She sighed softly, wondering how much longer it would be before her only son would wed.
Harvest too wondered, but not for long, for his thoughts and conversations these days always seem to drift back to the inexhaustible topic of his new citadel.
—————
Harvest strode down a passageway leading towards the stables. The foundation for Rella Height had been laid and he wished to admire the beginnings of his new home. A messenger crossed his path, bowed and came respectfully forward, handing him two notes that he said had just arrived. Harvest nodded to the messenger and instructed his escort to continue on to the stables and prepare his horse. He turned back into the sun-spattered passage and opened the two notes. One of the slips of paper handed to him was a message from his chief admiral. He wrote to inform his majesty that they had finally found the exploration vessel Rapier's Point, tragically dashed to countless pieces on a treacherous shore several miles south of their main port. There was no sign of life and it looked like the ship had crashed quite some time ago. Harvest’s shoulders drooped as he refolded the paper and put it in his coat. The other note was from an acquaintance of his in the small town of Grest several days travel north and west of Hermin Druer. The acquaintance wrote to inform Harvest that he had successfully received and sent off a confidential letter to Ozival by his best messenger and that he could absolutely depend on the letter reaching Ozival in safety. Even though he and Ozival were not as good friends as they had been once upon a time, they still liked to keep each other informed of what big picture stuff went on. Harvest had sent his old friend the plans for Rella Height, an ironic and not altogether innocent choice. Harvest folded the second note placed it with the other, before striding off to go check on his project.
Harvest was not able to push the tragedy about Rapier's Point into a corner of his mind like he’d hoped. It tarnished the excitement of his outing considerably. He admired the foundation of his castle absently but rode back much sooner than expected. He was silent the whole way back, an unusual trait for the king. As soon as he returned to his private rooms, he sat down to write a note to his admiral, asking for all the details of the tragedy. Was there any indication as to why the ship had wrecked? Was it clear what port it might have been heading towards? Did he have any idea as to what might have happened to its sailors? Was there any sign of life anywhere on the beach? How long did he estimate it to have been wrecked for? Was there any hope anyone had survived?
Harvest sat back and shut his eyes wearily. The burden of informing the families of the lost sailors weighed heavily on him. They were so worried already, and yet so hopeful. Mothers waiting for their strapping seafaring sons. Wives waiting for their breadwinners and protectors. Sisters waiting for brothers. Friends waiting for friends. The vessel had gone with twenty-eight men to explore and chart unknown seas and explore wild islands. But then they had lost contact. They were late, and then very late. No sign and no word from them, until now. But what had happened? If they had been coming back, why were they so far south? Why had they not been in contact if they had been so near? And how was he going to break this sad news to all those waiting families?
A week or so later, the king heard back from his admiral again. The Rapier’s Point had smashed against a reef, quite far from any port or harbor. No bodies on shore but it could have wrecked more than a month ago, and if so, any bodies would've been swept away already. He concluded that there was no hope that any had survived and that the families should be informed. The ship had probably hit a storm on its way back and was blown off course before finally being driven into the deadly shoals.
Harvest turned the letter over in his hands absently as he blankly stared at the opposite wall. He hated what he would have to do next.
“Send for five messengers.” he finally directed to one of his men waiting nearby.
He then quickly dictated twenty-eight letters, one for each of the bereaved families. Harvest wrote one other to Terragone, for the young captain of Rapier's Point had been a friend of his son's.
The five messengers were soon before him, ready for their orders. Harvest sent one off immediately with the letter to Terragone, and then turned solemnly to the remaining four.
He sighed heavily and picked up the twenty-eight letters, “I don't know if there's rumor out yet, but the Rapier's Point has been found, wrecked on a shore south of their intended port. The bereaved families are to be notified, so I am giving you each seven of these to deliver.” here he handed the letters to each man, “I included what addresses I know, but for some, I think you will have to ask around. Be sensitive and comforting in light of their grievous loss. I have included what details I could about the wreck in the letters. You can let them know I am planning a memorial service honoring their lost loved ones for their faithful service and their untimely deaths.”
Each messenger silently bowed, accepting his somber task, before turning solemnly to leave and deliver the sad news. Harvest watched until the last one left and then sent for his celebration planner to arrange an honoring dedication for the crew of the Rapier's Point. After settling that, he called for his chief advisor to discuss how he ought to go about helping these mourning families.
“For many of them, they have lost not only a loved one, but the provider for their household. They will need money and goods. Others will still have a way to provide for themselves, but will still have to deal with the crippling sorrow of losing a dear friend or beloved son. Money would only be spurned at this early point of their mourning. It will take time for them all to recover and move on. I would suggest this: provide for the financially devastated. Get them employment if they need it. For those who have no immediate needs because of this loss, leave the invitation open for them to come to you should anything come up.”
Harvest nodded in determination, “Very good, Gonestrom. I have also arranged for a memorial service with which to highly honor the departed.”
“Have you written to the prince?”
“Yes, sent out with the other letters of condolence.”
“Will he be in attendance?”
“I don't believe so. He must be a good many miles away now, and it is not necessary that he come, though I know he shall be grieved to hear about Captain Hale.�
�
Gonestrom nodded, “And will you conduct a search of the sight of the wreck to have the ship's remains examined? Perhaps we can prevent such occurrences in the future.”
“No. The admiral had the place checked quite thoroughly. I don't believe there's anything else to do there. Perhaps I will consider lengthening the scope of the coast watch to cover that area, to prevent such tragedy in the future.” and Harvest stood and walked over to the tall window and watched as the sun set over the hills.
“That would be a rather significant decision, but I’m sure it would mean a lot to those in mourning.”
“Yes, well, I’ll think on it. Perhaps the memorial service will be enough closure for them.”
“Perhaps. And speaking of, I’d best be off to get some of these plans in motion. Is there anything else you need from me?”
Harvest didn’t even turn around as he shook his head, “No, I think that is all for now. Thank you.”
Gonestrom bowed, and silently left, leaving Harvest still staring out over the darkening land.
—————
The tragic news hit the effected families hard, though perhaps not totally unexpectedly. Most of them had realized that this delay could very likely mean disaster and though they knew this, it's still not the same as knowing without a doubt that all hope is gone. The kingdom went into mourning and the sound of laughter and joy was silenced for a time. The service was a somber but beautiful occasion. Harvest prepared a speech to honor the departed and show his sorrow at the loss of the families who survived them. Several other individuals made addresses and a few of the bereaved also had small somethings to say in remembrance of the deceased. Afterwards, there were some light refreshments for all and a time for comforting the mourning. After that, everyone returned to their homes and tried to move on with life.
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