Prince on the Run

by Guy Antibes

  “I’ll stand it willing or not,” Trevor said. “I’ve recovered from sickness and injury before. You don’t get better by lying in bed.”

  “That’s the Trevor Arcwin I know,” the cleric said. “Up, and we will get you dressed, and then I’ll help you downstairs.”

  Dressing was more arduous than it should have been, but Trevor knew he had the strength to go on. He made it downstairs, but only with Brother Yvan’s help. He sat down on a sturdy, simple chair with arms.

  “I made it.”

  “And you’ll have to travel back to your room on your own,” Brother Yvan said, “but first a meal.”

  The innkeeper, a man who kept bowing to Brother Yvan, served them. His identity might still remain a secret, Trevor thought. His lunch consisted of mashed potatoes and meat that had been boiled into softness in a rich gravy.

  “You can have more potatoes than you can meat and gravy,” Brother Yvan said. “I will join you.”

  Trevor looked at the small splotches of food on his plate compared to the full meal given to Brother Yvan. He would have felt slighted under other circumstances, but he couldn’t quite finish the splotches and felt full.

  “I’m the only occupant at the inn?” Trevor asked Brother Yvan.

  “Boxster and you. Don’t worry about the cost. The innkeeper is one of Dryden’s staunchest believers and accepted my somewhat generous offer to keep it that way for another week. He does get to open the doors for his evening trade. That is where he makes most of his money.”

  Trevor nodded. He needed another minute or two to gather himself before negotiating the stairs.

  “Time to climb,” Trevor said as he rose to his feet.

  His body responded, and Trevor made it up the stairs without stopping, however, he did collapse in his bed when he reached the room.

  “How did he do?” Boxster asked Brother Yvan, getting up from a chair.

  “Better than I expected, but then he is young and was in good shape before his illness.”

  “No longer,” Trevor said.

  Boxster stood. “Time to get my meal. I left a little reading material on your desk. It is familiar information, but I’m sure your interest hasn’t waned.”

  Trevor recognized the books he had bought, including the thicker scouting manual. He felt he had earned it. “You won’t be joining me for dinner?”

  Boxster shook his head. “I have other plans tonight. We will talk in the morning.

  ~

  The morning light woke Trevor. He felt better and knew it was because he was eating food again. After a quick washup, he made fifty crossings of his room and thought he could do a few more. Instead, he did a few upper body stretches, making sure his wounds weren’t at risk of opening up.

  Brother Yvan said he had opened both of them when he worked on Trevor’s shoulder and arm. That was the bad thing. The good thing was that the cleric was able to trim the flesh and stretch it to sew up a much better scar. Yvan had called them works of beauty, but after Trevor peeked at his arm, he had to disagree, although a straighter seam now replaced the ghastly, jagged work of Boxster. Trevor was glad he was out when Brother Yvan did his healing.

  Boxster opened the door. “Ah, you’re up. We can go down now.”

  Trevor would have liked to bounce out of the room, but his exercising was beginning to make his body complain. He did make it downstairs with just a little help from his friend.

  Win was already at a table, but Brother Yvan was elsewhere.

  “I’m not crying at the sight of you, today,” Trevor said. He knew he was blushing. Win had caught him at a fragile moment when he first came out of his coma.

  “I can breathe easier. It was touching, but my mother sheds enough tears in front of me that I don’t need anymore,” Win said. “I hope you are ready to eat. I’m starving. We had to help get all the horses ready to ride.”

  “The army is moving out?” Trevor asked.

  Boxster nodded. “I thought I’d be the one to break the news, but King Henry or, more likely, Prince Bering has ordered the Presidon army to invade West Moreton.”

  “Three armies?” Trevor asked. “I’m not so sure the two southern armies are good enough to defeat West Moreton. I’ve seen them both in action.”

  “He’s right,” Boxster said. “Such a move is ill-advised, especially since Presidon is surrounded by enemies and other countries who are neutral, at best.”

  Trevor nodded. “Once most of the army is in the south, even Viksar could probably march to the capital.”

  “General Sorryn isn’t that dumb,” Win said. “He is leaving a division in the city, but there won’t be many mounts available.”

  “Arcwin rule of Presidon won’t last much longer,” Trevor said.

  Brother Yvan rushed into the common room. “Hurry and eat your breakfast. I would guess you have an hour or two before this part of Tarviston gets pulled apart by the royal guard looking for both of you.”

  “I talked to the wrong people,” Boxster said, flatly.

  “Not your fault,” Yvan said. “Other than Win and me, you can’t trust a soul. I suggest we head northwest into the mountains.”

  “We?” Trevor asked.

  “You still need a healer. It isn’t that I am banished. That is why I give us an hour. I had a meeting with a colleague who is firmly in Prince Bering’s circle. Coupled to the rumor I heard, we will be arrested before the night is out if we stay in the city.

  “Neither of us has much in the way of possessions.” Boxster said. “Trevor needs something to eat, and I might as well join him.”

  “Me too!” Win said. “I can be ready in an hour.”

  “Who says you are coming with us?” Trevor asked.

  Win grinned. “I know too much. Right, Brother?”

  “I’m afraid he is correct. I’ll buy a cart and get it provisioned. I know just the place. Another of my flock. She will get us all we want.” Brother Yvan said. “I’ve already eaten, so do that first, and I’ll meet you here in half an hour or so.”

  The cleric had words with the innkeeper who nodded to him and then turned and did the same to Win, Boxster, and Trevor sitting at the table.

  Breakfast arrived almost immediately. Bacon, scrambled eggs, and hot coffee with a filled pastry for dipping. It was the best meal Trevor had ever eaten, at least in his shape.

  “You stay here, and I’ll gather our things. I did it enough when we were on the run.”

  Boxster took his turn talking to the innkeeper as Win rushed out of the pub.

  “I’m going on a vacation!” he said. “That’s the story I’ll tell my mother.” Win almost skipped out of the room.

  Trevor walked around the room, testing his strength. He didn’t think he could ride very far, but he might be able to drive a wagon far enough to get out of the capital. He sat back down and asked for a few more slices of bacon, cooked crisp.

  He took his time savoring the almost-burned bacon when the innkeeper and Boxster descended the stairs with a few bundles and fat saddlebags.

  “I have accumulated a few items while we have been here.” Boxster said it in such a way that Trevor wasn’t to ask any questions. “I brought your sword and your books. I discarded your armor before we even reached Tarviston. I left mine behind too. At least I was able to get a good price for the stuff from an armorer in a good-sized village that we passed.”

  “So, we have some money?”

  “More than we need,” Boxster said. “I had some left in Tarviston, and you did too. Remember?”

  “I thought you gambled it all away,” Trevor said.

  Boxster chuckled. “Perhaps gambled was the wrong word. I had Brother Yvan invest it, and that is where I made the mistake of showing up to collect our cash. We won’t have to worry about paying for anything as long as our needs are modest.”

  “And they will be modest, or my family will find me.”

  “Someone still wants to find me, although I don’t think they are trying too hard.”
<
br />   “Crookwell tried so hard we left him in the Red Forest.”

  “If that is the best my enemy does, I’ll live to a very old age.”

  Trevor laughed because he couldn’t think that far ahead. He wanted to regain his strength before he made any decisions about the future, but he doubted his future included a return to a carefree life in his tower.

  Win ran into the room. “Marin Denton is very put out that you are stealing her son.”

  “You didn’t tell her we were here!” Trevor said.

  Win laughed. “No, but she didn’t think I was going on a vacation by myself. Perhaps she thinks I’m eloping with some girl.”

  “Should I wear a dress?” Trevor asked with a grin.

  “You aren’t my type,” Win said. “Is Brother Yvan here, yet?”

  “He is,” the cleric said, walking into the inn. “I didn’t want to be seen traveling through the streets with you,” he said. “Too many prying eyes reporting what they see to intelligent people. King Henry and Prince Bering may be twisted in their own ways, but they aren’t stupid.”

  “We are ready,” Boxster said.

  “I saw three horses tied up out in front. Where did Win get such a nice one?”

  Win cleared his throat. “A parting gift from the barracks stable. That one arrived at the barracks in a group of ten. I rejected it because it has a bad front knee. On my way to start my vacation, I told them I would send it to the renderer. We didn’t even have time to burn in the army brand.”

  “That’s an extreme solution, even for the army,” Trevor said. “Who diagnosed the malady?”

  “Well, I did, of course,” Win said.

  Brother Yvan cleared his throat. “I think I’ve learned more than enough for today. Let’s load this up and get going. There isn’t much time before they start looking for us.”

  In a few minutes, they were trundling through the streets of Tarviston, heading for the northwest gate. The exit from the city was small and generally lightly monitored. Before they reached the gate, Boxster and Win rode up ahead to pass through the gate separately. Trevor, sitting on the wagon with Brother Yvan, couldn’t yet ride a horse, swing a sword, or do anything but a little exercise and a little eating.

  Boxster’s horse pranced ahead. Win waited underneath the gate.

  “There is already news of our existence in Tarviston?” Trevor said, looking at the gate. No guards were in sight.

  “I’ve aged years in six months,” Boxster said with a smirk. “We need to get going. Luckily, no one came in, but a few passed us as we waited for you.”

  “I can move more quickly for the next ten miles, then the cobbles turn to gravel and then turn to dirt,” the cleric said.

  Trevor grimaced. He could already feel the effects of the pounding of riding in the wagon. A horse would be worse, but he held on as Brother Yvan snapped the whip and urged the two horses pulling the wagon to move faster.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ~

  A week later, Trevor could see the smudge of mountains on the horizon from the wooden sidewalk in front of a small village pub. It was the only place that served food.

  Boxster and Brother Yvan stood over a table in the common room, looking at a map.

  “We will be in the mountains by tomorrow night,” Boxster said. “Where do we go from here?”

  Brother Yvan rubbed his ample chin. “We can go to this monastery.” He pointed to a blank spot on the map. “They aren’t of my order—”

  “Which order are you?” Win asked.

  “A secret order, of course. That is why I’ve kept it from everyone in Tarviston.”

  “Is the food good?” Trevor asked.

  “I’ve never been to one that disappoints,” Brother Yvan said. “It is also a few hours off the main trail. The track to the monastery is barely large enough for the wagon, but as you can see, it isn’t on the map.”

  “You have been there before?” Boxster asked.

  “No, but I have heard of it a few times and was told that it would be a refuge or a retreat should I ever need one.”

  “That is good enough for me,” the ex-sergeant said. “What do you two think?”

  “If the food is good…” Win said.

  Trevor nodded. “We can stay there for a week or so?”

  “Maybe through the winter,” Brother Yvan said.

  That was more than acceptable for Trevor. He needed a place where he could get back into shape. A remote monastery might be ideal.

  They ate two helpings before setting off toward the mountains. Trevor sat on a horse for the first time since he was injured, and it felt wonderful compared to the pounding his frail frame took in the wagon. Boxster decided to take Trevor’s place. Brother Yvan and Boxster treated each other more like friends than either did toward Trevor. He guessed the pair had taken the roles of teachers to Trevor, but to him, they were as much friends as Win was.

  Trevor let Win talk while they followed the wagon. The land began to roll more, and soon they were in foothills looking for a place to camp for the night.

  Boxster chose a secluded spot within a stretch of trees. The place didn’t have the same feeling that the Red Forest had. It didn’t feel as thick or as oppressive. The night had turned into early morning when they heard the pounding of hooves on the road, not more than one hundred paces away. The riders didn’t stop by the track that took them to their campground.

  All but Win were up listening to the pounding fade into the night. Trevor had a hard time getting back to sleep and was up as the sky began to lighten. Brother Yvan had already started a fire and had a pan filled with water that had yet to steam.

  “Our route leaves this road in a few hours. Hopefully if those riders are after us, they will be long past the turnoff. There is no sense trying to find it until the sun is up,” Brother Yvan said.

  The porridge was made delicious with a generous dollop of honey and a handful of gooseberries that Brother Yvan had managed to pluck from a patch within sight of the camp.

  They packed up and returned to the road. Boxster tried to figure out how many riders there were from the tracks, but all he could say was that a company, at the least, had passed them.

  Win was the one who found the track on their left. Trevor thought a casual rider would never find it. They turned off and stopped while Win and Boxster erased the wagon tracks and ran their horses over their work many times.

  Boxster thought it would be enough to hide their tracks. They used branches to conceal any signs they had used the path for a few hundred paces. The going was easier than Trevor thought, and after lunch eaten while they traveled, they saw the monastery across a small valley.

  Trevor could see why the monastery chose the site. It looked idyllic to him with clumps of trees and wide pastures. Sheep grazed along with goats. Cows were doing the same in a different area, and pigs were mixed in with all the animals. They stopped at a bridge over a stream that meandered through the valley.

  “Something is wrong,” Brother Yvan said. “I don’t see any sign of the monks. Make sure your weapons are loose and accessible.”

  Trevor didn’t even bother to buckle on his sword, but he did tie a quiver to his saddlebags and wore a strung bow. He just hoped he had enough strength to shoot an arrow.

  They continued through the valley. Trevor could feel a strangeness to the place as they approached the monastery. The gate was ajar, and still, there was no evidence of habitation. Boxster slipped into the courtyard first. It didn’t take him long to return.

  “Some kind of plague, I imagine. There are a few bodies in the courtyard. The horses are dead. Starved to death, most likely.”

  Trevor rode inside and almost gagged. “We can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?” Boxster said. “There is water, although I probably wouldn’t use well water here. There is a little stream that runs in the back. I imagine there is enough livestock to keep us fed for months, and we will probably find vegetables and grains that reseeded even
though there would be no monks to tend the gardens.

  “Then let’s get to work and make some graves.”

  Trevor expected to find cuts in the shredded clothes, but it appeared that they hadn’t succumbed to an attack of brigands. He walked inside the monastery itself and found a body in most of the monks’ cells.

  “Here!” Brother Yvan called.

  They ran to an office of sorts.

  “A farewell letter by the prior,” Brother Yvan said. “The monastery ate a stew containing mushrooms that a new monk had plucked from the forest. It was a dish to die for.” Trevor groaned at the joke. “Most of the monks were able to make it to their cells to die praying to Dryden. The writing is that of a man in distress.”

  “We won’t know their names, but our first task is to bury the dead outside the monastery, just like we said.”

  They camped in the courtyard after removing the remains of humans and animals. The bodies ended up about a hundred paces away at the edge of the forest. Trevor hoped that Dryden’s monks hadn’t turned into ghosts despite Brother Yvan’s assurances that would never happen. He wouldn’t put it past the cleric to mislead him as a joke.

  Trevor was relieved in the morning, but Win still looked a little wide-eyed as they began to carry the pallets from the cells into the courtyard.

  “Perhaps a pyre?” Boxster said.

  “An excellent idea. The wood will burn what is left to ashes.”

  As the sun set, the bodies of twenty-two monks, seven horses, four donkeys, two dogs, and a coop full of chickens were set ablaze a safe distance from the forest. The fire continued to burn while twilight came and went. Brother Yvan said prayers a few times as the pyre burned. The fire stopped, and the remains glowed a soft red in the darkness.

  “I will maintain a vigil tonight,” Brother Yvan said. “I brought a small loaf of bread and a waterskin.”

  The three others walked back to the monastery to sleep another night out in the courtyard. Trevor woke up thinking he might be seeing a ghost, but it was Brother Yvan returning from his vigil. He went back to sleep, exhausted from a dismal day of work, bearing all the sadness for lives lost prematurely, vowing never to put mushrooms in a stew.