Fire and Thorn

by Mary Vee

  There was a brief silence. One by one the others scooched back their chairs, stood, and picked up their cups. “Long live the king!” They proudly clanked cups together.

  Above the cheering, a thunderous bang shook the outer wall of the room, bringing the celebration to a sudden halt. Everyone slammed their flagons down and ran toward the disturbance.

  One of the assistant cooks burst into the room cackling and shrieking with a high pitched shrill. “A dragon tried to fly into the window but missed. It hit the building then fell to the ground. A moment later, it took flight back to the north. We’re doomed! What can we do? What can we do?” She ran around the Great Hall screaming and waving her hands high above her head like a cackling scared chicken.

  Two squires pulled aside the tapestry covering the window. The men waited before getting too close. Squire Jonathon swallowed loud enough for all to hear. “I…I don’t see a dragon.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Maybe the cook imagined the whole event.”

  “And maybe she didn’t.” Squire Sybil pointed out the window. “Lean out farther and look at the exterior wall. The shape left from the damage is like a dragon wing.”

  Gilbert released a slow, long breath and returned to his seat at the conference table. He spoke gently. “It’s time to get to work. Pack and be ready to leave after lunch. We’ll share the duties. Who’ll gather the provisions?”

  “I will, sire,” the steward bowed then left the room.

  “We’ll need a hearty lunch.”

  The chief cook volunteered. “My kitchen staff can prepare a filling meal, sire.” She bowed. “Beggin’ your pardon, sire. You won’t want to take me along on your quest. I would only slow you down. Katia is a fine cook. She’s young and possesses a keen ability to learn. Only yesterday, she trapped four rabbits.”

  Gilbert smiled at the chubby lady nervously fiddling with her hands. “All right. Tell Katia to prepare for the journey.” She bowed and left the room.

  “We’ll need horses groomed and prepared for travel.”

  The trainer stood. “I’ll take care of it, sire.” He bowed and left the room.

  “The only other detail is the weapons.”

  “The squires will gather the weapons along with our own needs and meet back for lunch,” said Ben and Charles for the others. They taunted Daniel, Sybil, Justin, and Jonathon until they agreed and left with them.

  Matthias bowed. “I will see your things are readied then meet you at lunch, sire.”

  “And I’ll pack then help anyone who needs it.” Sir Robert bowed and left the room with Matthias.

  Count Godwin alone remained. “How are you feeling, sire?”

  “A bit overwhelmed. We should leave for the Valley of Sharon as soon as possible. So many lives have been lost thus far.”

  “You speak with wisdom.” Count Godwin smiled.

  The squires, knights, and servants arrived for the luncheon nearly at the same time. They filled their plates, adding second and third helpings, knowing they would not have warm food for several days, perhaps weeks. After the meal, the overly stuffed team went to the stables and mounted their mares.

  Gilbert looked at the courtiers and villagers who’d gathered for the farewell. “The success of this quest will bring peace to Aerlis. We no longer can tolerate the infestation of thistles choking and ruining our crops or the murder of innocent citizens at the hands of spies and dragons. We will ride to the Valley of Sharon with our heads held high, ready to face any threat or danger for the future of our kingdom.” He drew his sword and held it in the air. “The plague of evil will not bind Aerlis any longer!”

  Loud cheers echoed against the castle walls. Within moments more citizens packed into the bailey, leaving little space for Gilbert and his company to move. He led the procession to the Eastern Gate acknowledging those who bowed and cheered, then turned to face the masses. “We’ll be back as soon as we can with the Rose. Until then, have hope.”

  Count Godwin rushed through the narrow path toward Gilbert waving one arm high. “Sire, wait. Could I offer a request for safety from the Great King before you leave?”

  This time, Gilbert truly looked forward to the words and would have been disappointed if he not offered. “Yes, thank you.”

  The count spoke his blessing only loud enough for those standing near enough to hear, but Gilbert did, and he appreciated the words.

  Gilbert urged Promise forward, where Matthias stood. “Because of your counsel in times past, I’m prepared for this moment. Thank you. Please trust my judgment in asking you to stay behind. I am leaving the kingdom in your hands, good friend. Keep it well.”

  Matthias sighed and nodded. “I will do my best, sire.”

  Chapter Forty

  Gilbert and his team set off to the east toward the Banyan Tree Forest. He didn’t look forward to riding through his parents’ favorite picnic place. He sniffed and choked back a tear.

  Sir Robert rode up next to the king. “Sire, I’d be happy to guide the journey since you’ve never been this way before.”

  “I’d rather ride alone, here in the front with no one around me for a time. We must go through The Banyan Tree Forest, right? And we’ll ride near the place where my parents picnicked?”

  “Yes, we will, sire.” Sir Robert glanced back at the castle then at Gilbert. “I could plot another path. It wouldn’t add much time and you could avoid the uncomfortable setting.”

  “No.” Gilbert shook his head. “I can handle it. We must avoid any more detours. My trips to Malum and Vista delayed this quest in the first place. I wish I had thought to search through Father’s things and read his journals sooner.”

  “We’re all new at our jobs, sire. I had no idea how difficult my role as regent would be. Filled with pride, I slid into the duties and fell flat on my face. I’m convinced that if Katia and Timon hadn’t stepped in and helped, the affairs of the kingdom would have been in an irreparable state.”

  “Thank you for your understanding, Sir Robert. I’d like to ride alone and look at the countryside now. Well, as much as is possible with this sea of thistles.”

  “As you wish, sire.” Sir Robert slowed his horse into the second position.

  After a short time, Gilbert looked back at the other riders and saw Ben playing a game. Using the rear position of the group as an advantage, he reached forward and tapped Charles’s leg, then with a mischievous look, rode up in front of the other squires. Charles nudged his horse to race forward. The infectious laughter spread to Katia and remarkably to the stoic steward who, for a precious moment, appeared tempted to join in the fun.

  Charles tapped Daniel who then tapped Justin. The game intensified with darting behind trees, bushes, and Katia’s horse while tagging each other. New leaders took over at each round. No one seemed to notice Gilbert wanted to play.

  Sir Robert dodged Sybil’s reach by riding up alongside Gilbert. He laughed at the failed attempt then turned his attention to the king. “Sire?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re close to the Banyan Tree Forest. That would be a convenient place to rest the horses. Would you like me to lead for a while?”

  What Gilbert wanted was to join the game. He didn’t recall a single time when Father stopped his work to play.

  “Are you well?” asked Sir Robert

  “I’m sorry,” Gilbert slowed his destrier. “My mind drifted to other things. Yes, go ahead and lead the way.” He let him pass.

  The countryside didn’t dazzle him with the bold colors described in storybooks. Instead, drab shades of moldy green and dull browns colored the landscape. Gilbert's backside ached and he longed for a break from riding. His muscles tensed tighter the closer they rode to the Banyan Tree Forest. A sense of fear crept up his back. He looked to the sky for dragons and didn’t see any.

  He had second thoughts about taking one of the different routes Sir Robert had suggested. They could curve to the north and ride around the doomed picnic area. That route, though, would take them t
hrough Uncle Ivan’s forest, a wood plagued with dragons. Bad idea. Or, they could curve to the south and travel along the sea. They’d have to retrace their steps back to their port to board a ship. It would waste too much time.

  “Sire,” Sir Robert interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “We have reached the picnic area and the Diaphonic River.”

  Already? He marveled at the unusual Banyan woods. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “A single Banyan Tree can look like a forest, sire. The trunks are branches that have grown down into the ground, appearing like many new trees. Other branches curve under the ground and spring up from the earth. People think these are new trees, but they are part of the original tree.”

  The forest was a beautiful sight. He understood why Mother liked this place. Gilbert slowly turned toward the group. “We’ll stop here and mourn the loss of a great king.”

  A few squires walked down to the river and refilled their water skins. Gilbert dismounted. Memories of family picnics in the bailey played like a live theater in his mind. Sweet songs sung by his mother while she served a meal made him grin. Mock battles between him and his father ended in torn clothes, bruises, and dirt splattered on the picnic blanket. Mother always got after them. He laughed.

  A shout from Ben yanked him from his memories. “Sire, come. Quickly.”

  Gilbert hurried to the brush where Ben stood.

  “See, buried in this charred area is a sword, sire.” The branches crackled and snapped as Ben pulled them apart.

  Gilbert pressed his hand against his chest. “Oh,…it can’t be.” He reached for the magnificent weapon with intricate detail carved not only on the blade but also the hilt. “This is my father’s sword.”

  Overwhelmed with grief, Gilbert fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around his head. His father’s sword tumbled to the ground beside him. “I haven’t planned his funeral yet.”

  Sir Robert knelt next to him. “This must be very difficult for you, sire. I need to tell you about a decision I made while you were gone.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  “I hope you’ll be pleased. Citizens petitioned to have your father’s funeral right away. It seemed to me that you should be present. When I denied their request, some outspoken shopkeepers banded together and stormed the castle. They intended to steal the king’s body and conduct his funeral. With many of the knights out searching for the queen and guards hunting down spies, I simply didn’t have the power to shut down their coup.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I finally understood they only wanted to express their appreciation and support for King Cyrus. First, I affirmed your love and dedication for him and that you’d prefer to honor your father with the traditional burial for rulers as established by Emperor Stephanas.”

  “Yes, of course, I do. Remind me, what all is done for the traditional burial.”

  Sir Robert plucked a blade of grass. “I’m not sure other than Sir Philip sailed on a ship called The Faithful. That trip had something to do with the Emperor’s burial.”

  “I remember.” Gilbert ran his hand over his father’s sword, slowly touching the etchings. “He told me about his adventure but didn’t say what specific arrangements took place. So, what did you tell the people?”

  “The crowd seemed satisfied with what I said. I assumed you would know or make up the details and execute them when you returned.”

  “All right. We can deal with that later. What did you do with my father’s body?”

  Sir Robert leaned close and whispered, “I remembered learning how to preserve a body. I called for all the honey in the kingdom, poured it into a large container and placed the king’s body inside until you were ready to give him a funeral.”

  Gilbert touched Sir Robert’s shoulder. “Good thinking. Thank you, for taking care of him.” He stood then yanked his own sword from its sheath and set it on the ground. He curled his fingers around the hilt of his father’s sword, raised it high, and marveled again at the magnificent weapon. The sun reflected on portions not singed from the battle. With a single swift arc, he slid the new sword into the sheath. Sir Robert picked up the old sword and added it to the other weapons on the packhorse.

  They walked to the water’s edge. “Show me where my parents ate that day.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Gilbert followed Sir Robert to the only level piece of land shaded by part of the beautiful banyan tree. Charred and deteriorating remains of roses, lilacs, and hyacinths littered the scorched grassy area. Tiny new thistle plants poked their heads through the soil. Gilbert breathed in the fresh water scent mixed with burned plants and trees. He closed his eyes. Pictures of his parents laughing while eating sweetmeats danced in his mind. He pictured Father tickling Mother. How he wished they’d invited him.

  “Over here, sire, is where we knights ate.”

  They trudged up a small hill beyond the shadow of the banyan to a stand of olive trees. Gilbert sat on the ground facing the river. “Looks like you had a good view of them and sat close enough to provide protection.”

  He imagined what had happened. His father’s valiant efforts to save his queen, knights running to the rescue, swords swooshing out of their sheaths. Loud grunts as warriors battled against the treacherous foe. One by one the brave knights fell to their death.

  Then his mother. His poor mother captured and dangling from the clutches of a dragon’s claw. Softly, barely above a whisper, he said, “A mighty battle was fought on these grounds. Let’s take a moment to mourn our great loss.”

  A bird’s sonnet soothed the mournful silence.

  Gilbert sniffed and looked up at those around him. “To honor the slain knights, would anyone like to tell a story?”

  Charles wiped his tears. “Ben, Ben, tell the story about the time Sir Spencer saved the king.”

  Ben looked at Charles and sniffed. “All right.” He stood and acted the story as he told it. “King Cyrus had called Sir Spencer to the Great Hall to be honored last year. Wanting to impress the king, he dressed in full knight apparel. He asked me to follow behind and carry his armor. King Cyrus summoned Sir Spencer to approach the throne. The knight marched the long length of the hall.

  “As he came within a few feet of the throne, the door from the kitchen suddenly flung open. We turned in time to see a rather large cook sprinting into the room. She screamed and cackled, ‘Come back here!’ to chickens attempting to flee. Our dinner ran through the room ‘buk, buk,’ begging anyone to spare their lives. The chickens ran to the throne, flapping their wings in King Cyrus’s face, clawing and screeching. The red-faced cook finally caught up to the birds. The poor woman was completely out of breath. She waved her arms through the air as if that would help her catch them. In all the excitement, one of the chickens relieved itself on the king’s head. Sir Spencer yanked his sword from me and challenged the chickens to a dual. ‘How dare you offend the king.’ The great Sir Spencer swiftly thrust his sword through the air and skewered our dinner in one swift swoop.”

  All the squires rolled on the ground, laughing and applauding. Gilbert walked to Promise and led her to the river. He patted and brushed her coat in solitude.

  In between stories, some of the team chose to lie in the grass. Daniel penned his thoughts in journals. Charles and Sybil started a game of swordplay using sticks then invited anyone who wanted to join a mock battle.

  A few feet beyond the playing field, Gilbert spied the perfect stick poking out from a rhododendron bush. He sneaked to the brush and grabbed the weapon. The action slid to the left, letting him creep into the field of play unnoticed.

  Charles whisked around and faced his challenger. “Watch your backs! Gilbert has joined our game.”

  Justin and Sybil whirled around in time to spy his initial attack. Gilbert dealt parrying edge blows while Charles thrust his stick into play. All the squires and Gilbert laughed. Beads of sweat dripped off their foreheads. The play continued with down
ward thrusts and upward blows.

  The trainer applauded. “Bravo, sire, squires and knights.” He walked into the playing field. “Why didn’t you show me these skills back at the castle? I would’ve taken you to a higher level of strategy. Drag your thirsty bodies to the river and drink your fill.”

  Gilbert rubbed bruises building on his shins. “Charles, you betrayed me.”

  “Yes, I did.” He laughed and panted for breath. “But you managed to withstand the counterattack.”

  They raced down to the river, kicked off their shoes, and dove into the water, clothes and all. A barrage of water from half the squires on one side pelted those standing across from them. The liquid wall blinded players into wildly swinging their ammunition. The only way to breathe was to turn away from the battle.

  K-flap, k-flap.

  Gilbert stopped playing to listen. When he didn’t hear the sound again, he resumed splashing, dunking, and laughing. They called the trainer and Sir Robert to join the fun.

  K-flap, k-flap

  “Sire!”

  Gilbert turned to the shore. Sir Robert pointed to the sky.

  K-flap, k-flap

  Gilbert looked up and gasped. An enormous bird flew high overhead. He wiped water from his eyes and looked again. The bird was a dragon, measuring about a twenty-foot wingspan.

  Gilbert forcefully thrust his arm up and pointed to the sky. “Dragon! Squires, get out of the water. Arm yourselves. Hurry.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Mucky river bottom grabbed the squires’ feet as they waded to the shore. Step by step, they yanked one foot free just to have the other sucked down by the oozing sludge. Their heavy, wet clothing dragged forward motion.

  Once on the beach, they ran to the piles of scattered supplies, searching for their weapons. The trainer, Sir Robert, and the steward had drawn their swords and stood ready to fight. Katia grabbed Gilbert's old sword and formed a defensive stance. The squires gazed toward the sky, stunned, and followed the movement of the dragon as it swooped closer, downward for an attack. “I’ve never fought a dragon before,” said Ben.