The Prince of Warwood and the Fall of the King (Book 2)

by J. Noel Clinton

  “Dad?” he choked.

  “It’s all right, Xavier. I’ve got you,” Spencer’s voice reassured.

  Xavier realized it wasn’t his father peering worriedly down at him; it was his uncle. Tired and fail, he began to sob.

  Spencer hauled his limp body from the tub and grabbed a nearby towel. He wrapped him up and held him as Xavier fought to regain control of his emotions. Beyond them, Loren had Catherine pinned to the tiled floor as Ephraim tried to tie the bucking woman’s hands behind her back. Catherine fought them like a feral animal: biting, clawing, hissing, and squirming.

  “Ouch! Holy… She bit me! The witch bit me! Slap a muzzle on her, Ephraim!” Loren spat, glaring at the woman just as Ephraim finished binding her hands and feet.

  Once the woman was secured, Spencer carried the prince past the commotion and laid him gently on his bed. He looked down at him with concern, stroked his hair, and dried his eyes. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “N..n..no,” he stuttered, finally regaining control over his emotions.

  Just then, the door crashed open and several guardsmen thundered into the room.

  “She’s in the bathroom,” Spencer told them, pointing.

  “She told me that she was the one who set the virus loose, killing all those kids,” he whispered to his uncle, not quite trusting his voice.

  “What? She what?” he hissed, shocked. “She killed all those innocent children?”

  Xavier felt the tears returning as he nodded.

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes to fill out the arresting papers,” Loren called as the guards took Catherine out of the room and out of the palace.

  “Are you all right there, laddy?” Ephraim asked, his voice quavering.

  Nodding, he swallowed back the tears that fought to escape. “Y..yeah. Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank Loren. He’s the one who knew something was up. When Spencer told him Catherine was keeping an eye on you, he bolted out of my flat! He’s the one who knocked that madwoman off you,” Ephriam responded.

  “I hope to God I broke a rib,” Loren muttered. “She deserves at least that much!” He looked down at the prince. “Oh, man. I’m really sorry, kid. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said she wasn’t right. You owe me a good payback beating.”

  Xavier’s laughter drove away his tears. “Yeah, I can see that happening. Don’t worry about it! It’s okay, really! I kind of deserved what I got. I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did. It wasn’t your fault.” Xavier grinned sheepishly. “Believe me! I’ll never make the mistake by saying ‘that didn’t hurt’ ever again!”

  Loren had to laugh at that. “Probably an excellent lesson to learn, Your Highness.”

  But, smiling playfully, Xavier added, “But you still don’t hit as hard as Dad.”

  Loren glared down at him and then grinned. “I’ll remember that the next time I wallop your butt.” Xavier snickered as Loren winked down at him. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to help process and interrogate that…witch! Ephraim, can you pull guard duty while I’m gone?” Loren asked.

  “Sure, mate,” he replied, and the two turned to leave.

  “Wait! What about my dad? Have you heard anything? Will they let me see him?” Xavier blurted.

  “Xavier, you’re in no shape to even get out of bed. How can you visit your father?” Ephraim asked.

  “Well, what about his trial? Has it been set yet?” the boy pressed on.

  Ephraim hesitated a moment and then answered quietly, “Yes. It’s been set for Thursday.” Loren and Ephraim left the room.

  “Let’s get some warm, dry clothes on you, boy,” his uncle announced, crossing the room and searching through Xavier’s drawers for pajamas.

  “Uncle Mike?” Xavier whispered in a small voice. The title took Spencer by surprise and he paused. Xavier must have realized it for he added quickly, “Is it okay if I call you Uncle Mike? I’ve never had an uncle before, and…well, you are my uncle.”

  “Yes, Xavier. You can call me Uncle Mike,” he answered with a smile.

  Xavier grinned up at him.

  “What was your question, boy?” he asked.

  “What’s going to happen to him, my dad I mean,” he muttered.

  “It’s hard to say for sure, Xavier,” he told him, helping him into clean underclothes and pajama bottoms.

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked.

  Spencer glanced up at the boy solemnly. “The worst? Well…” He paused to consider the question. “He could be dethroned and banished from the kingdom forever.”

  “Seriously? Who would rule the kingdom then?”

  Mike gave him a knowing look before saying, “Who do you think, sire?”

  “But I’m just a kid. Who’d want me as king?”

  “The citizens of Warwood would.”

  “You don’t think that will happen, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” he answered dismissively as he pulled the pajama top over the boy’s head and pulled his arms through the sleeves. “There are circumstances here that wouldn’t warrant such harsh consequences. But with the kingdom dividing like it is, it’s hard to say for sure what will happen.”

  “It’s all my fault!” Xavier began, his voice breaking as fresh tears dropped onto his face. “He wouldn’t be in prison if he hadn’t been trying to save me! Maybe he would have been better off if he had just let me die!”

  “Don’t think that!” Spencer hissed, grabbing him. “If you think that’s true, then you must not know your dad very well. He eats, sleeps, and breathes you, boy! You’re everything to him. If something were to happen to you, Jer would never recover from it. Do you understand me?”

  Xavier sobbed harder and nodded. Spencer slid on the bed beside him, pulled him into his arms, and held him. “Don’t worry, Xavier. Everything will work out; you’ll see.”

  A few days later, Xavier was strong enough to visit his father with the aid of a wheelchair. Spencer and Xavier were led into a holding block with three small cells. Jeremiah was in the first cell. At first, Xavier almost didn’t recognize him. His father’s long hair had been cropped short and his face was cleanly shaven. He looked young, almost like a teenager. Jeremiah looked up as they entered and his eyes widened at the sight of Xavier.

  “Son, what are you doing here?” he questioned, jumping to his feet and glaring at Spencer. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!”

  “I needed to see you, Dad!” he responded as the guard opened the cell door. He struggled out of the wheelchair and stumbled into the cell. Jeremiah scooped him into his arms and hugged him close.

  “I miss you, Dad. Why can’t you come home? Why won’t they let you stay at the palace until the trial? I need you, Dad,” he cried into his father’s shoulder.

  “I know, son. I wish I could be with you,” Jeremiah murmured, holding him close for several minutes. Finally, he drew back and settled the boy on his knee. “Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully.” He stroked the tears from Xavier’s cheeks as he spoke. “It’s not your fault I’ve been arrested. I mean it, son. It’s not your fault I’m here. I knew before I did what I did that this would happen. It was my decision to make. So I don’t ever want to hear from Mike that you’re blaming yourself for any of this again. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

  “Good. Now, I know that I owe you…Lord, an apology just doesn’t seem to be enough,” he hissed, rubbing his bare jaw and chin. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you or listen to you about Catherine. You were right about her. It really gets to me that I didn’t see it and that I didn’t trust you enough to believe you. God, son, I’m so very, very sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

  “Get out of here as soon as you can,” he responded.

  His father smiled. “I don’t deserve a son like you.”

  Xavier laughed, wiping the remnants of tears from his cheeks. “I’ll remind you of that the next time I get into a spot
of trouble with that overbearing, annoying headmaster.”

  “Hey! I heard that!” Spencer called from the doorway, grinning. “He’s definitely your boy, Jer. He’s stubborn, arrogant, and has the same cheeky sense of humor.”

  The king chuckled and ruffled the long curls on top of Xavier’s head. “Yep, he’s definitely his father’s son.”

  Once the smiles faded, Jeremiah’s demeanor grew quite serious and solemn. “Xavier, you know that the trial is tomorrow.”

  Xavier nodded.

  “Well, I don’t want you there.”

  “What? No, Dad. Please, let me come!” he whined.

  “Son, you will stay at the palace with Mike…”

  “NO! I won’t! You can’t make me!” he yelled, close to tears.

  “Mike can and I expect him to,” his father responded.

  “I’ll sneak out! I…I…” He looked up at his father’s set face and felt his own face crumple. “Please, Dad! I have to be there. I have to, please.”

  “Jer,” Spencer interrupted quietly, “it may not be a bad idea for the boy to be seen there. It may remind the High Council of what you were fighting for; it may work out to your benefit for them to see Xavier in his weakened state.”

  Jeremiah considered the idea, staring thoughtfully at Xavier.

  “Please, Dad! Let me come!” he begged with renewed hope.

  After a moment, he nodded. “Okay.” Then, he looked up at Spencer. “But, Mike, if there’s any trouble, any at all, you’re to get him out of there!”

  “I give you my word that I will, Jer,” he vowed.

  Chapter 20

  The Trial

  The day of the trial, Xavier refused to allow Spencer to cart him into the courtroom in a wheelchair. He walked on his own. The sudden hush from the crowd drew the High Council’s attention, and five pairs of eyes watched with apprehension as the prince struggled and staggered down the aisle of the packed room toward his father sitting in the front. King Wells followed the Council’s gaze and jumped to his feet, nearly toppling his chair. Xavier was sweating and out of breath from the physical exertion it took just to make his legs work. Then, halfway up the aisle, he stumbled and fell to the floor. Without hesitation, Jeremiah jumped the small wall separating the galley from the witness area and ran to him.

  “I’ve got him,” he muttered to Michael who had reached down to help the boy.

  “Dad,” Xavier gasped as his father lifted him from the floor.

  “Why aren’t you in a wheelchair?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to be rolled in here like some kind of weakling. I wanted to walk in,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, and I can see how well you’ve accomplished that,” His father commented and smiled down at him.

  “Well, I walked this far, didn’t I?” Xavier remarked sheepishly.

  He chuckled. “Yes, son. You sure did.”

  The king carried the boy the remaining distance and settled him on the bench directly behind the defendant’s chair.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, stroking Xavier’s cheek with his forefinger.

  “Yes, sir,” he answered with a small grin.

  With a nod to Mike, Jeremiah returned to the defendant’s chair next to Dublin Minnows.

  “Is Mr. Minnows defending Father?” Xavier asked Spencer quietly.

  “Your father wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it,” he responded.

  “Hear Ye! Hear Ye!” Father O’Brien called, silencing the crowded courtroom.

  As O’Brien rattled on about proper courtroom etiquette, Xavier studied the members of the High Council and tried to determine who would most likely vote against his father. Governor Yaman would definitely be a problem, especially now that his niece had been arrested for attempt of murder. The governor didn’t even attempt to mask his contempt and kept throwing troubled looks toward Xavier. Father O’Brien was presiding as chairman of the High Council and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the power he held over the king. He was, without question, a problem. Governor Bracus seemed very solemn and business-like, but when he made eye contact and winked, Xavier knew he had an ally on the council. Definitely not a problem. The next council member was a pinch-faced, middle-aged man with rectangular glasses. He watched Father O’Brien studiously and seemed enamored by his every word. Xavier wished he had the strength to use his telepathy powers. Telepathy would make this process easier and definitely more accurate. The healers had told him he would eventually regain the use of his powers; just as in time, he would regain the use of his body, but that didn’t help his current dilemma much. He frowned as he studied the man a moment longer. He obviously respected Father O’Brien greatly, and it was highly probable the priest could easily sway him. Okay, he was questionable.

  Xavier moved on to the last member of the Council and felt his stomach drop to the floor when he saw Lana Applegate. That’s right! Maggie had told him once that her mother was a member of the High Council. A surge of guilt and despair clawed at him. He had survived the same virus that had taken her daughter’s life. Was she resentful? Did she blame his father for not finding the cure soon enough? Would she use it against him now? However, all Xavier’s insecurities diminished the moment Lana Applegate looked at him; he knew he had another ally. So, the possible vote was two to two with one questionable member as a tiebreaker. Xavier didn’t like the odds, and it didn’t make him feel any less nervous.

  O’Brien had finished his opening statement and swore in all the witnesses.

  “The Council asks for King Wells to rise,” he stated, and his father stood, looking proud and tall. “Sire Wells,” he continued smugly, “you have been charged with the use of empowerments against a subordinate with the intent to kill or maim as well as the illegal use of the Clavis de Rex for your personal gain; therefore violating Codes 1B and 20 of the Codes of Warwood. How do you plea, sire?”

  “Guilty, Mister Chairman. I knowingly broke the Codes in order to save my son’s life,” Jeremiah stated simply and sat back down.

  “Mister Chairman, with the permission of the Council, I’d like to submit written testimony from the healers regarding King Wells’ reasons for the use of the Clavis de Rex,” Dublin announced, standing and holding out a file of papers.

  “So be it,” O’Brien stated indifferently, waving Dublin over to him.

  It took the Council several minutes to sort through and read the remarks. At one point, Ms. Applegate gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a cry. Governor Bracus shakily rubbed his jaw and peered up at Xavier, tears flooding the large eyes behind his glasses. Every council member seemed shaken by the healers’ testimony; every member except Governor Yaman, who sat staring at Xavier with narrowed, cold eyes.

  “Let the record show that the boy was indeed clinically dead when King Wells arrived at the hospital,” O’Brien noted hoarsely.

  The crowd in the gallery gasped at the declaration and several quiet, anxious conversations broke out around him.

  “Silence in the gallery, please!” the priest ordered. “Defense, call your first witness.”

  Dublin stood. “The king calls Ephraim Hardcastle to the stand.” As Ephraim approached the witness chair and sat down, Father O’Brien reminded him of his oath.

  “Now, Mr. Hardcastle. Did King Wells, fully aware of the repercussions, knowingly and willingly disregard Code 20 and empower himself with additional powers?” O’Brien asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman, but…”

  “Is it also true that he used his empowerments against his subordinates without due cause or provocation?” Father O’Brien interrupted.

  “Yes, but there’s more to it than that!”

  “Thank you. That will be all!” O’Brien ordered, cutting Ephraim off.

  “Now, wait a bloody minute!” Ephraim bellowed.

  “You’re out of order, Mr. Hardcastle. You’ve been dismissed. Please step away, quietly,” O’Brien warned.

  “Out of order! Out of order? I’m out of order for trying to
give you all the bloody facts? This is barmy!” Ephraim shouted, his Yorkshire accent growing thick. Xavier usually found it humorous when Ephraim got so excited that his British accent became highly pronounced, but today he didn’t find anything about this situation funny.

  “Not another word, sir, or I will hold you in contempt of these proceedings!” O’Brien growled.

  “Ephraim,” Jeremiah spoke softly. “Let it go, friend. Just let it go.”

  Ephraim looked at him and opened his mouth to protest but then closed it, looking baffled and angry. He slowly stood to leave, but Ms. Applegate’s next words stopped him.

  “Mister Chairman, I would like to hear Mr. Hardcastle out. I would like to know all the facts in this case. After all, this isn’t an ordinary man we’re passing judgment on. Therefore, it is imperative we give leniency and allow the witnesses to elaborate on their testimonies.”

  Father O’Brien’s face erupted in fury. “Are you saying, Madam Applegate, that Jeremiah should be given special privileges because he’s king?”

  “That should be King Wells to you, O’Brien! He’s your king as well!” Loren shouted from Xavier’s left.

  The uproar from the gallery drowned out the priest’s response. “Order! Order!” he tried to shout over the ruckus, but it was obvious he had lost control of the proceedings.

  Finally, it was Jeremiah who ended it. He stood and faced the angry crowd. “Please,” he called over their grievances and insults. “My friends, please settle down. Father O’Brien is right. I do not wish to be treated any differently than if it were one of you in my place. No one should be above the law, most of all, the king.” The crowd grew silent almost instantly. “However,” he continued, turning to face the High Council, “I believe all members of the High Council are permitted to question each witness.” He glanced briefly at Lana Applegate and Simon Bracus.

  Lana gave him a small smile as he sat back down. “You’re quite right, Your Highness.” She looked back to Father O’Brien’s reddening face. “I choose to question this witness further, Mister Chairman.”