The Yeoman: Crying Albion Series - Book 1

by Tyler Danann

  The report began with the work-based economy in Albion. It seemed to prove that they were serious about eliminating low-paid jobs for the masses. Labor exchanges allocated jobs that were needed to an area based on the individuals skill and desire for work. The work-shy either starved or needed a very good reason to claim a food and shelter allowance. They objected to the British society that reveled in having low or even zero-standards according to one Yeomanry publication.

  The next section was the demographics and immigration report. The Yeomanry Colonels took a lot of stick from the media and most government parties for their immigration and repatriation policy. The general ignorance of most Britons meant they bought into whatever the newspapers told them in print, and whatever they heard their favorite politician ramble on about. Here though, the MI6 agent once again seemed to vindicate the Yeomanry’s declaration. Immigration from Britain was strict for non-Europeans. They had to show essential skills not present in Albion. This was not a right to permanent residency either. The labor departments were striving towards self-sufficiency when it came to skilled workers that were home-grown.

  Since the Colonels War ten years ago most of the foreign folks not of European origin had left. Many had voluntarily left with their families, many of these taking the repatriation bonus. Those few hundred that remained were tolerated, ignored and shunned for the most part. Meanwhile the flood of foreigners already in Britain was poised to increase to a tsunami if the Prime Speaker’s government had their way.

  Thinking of this gave Athered pause for concern, but he read on, putting such fears to the back of his mind.

  When it came to crime and punishment the figures and estimations were startling. Far from the soft and caring ways of the Crown Prosecution Service the tough-love approach in Albion was driving down crime. Hanging for capital crimes had been reinstated, along with corporal punishment for underage offenses. Hard labor for non-capital crimes was common, very often this constituted primitive farming and mine reactivation.

  One of the big public works programs reinstated by the Yeomanry was mining. During the Thatcherite-era nearly all the coal mines of north-east England had been closed down. Although reasons like efficiency, economy and ‘competition’ with overseas nations were given as a reason the Colonels argued there was more to it than that. The closures were part of a secret agreement to disinherit the working class people. Wages and job security had always been high for miners until the closures. After this suicide and alcoholism had been a scourge. Athered read how already one major mine had been painstakingly reactivated using a prison labor-force. The work had been dangerous and grueling but in some cases former convicts were granted a parole and even a pardon.

  Unemployment, which had reached historic highs during previous decades was now incredibly low. Wise reckoned that the Colonels were being economical with the truth, yet even he acknowledged that the Yeomanry’s oversight of Albion was paying dividends. The rest of the dossier read in a similar fashion. Overall, the Yeomanry and their populace of the fledgling nation of Albion were seeing the start of a paradigm shift. Perhaps even the dawn of a golden age.

  “Small wonder there’s such a propaganda war and opposition to the Yeomanry, they have turned their part of the country around compared to the stagnation here!” Athered exclaimed.

  “What is it?” his girlfriend said, startled by his sudden announcement.

  “The truth! We’ve been lied to about Albion, about the Yeomanry. Here take a look, only you must promise not to tell of it to anyone.”

  Natalya understood English to a high standard and agreed to keep it too herself. Her blue eyes widened and she made several gasps and looks in surprise at him as she read the dossier.

  “Why do they lie to us here? In my country there is not this level of deception?”

  “Natalya, all governments lie sometimes, for the better and the worse. Perhaps our one here is doing it much more though. They don’t want us to know the evil they plan. We’d either rise up in order to change Britain to the Albion model or rush to emigrate there.”

  “Can you not tell the people Brian?”

  “Not like this, it would be traced back to me in a heartbeat. No, when the time is right we must try and give this to the Yeomanry, they’d know who the trader is, or at least have a good idea from all this data.”

  “If we do that we’d be outlaws? I’ve still another two years at the university,” Natalya said with a worried voice.

  “Albion has universities too, they’ve just re-opened one in York. We can’t move yet anyway, I can do more good from within the walls of the Ministry than outside it. It sound’s crazy but I’ve a feeling we have to bide our time.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked in a sultry manner.

  “I’m in the middle of a big case, there’s a Yeomanry spy-ring in London. Maybe I can help the Yeomanry from the inside, don’t ask me how, I’ll have to figure out a way.”

  “I never took you to be a double agent Mr Athered,” his coy blonde woman said with a deeper tone. Her bright eyes enticed him.

  “I never thought you’d be one to be my sidekick either Miss Anyanova,” he said softly, drawing her lovely face towards his.

  Chapter 4

  Apostates

  The college of Warminster was much changed since the founding days of old. Apart from the ancient castle of Warwick newer, more efficient yet ugly buildings took the place of many older, more traditional ones. The influx of multicultural students was also a gradual process and the college was no exception.

  Valerie Beaumont sighed as another lecture began. Unlike the ones she had signed up for two years ago the new ones were not what she’d had in mind. Her classes included compulsory subjects in ‘Universal Tolerance’ and ‘End of European Traditions’. The tall sandy-haired girl sat in the lecture hall crowded with other students. The smells and noises of foreign foods and language rustled and floated about as the lecturer rambled on and on. For her the novelty-factor of it was fading fast, as if to reinforce her feelings the next sub-title on the projector ‘The evils of European colonialism’ flashed up on the screen.

  Valerie texted an emoticon of rolling her eyes to her friend. Her classmate, Nicola Woodvine, smiled and responded with a a message about how ‘terrible’ it was such benefits were shared with others.

  Another page came on the projector screen, it was from a leftish-acclaimed book demonizing the royalties of old. The Romanov Tsar’s where portrayed as an out-of-touch group of white supremacists who looked down on the poorer classes within their realm.

  Valerie raised her hand and the lecturer paused to take a question.

  “Tutor, I agree the early Tsar’s of Russia did some questionable things, but didn’t Tsar Nicholas the second and his forebears enact beneficial changes to the Russian people?”

  “Absolutely not! The people overthrew his kind after they’d had enough of the Tsar’s absolute monarchy! They wished for liberation and the glory of communism.”

  “Tutor, did not the Romanov dynasty abdicate to pass on power?”

  “Of course not! It had to be taken by the proletariat!”

  “I’ve heard it said that the people who overthrew him were a revolutionary minority who misled the people to advance their own interests?” the girl stated.

  “Absolute nonsense! Communism is a force for good as you will soon learn.”

  “But sir, they savagely murdered an innocent royal family most brutally, with no cause and it triggered a violent civil war.”

  “Well, these things happen, world war two which followed was much worse too.”

  Nicola Woodvine raised her hand and the lecturer nodded.

  “Miss Woodvine.”

  “Was that war not indirectly triggered by agitation and Communism threatening central and western Europe though sir?”

  “Of course not, the Nazi party wished to take over the world. I’d have thought you’d learned this at secondary school. Now please, be quiet, that’s enough
questions asked!”

  Soon afterwards the lecturer began showing his Bolshevik heros of the USSR in an almost ecstatic fashion. This was followed by the communist takeover of China and Vietnam. Both girls weren’t even taking notes now nor were many others. The grades in such politically-correct subjects weren’t joined with the others though, but a rumor had it that the next college year would see it so.

  For the younger ones in primary and secondary school the draconian ways of enforced multiculturalism were already in place. Parents who home-schooled their children to side-step this ran the risk of a random visit from the Social Services Authority. While it did not result in arrest and child-stealing, all it took was the wrong word, gesture or intention for a mandatory schooling-order to be sent through the post. Failing to heed this would see the SSA return once again, but this time with enforcers backing them up. Holding a guardianship warrant the SSA could effectively seize the children in a state-sanctioned abduction. They’d be schooled in a location far from the area the parents were in.

  So far the guardianship warrants were seldom deployed and when they were, only with those they deemed the ‘worst’ offenders. For the children of home-schoolers forced ‘familiarization’ sessions with groups of foreign children in the inner-cities was commonplace.

  Two hours later the lecture was over and more than a few students couldn’t wait to leave. Beaumont and Woodvine, along with a few others were kindred spirits in a maelstrom of liberal confusion and emotion.

  Omar Jordan wasn't far away and re-checked his phone and viewed the picture he’d been sent. A name was below it, along with the target's class schedule but he already knew who she was. As he and his friend watched the leggy blonde leave the lecture hall with Nicola Woodvine he smiled with the thrill of the chase. He’d been in England for two years and felt aggressively confident. His parents were first generation asylum-seekers from southern Iraq. His best friend was Jesse Young an Afro-English boy of mixed parentage and somewhat in the shadow of Omar. Both were dark-skinned and above-average when it came to intelligence but it was Omar who was the leader. He had that edge in fast-maturity over boys a similar age and was handy with his fists. He viewed the willowy blonde girl as a personal challenge. The other boys at the college tended to be emo-style wimps or academic bookworms, making competition for him quite mild. So far he’d had his way with other girls but a blonde one, even a dishwater blonde, would mark new meat for his sexual appetite The fact he was being assigned potential troublemakers to punish made his job even more appealing.

  At the communal locker area he made his move.

  “So what are you up to after classes Val?” Omar said, moving in close to her, invading her personal space a touch.

  “Nothing much, why?” she said neutrally, taking half a step back.

  “Well maybe you and me could go out on a date?” he said with a hint of aggression to his deep accent. The brown eyes seemed to show a masculine nature some would have been intrigued by. Valerie Beaumont was, unlike most others at the college both conservative and pro-White.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t date outside of my race.” Valerie said quietly with the hint of dignity. She turned back to her locker. In the second before the iron-clad rejection sank in Valerie knew she’d crossed a line.

  “You what? That’s fuckin’ racist!” the youth slammed the palm of his hand into the locker next to hers. The loud bang rang through the area and several others stopped what they were doing.

  Nicola turned and joined her friend. “Why’s it racist? Because your feelings are hurt?” the brunette said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you bitch!” Omar grumbled.

  “Yeah well just to save you the time I won’t date you or your mate either,” Nicola added.

  “Come on Omar,” Jesse Young said, knowing when they weren’t getting anywhere. “We can do it another way,” Young added quietly as the two left the area.

  “That told him,” Valerie said somewhat haughtily. “If only more girls took a stand they wouldn’t be bullied by the Omar folks.”

  “You want to be careful Val, I’ve heard he is bad news. His dad is supposed to be well connected.”

  “I can deal with trash like that Nikky. My grandparents fled Russia to get away from bullies and they always taught me to stand up to them. The ones that don’t stand up end up getting shot or gulaged!” the girl said emotionally before calming again. The area had gone quiet though. “We ought to report this Nikky.”

  “I don’t know, if we do things could turn out bad for us,” her friend warned.

  “What do you mean? He insulted us both, that was harassment, bullying even.”

  Nicola sighed and took a deep breath. “The College Code has a big section on equal opportunities and racial discrimination.”

  “What’s that got to do with us? He’s the one who pestered me.”

  “I know but my parents have warned me about the Omar types. Anything to do with race and you’re not foreign like they are, they get the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Why did you defend me if you knew this?” Valerie said in a moment of frustration.

  “I don’t like seeing my friends bullied, especially by that swine,” Nicola said with a glint of warmth in her hazel eyes.

  After lunch-break the afternoon subjects for both girls were in separate subjects. Valerie’s was in philosophy with Miss Grimes as Tutor. Barely ten minutes had elapsed before the door opened. The head tutor, Mr Gladstone, entered and spoke with the class tutor, then left the room as quickly as he’d entered it. Mark Gladstone was someone who gave her the creeps. He was overweight, short and seemed to be always scrutinizing with the beady, narrow-set eyes of his. Miss Grimes called out Valerie’s name.

  “Mr Gladstone would like to speak with you in his office,” her tutor said politely.

  Valerie got up and wondered if her friend had complained about Omar’s behaviour. On leaving the class Gladstone was outside and walked with her barely saying a word. On turning right at the corridor to approach the Head Tutor’s office her heart and stomach felt wrenched. Stood against the wall outside was Omar and his friend Jesse. The looked impassive for the most part but a smug look on Omar’s features created an air of apprehension about Valerie.

  She had never been in trouble at school, outside of the usual minor mischief. Without acknowledging the two students Gladstone opened the door and let Valerie enter his office.

  A uniformed Land Ministry Policeman stood waiting inside. A pair of chairs opposite the tutor’s desk was vacant. Valerie was in a state of bewilderment, what was a policeman doing in the office?

  “Please take a seat Miss Beauford.”

  She did so.

  “Mr Jordan has put in a formal complaint against you.”

  “A complaint?” the teenager said in disbelief. It was like a distant bombshell had gone off within her head.

  “He tells me you racially insulted him?”

  “He asked me on a date and I told him no. Then he became abusive and insulted me and Nikky.”

  The policeman pulled out his notebook and checked the details.

  “So you didn’t cause distress to him by using racial or prejudicial language?” Constable Jeneston said.

  A part of Valerie knew she was in a trap and implored her to be silent or evasive, yet another part conceded that explanation and understanding was key.

  “I said ‘I’m sorry but I don’t date outside of my race,” the girl said truthfully. “I didn’t know saying a personal stance was offensive?” A moment of pause occurred, then the uniformed man noted down some words and showed it to Gladstone.

  “Excuse us for a moment,” the Chief Tutor said and both he and the constable left the room.

  A thousand and one thoughts went through her and with nervous hands she fished out her smart phone from her cardigan pocket.

  ‘Being interviewed by Gladstone! Ministry Police r here!’ she rapidly keyed before sending it to Nikky.

  As she waited for
a response a feeling of oppression gripped her. It was like some hidden entity or spirit seemed to be hounding her. Did she make this happen? Was it her fault? She didn’t have to say the race word.

  Then another voice seemed to sound from inside her. It was her father, the father she’d known before her teenage years, the one who’d been slain as an officer in the oil wars.

  ‘Stay strong, give ground but do not give in!’

  This gave her some fortitude, although the doubting thoughts seemed to swim around her like predatory sharks.

  The door opened again after about five minutes of this, only Gladstone entered, giving her some relief.

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  She shrugged with an air of tense apprehension.

  “Mr Jordan and his friend wanted to press charges against you,” the short little man spoke slowly and with a solemn way about him, “but the Ministry Policeman and I agreed to a compromise.”

  ‘Don’t tell me I have to go on a date with the slimy creep?’ she thought anxiously.

  “You are to publicly apologize, in front of the entire college to Omar and his friend about your disgraceful behaviour.”

  Valerie felt a deep sense of embarrassment, it was enough for her that she was private about her views without it being common knowledge.

  “Can’t I just apologize privately? In the corridor or office?” she countered meekly.

  “In view of the seriousness of what you did that is not appropriate.”

  “Seriousness?” Valerie wanted to lambast Gladstone, but her father’s words stopped her short.

  “Do you want me to explain how many college rules you broke? Perhaps the Race Relations Act that the Ministry Policeman could have charged you with should be spelled out?”