Servant of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  Edgar looked shocked. "Let me get this straight; you wanna pay me five crowns a month just to pass on gossip?"

  "That's right."

  "When do I start?"

  Gerald could see her taking the measure of the man. "I can speak for his trustworthiness," he quickly vouchsafed.

  Anna smiled at this. "Thank you, Gerald, you've just made up my mind. Tell me, Edgar, where are you staying tonight? At the inn?"

  "No," he answered, "I'll camp just outside of town, cheaper that way."

  "I tell you what," Anna continued, pleased with his response. "You follow us to Uxley Hall, and we'll see you fed and put up for the night. In the morning, I'll want you to take some letters back to Wincaster for me. Would that be all right?"

  "Certainly miss, be happy to."

  "Excellent, it's settled then. Come along Gerald. We've work to do." She rose from the table and Gerald, surprised by her sudden energy, rushed to down the rest of his cider. They headed back to Sam's to get their wagon, Tempus loping along after them and Edgar leading his horse by the reigns.

  A short time later, they were on their way back to the Hall with Edgar trailing along on his horse. Gerald turned from holding the reigns to look at Anna. "What was that all about?" he asked.

  "It occurs to me, that there's little more I can learn from the library at Uxley Hall. What better way to learn about the kingdom than by having a group of private messengers?"

  "But gossip? What good will that do you?" He was trying to understand where she was going with this.

  "I already know about how the kingdom is organized, all about the nobles and so on, but how do the people of Merceria act? What do they talk about? I find it all quite fascinating. Are the people happy? Do they enjoy their lives? I want to know it all." She sounded quite passionate about it.

  They sat in companionable silence for a little bit. Gerald could see Anna working things out in her head. He let her be for a few more moments, not wishing to interrupt her, then spoke up. "What was the letter about?" he reminded her finally.

  "Oh, I almost forgot," she smiled. "Andronicus thinks we may have found a Saurian."

  "What's a Saurian?" he continued his enquiry.

  "He says it's some ancient race, sort of a lizard person. He's not too familiar with them himself but recommends that I write to some other mages he knows. He sent me instructions on how to contact three of them."

  "Three mages? I didn't know the kingdom had that many," responded Gerald.

  "We don't. At least one of them is all the way over in Westland." She dug the letter out of her pocket. "One's called Albreda, and she lives in the woods near Bodden. Have you ever heard of her?"

  "I believe Fitz had some dealings with her, but I don’t know much about her."

  "And then," she continued, "there's another one near Mattingly named Aldus Hearn. Apparently, he lives in the woods near there. The third one's called…" she read the name off the page, pronouncing it slowly, "Tyrell Caracticus, he lives in Southport, in Westland. Andronicus says if anyone knew about the Saurians, it would be one of them."

  The information was fascinating to Gerald. Other than short trips across the border into Norland, he had not travelled much, certainly not as far as Westland. "Mages," he murmured, more to himself than to Anna, "you can never tell whether to trust them or not, or so they say."

  "So who says?" quizzed Anna.

  Gerald was taken aback by the question. "Well, you know, they! No one knows who they are." He paused for a moment. "Well, I guess I answered your question, there isn't a 'they' is there?"

  "Probably not. It's most likely just an old wives’ tale."

  They arrived at Uxley Hall, and Gerald handed the wagon off to the stable master. They entered the Hall, and Anna called for some food for their guest.

  Gerald found the meal to be simple yet filling. Cook had prepared some delicious stew for the three of them, and together with some fresh bread, the meal was quite satisfying. They spoke little during their dinner, but Anna finished eating first and was just waiting for Edgar to complete his meal so that she could ply him with questions. He had just finished his last morsel of bread when she spoke up, taking him by surprise.

  "So tell me, Edgar," she began her inquisition, "how did you meet Gerald?"

  "Well," he started, "I was a soldier up in Bodden Keep. It was during the siege, you see, the first siege that is. A bunch a Northerners had gotten into the keep. The little buggers managed to bring down a section of the keep wall. It collapsed just as it got dark and they launched an attack from the opposite side to distract us. They was into the courtyard before we knew it."

  He grabbed his mug, downing a swig of cider before he continued. "Anyway, Fitz, he organizes everyone, and we pushes them back out, but then someone says that a few of them got into the main keep. He gathers me and three others, and we heads in, leaving the rest to shore up the wall with whatever they could."

  Anna was engrossed, "Did you find them all?"

  "Finding ‘em was the easy part, left a path of ruin behind them. They was too interested in looting. Anyways, we follows them down into the cellar and comes across a Northerner lying on his stomach, not moving. Underneath him, you see, was Gerald here. He couldn't have been much older than you are now. He’d stuck a knife into the man’s gut. He was all covered in blood.”

  "It must have been horrible," prompted Anna.

  "Oh, it was," Edgar provided, "but after that first siege, Fitz made sure it never happened again. He built an outer wall and set up extra doors inside the keep to funnel any attackers into a death zone."

  "A death zone?" Anna was intrigued to learn more about what Fitz had done.

  "Yes, they’d all be led to a courtyard where they’d be trapped, and archers could pick ‘em off. Course we never needed it, ‘cause Bodden weren’t never breached after that, though they tried again, but that was years later."

  "So you knew Gerald when he was a child?" She had a smirk on her face as she continued, "What was he like?"

  Edgar pulled another sip on his cider and looked at Gerald, who had turned slightly red in embarrassment. "He were much like any other youngster really, nothing special to speak of. Though I remember that young lady taking a shining to ‘im. What was her name again?"

  Now it was Gerald’s turn to speak. "Meredith," he said, the name dripping off his tongue like honey. His face was lit up for a brief moment and then, inevitably, came the feeling of loss as he remembered her death.

  “Whatever happened to her,” Edgar asked, unaware.

  “She died,” he said quietly.

  Anna, seeing her friend suffering from the memory, decided to change subjects. "So how long were you at Bodden?"

  "Well," he recounted, "let's see… I was there back in ‘24, that were my first year. I remembers the cold that year, it was ‘orrible. Mind you, back then, the Northerners weren't much of a problem. There was the occasional bandit that made his way across the river to raid, but no serious threat. ‘Course, back then, Fitz's older brother was the baron."

  Anna was shocked. "You mean Baron Fitzwilliam wasn't the baron? Why is that?"

  "Well, if you'll pardon me for saying, there were a Baron Fitzwilliam, just not Lord Richard. He had an older brother, you see, named Edward, who was the baron."

  "What happened to Edward?" she prodded him to continue his recollection.

  "He died in the second siege in ‘33. Last we seen him, he were in the breach. He was overrun with Norlanders; must’ve been killed in the fighting. Afterwards, we looked for him, but we’d used fire bundles to light the breach and most of the bodies, well they was badly burned."

  "Wouldn't he be recognized by his armour, or sword or something?" she asked.

  "Aye, but the raiders, they’d stripped anything of value from the bodies. By the time the sun was up, we couldn’t recognize nobody."

  "So then, Richard became the baron?" she suggested.

  "Yes miss, he was the only member of the family left
, but he had us searching for days to try to find his brother’s body."

  Edgar tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully.

  "My pardon, Edgar. I can see you're quite tired after your travels and here we are keeping you from your sleep. I'll have one of the servants show you to your room."

  Edgar looked at Anna as he rose from the table. "You’re most gracious miss," he said.

  Later that evening, after Edgar had gone to bed, Gerald and Anna sat in front of the fire in the trophy room.

  It was Anna that broke the silence. "I have an idea, Gerald. Tell me what you think."

  "Alright," he responded, guarding his words, for her last idea had ended in her hiring a personal courier. "Let's hear it."

  She sat up, as she always did when she was planning. "The budget for Uxley Hall includes thousands of crowns just for my wardrobe, but I can get the dresses sewn in town for a fraction of the cost, so I'm going to use the funds to build up my information network. I want to find old soldiers, men who can no longer fight, who are trustworthy, but they have to be able to read and write. We'll start with Edgar, and if he comes across any other old soldiers that he trusts, he can send them here to Uxley. Eventually, we'll have a whole company of private couriers travelling the land and sending me reports."

  He looked at her intently, trying to seek out the meaning behind this latest plan. "To what end?" he finally asked, being blunt.

  She almost cut him off, so quick was she to respond. "I want to know all about the kingdom. I may not be able to travel, but I can travel through letters. It will be so exciting!"

  He had to admit the plan was solid enough, and he made a mental note to check the credentials of anyone they might hire. They must be sure only to recruit the most trustworthy of men, he thought.

  He retired for the evening with visions of a huge network of couriers stretching, spider web-like, over the kingdom.

  The next morning, he joined Edgar and Anna for breakfast. The courier was well rested and had been fed. They escorted him to the front entranceway, where a stable hand was waiting with his horse.

  While Edgar mounted, Anna turned to Sophie, who had been following along behind. Sophie gave her a satchel, and Anna passed it, in turn, up to Edgar.

  "This satchel", she began, "is to be delivered to Andronicus, the Royal Mage in Wincaster. Also, I've three letters here that require delivery, though I fear it will take you some time. One is near Mattingly, one near Bodden and the last requires you to ride across the border to Westland. Can you do that for me?"

  Edgar looked at her directly as he spoke, "Yes, miss."

  "Excellent," she responded. "I have a purse here to cover your expenses," she tossed him the coins as she spoke. "There's also ink, quills and paper so that you can write your observations down. I look forward to reading your reports. Oh, and don't forget to wait at each location for a reply. You should be able to be back here before winter sets in, but don't take any chances. Hole up in a city if the cold comes too soon, I don't want you risking your life."

  Edgar nodded, "I’ll see you back here, miss, before the first snow." At the conclusion of this statement, he spurred the horse forward, trotting off. The man rode high in the saddle, as though he had just been given a new lease on life. He was to be the first of her couriers.

  Anna and Gerald rode into the village on a comfortable summer day. Anna had been anticipating today because it was the day of the festival, and she was impatient for all the sights and sounds that awaited them. Their wagon rattled as it travelled down the roadway and Tempus, lying in the back, shifted his weight slightly, then stood up, making his way to the front of the wagon. A moment later, his monstrous head poked between Anna and Gerald, who was driving.

  Anna pat his head. "Tempus is excited about the festival."

  "More likely he's excited for all the food people will be dropping," replied Gerald.

  Anna laughed. "Well, that's true," she admitted, "but he's always eager to go into town, aren't you boy?" She scratched the dog’s chin, and he leaned in closer to her. How he didn't knock her from her seat, Gerald couldn't figure out.

  "Now," she continued, "the first order of business will be the food tasting."

  "Are you sure that you're qualified to judge the baking?"

  Anna looked at him, miffed by his statement. "I'll have you know I am the leading expert on baked goods."

  "Why do you think that?" he egged her on.

  "On account of I've eaten more than anyone else. How else do you become an expert?"

  Gerald laughed. He was sure this would be a fun day, and Anna was going to enjoy herself immensely, as she always did when going into town.

  They dropped the horses and wagon off at Sam's, making their way to the commons. They noticed that the field was already getting crowded as the locals made their way to the festivities. They saw people practicing with their bows on the southern side of the field, where straw targets had been laid out. Word of the archery competition had travelled quickly, and many had come from miles around to compete for the chance at the prize, which Anna had generously put at a respectable twenty crowns. They even recognized Renfrew, trying to charm a couple of the local women.

  Anna made a beeline directly for the food pavilion where the villagers had placed tables under a huge awning they had erected. These were now chock-full of pies, rolls, tarts and all sorts of other treats. She had graciously agreed to judge the quality of the cooking, and soon all the local women descended on her, the better to ingratiate themselves. She was delightfully swamped with copious samples of food. Tempus was nowhere to be seen, no doubt busy sniffing the ground for morsels that had been dropped. Gerald wasn't worried, for although Anna was surrounded, she couldn't have been safer in a castle. The villagers adored her, making a fuss of her anytime she came to town. They weren't sucking up to her; they genuinely liked her.

  Gerald watched her make her way along the tables, the villagers handing her tarts and slices of pie to sample. He gazed off toward the archery field to see who was competing. The usual assortment of farmers had brought out their bows. There were one or two youths that Gerald didn't recognize, but they were accompanied by some of the local farmers, so he relaxed. His eyes wandered down to the butts, and he absently watched the arrows strike their targets. He could even hear the occasional thud as they hit.

  After a bit, he heard a slight commotion over by the crowd watching the archery. Looking over, he saw three arrows hit one of the targets in rapid succession and remarkably, they were in a very tight grouping. Gerald wondered who had made such an exceptional display. He turned back to the assembled archers, immediately struck by a mild attack of loathing. There, stringing another arrow, was the red-headed King’s Ranger, Osferth. Gerald remembered the last time they had met; it had not gone well. Now he feared that Osferth, an exceptional shot, as were all rangers, would easily win the archery competition. Nothing could kill the festive mood quicker. He began to think through all the possible rules and see if they could disqualify him. "No," he thought out loud, "that wouldn't be fair. Like it or not, the competition must be fair."

  His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, "What wouldn't be fair?"

  He turned to see Sam, who had just walked up beside him. Jax rushed past, heading straight for the food pavilion where Tempus was still sniffing around.

  "Take a look," Gerald nodded towards the competitors, "see anyone you recognize?"

  Sam looked over the crowd then sighed. "Only the presence of a King’s Ranger could suck the life out of a party. Still, I suppose you're right; we can't just disqualify people because we don't like them."

  "No, I suppose not," Gerald commiserated. "Well, it'll be interesting to see if anyone can compete with his skill.

  Sam watched them practice. "I'm finding that doubtful, though I hate to admit, he is very good with the bow. I never realized just how well trained the rangers are." He turned to look at Jax, who was now chasing Tempus. They were running around the Pavilion, barking, an
d Sam and Gerald, who had also turned to look, both smiled. "It seems that someone's fun has not been dampened by the presence of a ranger!"

  They could see a small group of children now chasing Jax. It was quite a circus; Tempus would rush forward, for a large dog he was incredibly agile, with Jax trailing him and the children following along in an attempt to catch them both. He could swear that Tempus was playing with them, deliberately waiting for his followers to catch up before bursting forward once again.

  "I think," interrupted Sam, "that you've lost Anna."

  Gerald looked over to the pavilion to see Anna seated at a table with plates of delicious smelling food being placed in front of her. "She's in good hands." He had noticed the tavern keeper watching over her. "Let's go talk to some of the other competitors. Maybe someone will surprise us."

  They walked over to the practice field, steering ever so slightly away from Osferth. They chatted with a few of the locals. The consensus was that William Green was reckoned to be the best shot in the area, but even he seemed intimidated by Osferth. The overall mood of the competitors was bleak. The ranger, for all his attitude, merely shot arrow after arrow into his target, striking each time with precision. This would likely not be much of a competition, more like a slaughter. Gerald was about to say something to this effect to Sam when he overheard a familiar voice.

  "Now," the voice was saying, "I always believed that it was easier to draw the bow than the string."

  Gerald turned in the direction of the voice to witness an elderly man talking to a young village lad who was having trouble with handling his bow. A wide grin crossed his face. "Wilfrid Hodgeson!" he yelled over, genuinely pleased. "I haven't seen you in years!"

  He walked toward the man who, looking up, grinned sheepishly, extending his hand in greeting. The two clapped hands as Gerald turned to Sam, who had followed. "Allow me to introduce you. This is Wilfrid Hodgeson, an old friend from Bodden. Wilfrid, this is my good friend, Sam Collins, the local saddle maker."

  The two shook hands while Gerald continued, "What brings you here? You weren't hoping to win the archery contest were you?"