He thought about it for a moment then replied, "No, the oil could get spilt and cause problems, plus we'd have to transport it here."
"How about a candle?" she suggested.
"Yes, that’d work. We'll cut it down to make it shorter. You shouldn't need it to burn for very long. You don't have to light it until we're ready to float it out. You'll just have to be careful not to get it wet." She looked pleased with their combined solution.
They gathered up their things, then made their way back to the Hall. Gerald could tell that the adventure had taken its toll on Anna. She was dragging her feet and was almost falling asleep as she walked. By the time they arrived, she looked utterly exhausted. He carried her up to her room, letting Sophie put her to bed. Once she was firmly tucked in, Gerald entered with Tempus, encouraging the dog onto her bed, his usual place of slumber.
The great dog leaped easily onto the large mattress, and Gerald was just turning to leave when she spoke.
"Don't leave Gerald," she asked tiredly. "Can you read me a story?"
He turned to meet her eyes, then scanned about the room, examining the books that were scattered hither and yon. "I think you've read every book in the Hall."
"Then make up a story!" she begged.
She was giving him the sad eye treatment, and he couldn't resist. "Alright, but don't blame me if it isn't very good." He pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down, thinking through what he was going to say.
"This is a story," he began, thinking quickly, "of a young girl who wanted to be a knight."
"Was she a noble?" she interjected.
"Er, yes, the daughter of a baron."
"How old was she?" she piped up.
"Well, let's see, we'll start when she was eight. That was the first time she knew what she wanted to be."
"Where did she live?" she continued with her questions.
"At Bodden Keep with her father. In those days, the frontier was wild, and Norlanders raided across the border all the time. Her father loved her very much and always included her in his discussions. She’d grown up around knights and soldiers and was loved by everyone. Being the only child of the baron, she knew she would never inherit the title."
"Because" Anna interrupted, "women can't inherit titles, isn't that right?"
"Yes," he responded, "that's the law of the land."
"Isn't that a bit silly?" she innocently commented.
"It's not something I spend a lot of time thinking about; it's just the way things are. I suppose if I was a baron with only a daughter, I might believe it was silly too."
"Maybe I should talk to the king and make him change the law!" she suggested.
"I doubt that would go over very well. Now, are you going to let me finish my story?"
She nodded sheepishly, "Sorry."
"Well, one day this girl was standing in the courtyard watching a group of young boys play at being soldiers. She would watch them fight with wooden swords. What they didn't know, of course, is that she could already use a practice sword, for she had been learning in secret for weeks. In fact…" he trailed off as he gazed at her drooping head and closed eyelids. It was apparent that she had fallen asleep after the story had barely begun.
He gently tucked her blanket around her and pet Tempus on the head, then tip-toed from the room.
Chapter 23
The Prince
Summer 958 MC
GERALD rose, as he often did, quite early the next day, making his way to the Hall. As he expected, Anna was also up, ready for the adventure of the day. Together, they went to the kitchen where Cook had food laid out for them.
He was just about to finish off his sausage when Anna interrupted him. "What do you think we'll find in the cave?" she asked.
With a mouth full of food, he found it difficult to answer. His years of soldiering had taught him to eat quickly, and this usually meant he wolfed it down. He finished his mouthful before replying, "I don't know. I expect there'll be some evidence of something living there."
He speared the sausage and raised it to his mouth, but was once more interrupted.
"Do you think it's dangerous? Maybe I should take a sword?"
"No," he replied, "you said the letters indicated a peaceful race. We're not talking Orcs here, or Humans for that matter."
The sausage entered his mouth but it was not ready to be eaten just yet, as for the third time, he was interrupted.
"What if it uses magic?" she pointed out excitedly.
Gerald sighed and placed the sausage back on the plate. It was destined, yet again, to be delayed.
"If it uses magic, the area will fill with fog. If that happens while you're in the cave, get back into the water and make your way out. Or you can just yell, there’s an opening above water, so I should be able to hear you."
That seemed to satisfy her curiosity, but Gerald could still see the gears working by the look on her face. He thought about stabbing the elusive sausage once more but held off, waiting for the next question to arise.
The interruption came from a rather unexpected source as Charles, the servant, entered the kitchen searching for Anna.
"Your Highness, a visitor has been seen coming up the road. He should be here shortly."
The words were like magic; suddenly everyone sprung to life. Anna rushed off to change; a visitor meant she must present herself appropriately. Cook jumped up to prepare snacks for guests, while the other servants rushed about rapidly cleaning and organizing the Hall as best they could in short order.
Gerald, having no real requirement to change or any impending work to do, followed Charles back to the entrance to greet whatever guest was arriving.
As he stood by the front door, he wondered who might be coming to Uxley Hall unannounced. It was considered bad etiquette to visit without warning, which meant that either it was someone significant, who didn't need to announce themselves, or something had happened that required immediate action and there was no time to send word ahead. His thoughts turned to the latter, and he nervously awaited the rider, which they could now see turning into the estate at the gate. Was the kingdom at war? He thought that unlikely, but being in the middle of nowhere, any news was scarce.
He didn't have long to ponder before the figure came closer. He immediately recognized the young man on the horse. It was Prince Henry, older brother to Anna, and the heir to the throne. He was taken aback at this recognition, for he had never expected to see the prince here in Uxley. As a soldier in Wincaster, his company had been inspected once a month by the nobility, including, on occasion, King Andred and Prince Henry. Though Henry had been only a young lad at the time, Gerald still recognized the man; his face had grown fuller, he had filled out his clothes, and he had grown into an adult, but he was easily identifiable as the son of the king. The faint whiskers marked him as a young man, and Gerald estimated him to be, perhaps twenty or twenty-one years of age.
All this thought was swept aside, as the prince arrived and dismounted, his horse heavily sweated. Gerald surmised that he had ridden directly from the roadside inn on the king’s road. He must have risen early to make the trip. The prince handed the reigns to Charles, who dutifully held them waiting for a stable boy to appear. Henry removed his gloves, shook the dust from them and looked at Gerald.
"You must be Hanson" he stated.
"No, Your Highness," he replied, "the name’s Matheson." He wasn't sure why he didn't use his first name, but his gut was tightening as he spoke.
"Well, Matheson," the prince said nonchalantly, "lead on. I've been on the road for quite some time, and I have a thirst that needs quenching."
"Certainly," Gerald slightly bowed as he had seen officers do on occasion. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the trophy room, where we can bring you some refreshments."
He led the prince through the doorway, and into the great hall, steering him towards the south wing.
As they reached the door leading to the hallway, a young voice echoed, "Henry? Is tha
t you?"
Henry turned, a smile forming on his face, "Squeak? Is that you?"
Anna came running down the grand staircase, slowing as her feet met the floor. She had somehow found the time to change into a fancy dress, and now she seemed to float as she walked, adding a graceful touch that Gerald had not seen her display before. He was standing behind the prince as Anna approached.
"My goodness, sister! How you've grown! You're almost a young lady now."
Anna smiled at the compliment. She was pleased to see her oldest brother but was not sure how to behave.
"It's so good to see you, Henry," she said, trying to remain dignified. Gerald was struck by her resemblance to the queen whom she was trying to emulate. He could see Anna had a pleasant warmth to her features, whereas he remembered the queen as cold and calculating.
"I'm surprised by your visit." She continued, "Is everything all right?"
"What?" he stuttered. "All right? Of course, everything is all right. I'm on my way to Tewsbury, and I'm meeting some friends here. We're going to ride on together tomorrow morning. That reminds me," he turned back to Gerald, "Matheson, make sure the Hall is prepared for three guests, along with a good supply of ale." Without waiting for a response, he turned back to Anna.
"Come along, sister. Show me where you keep the wine. I'm absolutely parched!"
Gerald turned toward Anna, "If Your Highness escorts the prince to the trophy room, I'll have the drinks brought in." He was trying to emulate the dutiful servant.
Anna and Henry disappeared through the door, heading to the trophy room, leaving Gerald to assemble and organize the servants. Once that was complete, he arrived at the trophy room with Charles, who was now carrying a tray with decanters on it, along with two glasses.
He held the door while Charles entered, and then announced, "The drinks, Your Highnesses," in the best voice he could conjure. Charles placed the tray on the table and Henry helped himself to a glass, pouring some of the stronger looking liquor.
Henry grimaced as he drank the brew. "Saxnor, give me strength, that's awful stuff!" he exclaimed. "Better try some of this other one." Despite the perceived problem of taste, he still downed his first glass. He took the top off the second decanter and sniffed it, "This smells terrible!"
Anna looked on with surprise. "That's our finest," she said meekly.
"Not your fault, Squeak," the prince replied. "This is the same horrid stuff that Father likes. Oh well, it will have to do I suppose, unless there's somewhere else we can get drinks?" He raised his eyebrows and looked toward Gerald. "Come on, old man, you must know where to get drinks around here."
Gerald was caught unawares but quickly recovered. "There's the Old Oak Tavern in the village, Highness if your tastes are closer to ale and such."
Henry placed the top back on the decanter. "Excellent! Come on sister dear, let's go to town." He looked back to Gerald, "Do you still have a carriage and horses here?"
Gerald took a moment to respond. There was a richly decorated carriage in the stables, but it hadn’t been used in years. Gerald nodded; he could just imagine the panic as the servants struggled to clean it up.
"Good, then have them made ready, and we'll head into the village for a taste of the local ale."
Quite a while later they were on their way. Henry insisted on Gerald joining them, to make it easier to summon the carriage when they were done. For the first time, Gerald found himself sitting atop the carriage along with the driver. It was a marvellous view, for the carriage was very high, built upon a suspension system that was said to be of Dwarvish design. It made for a blocky style, but the ride was incredibly smooth. He tried to imagine the cost of such a carriage, but it was likely as much as a large house.
Arriving at the Old Oak, Gerald dismounted the carriage to open the doors for Henry and Anna. Once they had exited, he instructed the driver to take the carriage down to the stables. He would come and get them once they were done. By the time he had arranged this, Prince Henry and Anna had disappeared into the tavern.
As chance would have it, he needed to relieve himself, so he made his way to the back of the tavern where this was customarily done. He rounded the corner to see three men, gathered rather strangely by the back door. They were standing in a small group discussing something in very low-pitched voices. As he watched, they donned hoods with rough drawings of skeletal faces on them.
Gerald was immediately shocked by their actions and instinctively reached for his sword. Even as he did this, the men opened the back door and rushed inside. He ran for the open door, yelling a warning in his loudest voice. As he closed the distance, he could hear the sound of shouting coming from within. Upon entering the tavern, he spotted Prince Henry, at the bar along with Anna. The prince had heard his warning and had pulled his sword fast enough to block the first attack. The hooded men, their backs to Gerald, were moving to surround the two royals, and even as his eyes took all this in, he noticed another two men with hoods who had entered from the front door.
He struck without thinking, his sword stabbing into the lower back of one of the attackers. The man fell to the floor, screaming, and Gerald had to tug with all his strength to release the blade. He pulled it free just in time to block the onslaught of a sword. Another of the three masked men had heard the scream and turned his attention towards Gerald. The block drove him backwards slightly, but he quickly collected his wits. He could vaguely see the prince duelling with two of the attackers; the last one couldn't get in close enough. Anna crouched on the floor between Henry and the bar.
Gerald stomped his foot forward and hit his opponent’s boot. He was rewarded with seeing a grimace of pain on his victim’s face, just before he slashed viciously with his sword, carving a red line across his adversary’s stomach. His target staggered back, blood flooding between his fingers, which were now clutching his wound. The man fell, writhing in pain, to the floor. Gerald stepped to the side to avoid the thrashing man and took in the scene unfolding before him.
It only took a moment for Gerald to analyze the situation, but he could see Henry had the skills of a fencer, not a combat veteran; the men fighting Henry had small wounds. The prince was graceful and precise but lacked the stamina and raw strength for a brawl like this. Gerald rushed forth to swing at one of the two assailants presently engaged with Henry. The man stepped to the side, avoiding the blow, but as he did so, he yelled with pain. Anna had reached out, stabbing the man’s foot with her ever-present dagger. Gerald took the opportunity to deliver a backhand swing at his distracted foe. It lacked force, but struck across the victim’s face, leaving a vicious looking slash across his nose. The man staggered back to get out of the way, bumping into one of his companions that had come through the front door.
Gerald could see more coming in from the kitchen. They were moving to cut off the escape routes, and he had no doubt that they would soon block the back door. He yelled to Henry and Anna, “The stairs, quickly!”
Anna got to her feet, and he grasped her hand, pulling her toward the stairs, which led to the upper rooms. Another hooded man tried to block his way, so he used his arm to knock the man aside. Once they reached to the stairs, Gerald turned to face the room they had just left. He moved Anna behind him, but she was still able to see the carnage from her viewpoint. He noticed the prince make a lunge at one of his attackers who, wisely, backed up, easily avoiding the attack, but Henry took this opportunity and darted to the stairs. Moments later, the two stood side by side, blocking the stairs with their bodies.
The remaining five came in a rush. They were disorganized and looked desperate. Gerald easily parried the first blow, and then struck with a stabbing motion, impaling his target in the soft flesh of the stomach. So close was the man that he could smell his breath. He used his other hand to hold onto his victim, turning him to absorb the blow from the next attacker. He could feel the first one scream and tense as his partner’s blade stabbed him in the back. Gerald pushed the body off of his sword, using his foot
to provide more power. His attacker, now dead, fell heavily on the one who had killed him, and they both tumbled to the floor. As they fell, Gerald stepped forward, placing his foot on them as he thrust again with his sword, this time against his third opponent.
Beside him, Prince Henry dutifully thrust and parried, doing little damage, but managing to keep his attackers at bay. He inflicted many cuts, but none were deep enough to do more than slightly scar his enemies.
All of a sudden, the fighting ceased; the attackers had backed up. Gerald expected them to rush in a desperate final attack, but their nerve broke. One of them yelled, and the next moment they were fleeing, leaving their wounded comrades behind.
Henry stopped, dropping to his knees, out of breath, but Gerald knew better. He rushed the group, striking one of them down with his sword; they might turn back, and he needed to keep them running. He continued his onslaught, following them out the door. By the time he exited the tavern, they were on their way with no intentions of returning.
He turned his attention back to the interior, making sure Anna was safe. Henry was sitting on the bottom stair, panting heavily, but seemingly undamaged. The tavern was awash in blood. It wasn’t till he noticed the looks on everyone’s faces, that he saw he was covered in blood as well. “It’s all right,” he tried to calm them, “it’s not my blood.”
The crowd, stunned by the suddenness of the attack, had stayed out of the fracas; for that Gerald was thankful. Knowing that the locals weren’t warriors, he was happy that no innocents were hurt. Someone handed him a tankard of ale, and he downed it thirstily. There were several assailants on the floor, screaming in pain, mixed amongst the others that were dead. There had been eight attackers in total; two of them had gotten away, three were dead, the other three were wounded, with at least one not likely to make it more than a few hours.
Henry was furious but exhausted. He ordered the bodies searched. They found a few coins which were graciously donated to the tavern to pay for the damages and cleanup. The man that Gerald had struck down as he tried to run yielded a more interesting artifact in the form of a letter. It was folded up and shoved rather haphazardly into the man’s boot. Molly, the barmaid, found it as the body was being removed from the tavern. Gerald unfolded it carefully, examining the contents. It was rather stained and worn, but the message was easy to understand. It read ’Prince Henry will be travelling to Uxley this evening. Follow him and wait for an opportunity to strike him down.’ The letter was unsigned but carried a strange stamp of a hand in black ink. He gave the document gingerly to Henry as if its mere existence was a threat.
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