Heir to the Throne

by Andrew G. Wood

  The soft clattering of cutlery on plates as they ate was the only sound any of them made. Luca had certainly made things uncomfortable for everyone, so much so that he was even considering changing his mind. Was it really such a big deal that he was moved again to somewhere else? He supposed not, but it was something he contemplated in a little more detail as he ate. Was it really that he didn’t want to be moved again or the fact that he was leaving the others behind? In truth, Luca wasn't certain and was beginning to think that perhaps he was a little selfish in refusing to go.

  Evidently, everybody had an appetite. Despite there being a lot of food placed on the table, by the time Luca had finished his second plateful, he noticed that there wasn’t a lot left. However, on second thoughts, eating any more would probably only give him a bellyache, and, in truth, he was already feeling quite full. Luca looked up from his empty plate at those around the table with him. While some were still finishing off their own meals, his gaze was caught by Lord Dalby. Unsure as to whether the man was angry, cross or just damn right livid with him, Luca quickly averted his gaze downwards. Feeling somewhat like a naughty child, he thought he should probably just accept the inevitable and go with whatever plans they had made for him.

  However, as he was trying to think of what to say and how to say it, his train of thought was interrupted.

  “Perhaps Luca would go if we went with him?”

  Luca’s face froze in a look of disbelief. Hearing those words was surprise enough, but the fact they had come from Nerina of all people was, well, unbelievable.

  Of course, although the offer was made by Nerina, without her mother’s say-so, neither she nor Samuel would be going anywhere.

  Luca glanced right over to Samuel, before redirecting his gaze to the woman who would be making the decision.

  “Surely if it is safer for Prince Luca to be in The Northern Marches, then the same would apply to our own situation?” Nerina added, again surprising Luca. What was her plan? In all the time since knowing her, Nerina had had nothing but rude comments to make about him, even avoiding him as much as she could. So why was she now so keen on remaining at his side.

  “It would help us keep an eye on him,” Nerina added.

  Luca watched her face carefully and spotted a wink of her eye. It was only very slight, but it was there and directed at her mother.

  What was that girl up to?

  Luca then directed his gaze at Lady Oakley who gave a slight nod of her head as if confirming something with her daughter. A kind of secret code, unspoken but yet understood by both of them.

  “You know, perhaps that’s not such a bad idea.” Lady Oakley then announced.

  “I hope it doesn’t put you out,” she then added turning her attention to Lady Dalby.

  The two women shared a smile, before Lady Dalby then replied, “Not at all.”

  All this, of course, was irrelevant if Luca remained firm and told them he wasn’t going, but at least with Samuel, and a lesser extent, Nerina, with him he supposed it might not be so bad. Then again, he would also like Theo and Clarissa to go along as well, they were just as much part of his little group of friends.

  “I’d like Theo and Clarissa to go as well…Then I might consider it,” Luca said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he was asking a lot from his uncle, and he was also aware that it probably made him sound like the spoiled little brat they had all perceived him to be.

  “Oh, we could all go,” Lady Dalby suddenly piped up.

  “Oh, how exciting,” Lady Oakley added.

  However, Lord Dalby was not getting quite so carried away. ”All well and good, but I’m not sure Lord Romley wants half the nobility turning up on his doorstep when he’s only expecting the prince.”

  Lord Dalby glanced over towards Luca and then across at his son, before turning to his wife.

  “Fine! I’ll have a bird sent to warn him you’re all coming. I need to stay here though and oversee other matters.”

  Lady Dalby clapped her hands together again as if actually excited by the prospect of them all being together. Luca afforded a smile and glanced over to Nerina to look for her reaction. However, when she caught him looking in her direction, she merely turned away as if in disgust.

  There was, however, one slight drawback to their revised plan. Moving the prince back to the ship in a more discreet way than he had arrived wouldn’t have been much of a problem. Moving him and two other families was a little more of a headache. Moreover, word would soon get out that Lady Dalby and the children were not in Port Exley, so a new reason had to be devised and word spread. After a little discussion among themselves, Lord Dalby had let it be known that his family and that of Lord Oakley were being shipped off to visit an old friend. That being Lord and Lady Winter of Cardell, a part of the mainland that was closest to the Casillian Isle. If there were any spies around Port Exley, of which he was certain there would be, he hoped to convince them that was indeed the matter of fact. All he had to do then was get the prince back on board in a discreet manner, and the people would just assume the ship leaving dock was bound for Cardell, or at least that was the plan.

  After being shown around the home of Lord and Lady Dalby by Theo, Luca was somewhat disappointed he wasn't actually staying there. Although but a fraction of the size of the palace he had called home for so long, it was every bit as ornate and furnished to a very high standard. The corridors were all well lit with natural light and clean and fresh. The white walls were decorated with pictures or tapestries adding bursts of bright and vibrant colour, bringing them to life. The main library was filled with books, in rows of tall shelves some of which were so big they had a strange type of ladder attached to them so people could access those stored at the higher levels.

  The main hall was also quite grand, in that it had a dais at the far end, where Lord Dalby and his family would reside, and rows of tables that at the time of visiting were pushed against the walls.

  “We have a grand ball here to mark the start of the winter festival,” Theo said as he tried to build him a picture of what went on. Of course, they held similar events at the palace, only Luca usually avoided them because he had never liked the thought of sitting there in a room of people he didn’t know. Yet Theo’s description of the parties they had here in Port Exley sounded much nicer and relaxed than the formal affairs of the palace.

  “I think I’d like to come to one of those,” Luca found himself saying.

  Theo smiled at him, “I’m sure I could get Father to arrange that for you. It would be good to have you here.”

  Luca smiled at that last comment. He knew he had always been somewhat snobbish to pretty much everybody he had ever met, yet now he had actually come to know them properly, he realised how wrong he had been. Theo and Clarissa were his cousins, that was true, but he had never really shown any interest in them, yet they were really nice to him, and now he felt he really liked them.

  “Well, when I’m king, I’ll expect to be spending my first Winter’s Festival here with you, and we should have Samuel and Nerina as well,” Luca eventually replied.

  “It’s a deal!” Theo said with a smile before suggesting they move on with their tour. Luca was going to say Edward as well, but being as he was not a nobleman, he knew an invitation to such an event would not be forthcoming, at least as things stood.

  “This apparently was your mum’s room from when she was growing up here. Of course, Clarissa has it now, but apparently, it hasn’t changed much,” Theo said as they started exploring the bedroom suites. There was something about knowing his mother had once lived here that filled him with sadness. While he knew he was never as close to her as he should have been, he was beginning to understand the importance of family. To think that his mother would have slept over there in what was a grand four-poster bed, and gazed out over the gardens from the large glazed doors that opened up onto the balcony.

  Once the tour was finished Luca had to be escorted to his room, even though he wasn't a
ctually going to be staying there. It was bright and airy and decorated in a similar way to his own suite at the palace, just on a smaller scale. A large bed, his own balcony, and even a small lounge area off the main bedroom, all of which kind of made of him want to stop. However, the plans had now been implemented, and as far as all the house staff were concerned, Prince Luca was staying in these rooms in Port Exley for the foreseeable future.

  Edward seemed content to pass the time away by just looking around the rooms.

  “Is it nice to live like this?” He asked turning to Luca after staring at a painting on the wall for the past few minutes.

  “Of course,” Luca replied thinking it a stupid question.

  “No, Imean, I know you all have these nice things, but do you actually enjoy life?”

  Luca didn’t quite understand why Edward was suddenly being so philosophical, but now he had asked, Luca was actually surprised by the answer.

  “For me…No…I suppose not.”

  As strange as that answer was, it was true. The only time he had actually felt happy was since his escape from the palace with his friends. Perhaps having all the money in the world did not make a person happy, and he had to accept that friendship was a much better thing to have.

  As the day dragged on, Luca and Edward were forced to remain in their room, while the others prepared to reboard the ship. Lord Dalby had only his most trusted guards outside the prince’s room, people whom he had known for many years and would trust with his own life. The same went for the house staff that were sent to take refreshments and food, although even these were watched over by guards when in the prince’s company. As the sun started to fall on what had already been a very long day, Lord Dalby finally made an appearance, along with two other men.

  When Luca saw the bundle of clothes being carried he knew he wasn’t going to like what was coming. Having had to dress as a girl to escape the palace at Miranor, he had the horrible feeling of déjà vu. However, the disguise handed out was not quite so bad as Luca had first thought once his uncle had revealed it, only it wasn't for him.

  “Edward can dress as a guard, that shouldn’t be a problem as people aren’t really looking out for him anyway,” Lord Dalby explained.

  “What do I have to wear?” Luca asked not sure he actually wanted the answer.

  Luca looked at his uncle and could see the man looked a little-troubled as if he didn’t really want to say.

  “I’m afraid the best solution we could come with was a trunk…Sorry.”

  Luca was almost resigned to it being something ridiculous anyway and wondered if this had been part of the original plan when only he and Edward were to head back to the ship.

  “Fine…So long as nobody drops me while I’m inside,” Luca said, even forcing himself to chuckle slightly in a hopeless attempt at making light of the situation.

  The trunk was of a good sturdy wooden construction, and actually large enough for Luca to clamber into without too much bother. Thankfully he was only going from the main house to the docks, a trip that should only take a few minutes on the back of a wagon. Edward, now in his Casillian Isle guard uniform was one of just two escorts, although Lord Dalby assured them there were others already out on the street to make sure nothing untoward happened. To ensure the ploy looked quite normal, the trunk containing Luca was placed among others containing some of the belongings of the Dalby family members. Somebody might question a single large trunk being taken from the house to the docks, but a trunk and several other boxes and cases looked less conspicuous, or at least that was the idea.

  Luca could feel himself buffeted about inside the trunk, and with a strict request for him to be quiet, he found it difficult. Unfortunately whoever was carrying him and lifting him up onto the wagon obviously didn’t know the heir to the kingdom was inside. However, despite a few thuds and thumps, Luca managed to keep any noise to a minimum. He could hear muffled voices outside, one of which he knew was Edwards, before being jolted forward and the sound of horses hooves ringing out to indicate they were moving. The wagon bounced about a bit, although nothing too bad, and just as Luca was getting used to it, he felt the wagon coming to a halt again and the sound of people talking.

  Sensing himself moving, he kept as quiet as could as he was carried from the wagon to the waiting ship before being put down somewhat more gently than he had originally been when being put on the wagon. A few people were talking again, and the noise of a door or hatch closing before a familiar voice called his name.

  “Luca,” Theo said barely louder than a whisper which made it difficult for him to hear. “I’ll let you out,” he added.

  After a little fumbling with the catches, the lid to the trunk suddenly opened, and sure enough, Luca looked up to the face of his cousin and Edward looking down at him.

  Chapter 6.Taking the Initiative.

  Lord Oakley sat in his study, safe in the knowledge that his loved ones were safely away from Garley. Reports were now coming in on a regular basis of hordes of cultists heading his direction, under the illusion that the young prince was still under his protection. However, as much as he knew the impending fight was going to be a tough one, he did not intend to merely sit by and let it happen. Quite the contrary, Lord Oakley had already devised and implemented his own attacks, hoping to deal with the vast majority of these cultists before they reached his home town.

  Oster, one of the soldiers in Lord Oakley’s service, had been training at the village of Tarpley, but had returned and had now been given command of twenty-five soldiers, ten of whom were from the Casillian Isle. A man well trusted despite his younger years, Oster had helped in the escape of the young prince from the nation’s capital. However, now he was tasked with commanding this group and dealing with pockets of cultists as they crossed the border into Scarwood lands. Lord Oakley had sent out three such groups while focussing the remainder of his troops in Garley to deal with any that managed to get through. In truth, it was not the large groups that Lord Oakley feared, as these were easy to spot and subsequently dealt with. No, it was the cultists that acted alone or in pairs that he knew would get through to Garley and mingle among the local populace in a bid to gain access to his home.

  As the sun reached its zenith, Oster looked out from the hilltop that gave him the best view out to the Brenthellin lands below. He had spotted two groups, each containing about a dozen people as they continued to head his direction. Seemingly in no immediate hurry, the two groups had set up a temporary camp to rest and as a result, amalgamated into one much larger one. There was actually little to identify these people as cultists except for the fact one of them, whom Oster had perceived to be the leader, was dressed in the long black robes so often worn by them. Everyone else appeared to be dressed as nothing more than common folk which meant they intended to merely blend in with the locals when they arrived in Garley. It was for this very reason that Lord Oakley had sent Oster and a few others out to take the initiative and deal with them before they got that far.

  Even from his current position, Oster could tell a majority of the cultists were young men and women, some probably even in their teenage years. Quite how they had been seduced in to serving and following a leader that would happily see them sacrifice their own lives for their gain, he could not comprehend. Moreover, as much as it pained him, he knew he would likely have to kill every one of them or risk them killing other innocent people.

  With orders not to leave Scarwood lands for risk of escalating any conflict with the nobles of southern Brenthellin, Oster had to wait for the group of cultists to make their own move. In the meantime, his troops had plenty of time to prepare for the ambush, the second such attack. Only a day earlier he had been in a similar situation when a group of about ten cultists wandered, almost ambled over into Scarwood lands. As were his orders he had killed every one of them, before burying their bodies in a shallow grave. With most succumbing to his barrage of arrows, the remaining two had been run down by the six men he kept on horseback fo
r that very purpose.

  It was late afternoon, and the sun was dropping low into the sky when the cultists finally made their move, probably hoping to move across the boundary that separated Brenthelin and Scarwood under cover of darkness in a bid to go undetected. As to whether the word had gotten out that Lord Oakley had started hunting them down, Oster didn’t know for sure. However, from the relaxed, almost casual way the group ambled along he doubted that was the case.

  Oster gave the signal for his men to get ready and take up their positions overlooking the track that the cultists would have to use to cross the border. The advantage of Scarwood being small did mean there were only a handful of roads and tracks that allowed travellers to gain entry. Of course, nothing was stopping the cultists using an alternative route, although it would likely mean having to clamber over rocks or head through thick forest and scramble over thorns and brambles, not ideal when just one person, even less so when there were many of them.

  Keeping out of sight, Oster kept his six designated riders further along the track, to chase down any cultists that might try and flee. Meanwhile, he and the rest of his squad took up their positions either side of the road and waited patiently for the cultists to move into their line of fire. As brutal and cruel, perhaps evenly cowardly as this form of attack was, Oster knew it was the most effective. Risking his own men in open combat when they could deal with the problem by ambushing the enemy was always the preferable, if less honourable, method of choice.