by Wood, Andrew
Returning to his sitting room, he started to reflect on the peculiarities of the day. Having waved off his brother, he had assumed the rest of the day would have seen him moping around the place. Instead, a little boy, had by sheer chance, come into his life. Although he still did not know what to do with Taylor, for now he thought he would try to help the boy, knowing what an awful time the youngster must have had, it was only right that someone cared for him. One option was definitely out; he would not take him to the orphanage. He certainly did not want Taylor living in a place like that, he thought the boy was safe and looked after with him, for now it would have to do.
Before retiring to bed himself, Luken went into the small room adjoining his own bedroom to check on Taylor. Dimming the lamp slightly, so not to wake the sleeping child, he was surprised to see the bed empty, but moving the lamp around he spotted on the floor in the corner, a curled up dark shape. Placing the lamp down, he gently as he could picked Taylor up off the floor, and placed him back into his bed. The boy stirred a little; "shush" Luken said quietly, placing the quilt back over the sleeping child. Taylor seemed to sleep soundly, and once satisfied, Luken picked his lamp back up and went to his own bed, readying himself he was certain, for another night of the same strange dream.
Yet again, the same face haunted his dream, repeatedly it appeared the man was trying to talk to him, but for some reason no words ever came out, and as usual, when Luken awoke, it all seemed so real. The first of the sunlight was starting to creep in through his window, and turning his head he could see a small boy standing next to his bed. Taylor smiled at him when he noticed he had been spotted, and noticing the boy had attempted to dress himself "good morning, ooh I see you've managed to get yourself dressed as well" he added trying to feign surprise. Truth be told Taylor had his shirt on and the buttons were in the wrong holes, as well his breeches on back to front, sitting up in bed, he then noticed the poor boy had put his shoes on the wrong feet.
After getting up and dressing, he then tried correcting Taylors attempt at putting his clothes on, making an effort to show and explain as he went, how to tell the front from back and which shoe went to which foot. Walking down to breakfast, the youngster skipped his way down the corridor just ahead of Luken, though he kept glancing back occasionally just to reassure himself the prince was still behind him. Much to his surprise when he entered the dining room, his mother was already seated, eating a slice of melon. Taylor darted back to Lukens side, and grabbed his hand at sight of the unfamiliar woman sat in the room, "Good morning mother, you are up early this morning" he said, "no need to be scared, she is my mother, she will not hurt you" he then added turning his attention to the young boy.
After seating themselves down, Taylor making sure he was next to the prince, and as far away from the queen as that arrangement allowed, "So this is the little friend I have heard the staff gossiping about, what a delightful looking little boy" she added with a smile. After ordering food for himself, and once more explaining to the young boy, he did not have to keep asking for bread, the two decided to have the same as the queen was eating, though Taylor wanted a glass of milk as well. The queen watched as her youngest son appeared to be in his element, as he tenderly put the small child's napkin down, and making sure he was seated close enough to the table to reach. She had never really thought of Luken as the fatherly type, but observing him and his obvious fondness for the youngster she decided that maybe she had misjudged.
After introductions, Luken explained in full, the details of how Taylor had come to be in the palace, "your intentions are noble dear, and your kindness for one less fortunate is to be admired" the queen spoke in her regal tone, "However, at some point the boy will have to be housed elsewhere, you cannot think to keep him here." With that remark Luken looked crossly at his mother, and the youngster had picked up almost immediately the change in mood, "you would have me throw him back on the street perhaps?" he said in a sardonic tone. "That is not what I said, perhaps the orphanage can take care of him," but Luken was having none of that. "I will not see him go there, that place is horrid and I pity those that have to live within those walls. Taylor will stay with me mother," he finished up with quite the air of authority to his voice.
Little more had been said on the matter, as Luken and Taylor returned to their rooms, and after washing, the prince brushed the youngster's hair. "You are going to leave me aren’t you?" the boy asked him, "don’t you want me either?" Luken felt a pull inside, "Listen to me Taylor, I will not leave you anywhere, as long as you are happy here that is fine by me, don’t listen to what my mother says, I promise I will look after you." After exchanging smiles, the young boy put his arms around Luken as a gesture of affection, and Luken knew for sure then, that no matter what, he could never leave this poor child to fend for itself in the city, or to lead a life of misery at the orphanage. No, his mind was now made up, Taylor had for all his short life been made to struggle and barely scrape by to survive, now he would have someone to care for him.
Chapter 4.
Levin was tired and hungry; having been riding for what he thought must have been a week or more. His only food had been fruit and dry bread, which he had stolen from an unoccupied farmhouse kitchen; the day after his town had been attacked. He had rested his horse regularly as his father had always taught him, leaving it to graze and drink whenever possible. He had tasked himself to get to Hamalin, and then he would see the king and tell him of what had happened. The king would then send the army north, and he would ride with them, to slay all those raiders that had killed his father and friends. It had been this point of focus that had kept him going over the past several days.
He felt a slight relief when he first spotted the walls of the capital, after not being entirely sure he was going the right way. He had remembered the only time he had travelled there before, a few years back with his father. On that occasion, they had travelled by horse and cart, to transport the iron goods his father had made to sell. He recalled they had spent three days there, staying in an inn near the cities market square. They had sold the entire load; his father had purchased some new tools, and had enough spare coin to treat Levin to a set of new clothes and a treacle apple to savour before the trip back.
The guards at the eastern gate paid little attention to the slumped boy riding under the archway, and onto the street in to the city. He had remembered that as long as he stayed on the main road, he would be able to find the way to the palace gates. The street was busy, and inevitably, he bumped his horse into a few people as he rode, but he ignored any insults that were sent his direction when he did.
As he reached his destination, and tried to continue past the palace gates, he was brought to a halt by a pair of uniformed guardsmen. "What do you think you are doing fool, turn that mangy beast around and get out of 'ere, before you find yourself in trouble boy," one of them said. Levin looked up at the speaker, "I need to see the king, I have important news for him." The two guards laughed, "I'm sure you do boy, he's probably sitting waiting for you with the kettle on," grabbing the horse line and turning the creature around, "now get out of here." Levin felt angry and frustrated, though he let them turn his horse and watch as he rode some twenty paces back the way he had come.
When he thought they had given up watching him, he turned the tired horse back around, "come on, give me one last run" he whispered rubbing the horses neck. Kicking his heels and holding on as best he could, with the last of his energy, the horse did as asked and quickly accelerated. The noise of the shoes on the cobbled stone caused the guardsmen to take a defensive stance, but before they were able to draw swords, he had already butted them to the floor. Had Levin realised how quickly others would come to their aid, he may have reconsidered his plan. He had barely made it across the yard before at least thirty or more armed men started appearing, making a line in front of him.
He quickly glanced around at the crossbows being raised and pointed in his direction, and did not even see the man grab him and
pull him down to the floor. He hit the ground hard, crying out in pain, as he was rolled onto his back to see a dagger point in his face. The man holding the weapon looked a bit old to even be a soldier, "now what would a silly boy be doing trying to storm the palace gates? Another few seconds and you would have been riddled with crossbow bolts." Whether it was the fear on his young dirt covered face or the old man just feeling sorry for him, he did not know, but the dagger was moved away and a strong hand helped him up to his feet.
The old soldier signalled to the others in the yard, and they started dispersing, returning to whatever they had been up to before Levin had tried his one-man charge. With a firm grip on his shoulder he was ushered towards a building away from the palace, "I need to see the king," Levin tried in vain to ask as he was physically manoeuvred through a doorway and forcibly sat in a chair. The man grabbed another and turned it round, and sat leaning his arms across the back of the chair facing him. Examining the boy before him, noticing his curly dark brown hair, which looked rather bedraggled, and after a moment's pause the soldier spoke, "right maybe introductions to start with. I am Captain Jak Corley of the palace guard, and who might you be?"
He thought maybe if he could persuade this man, he would be taken to the king. Taking a deep breath, "Levin sir, I am from Lanber, or at least if there is anything left of it," he added thinking back to the scenes of destruction he had witnessed as he had ridden off. The image of his father kneeling, bought a tear to his eye, which he quickly brushed away with his hand. The captain did not press him, "in your own time Levin," before standing and going over to the door to speak to a guard outside.
Once he was re-seated, Levin started telling him all he knew. Starting with a little about Lanber, before revealing how quickly they had been overrun by the Darekian soldiers. Finally, he took a big breath again and managed without any further tears, to reveal how his father had saved his life at the cost of his own. Jak Corley stood back up, patted Levin on the shoulder, "and you travelled all this way to tell the king?" He nodded, "then I want to ride with his army and kill every last one of them." Another moments silence passed, as Jak gave thought to the reply, "I admire the courage you have shown Levin, how old are you? Twelve, Thirteen years old? I will let the king know what has happened. If what you say is true, well I am sure he will despatch soldiers to deal with the problem. I think however, you my young friend would be better kept safe here."
Despite complaints from Levin on his need for vengeance, and to explain the story first hand to the king, Jak calmly repeated his refusal. A tray of food was bought in, "here make a start on this while I go give the king your report," he added before leaving Levin alone in the room. His hunger got the better of him and he soon devoured the plate of ham, cheese and bread before drinking the cup of milk and eating the three biscuits. Feeling suitably fed he sat back down on the chair, looking around the room. There were maps on the walls, of what he assumed showed Corlan, having never ventured far he was not entirely sure. All sorts of paraphernalia lay scattered across a very messy looking desk that had a large cushioned chair behind it, and above the stone fireplace, a ceremonial sword hung on the wall. He presumed he must be sitting in the captains own office, and he almost afforded himself a small smile realising how untidily it was kept.
Over the next few weeks Luken and Taylor stayed together; he had started trying to teach Taylor how to read and write, and to his credit the youngster appeared to learn quite quickly, and more importantly, seemed to thrive when praised for doing so well. Taylor could now dress and undress himself, as well as wash his hands and face and brush his own hair. Luken had also noticed a difference in the boy, the once emaciated gaunt looking child, now had colour to his cheeks and had started to fill out, no longer looking like a pile of skin and bones. They had ventured into the city a number of times together, Taylor needed more clothes for starters, as well as a pair of boots, and Luken was going to surprise him by teaching him to ride.
On the morning they walked into the stables, Taylor looked excited as he ventured past all the horses in their stalls, "this one is yours," Luken said as they stopped. The animal within was a chestnut pony the young prince had learned to ride on, a placid friendly creature called Gracie, and although getting on in years, still was healthy and strong. After introducing Taylor to Gracie, "here give her an apple, she likes those" he said passing the fruit over and showing him how to hold his hand. The pony took the apple and munched contently on it, while Luken and a stable hand saddled her up. Once the horse had finished eating, its bridle was put on and they walked her out into the yard. Showing Taylor how to mount up and down, then how to hold the reins, and make the horse move and stop. It was not long before Luken watched with some pride the youngster trotting the pony by himself, around the yard smiling and looking so pleased with his achievement.
After all the excitement of riding, Taylor was shown the not so fun part, cleaning and scrubbing down of Gracie, but the boy did not complain, instead taking a certain pride as he rubbed the brush across the pony, well at least to the parts he could reach. Afterwards they had supper and another story from one of Lukens old childhood books, another one about magic and dragons, these always appeared to have Taylor entranced. Every so often Luken would stop and ask Taylor if he could read a certain word, usually the small easier ones and once again, the boy showed how quick he had learned and was getting some of them right and wallowing in the praise that followed. Readying for bed, Luken tucked Taylor in, "Goodnight" he said, "goodnight Father" came the reply, "err, I am not really your father Taylor you do understand that don’t you?" he replied, " I know" the boy said, "but I think of you as mine, that is alright isn’t it?" he asked, "of course it is." If he were very honest with himself, if, and when he ever had children, he would wish for a son like Taylor. The youngster had given him a purpose, and although he missed Caldar dearly, watching Taylor enjoy even the simplest things in life, and looking overjoyed when he had learned something new, gave Luken a warm-hearted feeling he had never experienced before.
Levin sat in the small house, rather nervously looking at his new 'foster parents', or at least that is what Jak Corley had referred to them, before leaving him there a few days ago. After having a lecture from the prince on the treatment children received at the orphanage he had thought better than to take Levin there. After discovering his father had been a blacksmith, and he had started learning the trade, Jak had successfully asked an old friend who just happened to have a smithy. His friend and wife, whose own children had grown up and left home long ago, were very happy to take him in and care for him. After a silent meal, he stood "thank you for my supper, I think I will go to my room if I may?" His elderly foster mother stood "of course dear, I know it appears all a bit strange, but I am sure we will all get on just fine." Levin did not reply, though he did manage a smile.
His room was smaller than the one he had in Lanber, but he had a nice clean soft bed, a set of drawers to put the clothes his new friend Jak Corley had managed to acquire for him, before he left. There was also a small bedside table, on which stood his oil lamp, and a washstand with jug and basin upon it. In the flickering light, he sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, feeling ever so lonely. No sooner had he just gotten used to living with Jak, he was now with his third home in as many weeks. He was sure the elderly couple he was with were nice, and in some small way, he was looking forward to continuing his apprenticeship with the smith, but he wished he could go back to the time before all the troubles had started. Even though his mother had died when he was very young, he and his father had lived a happy life together.
King Sethin sat in his study, a number of oil lamps burned to lighten the room and papers he was reading upon his dark wooden desk. Standing and moving over to another table, he placed another marker on a map that was laid out upon it, each of these markers signalled an incident involving raiders. He had a few days earlier despatched another half cohort under the leadership of Captain Jak Corley to the northern
part of his nation.
He had delayed the inevitable, hoping he had heard the last of the troubling reports. After the news of Lanber being attacked, apart from a few isolated incidents he hoped the raiders would have returned to their own lands. After a lull in news, this had seemed likely, but the last week had seen him inundated with reports of further incidents, and hence he had been left with no choice. With having already having sent a full cohort with his eldest son to deal with the troubles eastwards, it now only left him with a half cohort to defend Hamalin should the need arise, though he could also rely on a further fifty or so elite palace guard.
Sethin knew if any further reports came to his attention, he would have no option other than to call his nobles to arms. Each of the Lords and Barons of Corlan usually kept between twenty and a hundred of their own soldiers, to see peace was kept on the lands allotted to them. He was reluctant to do this unless absolutely necessary, doing so he knew would not only cause panic amongst the public, but would inevitably begin a process of people hording goods they would otherwise sell. This in itself was not a great problem, but with any excess produce being stored and not sold, prices would no doubt rocket in the larger towns, leading to hunger amongst the poorer of society, which in turn could lead to civil unrest. With most of his troops out of the city and the noble's men under his charge, controlling any unrest would prove very problematic.
For now he had done all he could, hoping his soldiers out in the field would be able to put a stop to it all. He was still perplexed, as to why for no reason his neighbour Besemia sort to cause trouble against him, and even more vexing was the apparent alliance with Darekia. With Darekians raiding the north and Besemia the east, he knew, if both these nations pooled their resources and invaded, nothing he could do, would be able to stop his land being overrun. Sighing deeply to himself, he left his study and headed for his son's rooms, the foolish boy he had heard had taken in a young child of the street.
