The King's Folly

by Robin Simmons

  “I want to go too, please?”

  “No,” said Terry sternly, and the boy looked crushed.

  Raven then spoke, “Will you be quiet?”

  The boy nodded profusely.

  “Then you can come with us.”

  Terry smiled, too, for this was a privilege the boy should appreciate. Terry had a long bow with a stack of arrows in his quiver, and Raven took the crossbow, already cocked with no bolt in it yet.

  “You are going to use a crossbow?” Terry said apprehensively. “It may only anger him.”

  “I am a good shot,” spoke Raven, “and we will be quite close.”

  Terry shook his head but did no more complaining.

  “I know what must be going through his mind,” thought Raven. “But he wouldn’t have to worry if this bow does what I am sure it will.”

  The three hunters crept up the knoll and the others waited by the horses, ready to come on a moment’s notice if there was trouble. As they approached the top of the rise, Raven placed an arrow in the crossbow. They all stopped at the top to peek over the rise. Looking down into the hollow, they could see a Tor feeding behind some bushes. Now they moved quietly as they approached within range of Raven’s crossbow. About halfway down into the small hollow, they stopped. To Terry’s amazement Raven lifted his crossbow and took aim.

  Too far away, thought Terry, but Raven squeezed the trigger and the crossbow jumped. The next thing Terry saw was the Tor slumped down on his side behind the bush. Raven had shot him right in the head, and the Tor did not even make a sound as he died. Terry’s little brother, Robert, in his excitement yelled and started running down the hill toward the lifeless Tor. Just as Raven and Terry began to head after Robert, there was movement on the bottom right, and through the brush came the rogue Tor with the white spot around the horn between the eyes.

  Oh no, thought Raven, I shot the wrong bull. It did not hesitate before charging at Robert because he was the closest to the bull. Raven heard Terry utter an oath as he drew back his bow. At the same time Raven realized he could not cock the crossbow fast enough to do any good so he began running down the hill. Terry’s arrow just missed the mark and embedded in the back flank of the Tor, not slowing him at all. Raven heard him cursing himself for missing. Raven drew his family’s ancient sword as he ran. Catching up to Robert, he passed him, and in a few more strides was upon the raging Tor. He sidestepped and swung down with all his might on the neck of the Tor and the ancient sword bit in and kept descending through flesh and bone until Raven realized his sword had struck the earth. Then the Tor began to collapse, with his head completely cut off. Raven stepped up to the body of the Tor and quickly wiped the blood from the blade on the carcass and replaced his sword in its sheath before Terry could reach him and get a good look at it. When Terry did reach Raven, he looked at the headless Tor and then back at Raven clearly confused on how this could be.

  Raven then spoke, “Not a word of this, do you understand? I cut his head off because I wanted to mount it as a trophy in the castle. He was already dying from your arrow. I just finished him off, right?”

  Terry nodded, still shocked by what he saw.

  Robert regained his senses as young boys do and said, “You cut his whole head off in one swing. I saw it.”

  Now his older brother swung into action, “No, Robert, he was dying from my arrow. Prince Raven here just finished him off and cut off his head for a trophy.” With that he stepped up and pulled the arrow from the flank of the dead Tor. The boy started to protest but a stern warning that can only come from an older brother prevailed.

  “This is only your first hunt, and if you go saying things like that, no one will listen to you or take you on a hunt again.”

  Robert was remorseful. “Very well,” he said, “but I know what I saw.”

  Terry did not understand why the prince wanted silence on this subject but was willing to oblige him. Besides it gave him a little glory bagging the notorious rogue Tor. The rest of the hunting party was just coming over the knoll and began shouting as they saw two dead Tor lying on the ground. They were clapping and congratulating each other and began readying the Tor for transport.

  “The head is mine,” Raven yelled as he held it up with both hands. It was a handsome trophy with the largest horns ever seen on a Tor. More cheers rang out as Raven did this. They started back to the castle and because it was not far, they drug the Tor behind them, two horses pulling one Tor apiece. Raven rode on ahead with Terry Rollins by his side.

  Terry broke the silence by speaking first to Raven, “Thank you for saving my little brother. You risked your life to do so.”

  “Do not think of it,” Raven replied. “It was partly my fault for shooting the wrong Tor at the beginning.”

  “Nevertheless,” Terry went on, “I feel bad about taking any credit for killing the rogue. How did you cut his powerful head off? I have never heard of such a thing.”

  Raven smiled, “You know how when you are excited, a rush of strength comes over you? Well, that gave me the strength to do what I did, so let’s leave it at that.”

  But Terry persisted, “What a great story that would make. You would be famous.”

  Raven sighed, “Right now I do not want the attention. In fact, it would be detrimental to some plans of mine. Maybe someday you can tell the story but for now, let’s leave it as it is.”

  “As you wish,” Terry said smiling, “but Robert and I will always know the truth.”

  Soon they reached the castle and Raven rode into the court and dismounted, giving his horse to a groomsman. The head was untied and taken to a mounter to be mounted as a trophy, and Raven took the crossbow and headed for his room. Once inside, he opened the secret passage, made sure his sword was clean and placed his sword and the crossbow inside. He then reclosed the passage and proceeded to wash and change for the day’s events.

  After Raven came down to the courtyard once again, he saw Master Fields riding in and dismounting. He approached Raven.

  “Word has already spread, Prince Raven, of your success in bringing down that rogue bull. Tell me, how did the crossbow work?” Master Fields wanted to know.

  “It worked wondrously,” Raven spoke beaming. “Only I shot the wrong bull first. The rogue came crashing through the bush and little Robert was in his path. I did not have time to reload the crossbow, so I drew the ancient sword and cut off his head.”

  “Oh, no,” Master Fields whispered, “how many saw you do that?”

  “Only Terry Rollins and his little brother Robert. Terry put an arrow in him before I reached him so he agreed to take credit for the kill. We decided to tell everyone I cut off his head only for the trophy.”

  Master Fields breathed a sigh of relief, “And will they keep quiet?”

  “I believe so. Besides,” Raven went on, “they never got a good look at the sword. I wiped if off and put it away before they got to the kill. How did you do?”

  “Well,” Master Fields responded, “our company bagged two Tor as well, and yours truly nailed one in the jugular with an arrow.”

  Raven smiled. He had no doubt Master Fields would be in on a kill today, as was his usual custom in the hunts.

  “I will see you in a little while when the arms’ competition starts,” said Raven and he started off to find Rebekka.

  Edward returned with his hunting party and was touring the kills as the butchers were dressing the meat when one called out to him. He went over and the butcher asked Edward if he had heard of the success of Raven’s hunting party in bagging the Rogue bull.

  Good, thought Edward. Raven had dispelled the myth that the bull was unkillable or extra sly in escaping. The butcher interrupted his thoughts and wanted him to examine the carcass.

  “Have you ever seen a head cut off like this?” he asked Edward. “There was no hacking, just one smooth cut clear through.”

  Edward bent close and looked. Sure enough, he had never seen a head s
evered in this manner. Even a saw leaves rough torn edges and bone dust, but this was a smooth, clean cut.

  “How was this Tor killed?” Edward asked the butcher.

  “That is just the problem,” the butcher went on, “this was the rogue. Terry Rollins was supposed to have put an arrow into it and then Prince Raven cut off its head for a trophy, but the only arrow mark was a shot to the back flank and that would not have slowed it down, much less killed it.”

  “Are you sure?” Edward asked amazed.

  “As sure as I can be,” the butcher said.

  Edward shook his head. Some mysteries always seemed to spring up concerning the hunts on the feast days. He would have to ask Raven about this later.

  The competitions had gotten under way as Raven found his seat next to Rebekka. They always started out with spear, knife, and axe throwing. Raven did not enter any of these, and rather enjoyed watching, especially the axe throwing. People were cheering as he surveyed the crowd and saw Lorriel seated by his father in the middle. Then he noticed the glazed look of pain in her eyes. He followed her eyes to where Andrew was seated at the other end of the balcony, and he, too, was looking Lorriel’s way, a similar pain on his face.

  Now Raven’s heart began to ache as he watched the silent agony. Lorriel had a kerchief clutched against her breast, the one Andrew had given her on her birthday. Her fingers were white from squeezing it so tightly. Soon the competitions began to fade as the only thing Raven could hear was the silent cry of two hearts torn apart by his father’s foolish command.

  He turned toward Rebekka and immediately knew she felt the agony as well. Her tears were flowing down both cheeks.

  She squeezed Raven’s hand so hard it hurt and said, “Oh, Raven, I can not endure watching them hurt so.”

  She threw her arms around Raven and cried on his shoulder. He could not contain himself as well, and shut his eyes tightly to prevent his own tears from falling.

  Rebekka spoke to him, then, in a soft halting voice with tears still running down her face, “You have to do something, Raven. I cannot live knowing love such as theirs goes unfulfilled. If there is a God, He must see and know they do not deserve this. God is greater than the king’s command, is he not, Raven?”

  “Yes He is,” spoke Raven just as softly, “and I promise you I will do all I can by God’s hand to end this, for I cannot long endure it either.”

  When he finished saying these words, there came an announcement for those in the combat drawing to ready themselves for the competition. Raven rose from his seat and saw Andrew rise as well.

  He turned to Rebekka and said, “Wish me luck.”

  She looked at him with mouth open, “You are going to compete this year?”

  He nodded, then picked up her hand and kissed it before he departed.

  When he reached the courtyard, Edward was there with Master Fields talking strategy as the first contestants were drawn. The competitions began and several took place to the delight of the crowds. Then Mason Zandel’s name was drawn as the first contestant in the next duel.

  Edward spoke to Master Fields, “I fear no man but I am glad I have never drawn Mason. He is cruel and has injured someone every duel these past two years.”

  In truth, Mason was a very good swordsman and had never lost a duel, but he was also rough and used any dirty trick to win. Edward had never engaged him in the drawing, and they were both considered the two best at the arms competition. There were many who talked of the eventual match up that someday would take place.

  When the second name was called, Edward turned white. It was Raven’s.

  He whirled on Master Fields. “Raven cannot go. Let me instead,” Edward pleaded.

  Master Fields looked thoughtful and then said firmly, “No, you know the rules.”

  Edward came to Raven then and grabbed hold of him, “Be careful, and remember, it is no dishonor to yield.”

  Raven went to Master Fields and asked which weapon he should use.

  “Nothing,” was Master Fields’ reply.

  Raven looked confused, but nodded and entered the courtyard with no weapon. Mason faced him with sword in hand looking a little confused.

  Finally, he shouted to the crowd, “I cannot attack an unarmed man.”

  So Master Fields threw a sword end over end at Raven, who reached out and plucked it out of the air by the handle.

  “Nice touch,” thought Edward. “Where did Raven learn to do that?”

  The crowd as well gasped at the act, and then applauded. Mason was not stupid. He now knew there was more to this boy than his first appraisal. So he circled warily around Raven, testing responses, only there were none. Raven only turned so he kept facing Mason as he moved. Mason was left-handed and there could not have been more difference between the right-handed Master Fields and Mason’s tactics.

  The first thing Mason did was to kick dirt from his foot at Raven’s face. He tried to use that as a distraction to move in, only it did not distract Raven. Their swords met in a clash and Raven easily defended the attack, moving around to an offensive position that caused Mason to back away again. Every trick that Mason had used in the past that proved effective against other opponents failed against Raven. He tried kicking at him, giving a false opening, hoping Raven would fall into a trap and move for the opening, but none of these worked. Mason saw that Raven was quicker than he and decided that only brute strength would give him victory, for Mason was not a patient competitor. As their swords met time and time again, Raven began to wear Mason down.

  Raven, from the first few attacks, realized he could easily have moved in and struck the ribs of Mason several times with the flat of his sword to end the competition. For any blow deemed fatal or incapacitating by the judges would halt the duel and declare the striker the winner. But he wanted to learn from this encounter, so he prolonged it. Mason, in the past, had hit opponents with his sword harder than was necessary and injured some, even though they had mail on. Raven had no mail on at all to protect from such harsh blows.

  Finally, the opportunity Mason was waiting for presented itself, and their swords met and stopped, locking sword to sword. Mason used his height and weight to bear down on the smaller Raven. Raven, realizing that Mason was trying to force his sword arm back behind him where he could not use it, reached up quickly with his left hand and grabbed Mason around the throat just under the chin, forcing him up and backwards so quickly it took the strength from Mason’s hand bearing down on Raven’s sword.

  This reversed everything so quickly that now Raven had Mason’s sword arm forced back, and with his hand on Mason’s throat asked flatly, “Do you yield?”

  As he said this, Raven heard the sound of a knife being drawn from its sheath with Mason’s free hand.

  “Stupid,” Raven thought with his left hand on Mason’s throat. Both of his hands were busy while leaving Mason’s right hand free to grab a second weapon.

  Mason should have used his free hand to throw Raven off or at least punch him, but being cruel he wanted to teach this little squirt a lesson with his knife. Raven let go of Mason’s throat and grabbed the knife with his left hand as it came around. The crowd gasped as they now saw the knife in Mason’s other hand. This gave Mason a temporary advantage and he surged his sword arm upward. Now Raven’s sword was on top of Mason’s when he did this, so Raven used this push and his own strength to throw a punch to Mason’s jaw with his hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword. He only intended to use this to break free but Mason crumbled over backwards on his back into the dust, and Raven pointed the sword at his throat standing over him. The judges rang the bell and declared Raven the winner.

  He bent over Mason as he was shaking the cobwebs from his head and spoke, “A good battle, my friend,” as he reached out a hand to help him up, “I would like very much for you to teach me how you drew that knife so quickly and smoothly from your belt. Would you?”

  Mason kind of grunted, but the statement R
aven made softened the loss he had experienced.

  And once on his feet Mason exclaimed, “Me teach you? I can learn a few things from you. How did you hit me so fast?”

  “Well,” Raven replied, “you helped me do it when you pushed so hard on my sword hand. I just followed that motion up to your chin.”

  Mason shook his head knowingly. “I see now that was a mistake,” he said, and clapped Raven on the back in a friendly gesture.

  The crowd, which had been somewhat silent and shocked by the drawing of the knife and quick defeat of Mason, now erupted in wild applause at the good will of the two opponents. Raven and Mason both bowed to the crowds for the good show which also boosted Mason from his loss, realizing they were cheering for them both. They shook hands and Raven started back to Master Fields and Edward. In the balcony, the king was amazed at the display of arms his son Raven had shown. He was asking everyone if they had seen the moves and victory his son had reached. Even Lorriel found respite from her anguish, first in concern for Raven during the contest, then delight at his victory.

  Down below in the courtyard, Master Fields was beaming as Raven approached, “Very good victory, Raven, played quite well.” Master Fields knew Raven had prolonged the contest to learn, and learn he had.

  Edward was amazed and saw the skill Raven exhibited during the contest.

  “You were incredible, little brother. What has happened to you?”

  “I told you I was going to take my arms training very seriously after that day you talked to me, remember?” he said smiling.

  Edward just laughed. More contestants were drawn and battles fought. Then Edward’s name was drawn and the competitor was also drawn, Andrew Crestlaw. They met in the middle and shook hands and the contest began.

  King Mollen, hearing the announced competition smiled to himself, now Edward will make a fool of you, son of Crestlaw.

  Edward, smooth as always began the attack, and would have in a very short time defeated Andrew, save for one detail. Andrew was frustrated in not being able to see Lorriel, and that frustration was coming out in the contest. Andrew was not angry with Edward. In fact, it mattered not what opponent he faced or if he won or lost. He just needed someone to take his aggressions and hurt feelings out on and Edward was his opponent. This surge of strength from Andrew changed the momentum and now Edward was defending. Back and forth this went with each switching from attack to defense. By all rights, it was an excellent contest, well to the honor of those dueling, until Edward slipped. A rock from the courtyard fountain had been dislodged, when or how, no one noticed, but there it was behind Edward and when he stepped back, he stumbled over the stone and lost his balance momentarily. Andrew was right there and when Edward stumbled, he used the distraction to disarm him.