In Service Of The King (Book 2) (27 page)

A FORTNIGHT passed.

Satchel in hand, Joseph stepped out of the guest chamber. Setting the bag down, he used his free hand to close the wooden door behind him. Well-bound in a sling, his arm and injured shoulder were temporaily useless; despite the healing waters of this forest monastery, it would be some weeks until his wound healed completely.

As he walked down the corridor Joseph heard no sound in the sourrounding rooms or halls, but that of the forest outside. Barely a soul could be seen as Joseph made his way down to the dining hall. Sun streamed through the windows and the faint calls of birds could be heard. Dunner and Hezekiah greeted him as he walked in.

“Lord Asher....” Hezekiah called. He lifted a mug of ale to the young man. Dunner nodded at him as he packed his pipe with tobacco.

“Marshal Walters... Admiral Dunner,” Joseph said, sitting down. “These springs have eased my wound greatly.”

“Indeed,” Hezekiah agreed, resuming his breakfast. “Mine as well... I feel ten years younger.”

Dunner lit his pipe, puffing smoke for a moment.

“I feel no younger,” the aging sailor stated.

“It only works with folks whom are less than one hundred years old,” Hezekiah told him with humor. Dunner snorted and leaned back in his chair. Smiling at the cheerful banter, Joseph accepted food from a nearby monk.

“Do we make for the King’s city?” he asked, tearing a piece off the warm bread. Dunner nodded.

“Should reach the Citadel afore nightfall,” he said. “Tyrus will want us to speak with us, most likely.”

“Sytel and Ithykor, and the others, are to be brought up on charges tomorrow at the Citadel, at the third hour... in view of the people and province senators,” Hezekiah said, licking his thumb. “If convicted, he’ll be publicly executed along with his fellow conspirators... my, this berry preserve is delicious.” Chuckling at the man’s words, Joseph finished his meal.

Belator seemed glad to see his master walking upright; Joseph rubbed the horses’ great black sides with the currycomb in one hand. He could see that his steed had been well-cared-for in his absence. Joseph got down the saddle with difficulty and began preparations to leave this restful place. Leading Belator out of the stables, he joined the other two Shamar in the yard.

Hezekiah already sat on the ugly, brown and white mottled horse. Without a word Joseph swung up into the saddle, following his fellows onto the King’s highway.

FIFTEEN

The south entrance gate of the capital city teemed with activity.

Weaving among the soldiers, merchants, carriages and citizens, the three gray-cloaked Shamar made their way through the gate and down the cobbled streets. After an hour, they reached a solitary dock on the Great Bay, one Joseph had seen before.

At the end of the dock a skiff sat waiting with gray-cloaked men inside, with room for but three more. An aging Shamar took their horses and nodded at them with gravity. Joseph clasped hands with the man and followed Hezekiah and Dunner to the boat. The waters of the great bay rippled with reds and orange hues as the sun set behind the coastal mountains. Each man took an oar and rowed together towards the Citadel peninsula.

They gained the hidden bay and docked, making their way by torchlight up the narrow trail in the rocks and to the secret door. One inside, the Shamar filed by the silent guards, walking down long, familiar stairs to the Shamar meeting place, the Hall of Illumination.

Tyrus greeted them at the entrance.

“Glad I am to see you recovered,” he said, nodding at each of them. “We have prepared chambers for you.”

“Chambers are well and good...” Dunner said, puffing his pipe. “I’m wanting food. Where’s a spear?” Tyrus chuckled, beckoning to a portly monk behind a small counter. The monk brought over three spears; Joseph took one with a grin. He remembered the ritual well. He endured the well-meaning jibes from his fellows at this one-handed attempts at fishing. Soon, three fish roasted over the wide fireplace on spits; the men sat nearby at a table.

Conversation was strangely absent; the trial on the morrow weighed on all of them as they ate. Of the many charges laid against the medley of accused priests and senators, none were light; the entire priestly order was stained with citizen blood.

“Perhaps someone can explain to me a mystery I’ve long pondered, “ Dunner said, after he was done with his meal. “How can men renowned for their faith and study of the Holy Book suddenly cast off all for these pagan ways, even to eat their fellow man?”

“It is simple,” Joseph said. “Sytel knew that grace through faith--not of ourselves--would never make him wealthy. Christ, Himself, took the role of bondservant. Thus, Sytel sought a new way--paved with pagan worship of gold--all the while keeping the appearance of civilization... a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“He did his work well, then,” Dunner said, puffing his pipe. “In mere decades he became rich enough to fund an army, and very nearly took over the Kingdom.”

“No, brother,” Tyrus said, gravely. “He attempted to; he would never have succeeded.”

The brethren talked late into the night, waiting for the early hour of judgment to arrive.

BY THE third hour of morning, the enormous plaza in the Senator’s section of the city was crowded with citizens, soldiers, government officials and Shamar. In spite of the early hour, everyone in the city had turned out to witness the execution of thirty-one dissentious men.

On the tall, stone wall between the plaza and the military section, thirty-one metal-topped, wooden platforms had been built, illuminated with torches; in the center of each platform was a tall, metal post; twenty-nine of the posts bore a condemned priest on his knees, tied securely; the first two platforms were occupied by the corrupted senators.

The priests were arranged in order of rank, from least to greatest. Sytel knelt at the last platform on the left, closest to the castle. Drops of pitch on the crimson garb of the priests and senators’ robes glistened in the flickering torchlight.

The king sat on a throne on the wall closest to his castle. From there, the plaza was well lit with the small torches, as well as the line of condemned men in front of them. Tyrus, Hezekiah, Dunner and Joseph stood soberly on the platform with the king. They did not speak but watched the scene in the darkness of the early morn.

The king turned and nodded at the head herald. Lifting a silver trumpet, the herald began a series of blasts; a hundred more trumpeters from all along the wall did the same. The sound was enough to wake the entire city... indeed, to carry for many miles. The people gathered in the plaza, and all over the city turned towards the castle at the sound and began to hush their voices.

As the last note died away, the king began to speak. His commanding voice echoed off the castle behind and was carried in the windless air well; to make certain the charges were heard, each square in the city had one herald to call out the charges as the King spoke them.

“Hear me noblemen and Kingdom citizens alike...” the monarch proclaimed, “These thirty-one men before you stand guilty of the following crimes: conspiring against the most high God and his holy book for their own ends.... treason.... conspiring against the king.... aiding a foreign and hostile pagan enemy of the Kingdom... perversities which are shameful to even speak of... spreading damnable heresies.... eating the flesh of men... the kidnapping and murdering of Kingdom citizens... cruelty and fraud in the starving of Kingdom citizens under the guise of benevolences... inhibiting justice... bribery.... corruption, and the spreading of slanderous falsehoods.”

The king paused, his words echoing over the plaza.

“These men cloaked themselves in robes of righteousness, but fed their sheep to ravenous wolves for gain. Their evil conscience and corrupted ways have led not only to the destruction of themselves, but of those whom perished by following their pernicious ways. The innocent lives taken by these men and those they commanded have yet to be fully numbered.”

Not as single person spoke. The king had more to say.

“These men are the most despicable sort of men upon the face of the earth. Such treachery must be dealt with swiftly and in the most public way that others may be terrified to even think of following the path of these men. The men before you are condemned by their own actions, and do not deserve to live among Kingdom citizens for one moment longer!”

At this, the hundred trumpets blew again, joined by ten times that many; the piercing sound of the horns would be heard echoing across the huge Great Bay. Children covered their ears, crying at the frightening sound. Throughout the city, citizens in the squares blew on rams horns and warning horns to show concordance with the King’s words.

In the midst of the crashing sound the king nodded at an archer standing ready on a nearby tower in the wall. The archer lit his arrow and aimed for Senator Reblyn. The lit arrow flew through the air between the wall and struck the man, igniting him immediately on fire. The screams were drowned by the noise of the trumpets. More arrows were fired as one by one, the condemned men set ablaze.

There was no moon, nor did the stars appear bright; the line of burning execution fires along the top of the wall could be seen clearly, even to ships sailing far across the Great Bay. In the ten major cites of the Kingdom, trumpets blew loudly at the third hour, and the names of the men were read aloud by herald in every square along with the charges; other men in each city arrested in connection with the condemned priests and senators were executed as well. The people stayed and watched the fires burn themselves out. The pitch burned hot and fierce; piles of ashes formed at the bases of the posts. As the sun rose at dawn, the wind began to blow, scattering the ashes far from the castle and city.

After resting for a few hours, Joseph said farewell to Hezekiah and Dunner. Both men clasped his hand heartily. The young lord also took his leave also of Tyrus.

“I will see you at the end of summer, Lord Asher,” the gray-eyed captain said to him. “If I am invited to Stone Mountain for the wedding, that is.” Joseph smiled.

“Here... I have not received an invitation, either!” Dunner grumbled, puffing his pipe.

“Neither have I,” Hezekiah said, smiling. Joseph snorted.

“First, brothers... I must go see if she will yet have me,” he stated.

The men found his statement highly amusing. Joseph’s habitual diffidence did not fool his fellows. He braved their light mockery as the men assisted him to mount his great- black steed. Nodding at the Shamar Joseph spurred Belator onward, towards home.

SIXTEEN

Lord Asher’s returned to his estate without ceremony. News of his impending arrival, however, set his servants into a frenzy of preparation. The report of his return reached Elizabeth, but news that Joseph had been wounded abated her gladness. Forester Reeves sent for a physician from Dorenvines while she paced her chamber floor.

As soon as the young lord was situated in his room to further recover, he sent for Forester Reeves. The aging steward came in with the physician, closing the fine chamber doors behind him.

“How is she?” Joseph asked, immediately. “Is she well? Is she angry with me?” The young’s lord’s concern amused his steward greatly, though he man hid it well.

“She is well... now,” Reeves said, allowing his voice to seem grave. He stood by the young lord’s bedside; he watched as the doctor clipped away the soiled bandaged on Joseph’s shoulder. “For several days...” Reeves continued, “We were worried for her; she wept a great deal; she was clearly grieved at being promised to a stranger, and then to be abandoned by her family...”

Joseph’s face fell; gloom overtook his expression. He had not wished to cause Elizabeth anguish. Reeves kept a smile from his face as he continued speaking.

“She behaved admirably, though, my lord, when the King spoke with her.”

Joseph looked up at Reeves in shock.

“The King came here?” he asked, incredulously. The steward smiled and nodded.

“Indeed, my lord,” the man replied. “In response to a request you made of him to let the young lady know your true identity. He came to deliver the message personally.” Joseph thought about this for several seconds; he grimaced as the physician pressed on the wound. No contamination could be seen and the doctor nodded, well pleased.

“Was she... much angered with me?” Joseph asked again, looking up at Reeves. The older man cleared his throat.

“She seemed... thoughtful, my lord,” he stated. “She gave me this letter for you, once we heard of your return.” He held out a neat, square parchment; it was folded and sealed. Taking it gingerly with one hand, Joseph looked at it a moment.

“What did the King say to her?” he asked, still looking at the note. Reeves hid a smile away.

“No one but she knows that,” he said, quietly. “The king told me, however, that you have chosen a fine young lady of character for your bride.”

Joseph looked slightly relieved at this. “If I may sir, my wife has some experience with the flowers and would be honored to aid your bride in decorating the castle for the ceremony.”

“Yes... of course,” Joseph said, slowly unfolding the small letter in his hand. The doctor finished the dressing and bowed to the lord. Joseph thanked him and directed Reeves to give the man pay as well as an extra silver coin for his trouble. The men left the chamber, leaving Lord Asher to read his letter. After a few lines, Joseph’s face relaxed; he smiled and read the letter again.

AIDAN SIMMS looked up as the door of his offices opened. His assistant came in, closing the door behind him. Early summer sunshine streamed through the windows into the room, lighting the neat compartments of rolled parchment along the walls.

“There is a man here to see you sir,” the assistant said, quietly. “A General Octavian Hays.” The solicitor put down his quill at once.

“Send him in,” he instructed, placing the top back on the inkwell.

General Hays seemed a subdued man as he came into the office; he held his officer’s hat on his arm. The solicitor stood and nodded at the man in his office.