Happily Ever After
Part Six
|
Welcome once again to the fair medieval We also paid a visit to
our mysterious villain, who had attempted to spy upon the young heir of
Sleepyside. However, in a fit of rage earlier in our tale, the cloaked man
overturned the table upon which his crystal ball sat, thereby damaging the
magical orb. To vent his anger, he paid a visit to his lover, whose identity
remained a mystery. The villain informed his mistress that he planned to
leave for the mountainous region at dawn’s first light. Our story picks up now in
a tavern, several miles away from Sleepyside… Chapter
Eleven The
next evening… A large, brawny fellow and his
younger, fair-haired companion sat in the hindmost corner of the Aylesbury
Inn and Tavern. The flickering flames of the fireplace illuminated the
otherwise dimly-lit room. Glowing embers from the fire in the hearth cast
eerie shadows upon the dark, roughly-hewn timbers of the walls surrounding
them. The men tipped up their mugs of ale, staring suspiciously at the other
noisy patrons in the dark room. A young,
well-endowed maiden, carrying a pitcher of freshly-brewed beer, tossed a
sultry smile in the younger fellow’s direction. She seductively sauntered
thitherto their table, her swaying hips suggesting she offered more than ale
for refreshment. “Care for more
ale, luv?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at the gentleman with
fair-colored hair. Though the bloke was a scoundrel and a rogue, several
women considered him attractive. Moreover, since he was such a cad, he oft
used his goodly, flaxen looks to beguile foolish ladies, such as the one
standing afore him. Lasciviously raking
his eyes over the shapely figure of the flirtatious maiden, he knew of a
certainty that he would not return to his room alone. He affirmed her offer
with a meaningful nod, smiling in satisfaction as the girl brushed against
him suggestively. As she refilled his mug with ale, the rogue indulged in
several salacious thoughts. “ ’ey, ‘ow ‘bout
refillin’ me glass, ‘oney?” the older, brawnier bloke barked. The girl merely
smirked at him as she left the younger man’s side, and reluctantly submitted
to her other customer’s request. While refilling his mug, she purposely
leaned forward, allowing the blond-haired patron a tantalizing look at her
ample cleavage. “No need to
tease, shrew. Me comrade’s quite willin’ to ‘ave a roll in the ‘ay wiff you,
wiffout even a preview of the goods you be off’rin,” the brawny man commented
snidely. “I don’t be supposin’ you’d take me up on me offer of two fer one?” The young maiden fiercely slapped the
older bloke. Feeling no remorse, the brawny fellow chuckled heartily as she
picked up her pitcher and returned hitherto the counter. “Blasted puttock,”
he murmured with a chortle, mesmerized by the girl’s retreating backside. The younger man
scowled at his companion. “Lodewijk, you foolish oaf, could you possibly be
more slow-witted?” Lodewijk looked
up at his mate, took a sip of his ale, then stared thoughtfully into the
glowing flames in the hearth. “Wha’ was the question again, Richardus? Me
mind was on other facts and fig’res.” Richardus sighed
deeply, greatly exasperated by his partner’s ignorance. He silently adjusted
the cloth wrapped about his injured hand. The wound caused by James’ arrow
smarted, no matter how much ale he consumed. Not only did his hand throb where it
had been pierced asunder by James’ arrow, moreover he was bothered by a fiery
rash spreading quickly from his hands to his shoulders. Richardus wearily
scratched his arms as best he could in his bandaged condition; however, it
provided no relief from the burning and tingling sensation he felt on his skin’s
surface. “If it had not been for your lewd
babblings, more than my mind would have been upon those
very same facts and figures, Lodewijk,” he commented grumpily, watching the
shapely bar maiden across the tavern. The older man
shook with laughter. He held his mug up in a salute, drops of ale spilling
atop the table. “Mate, ’ere’s to findin’ a wench with a be’er sense of
‘umor!” Richardus
ruefully smiled, and lifted his glass in agreement. “Here, here.” After
clinking their mugs together, he took a lengthy swallow of the frothy brew. “On the morrow,
per’aps she’ll ‘ave forgotten all abou’ it,” Lodewijk replied absentmindedly,
more concerned with raking his grimy fingers over the stinging sensation
climbing up his own muscled forearms. “On
the morrow we shall continue our journey home, you ignorant
clotpole!” Richardus hissed. “We must depart herefrom at morning’s first
light.” “Wha’s ‘e going to do when we
return?” Lodewijk inquired anxiously. “Think ‘e’ll pu’ us in the stocks?” Richardus nervously wrung his hands,
taking a deep breath. “ ’Tis a most difficult question to answer. We are
employed by a harsh man who has high expectations upon all those in his
service. Of a surety I cannot say how he will react upon our admittance that
we failed to dispatch James. Perhaps he will be satisfied with our
warmongering. Certainly Sleepyside is ripe for battle.” He paused momentarily, as another
thought entered his mind. Tracing the top of his mug with his index finger,
he continued, “Of course, ‘tis possible that a week in the stocks would be
far more enjoyable than other means of punishment on which he may decide…” “You don’t think ‘e’ll cut off me
‘ead?” Lodewijk gasped, knowing quite well ‘twas something their master would
do. “I wot not of what his plans are.
Thitherto, we shall pray God have mercy upon us.” He grazed his
neatly-trimmed fingernails against the red rash rising farther up his neck,
ignoring his smarting hand and digging frantically into the skin beneath the
collar of his surcote. Lodewijk trembled slightly, as he
considered the various methods of punishment oft chosen by their superior.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go ‘ome,” he suggested hopefully. “Per’aps we could run
away to the Connectibury kingdom.” “You fool!” Richardus snarled in
obvious disdain. “The man whom we serve will use his authority to pursue us.
We are much safer admitting our failure and pleading for mercy.” “We wouldn’t be in this predicament
if you ‘adn’t tried to woo that li’l tart,” Lodewijk complained, glaring at
his companion. “If you would ‘ave ignored the wench, we would ‘ave been able
to ambush James. Then we wouldn’t ‘ave to worry about such things.” “Therewithal, if you were not so
slow-witted, perhaps you would have chosen greenery wherewith to hide
ourselves that was not poisonous!” Richardus rebuked. “I wist not the leaves I ‘ad in me
‘ands was poison ivy!” Lodewijk argued, his voice rising angrily. “If you are
so blasted smart in the ‘ead, why didn’t you correct me?” “I had other things on my mind!”
Richardus said through tightly-clenched teeth. “Aye, like ‘ow you were goin’ to
convince that wench to ‘ave a tumble with you,” the brawny man criticized
with a sardonic grin, digging his grubby fingernails into the flesh afflicted
by the poison ivy. “Actually, my ignorant comrade, I was
pondering whence we should bury the spoils of our plundering,” Richardus
corrected. “You sneaky weathercock! ’ey, where did you ‘ide the pillage? I
worked me ‘ands to the bones, swipin’ those jewels. I’ll not be ‘oodwinked by
some greedy li’l weasel.” “I did not cheat you, Lodewijk! I am aghast that you would accuse me of
such treachery. The booty is safe, of that I assure y---“ The older fellow jumped up from his
chair, knocking it to the floor. With his meaty hands, he clutched the
neckline of Richardus’ surcote and yanked the smaller man from whence he sat.
“Don’t lie to me, scut! Where’d you ‘ide me loot?” “I lie not!” Richardus pleaded. “I have
hidden our spoils in a safe place!
They wait thitherto our return!” “I could slit your throat right ‘ere,
wight,” Lodewijk threatened menacingly. The younger man looked around the
dark room, noticing the rest of the patrons in the tavern paid no heed to
their dispute. They were too busy filling their bellies with ale to concern
themselves with preventing a murder. “During my dalliances the evening
afore our departure, I came upon a small, abandoned structure,” Richardus
gasped. “Where?” Lodewijk growled. “I will show you theretofore our
arrival at Sleepyside,” Richardus insisted. Lodewijk refused to be placated.
Balling up his fist, he smote his companion wherewith. “Where’s the jewels,
nip’er? I want me di’mond.” “The building is in the forest, near
the deserted Manor House,” Richardus cried. “I buried them in the sodden
floor therein. If you kill me, you will never find them.” “And if you betray me, you’ll wish
you were dead,” Lodewijk warned. “I don’t take kindly to those
who steal me treasures.” He raised his fist wheretofore to strike Richardus
again; howbeit, a voice behind him constrained him to stop. “Cease your foolishness immediately,”
the newcomer ordered, sticking the tip of his blade into Lodewijk’s shoulder.
“Your squabbling shall have no pleasant end.” Recognizing the voice, Lodewijk
released Richardus and pushed him hence to the ground. The younger man stood,
dusted the dirt off his breeches and reclaimed his seat. He held a trembling
hand against his eye, which was rapidly swelling shut. Though grateful for
the assistance provided by this recent arrival, Richardus studied him
suspiciously. He knew the man to be a soldier in league with his own
superior; however, his sudden appearance made Richardus quite apprehensive. Another soldier approached their
table, setting two fresh mugs of ale thereupon. He proffered a dampened cloth
to Richardus, who gratefully accepted it and held it against his throbbing
eye. The young thief quietly awaited the news these men brought from their
master. “We have been searching for you,” the
first soldier replied. “We bring tidings from the one whom we loyally serve.” “We should have known we would find
you amongst such stellar company,” the second man remarked sarcastically,
holding a carefully folded parchment thither. However, as Richardus reached
for the manuscript, the soldier hastily withdrew it hence. “Not so fast,
wight.” “When did you gentlemen intend to
report back to our superior?” his companion questioned, a bushy eyebrow
raised in query. “Surely, you did not mean to depart the kingdom without
relaying to him the status of your mission?” “We had some delays,” Richardus
answered, his voice slightly wavering. “Of a necessity, Lodewijk and I have
remained in hiding. It was our intention to report back to our commander on
the morrow.” The second soldier gazed haughtily at
the young fellow. “Methinks you are a coward, Richardus. However, there is no
need to hide from our head. He is already aware of your failure to terminate
the heir.” Lodewijk gasped. “Wha’ do you mean?
’ow does ‘e know?” The first man chuckled evilly. “We serve
a most cunning master. He has seen young James.” “Where did ‘e see ‘im?” Lodewijk inquired in
amazement. The men ignored his question, and
exchanged a knowing glance. The first one merely replied, “We have been told
to assure you that if you successfully complete this newly given task, your
previous failure will be forgiven.” Their mission complete, the soldiers
tipped up their mugs to drink the rest of their ale. Upon emptying their
glasses, they stood to their feet. The second fellow held out the folded
parchment, which was swiftly snatched by Lodewijk, much to Richardus’ dismay. The first man cast them a parting
sneer. “Thank you for the ale,” he chuckled. “ ’Tis very kind of you to pay
our tab.” With that, the soldiers swaggered out of the tavern, hearty
chuckles echoing after them. Once they were alone, Richardus
endeavored to procure the parchment from Lodewijk; however, the older man
swiftly foiled his attempt. With a wicked grin, Lodewijk lifted the seal
thereupon the document, thereby opening it. Squinting at the fine penmanship,
he moved his chair closer to the hearth, allowing the flames of the fire to
cast its light upon the manuscript. Richardus rolled his eyes, crossed
his arms and tapped his foot impatiently upon the ground beneath his feet. Lodewijk grandly shook all the folds
out of the parchment, then held it hitherto his face. Upon clearing his
throat, he thoughtfully studied the words thereupon. With an inquisitive look
upon his face, he turned the paper upside down, and held it close to his face
once more. Giving a shrug, he changed the letter’s position yet another time,
this time with the side becoming the top. Leaning his head back, he chortled,
“I forgot that me ol’ gaffer never taught me ‘ow to read! ‘ere, Richardus. You tell me what it says.”
He handed the parchment to his companion, becoming even more amused at the
exasperated expression upon the younger man’s face. Hindered by the lack of light,
Richardus reluctantly followed his half-witted companion’s example and moved
his chair hitherto the hearth. The
glowing embers shone upon the manuscript, allowing him ample light to read. “Well? Wha’ does it say?” Lodewijk
urged. “Wha’ did ‘e tell us to do?” Richardus smiled wickedly. Upon
reading the message, he crumpled the parchment with his healthy hand and cast
it into the fire. As the flames hungrily consumed the letter, he nodded
silently, relishing the task set before them. “Richardus?” Lodewijk prompted. “Wha’
are we goin’ to do?” “We depart for Sleepyside at
sunrise,” he replied. “We have work to do, my dim-witted comrade.” Lodewijk chuckled evilly. “Do we ‘ave
need of arrows? Or per’aps we should sharpen our blades? Or does ‘is liege
request somethin’ more painful?” “Conventional weapons will be of
little use to us,” Richardus murmured thoughtfully. “Well, ‘ow are we goin’ to kill
James, if we don’t ‘ave weapons?” Lodewijk asked as he scratched his ample
belly, now inflamed with the fiery rash. “That bloke’s a tricky one, ‘e is. I
’ave ‘eard legends about ‘is skill wiff a blade an’ bow. And ‘e already put
an arrow through your ‘and. Remember, ‘e threatened next time would be
through your ‘eart. If we plan on tanglin’ with ‘im, we ‘ave need of more
than our fists.” “Whereupon our arrival in Sleepyside,
we shall pay a visit to the smithy,” Richardus informed him. “There we shall
garner the hammer, axe, and nails of which we have need.” Lodewijk stared at his companion, a
dumbfounded expression upon his fleshy face. “The axe sounds good, mate, but
why do we need ‘ammer an’ nails?” Richardus patted the brawny man upon
the shoulder. “You shall see, Lodewijk. You shall see.” Chapter
Twelve Innumerable stars twinkled brightly o’erhead, perfectly
complementing the full, pale yellow moon. James sat upon the ground, his back
leaning against a tree stump. He carefully stirred the smoldering embers of
their campfire in an effort to produce more than smoke. Whereupon stoking the
coals, he added another piece of wood. His labors successfully ignited a red-hot
flame, which hungrily licked the oak branches he had laid thereon. “Warm yourself by the fire, Master
Brom,” James urged. “Verily, there is a chill in the air.” “ ’Tis an ill-favored wind blowing,
my lord,” the old man replied earnestly, his eyes widened in fright.
“Methinks evil is afoot in these dark woods.” James chuckled, as he set about
skinning the rabbit he had caught earlier. “Perhaps ‘tis the sorceress you
spoke of last evening. Perchance the wind is her doing.” “Do not make light of No-mah-ka-ta,
Lord James,” Brom admonished fearfully. “She is an evil enchantress, dwelling
atop the highest mount of the Catskills.” “That is a legend, my friend,” James
replied with a smile. “ ’Tis no legend!” Brom whispered
desperately. “Come morningtide, No-mah-ka-ta will loose the day from its
bonds within a dark cave. At eventide, No-mah-ka-ta returns the day to its
fetters within that same cave. Hence, the land is black as night.” “Thus the owls fly about,” the young
man added, completing his task. “Aye, they do, my lord,” Brom agreed
solemnly. “And those owls fly hither and thither, spying upon all the
inhabitants of the kingdom. They travel whencesoever No-mah-ka-ta commands.” The old man stared thoughtfully at
the full moon. “The old witch must have desired much light in the sky, for it
appears she hung a new moon for all to see.” James looked up at his companion in
amusement. “May I inquire what No-mah-ka-ta does with the old moon?” he
questioned, placing the rabbit upon a large skewer, which he had carefully
carved from a cleaned tree branch. “She severs the old moon into stars,”
Brom answered dramatically. “No-mah-ka-ta must be a good
sorceress, to provide us with such a bright, full moon.” “Nay, my lord,” Brom corrected. “She
is a vile creature, with anger festering in her blackened heart. I have seen
her perched atop her mountain, spinning clouds hither, and flinging them
thither to the four winds.” Whereupon placing two sturdy, forked
sticks in the ground on either side of the fire, James carefully nestled the
skewered coney betwixt the makeshift prongs. “Perchance ‘twas the mist you
saw, transported about by the soft west wind.” “ ’Twas no fog I saw, my lord,” the
elderly man murmured. “Moreover, ‘twas not a gentle wind I perceived that
day. ‘Twas a wild wind, the sort No-mah-ka-ta spins when she is in surly
spirits. During one of her moments of ill-temper, she fabricates black winds
that bring forth rain, rain that floods the earth and sweeps hence dwelling
places.” “Methinks you partook of too much
ale, my friend, thereby resulting in ghostly visions.” Abruptly, a fearsome
gale blew, causing the hairs upon James’ forearms to stand upright. He
started, as a great owl hooted, then took wing from a nearby tree
branch. “Keep hold upon
your tongue, my lord. You are angering No-mah-ka-ta,” Brom beseeched,
watching the bushes suspiciously, as if he expected the old crone to leap out
upon them. Dismissing
thoughts of sorcery, James changed the position of the skewer above the fire.
“Master Brom, you are a talented storyteller. Methinks you could easily
enchant a roomful of children with your fables.” The old man
smiled slightly, his blue eyes sparkling gaily. His stiff form relaxed as his
thoughts settled upon his favorite pastime, rather than their frightening
surroundings. “Thank you, Lord James,” Brom said. “I must
admit that I find it delightful to share my tales with the little ones of the
village. The children are so precious.” He paused and stroked his long
whiskers. “That reminds me, my lord, I have not
seen one of my jewels for quite a long season. Little Rubertus Belden
particularly enjoyed my legends. Mistress Geertruyd served her special
windmill cookies to the children, and young Rubertus consumed so many, that
Geertruyd thought the youth had hollow legs,” the old man chortled. However,
his face grew serious as he continued. “I have not seen the lad for ages. I
hope he has not fallen ill. Though I try to not have favorites, I must admit
that that little tow-headed imp is my pet.” James quirked a
ginger brow, and looked up at Brom. “Are you referring to the youngest child
of Master Pieter Belden?” “Aye. ‘Tis the
same lad.” James shook his head,
dismissing the ridiculous thought that had come into his mind. “I am sure the
boy is fine, my friend. I spoke to his sister before my departure, and she
mentioned nothing regarding sickness. I am positive young Rubertus is busy
doing what boys do best… fishing, archery, ripping his breeches…” Brom chuckled
merrily. “Placing tacks upon his sister’s stool, playing hide-and-go-seek,
catching frogs…” James looked up
suddenly. Once again, he shook his head to rid his mind of the preposterous
idea. Instead, with a rueful smile, he remarked, “I am sure Beatrix
constantly busies herself keeping that lad in check.” “My lord, I have
heard rumors regarding you and the lovely Belden maiden,” the old man
commented, a twinkle in his aged eyes. “Do you fancy her, Lord James?” “Aye,” the young
man whispered wistfully, remembering Beatrix’s lovely smile. “I have given
her my mother’s bracelet. Upon my return to Sleepyside, I shall ask Master
Pieter for her hand in marriage.” “ ’Tis joyful
news, my lord. Beatrix shall be a goodly helpmeet for you. The beauty of her
countenance is only exceeded by the beauty of her soul.” “Yes,” James
murmured. “I am quite blessed to have made her acquaintance. Surely God
Himself led me to her.” “The young maiden
reminds me of your lovely mother, Katryne. I knew her afore I knew your
father, my boy.” James looked up
with interest. “Do you hail from my mother’s country?” “Aye,” Brom
answered proudly. “I dwelled in the same kingdom of the “I have never
heard stories of my mother’s life in the The elderly man enjoyed telling
stories, and happily complied with James’ request. “Katryne’s father had
acquired the “Wynthrop, as heir to the throne of
Sleepyside, was chosen to represent Lord James. In the old country, I served
as the royal steward to Lord Vanderheiden. I remember that he was very
impressed with Wynthrop. The first time they met, he knew your father to be a
man of dignity and honor. “The moment young
Wynthrop set eyes upon the fair Katryne, he was determined to make her his
bride. Of course, your mother had no objections,” Brom chuckled, as he fondly
remembered the event. “Actually, my
lord, another young ambassador sought the hand of your fair mother, however,
Katryne was quite opinionated regarding whom she preferred to marry. “Thankfully, Lord Vanderheiden found
the idea of a union between their countries most favorable, and he gladly
consented to their marriage.” “I wish I had
been able to meet my mother’s father,” James said, a sentimental smile upon
his face. “Your grandfather was a noble man, my
lord. I considered it a great privilege to serve him. He treated me as one of
the family. I was at your mother and father’s wedding, lad, and never before
and never since have I seen a bride as magnificent as Katryne.” James’ green eyes
sparkled with unshed tears as he tried to visualize the scene Brom described.
He absentmindedly rotated the skewer. “Please continue with your tale, my
friend,” he quietly beseeched. “Wynthrop spent
several months in the James silently
attended to the roasting of the coney. Upon further reflection, he inquired
in a woebegone tone, “I would give all my riches to meet my family from the Brom mournfully
cast his head downward. “ ’Tis not pleasant news, my lord.” “Please, spare not
my feelings, my friend. I must know the truth, howsoever gloomy the tidings
be.” “Your ancestors
are dead, my lord,” the old man replied, his voice choking with emotion. “A
year after your birth, war broke out in our country. Lord Vanderheiden’s
enemies sought to assassinate the royal family. “A carriage containing the Lord and
Lady, as well as his oldest daughter and her husband, was attacked by the
Vikings. The driver of the carriage was smitten with an arrow. The horses
were affrighted by the chaos, and plunged off the James cast his eyes downward, and
mournfully examined the ground at his feet. “Then I have no kin left in the
old country.” He silently turned the skewer, shifting the roasting rabbit
slightly. “When did you arrive in Sleepyside, Master Brom?” The elderly gentleman thoughtfully
stroked his whiskers, staring into the fire. “My wife and children were
killed shortly thereafter. Upon their deaths, all those I loved were gone. I
had nothing left in the “However, I fell in love with the
beautiful James looked up and, with fond eyes
studied the old man sitting afore him. “Uncle James is the last of my kin, as
well. If he passes on…” He paused momentarily, then cleared his throat before
he continued. “As long as there is breath in my body, you shall not be alone,
my friend. We shall take care of one another.” “My lord, your uncle is not the last
of your bloodline,” Brom corrected. “None of your ancestors remain in the Startled, James’ emerald eyes locked
with Brom’s blue ones. Much as a little child, he scampered to the old man’s
side, begging for more just “one more story”. “Please continue,” he beseeched. “Juliana, Lord Wilhelm and Lady
Elisabetje’s daughter, accompanied them in the carriage. The enemy’s soldiers
stood by, cruelly watching your grandparents and aunt and uncle drown.
However, almost as if supernaturally blinded, they did not see the wee girl
float upon the surface of the water. “By some great miracle Juliana
survived the angry river, and was carried by the current to the shore. The
tot was a mere four years old, so of a surety God Himself must have been
caring for the little one. She lay quietly on the riverbank, finally falling
asleep from exhaustion. “As providence would have it, later
that afternoon Mistress Minna Schimmel walked from the Vanderheiden’s castle
to her own cottage. She served in the castle as the keeper of the wardrobe,
thereby knowing the royal family quite well. While walking across the canal,
Mistress Minna heard Juliana’s cries and ran to her aid. After hearing the
child’s account, she scooped up the little one and took her into her own
home.” “Do you know this of a certainty?”
James questioned, a hopeful expression upon his face. “Aye,” Brom nodded. “As steward of
the Vanderheiden castle, I conversed oft with Minna’s husband, Stefaan, who
served as the castle’s atillator. A finer craftsman of arrows and bows, you
would never meet than Stefaan. Once Minna arrived home with with Juliana,
Stefaan sent his son to the castle. The lad requested my immediate appearance
at their home. “I accompanied the young man to the
Schimmel’s cottage, and imagine my surprise when little Juliana greeted me at
the door!” Brom hastily wiped a tear before it escaped down his weathered
cheek. “The little one cried and told me how her family had been ambushed.
She saw it all, my lord. So much grief for one so small…” James sank to the ground from his
kneeling position. His heart ached, thinking of the horror his cousin must
have felt as she watched her beloved parents and grandparents die. “Where is
she now?” “The Schimmels decided to keep
Juliana at their cottage until further arrangements could be made,” the old
man explained. “I returned to the castle, and… ‘twas…” He began to weep
mournfully as he recalled the events. “The castle ‘twas… burned to the
ground… my family…” Raking sobs shook Brom’s shoulders as he remembered the
tragedy. “Go no further, my friend,” James
replied, placing his hand on the old man’s shoulder whereby to comfort him. “
’Tis no need for more information. Juliana dwells in a distant land, thus I
shall not be able to make her acquaintance. Burden not yourself with these
painful memories.” “Nay, my lord,” Brom gasped, wiping
his tears with the sleeve of his bliaud. “Juliana does not dwell in the old
country. She remained in secret with the Schimmels for several years
following the Vanderheidens’ death. However, someone must have discovered
that an heir to the throne survived, for an attempt was made upon her life
eight years ago. Thereafter, she left “Upon their arrival in this country,
the De Jongs settled in the Broncks colony, and Juliana planned to search for
your mother. Before she made contact with your family, she learned of your
father’s demise in battle. She attempted to locate Katryne; however, we did
not know she had married Lord Jones.” “Where is Juliana now?” James asked.
“Does she remain in the Broncks colony?” “To my knowledge, that is where she
resides,” Brom answered. “A man who dwells in the Broncks colony sojourned
through Sleepyside not long ago. I asked him the welfare of Juliana, and he
informed me that two years ago she married a young man from The pleasant smell of roasted rabbit
made James return to the fire and change the coney’s position. “She is
alive,” he murmured in shock. “Perchance I shall be able to make her
acquaintance. After I have attended to the matters regarding my stepfather, I
shall send messengers at once to inquire as to her well-being. If necessary,
I shall send the royal guard from “Aye, my lord,” Brom nodded, “your
mother would be most pleased for Juliana to reside in the “If it be the Lord’s will that I
return from Meanwhile, in the mountainous region… The cloaked man
dismounted his horse and cautiously approached her lair. He studied his
surroundings carefully, never knowing what sort of vile creature may leap out
upon him. Oft he had seen various reptiles and rodents lingering about her
hideaway. The hag seemed to draw loathsome beasts into her presence. He glanced up
apprehensively as he saw her hobble therefrom her cave. She cast an evil leer
in his direction, as if she had been expecting his arrival. “I have been waiting for you, my son.
This selfsame morning, I saw your face in a vision,” she told him in her
raspy voice. “You have need of my powers, do you not?” The cloaked man cleared
his throat. No matter how oft he visited her, he still shivered in her
presence. “You are correct. A certain obstacle has arisen in our plot to
overthrow the throne of Sleepyside. Thitherto, I have aptly attended to these
matters of difficulty. Albeit, I have reached an impasse and require greater
conjuring than I alone can muster.” “Indeed, you are
your father’s son!” the witch howled. “What have you done, and wherefore is
my help required?” The cloaked man’s heart raged within
his chest. Consumed with wroth, he longed to retrieve the dagger from his
belt and plunge it asunder in the crone’s belly. However, he quieted those
delightful thoughts and assumed a contrite expression. “In my wrath I damaged the crystal
ball with which you presented me,” he stated with feigned humility. “Because
of my error, ‘tis impossible for me to decipher the plotting of the heir. If
I wot not of his plans, I am unsure as to how to deal with him. Perchance you
could replace the magical sphere---” “Fool!” the hag
hissed. “ ’Twas the last of our orbs. None remain, thus you must do without.
While you were yet in the loins of your father, I knew you would be an
ignorant clotpole.” Biting
back the reply he longed to give, he pleaded, “Is there no way you can assist
me in this quest? Surely, with your exceeding wisdom, you can come to my
aid.” The old crone cackled evilly. She laid hold upon his arm,
digging her skeletal fingers into his flesh, thus leading him thither to her
lair. The pair entered the hag’s domicile
and gathered around the table she used for her enchantments. She murmured a
phrase in a secret tongue, and suddenly a fierce wind blew from the west. The
tempest collected itself in the midst of the room, settling betwixt the crone
and the cloaked man. After a brilliant flash of light, the miniature
whirlwind entered the large crystal ball sitting upon the table. With a toothless smile, the hag
pointed to the face in the midst of the magical orb. “Behold the answer to
the mystery.” The cloaked man peered into the
witch’s sphere, at the vision now quite familiar to him. “I have seen this
face. ‘Tis nothing new.” “Look closer, my son,” the crone
admonished. Though sorely confused, he obeyed her
command. A wicked sneer passed o’er his face as he beheld a certain object
which hitherto had escaped his attention. “I see,” he murmured, diabolical
thoughts filling his mind. “Aye, of a surety this new development will make
my offer much more appealing to the heir. No matter what he and the old man
plotted, methinks I can use this to sway him.” “Yes,” she murmured, “I perceive this
to be the man’s weakness. Young James is strong and noble in both form and
spirit. He would be nigh impossible to defeat, if not for this vulnerability.
I am sure our honorable hero will give you most anything, if you threaten the
object closest to his heart.” “And threaten her I will!” the
cloaked man sneered. Gazing deeply into the crystal ball, another idea took
root in his evil heart. “Once the throne is mine and James is dead, I shall have
need of a Lady. And ringlets the color of gold and eyes the shade of
sapphires have always been to my liking.” He cackled as he traced the maiden’s
image in the orb with one sinewy finger. “Take heed, beautiful Beatrix. Your
prince awaits.” To Be
Continued…
Author’s
notes: Thank you very much to my
helpful editors, Kathy and Kaye! As always your suggestions were perfectly
perfect! The Aylesbury Inn is a
real place. It is supposedly the oldest type of inn of its kind in This chapter was full of
references from the books. Did you notice that horrid case of poison ivy that
our villains caught? And how about Richardus’ black eye? I couldn’t leave
that out. *snicker* Since the character of
Brom has always interested me, I had to include his legend of No-mah-ka-ta And did you notice what
James and Brom had for dinner? Yummy yum yum! Roasted rabbit. *wink* There is an actual Medieval glossary: Surcote- An outer coat or
garment, commonly of rich material, worn by people of rank of both sexes. Scut- Derogatory term meaning “rabbit’s tail” Clotpole- Derogatory term
composed of "clot" meaning fool or oaf and "pole"
referring to the male genetalia Bliaud (also spelled:
Bliaut, Bliaus, Bliant,
Bliaunt, or Bliand) - A medieval shirt which was the origin of the
linen blouse or smock worn by European peasants of both sexes today.
The Bliaud was worn over the chainse, or chemise, and slit up the sides to
allow freedom for the legs when riding horseback. Home | Modern day universes| E-Mail Me |
