Freamhaigh

by Donald D. Allan

  Dempster had insisted on building a large cooking and dining hall off the main house. Anne and he had outlined what they needed, and the crew and farm hands had jumped in to have it erected in record time. Dempster had trained a few eager parents of our younger draoi on how to prepare food for large numbers of people and they now prepared all the food for the farm. Freed from that task, Dempster now considered himself Nadine and I’s personal chef and merely oversaw the preparation of the main farm meals from time to time. He was happier in the main farmhouse making our small meals. He seemed more content than ever and he had even stopped chasing after Anne; which oddly seemed to spark her interest in him for the first time. Nadine had laughed when I brought it up and she had walked away still laughing at my confusion.

  Dempster taught me cooking occasionally, and I loved those moments in the kitchen working food and learning new recipes. Dempster had a large cache of exotic dried herbs that he allowed me to examine. With my draoi powers, I could see which herbs and spices worked best together, and we had managed to create a new type of food that Dempster delightfully declared curry. He was surprised when I had presented him my curry powder. He said its blend and manufacture was a tightly kept secret in the main curry houses in Munsten. He had never been able to discover the secret to a good blend and here I was handing one over to him. The farmhands and crew loved it and every Wednesday was now officially curry night. My draoi coerced Dempster into making more and more meatless meals and curries seemed to make the dishes that much more palatable. Anne took it as a challenge and was often doing strange and wonderful things with vegetables that delighted the draoi.

  I reached across the draoi bond and felt my draoi going about their daily activities. I watched them use their powers in a myriad of small ways and sent my respect across the bond. The equivalent of a smile came back to me and I chuckled. Soon my draoi would be leaving to spread out across the Realm. They were stocs and able to fend for themselves. Draoi and their families would head out to the cities, towns and villages of Belkin. They had a simple but complicated mission: teach the world about the draoi. They would make a difference, I knew. They would become part of society and blend in. They would heal, nurture and return harmony to the world. We were close to the second revolution in Belkin and I wanted to avoid that. My draoi would make a difference and work with the wordsmiths and clergy of the Church of the New Order. I was hopeful. They would also create a communications web across the Realm. Little would happen without the others knowing immediately.

  To add to that hope, Major James Dixon had arrived a few nights ago, cold and wet, and clearly not happy to be back at the farm. The benefit of being draoi is that people cannot hide their true feelings from us. I could see he was happy to be back, but that his heart was elsewhere. I left him to tend to himself and waited until he appeared more open to discuss the matter. Nadine, in her typical fashion, intercepted me and stopped me from pestering him. She took him aside and spoke quietly to him. Later that evening spoke to me of it.

  “He’s the emissary from the military. General Bairstow sent him at Robert Sibbald’s insistence. He is to liaise with us, the draoi, and the people in charge of the military. He’s also to start an education with Edward. Teach him kingly things.”

  “Really?”

  “Which? The emissary part, or the teaching part?”

  “Both, I suppose?”

  “Really, really.”

  I looked out the window in the kitchen. Through them, I could see our pruned fruit orchard and beyond them, the new grapevines. Dempster wanted to try his hand at winemaking and he had planted a vast field of grapes. It would be years before we saw the fruit of the labour, but it spoke to a hope for our future. It pleased us all.

  “Why is he so upset? I thought he would be pleased to be here. There are worst places to be.”

  Nadine snorted. “Young man, do I really need to explain it to you? You can see how confused his aura is, right?”

  I nodded.

  “He’s torn. He would rather be in Jergen. He’s military through and through and he’s been pulled away from the greatest military events this realm has seen since the Revolution. He feels like he has been put aside and it hurts his pride and ego. He knows he should be honoured—for it is an honourable task—it's just that he would rather be in the thick of it. Not babysitting a man who would be king and pretending to liaise with the draoi.”

  I scowled. “There’s more to it than that.”

  Nadine sighed. “Yes, of course, there is. He didn’t want to leave Brent’s side. He loves the man. They are brothers those two. Better together I think. I doubt Brent was happy to see James go. The weight of command means putting aside friendship when need drives you. You’re tasting that now, aren’t you?”

  We both knew that was true. The deaths of so many pressed on me. It was a false guilt but one I could never truly shake, despite the words everyone spoke to me. I blamed myself for not responding quickly to the demands of the land. The battle in Jergen and the one at the Crossroads could have avoided so much death had I opted to involve the draoi earlier. I thought of James and tried to see his side of things and something seemed to be missing. Something else was bothering him. I opened my mouth to speak when Nadine laughed at me.

  “It took you long enough. Yes. He has someone in Jergen. Some lass. He’s pining for her.”

  I pursed my lips and then thought of a solution. I opened my mouth to speak again but Nadine cut me off.

  “Yes, I suggested he invite her to stay here with him. He ran off, scared. Too much commitment for him, I think.”

  I laughed, and Nadine kissed me making me splutter.

  The next day, Emily, standing watch on the southern approach road reported Baron Andrew Windthrop was approaching with an armed escort of one hundred men. He was a wanted man and went nowhere without an escort. He kept to himself at his country estate. He avoided Jergen and knew he was far from welcome there by the people. His actions during the Battle of Jergen would never be forgotten. If it shamed him, he hid it well.

  The draoi groaned as one at the news of his arrival. It was never pleasant. I was surprised he would come here. He hated me and made no attempt to hide it. I wondered what his reasons could be to visit and thought immediately of Edward. Edward was the heir to the throne, the bastard son of the late mad King. Windthrop had thought of himself as the heir and doubted the veracity of Edward’s claim. No doubt he was coming to find more reason to disbelieve the man.

  By the end of the next hour, the Baron arrived was saluted by James in his finest uniform and brought inside to warm up in the living room beside the fire in the hearth. Steve and Franky took care of the escort and assigned crew to help with raising their tents. Dempster brought out tea and cakes and for a while, we sat in silence eating and drinking and listening to the pounding of tents pegs and the shouting of orders outside.

  The Baron refused to look at me. He watched the flames in the hearth and sipped his tea. I felt an annoyance surge within me. He had yet to explain his presence at the farm. He sat and ignored us, demanding we suffer him until he felt like sharing. I could sense he was enjoying his drama. I watched his aura and didn’t like what I saw. His aura was spiked with green and bright reds. It swirled and spun in fast-changing colours. I had never seen the like, and I stole a glance at Nadine. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and she looked at me and I could see my worry reflected back.

  Having had enough of the silence, I rose and stood before the Baron demanding his attention. “Speak, Baron Windthrop. Why have you come?”

  The flash of red in the Baron’s aura matched the hatred that shone from his eyes. “I demand proof that Edward Hitchens is who you claim he is.”

  I sighed and looked around the room. Seated on the couches were Nadine, Steve, Franky, Martin, Edward, and James. All rolled their eyes, except Edward. Edward looked sad.

  “We’ve been over this before. I can confirm Edward believes what he says. He believes he is the
son of the late King. James and Brent confirmed he looks almost exactly like the king. Without something from the body of the King, there is little else I can do to confirm it. I believe them why do you not?”

  “Because I should be king, that’s why!” shouted the Baron. He looked defiantly back at me.

  “It’s not me that needs convincing. I care little about who is the king so long as whoever it is can work with the draoi to ensure the harmony of the Realm. Are you that man, Baron?”

  The Baron glared. “I demand proof. I will not allow this man to assume the throne without it. I am the rightful heir. The beliefs of a chirurgeon and a resemblance to a painting in Munsten are not enough and you all know it. I will fight it and I will win. So, either prove your claim or remove it. I will be king.”

  Steve spoke first. “Will, what is this method of proof you spoke of? You require something of the King. His remains? That is horrific. I would rather he remain undisturbed.”

  I nodded. “Sadly, yes, I think so. With our powers, the draoi can see deep inside the body. We can sense familial ties. We can determine a brother and sister, or a mother and child. We believe that had we something of the late king we might be able to compare that to Edward. If that familial tie is there, then we can confirm Edward is his son.”

  “How confident are you?”

  “Confident? Well, absolutely. There is no hiding it. It is, or it isn’t it.”

  Steve turned to Edward. “Would you submit to this and abide by it?”

  Edward looked surprised. “Of course. I never wanted to be king, did I?”

  The baron growled. “Then refuse it now. Give it to me.”

  Edward barked a laugh. “Truly? Do you jest? I would rather Steve here be king then see the likes of you on the throne.”

  The Baron jerked upright to his feet. His aura should have been plain for all to see, beyond the present draoi. Green and reds sparked bright and flashed. His face grew a deep red. He thrust a finger at Edward. “I remind you that I am the Baron of Turgany! Last of the royal blood! You are nought but a chirurgeon. I would see you hanged for such impudence!”

  In an instant, James was standing before the Baron. “You sir will apologise, then sit back down, or leave. Edward is the recognised heir to the throne. Your threats are treason.”

  The Baron only grew more furious. “Apologise? I am the heir to the throne, I am your future king!”

  James glared at the Baron. “You, sir, are an ass. Be warned, Edward is under the protection of General Bairstow. Apologise.”

  The Baron looked from face to face and seeing no support, stormed from the room and slammed the front door as he left. He could be heard yelling orders to his men.

  James looked defeated. He sat where the Baron had been. “He’s not wrong.”

  Martin nodded. “Correct. Without proof that Edward is who we all believe him to be, the Baron has the only claim to the throne. He is right to be furious.”

  Edward chuckled. “Do I have a way out then? Can I just say, ‘oh never mind, just kidding, over to you Baron Windthrop?’”

  Martin clasped Edward’s upper arm. “The Church crowns the King. If it were up to me, I would crown you, Edward. You have a good soul. The Baron, I’m afraid, is not suited to rule. He would be as mad as the late-King, your father.”

  Edward grasped the hand briefly and smiled. “I understand. I do believe I am his son. My mother had no reason to lie to me. She worked so hard to keep it hidden.”

  Nadine spoke then. “And we know that the Freamhaigh and Cill Darae were involved in your mother meeting the king. That is proof enough for me.”

  Steve rose and opened the hearth grate and put another log on the fire. We all watched him, deep in our own thoughts. He closed the grate and rose turning to me. “Will, we will require proof. Baron Windthrop has the right of it. We come close to treason ourselves. If you say we need the remains of the King, we will need to acquire them.” He gestured to James. “Do you know where they are?”

  James nodded. “Yes, I do. Behind the castle in Munsten are the Royal Tombs where the remains of all former rulers lie. The King is laid to rest there.”

  “So, we just head to Munsten and grab them?”

  Martin shook his head. “No, I’m afraid you will need the Church to officiate over that. The Church must bear witness to the removal of the remains, confirm that only those of the King are removed, and then bear those remains until we can confirm Edward’s claim. The Church must hold the chain of evidence clear.”

  Steve looked thoughtful. “And who would that be, Martin?”

  “One of the bishops. They are holed up in the castle. All of them. We would need to free them and bring one with us to the crypt. He would oversee the breaking of the crypt seal and the removal of the remains. They bring them to Will and we confirm Edward is the son.”

  “No,” I said. “It isn’t necessary to bring the remains to me.”

  Nadine shook her head. “Will, you are not going to Munsten.”

  I laughed. “Never said I was, old woman. Heather will go. She is our strongest healer. She has the best ability to look deep into the body and make the comparison.”

  “Who goes, Heather and Martin, certainly? How about Edward, he will need to go for the comparison, no?”

  I shook my head. “No, draw blood and take some hair. It is all that is needed. Heather can confirm that. Edward needs to stay here where he is safe.”

  “And me, I need to go, too.”

  We all looked at James. “You do?” I asked. “Why?”

  “Because I know where the King was laid to rest.”

  “In the tombs, you said.”

  “Well, sort of. You see they were afraid his grave would be defiled. So they actually buried him elsewhere in the mausoleum.”

  “And you know where?”

  “Yes, I think I do. Rumours only, but sometimes words spoken drunk have the truth behind them. I’m afraid I need to go, too. Brent made me an emissary, and that means I need to verify and witness what Heather determines. Plus, I know how to get inside the castle undetected. Don’t worry, I’ll let Brent know my intentions. Once he agrees, we’ll head to Munsten. Martin, Heather and I.”

  “What about your duty to protect Edward?”

  “About that, what exactly would I do to protect Edward surrounded by draoi? I think this will take precedence.”

  I nodded. “I think you should depart at once and I’ll make a trip to Jergen. I’ll let Brent know that I sent his emissary to Munsten. He’ll understand.”

  James winced but nodded in agreement.

  Baron Andrew Windthrop was seething inside his private chambers at his country estate. He seemed unable to get a grip on the rage that threatened to consume him since he had left Rigby Farm. All his plans to overthrow that upstart John Healy lay in ruins about his feet. Decades of planning and positioning all swept aside. The defeat at the Crossroads haunted his dreams. They had only to keep fighting, push the Realm Army from the field, and march to Munsten. Then he could have claimed the throne and became King Andrew Windthrop.

  But that arse Bairstow countermanded my orders. Belittled me. Swept me aside and took my army from me. He stole my throne away.

  Andrew grabbed a vase and with a frustrated scream threw it hard toward the fireplace. He missed completely, and the vase smashed against an end table to knock off a priceless piece of art to the floor, both smashing into hundreds of pieces, and scattering across the hardwood floor.

  His staff knew better than to inquire. They stayed clear and only interacted with him when absolutely necessary. He knew that. He was not a stupid man. His life of hiding his secret desires made him attuned to others who would hide things from him. He expected deception from everyone around him.

  Like Admiral Kingsmill. He abandoned me, too. Made me leave Jergen.

  A feeling of remorse rose within him and he forced it down with more anger. Another object was picked up and this time he hit the fireplace.

  I
would burn the entire realm to the ground had I the power. They all deserve to die.

  Before he had left Rigby Farm, he had been informed of the plan to confirm Edward’s lineage. He was no fool: he could see the resemblance. Edward was the spitting image of the late mad-king. He knew James Dixon and that insufferable Vicar Martin were heading to Munsten to confirm the claim. He knew that there was a good chance they would be successful. He also knew that Will Arbor had directed that his draoi move out to the towns and villages over the winter and start spreading knowledge of the draoi to everyone. All the farm had been talking about it. The excitement in the air at the farm had been unbearable. He had left the same day, his ire wrapped tight around him.

  A thought occurred to him and the anger parted in a moment of clarity.

  James Dixon will be alone on the road.

  Rigby Farm will be mostly empty of draoi.

  And Edward will be there. Alone as he will ever be.

  The Baron smiled and put down the crystal sculpture he was holding.

  Major James Dixon pulled himself up into the saddle with years of experience and watched amused as Vicar Martin Jordan and stoc Heather Margaret struggled to do the same. A fourth horse was tied to James' and carried their supplies for the road. James noted the load on the horse was light and well-balanced. They would be travelling together for weeks and hopefully avoid the worst of the weather due to come over winter. It was a bad time to be on the road, but the demand to prove Edward the heir to the throne would settle the debate in the south over the Baron.

  Vicar Martin carried the blood and hair of Edward Hitchens, safely padded inside a sealed, small metal box. It would never leave his person. If it did, they would need to begin the mission from scratch. Martin insisted on it and James saw the need. James tilted his head back and scratched at his throat. His beard was itching him and driving him crazy. It would be warmer for the road and would hide his face from those who would recognise him. But he hated it. Brent would make fun of it, he thought, and then suddenly missed him.