The Prince of Warwood and the Fall of the King (Book 2)

by J. Noel Clinton

  “Oh. Well, why would he call you…” Xavier began before he realized the truth in what the man had said. He winced. “Because of Mom, right?”

  His father didn’t answer, but he didn’t need him to. His expression was answer enough, and suddenly Xavier shared Ephraim’s desire to pound the man into the ground.

  “Hop on, kiddo. Save your energy for the Square,” Loren remarked, stooping to give Xavier a piggy-back ride.

  Xavier clambered onto the general’s back, and they continued the walk to the Center Square in silence. When they finally reached the market area, Xavier found that all the peddlers and merchants’ stands had been removed, and a marble pedestal stood alone in the center of the tiled groundwork, just like in his dreams. Across the courtyard, on an elevated platform, the High Council sat watching their approach. The moment Jeremiah stopped next to the forsaken pedestal, the Royal Guard, standing at attention to their right, suddenly knelt. The people they had passed on their way to the Square began filling in behind them, and oddly, for a large group of close to six hundred, it was silent, not even a cough could be heard.

  Xavier slid off Loren’s back and moved to stand next to his father, glaring defiantly up at Father O’Brien’s pudgy face. However, as O’Brien stood to begin the proceedings, an insistent, dark voice pounded into Xavier’s thoughts. Instantly, his eyes drifted to Governor Yaman. A cold, sneering smile slithered across the governor’s pale, round face, and he heard his greasy voice brag, “Yes, boy! Watch! Watch the beginning of the end.”

  Xavier reached for his father’s hand, fearful of what was to come, and the king gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Jeremiah Xavier Wells IV, king and rightful heir of Warwood, you have been charged and convicted of infringing Code 1B, the unlawful use of empowerments on subordinates with intent to do harm. For the said crime, you’ve been sentenced to a royal caning,” Father O’Brien announced. Aside from a woman sobbing, the crowd remained silent as Father O’Brien regarded them. “As citizens of Warwood, it is your duty and obligation to bear witness to this punishment. However, if you have children in your presence, you are dismissed from these duties. Are you prepared to fulfill your duties?”

  “We are,” the crowd chanted together, sending a cold chill down Xavier’s spine.

  “The Royal Guard may rise,” the priest ordered, and like a well-maintained machine, the guards did so in unison. “Premier Guardsmen, please step forward and face the High Council.” Three dozen men moved to stand before the Council. “It is your duty to administer this punishment. If for any reason you feel incapable of meeting this obligation, please speak now so a replacement can be selected.” No one responded. So, eying Loren and Ephraim closely, O’Brien continued, “If the Council finds there is any tendency toward leniency, the guard member doing so will be replaced. Now, General Jefferson, General Hardcastle, please prepare the king and select the caners.”

  Immediately, Ephraim stepped forward and selected two guardsmen while Loren turned to the king. Without a word, Jeremiah humbly knelt in front of Loren, and from the look on the general’s face, it was the first time the king had ever done so. Daunted by this, Loren slowly removed the linen robe from the king’s shoulders. Then Jeremiah stood, the muscles in his bare chest and legs contracting against the frigid February air.

  “Dad?” Xavier whispered.

  The king looked down at him and smiled. “It’s all right, son. It’s time. You need to go with Dublin,” he announced, motioning to Dublin Minnows, who was waiting among the crowd of citizens.

  “No. I want to stay with you, Father!” he cried as plump tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Xavier,” his father began softly while stroking his head. “You can’t stay with me. You need to go with Mr. Minnows.” He turned to Dublin. “If this gets to be too much for him, I want you to take him back to the palace.”

  “Yes, sire,” Dublin responded hoarsely.

  Xavier felt a pair of warm, gentle hands on his shoulders, turning him and leading him to where Mrs. Minnows and Lucy Jefferson stood on the fringe of the watching crowd.

  From his new vantage point, he watched as his father knelt next to the pedestal to pray. His stomach twisted into a knot as he watched Loren, Ephraim, and the two selected guards pull long whips from a wooden sheath. Finally, his father completed his prayer with the sign of the cross and stood.

  “How many?” Xavier squeaked to Dublin Minnows.

  Dublin frowned down at him. “How many what, sire?”

  “How many times do they,” he cleared his throat and peered up at him, “hit him?”

  “You mean you don’t know? Your father didn’t tell you?” he asked, horrified.

  “Tell me what?” he questioned, his voice raising an octave.

  Mr. Minnows shared fretful looks with his wife and Mrs. Jefferson before crouching in front of the boy and taking his hand. “Xavier, the caners will strike your father until he can no longer stand.”

  “What?” Xavier hissed. “No! No, they can’t! They can’t do that! I won’t let them!” Xavier tore out of Dublin’s grasp and raced to his father and the men circling him. “NO!” he shouted, plowing into Ephraim and sending him stumbling backwards. “You can’t do this, Ephraim! You can’t!”

  “Xavier,” Jeremiah called, reaching for him, but Xavier turned and attacked Loren, pelting him vainly with his fists.

  “No, please don’t. Don’t hurt him, Loren. Please!” he sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re his friend. You’re his friend!” Loren looked down at the boy hurling punches at him and felt his resolve melting away.

  “No, Xavier!” his father called firmly as he lifted the boy away from Loren. Xavier clung to him, crying. The crowd was no longer silent. Many were shouting and echoing Xavier’s words and some were simply crying along with the prince. “Xavier?” Jeremiah whispered. He looked at Dublin, silently questioning him. As the reality of what had happened sunk in, he sighed and caressed his son’s back. “Son? Go with Dub. Go on.”

  “Nooooo,” Xavier sobbed.

  “Yes, boy. Go with Dublin,” he insisted, kissing Xavier’s forehead as he handed him over to Mr. Minnows. “Take him back to the palace,” he whispered to Dublin.

  “NO!” Xavier shrieked. “No, I want to stay with you! Please! I promise, I won’t interfere again, just…just…let me stay,” he wailed.

  His father hesitated but then, muttered, “All right, son. All right.” He nodded to Dublin, who carried the boy back to the side of the Square. Tamarah and Lucy engulfed Xavier into their arms trying to soothe him.

  Jeremiah turned to Loren and Ephraim. Loren looked as if a good stiff wind would knock him over. “Loren!” he barked. “You have your orders! Both of you!” He gave each general a harsh glare. “Do not disobey me, or there’ll be hell to pay!”

  The men nodded as conviction returned to their eyes, and Jeremiah turned, grasped the pedestal, and readied himself as the Royal Guard assembled behind him. He looked at his son clinging to Lucy and gave him a playful wink.

  “You may proceed,” Father O’Brien called, and Xavier’s stomach dropped like a crashing wave.

  Loren struck the king first. He lifted the whip, stepped forward, and lashed it across the king’s back with a loud crack. Jeremiah grimaced and wobbled slightly. Then, Ephraim’s whip struck him, leaving a savage red mark snaking across his back. Jeremiah winced and his face contorted with pain. Again and again, the caners pelted him with blow after blow, as he clung white-knuckled to the pedestal with his eyes clamped shut. Slowly, the ugly welts on Jeremiah’s legs and back began to be replaced with open wounds. It was at this point that Xavier stopped watching and simply buried his face in Lucy’s shirt, sobbing loudly.

  Nearly twenty minutes later, two replacement caners were chosen: Henrick Davies and Timmins Clarke. Loren and Ephraim, however, refused to relinquish their positions and chose to continue. After a brief intermission for the reappointments to select a whip, the beatings cont
inued for another twenty horrible minutes until the king finally fell to the ground. Xavier wasn’t sure which was more difficult to watch: the beating or his father’s fall. The guards backed away and watched as the king dragged himself to his feet.

  “Why doesn’t he just stay down?” Xavier sobbed to Dublin.

  “He can’t appear too weak. He must endure the beatings as long as possible without so much as a groan. As barbaric as it seems, this is a test for your father, a test to prove his strength and endurance,” he responded hollowly.

  The whippings resumed, and Jeremiah’s back and legs glistened in blood. He had endured nearly an hour of caning, and his entire body shook from the strain. Tears, sweat, and agony covered his face, but he remained on his feet and didn’t utter a sound.

  Loren continued to throw his entire weight into each blow, determined not to give the Council any cause to replace him. Both generals looked nearly as exhausted as the king, but they refused to relinquish their positions as caners.

  Then, for a second time, Jeremiah fell to the ground, and the crowd gasp. His entire body shimmied with strain and exhaustion as he struggled to his feet, only to topple over again. Father O’Brien looked down at Jeremiah as if he were something vile and disgusting.

  “You have fallen from God’s grace, Jeremiah. You have tainted the throne. You have fallen from grace in your subjects. You should be ashamed. Your father would be…”

  “Do not presume to tell me what my father would have thought of this entire situation, O’Brien!” Jeremiah bellowed with surprising force that Xavier wouldn’t have thought possible. Slowly, with every ounce of his strength and with his arms quivering violently under the strain, he pulled himself to his feet and glowered up at the priest. “My father believed in the absolute power of the monarch. He would not have allowed this to happen to himself. If you think back, O’Brien, this addition to the Codes was my doing! I proposed and lobbied for this amendment to prevent the mistakes and dangers of the past from being repeated! Therefore, Father, you have no authority to preach to me on such matters. Now, Loren, Ephraim, continue!”

  But, Ephraim and Loren shook their heads, their faces pale.

  “Hardcastle, Jefferson!” he bellowed. “I just gave you an order!”

  Loren approached him in a stumbling daze. Then, with a strangled groan, he raised his arm and struck Jeremiah, who fell heavily to the ground. Xavier fought vainly against the hands holding him.

  “Stop! Stop it!” he sobbed. “Please!” he bellowed. “Father O’Brien, stop it. Please let them stop! Please!” But the only response he received to his pleads was a sadistic grin from Catherine Stokes.

  Chapter 22

  Invasion

  Shock and fear rocked through Xavier at the sight of the murderous temptress, but when he looked again, Catherine was gone. The whistling sound of a whip snapped his attention back to the caning. The king collapsed completely to the stone covered ground with a groan. Xavier struggled against Dublin’s embrace. “Please,” he begged, “Father O’Brien! Let them stop!”

  O’Brien ignored Xavier’s pleas and continued to watch Jeremiah.

  Finally, Xavier tore free from Dublin’s grasp and raced to his father. Loren was drawing back and preparing to strike again, but Xavier stepped between them. “Loren,” he begged. “Loren, please don’t.”

  Loren’s face fell with anguish, and he dropped the whip. Slowly, he sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands. Only Timmins Clarke remained standing with a whip ready in his hand.

  “No more, Mr. Clarke. Please, no more,” Xavier groaned.

  “Boy! You are interfering with a court process! Remove yourself, now!” O’Brien bellowed, standing.

  “That’s not just a boy, O’Brien!” Dublin shouted angrily. “That is your future king, and you should address him as such, Wesley!”

  The crowd around him shouted in agreement to Dublin’s words and began chanting, “Release our king! Release our king! Release our king!”

  With great effort, Jeremiah staggered to his feet and waved his hand at the irate crowd, and instantly, they went silent. Then, he turned to Xavier.

  “Son?” he said hoarsely. “You promised me that you wouldn’t interfere again.” He looked up severely at Dublin. “Dublin, get him out of here and take him back to the castle.”

  “No, Dad! I’m sorry, but I can’t stand by and let you kill yourself because of me! I can’t!” Xavier cried.

  “I’m afraid I’d have to agree with him, sire. So, I guess you’ll have to bring me up on insubordination charges because I will not take him back to the palace. I’m going to help him stop this brutality.”

  “Dublin, so help me…” the king growled.

  “That’s exactly what I plan to do, my friend, help you,” he countered as he walked past him and approached the High Council. “Father O’Brien, King Wells has endured over an hour of punishment. You know he will not stay down unless he is an inch from death. Are you willing to kill your king in the name of your precious court process? Is death a just and deserving punishment for the crimes he committed in order to save his son’s life?”

  The crowd exploded in shouts and grievances. Father O’Brien raised his hand, trying to silence them, but it took several minutes for him to succeed in doing so.

  “If he’s had enough, he should stay down!” O’Brien shouted, nodding at Timmins who readily swung his whip, striking Jeremiah. The king fell to the ground and for the first time, cried out. Nonetheless, he struggled to his feet as Timmins prepared to strike again.

  “No!” Xavier yelled and tackled his father to the ground with a loud grunt. “No, Dad! Please, stay down,” Xavier cried, using his weight and all his strength to keep Jeremiah down.

  A whooshing sound was the only warning Xavier received before Timmins’ whip snapped against his backside. Xavier screamed. Timmins wasted no time in swinging the whip again, but it never made contact. Ephraim clobbered Timmins to the ground.

  “You son of a …” Ephraim growled, wrapping his hands around the man’s neck. “You hit the prince! You hit the prince!”

  Violence ignited all around them, and the crowd rushed forward to attack anyone they felt had it in for their king. However, the well-trained Royal Guard acted quickly and managed to barricade most of the crowd out of the square with an electro shield.

  “Xavier? Are you all right?” his father asked, sliding Xavier off him.

  “Yeah. I think so. Are you?” he asked.

  Jeremiah nodded and surveyed the chaos around them.

  “Help me up, son. I need to stop this,” he insisted flatly. Xavier struggled to help him to his feet.

  “Please! My loyal friends please, that’s enough!” However, the chaos continued. Ephraim held Timmins to the ground and was pulverizing the man into a bloody mess.

  “I said, that is enough!” his father’s voice boomed with unquestionable dominance that sent goose bumps over Xavier’s body. Every person in the vicinity froze and looked at the king, who was hanging onto his son and the pedestal, trying to remain upright. After a couple deep breaths, he released Xavier and the pedestal and slowly straightened to stand tall and proud. “Enough,” he repeated. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here…”

  A deep rumbling sound like a distant storm stole the rest of the king’s words, and he looked toward the kingdom’s gatehouse. The sound quickly grew, and in the next instant, Xavier found himself being hurled to the ground as the earth shifted and shook violently under his feet. Even in his weakened, injured state, his father hauled Xavier under his body to protect him.

  ‘Oh, God! It’s an earthquake!’ were Xavier’s first thoughts.

  Suddenly, a loud, teeth-rattling, ear-splitting boom shook everything around them. Screams filled the dead air following the explosion as the crowd scattered for shelter. When Xavier looked beyond his father’s bulk, he couldn’t believe what he saw. The front gatehouse was simply gone! Stone, boards, and dust were all that remained of the
kingdom’s first line of defense against an outright invasion. Then just as he began to wonder what had happened, he saw the answer. The image filling the vast void where the gatehouse once stood turned his blood to ice. Row upon row of soldiers dressed in black carrying gleaming swords were swarming into the kingdom, and just beyond the invading army, upon a white stallion, was none other than William LeMasters.

  The Royal Guard reacted quickly to the intrusion and met the dark soldiers just inside the gate, but suddenly, the guards halted and lowered their swords. What was going on? Why weren’t they attacking the intruders? Then Xavier saw why. The dark soldiers leading the invasion were primarily children. The Guard had hesitated because they hadn’t wanted to harm children. Of course, LeMasters had counted on that, and in the next instant, the child-soldiers attacked the Royal Guard with a fury of electro forces.

  “Jer!” Loren yelled. “We’ve got to get to the palace!” He grabbed the king by the arm, pulled him to his feet, and threw the linen robe over his shoulders. Ephraim hoisted Xavier into his arms, and they sprinted toward the palace with Dublin, Lucy, and Tamarah following close behind. Xavier watched over Ephraim’s shoulder as another squad of the Royal Guard fought to keep the dark soldiers from coming further into the kingdom. They were succeeding until a small band of Warwood citizens attacked them from behind.

  “What are they doing?” Xavier cried. “Ephraim, our own people are attacking the Royal Guard!”

  The group stopped and turned just as the last of the guards loyal to the throne was wiped out in a sudden fury of electro forces from the traitorous citizens and dark soldiers alike. LeMasters’ army stormed into the kingdom like a stampede of termites, destroying anything and anyone in their path.