In Service Of The King (Book 2)

by Steven Styles

  “Are you going into town, Mother?” she asked, trying to sound pleasant. Her mother gave her a curt nod.

  “The Countess Beckenridge has been spending a good deal of time at the dressmakers in the village. Though it is a piddling town, they do have a decent notion of style and proper fabrics. I hope to see her and give her the information I have gathered. I think she may be interested to hear it.” Elizabeth did not think so, but she remained quiet.

  Mrs. Hays looked at her daughter carefully.

  “I will overlook your behavior and allow you to accompany me,” she said, taking her best bonnet from the maid; she turned to look into a mirror on the wall, setting the hat on her head and adjusting it just so. “You will need to be fitted for a new gown anyway, once we are invited. I will look over the dressmaker’s wares to see if they have anything suitable. Ah! The shops I used to frequent… to be relegated to a village dressmaker, it is too cruel.”

  Mrs. Hays sighed, turning from the mirror. “However… the Countess will be there, so we must make the most of it. Hurry along child; put on your good bonnet and the silk shawl.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Elizabeth said, giving a small curtsy because she knew her mother liked that. Her attire changed per her mother’s instruction, Elizabeth joined Mrs. Hays in the entry room, preparing to go.

  “Where is the guard from the castle?” the general’s wife said, impatiently. She tapped her fan on a small table.

  All at once, a loud knock sounded on the door. The maid timidly opened the door, revealing a tough-looking man of medium height who looked as if would be more at home on a pirate ship. He wore the deep-blue wool castle-guard uniform, with richly embroidered stitching on the tunic and a strange, curved sword strapped to his belt. He had shrewd, brown eyes and smoked a large pipe with apparent enjoyment. Elizabeth’s mother looked at the man narrowly.

  “I assume you are the guard who has kept us waiting,” she remarked, curtly. The man actually grinned, an action unusual for a servant.

  “Dunner’s the name,” the man announced, apparently unaffected by Mrs. Hay’s icy tone. “His Lordship’s Captain of the Guard; my lord send his greetings and hopes my presence will stave off any thieving hordes.”

  Out of habit, Elizabeth offered the newcomer a curtsy; her mother did not. Hearing the man was more highly connected to the mystery master of the land, Mrs. Hays did not address the man’s insolence but swept past him out the door.

  “I am glad you are here to protect us, sir,” Elizabeth said, pleasantly. “Please give our thanks to his Lordship for his kind attention.”

  Dunner smiled at the young woman; his eyes crinkled in amusement.

  “I will lassie,” he said. “Thank ye.”

  “Come Elizabeth,” Mrs. Hays called; she waited by the carriage door as Dunner and Elizabeth walked up. Instead of opening the door, the Captain of the Guard swung up to sit next to the driver.

  “Well, I never!” Mrs. Hays huffed, insulted. Dunner smoked his pipe while the driver got down and opened the door for the ladies. Elizabeth thought she saw the strange man smile but could not be certain. Sitting across from her mother, she hovered by the window, trying not to look as excited as she felt.

  No robbers bothered them along the road; the small party did not see even one soul—apart from the farmers—as they sped through the Stone Mountain estate toward Dorenvines. Coming up to the crest of the hill, Elizabeth smiled; just to the side of the estate entrance arch stood the forge, a handsome building two stories high; it looked neat and well-cared for. Smoke poured out of two chimneys and a few windows glowed with the red light of coal fires.

  Elizabeth’s eyes strained to get some glimpse of anyone inside, but no one could be seen; the carriage swept past the forge, its metal-shod wheels rattling over the paving stones towards the heart of the town. Glancing at her mother, Elizabeth perceived the woman was eager to see this countess. Shaking her head, she sat back, hoping her mother would send her on an errand of some kind.

  As expected, the Countess was at the dressmaker’s shop; as the carriage drove up, Mrs. Hays spied the noblewoman’s luxurious, curtained carriage outside, the well-uniformed footmen standing nearby.

  “Wonderful!” she said, smiling. “Now, I want you to remain in the carriage. Don’t argue with me… I know which colors are suited for you. Instruct the driver pick up this list from the market and sit quietly. The countess will send a man to get you when we are done speaking.” The carriage came to halt near the shoppe; the driver hopped down and opened the door for Mrs. Hays. Handing her daughter a few coins for the market items, she stepped out of the carriage. Donning a regal air, the General’s wife appeared a person of some importance as she walked to the dressmaker’s door.

  Leaning forward, Elizabeth knocked on the small window behind the driver; it slid open.

  “Yes miss?” Thomas asked.

  “My mother wishes to purchase these items at the market,” Elizabeth said, handing over the list through the window. “Please be so kind as to drive us there.” The driver did so; the market was not far away. Reaching a safe place to stop the carriage, the driver hopped down and stopped by the door; Elizabeth gave him the money and a small smile.

  “One of your horses appears to have a problem with his shoe,” came a muffled, gruff voice from the driver’s seat. Thomas nodded.

  “I saw it, sir,” he said, respectfully. “I would like to have the smith look at it, but I must to market. Perhaps, when we return to the Lord’s estate we can stop.”

  “I’ll take the carriage there now, lad,” the man named Dunner offered. “You run off to the market.” Listening, Elizabeth felt a small hope blossom within her; perhaps she’d be able to see Joseph after all. Thomas seemed to be glad of the help. He got down from the carriage with the market list.

  “I thank you, sir,” he said, nodding.

  “I’ll call back here for you in one hour,” Dunner said, taking up the reigns. Elizabeth felt the jolt of the carriage as the horses cantered forward; the man had not said a word about her being still inside. Biting her lip, she sat, trying to calm herself. She had not seen Joseph in many months. After a few minutes, they pulled up to the forge.

  Pulling the brake, Dunner swung down from the driver’s seat. He walked over to the forge door and rapped sharply on it.

  “Smithy!” he called, loudly. Looking at the captain, Elizabeth saw the man wore a broad smile.

  Inside the forge, Joseph hurriedly smeared handfuls of soot on himself; he covered his worn tunic with it and patted his face and arms as well. Under burlap sacks he hid the better apparel he’d taken off, as well as his sword and the thick, Shamar cloak.

  Stepping outside he spied the Hays’ carriage and smiled, pretending not to notice it. Instead, he grasped hands with Dunner in greeting.

  “How are ye, lad?” Dunner asked, looking at the sooty young man before him. “A bit more blackened than when I last saw ye…” Joseph narrowed his eyes at the man, slightly. He glanced towards the carriage but he could not see Elizabeth. Looking at Dunner he raised his eyebrows. Dunner nodded once, winking his eye and grinning.

  “Her mother’s at the dressmakers,” the aged sailor told him, speaking quietly. “The driver’s at the market. I’m to go get him in an hour.”

  His eyes fixed on the carriage, Joseph took a step towards it; his palms felt sweaty. An odd fluttering feeling filled his chest, though he could not think why. Gaining the side of the Hay’s carriage, he saw the young woman to whom he’d written so many letters to, looking very much the same as when he last saw her. Gladness filled him when she smiled; a look of real warmth radiated from her eyes.

  “Welcome to my forge,” he said, holding out his hand to help her down.

  “None of that…” Dunner said, gruffly. “Two cubits apart at all times.” Joseph shot his old friend a slightly discourteous look.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat a little.

  “My mother bid me stay in the carriage,” she said, gently. �
��Otherwise, I would gladly see the forge. It looks very well from the outside. A fine improvement over yourlast situation.” Joseph smiled at her, clasping his hands behind his back. GHe glanced at her neck.

  “I see you still wear my necklace,” he said, looking into Elizabeth’s eyes once more.The young woman touched the necklace with a smile.

  “Yes. I wear it every day. My mother does not like it; she thinks its glow is a bad omen of some kind.” Joseph chuckled at this statement.

  The smith and his guest were able to speak for many minutes, with the watchful Dunner hovering nearby. At last, the chaperon sailor indicated it was time to leave. Joseph feltan odd sense of loss well up in him as the agin sailor prepared the horses to leave. He caught Elizabeth’s eye.

  “I have been invited to the Spring Ball at Stone Mountain,” Joseph told her, suddenly. “I would like to see you there.”

  Surprisedby the information, Elizabeth looked athim curiosly.

  “You know the Lord of the Stone Mountain?” she asked, trying to hide her incredulity. The man before her was not the type to lie.

  “We are… acquainted,” Joseph answered, reluctantly. “Save me your dances, if you will.” After a momentthe young woman smiled.

  “I will,” she promised. “I would notbe ashamed to dance with you.”

  Braving any disparaging looks from Dunner Joseph swept up Elizabeth’s slender hand and kissed the back of it. Letting go, he stepped back; Dunner swung up into the seat again and promptly drove the horses in a half-circle and back out the short drive. Elizabeth waved at Joseph from the carriage window, and then she was gone.

  Looking after the carriage Joseph felt bereft of her presence, yet heartened at the same time. Clearly, her regard for him had not lessened. Heading back into his forge, he washed his arms and face quickly and changed into the more suitable clothes. Walking to the stable, he untied Belator and mounted quickly. With a singular purpose, the young man rode swiftly away from the town, cutting across his land swiftly; he headed away from the more familiar paths, towards the small house of his new estate Steward.

  General Hays heard a horse ride up into the yard from within his study; standing, he waited for a knock on the front door. The servant opened the door and spoke with the person outside. Hays looked up as his manservant opened his study door.

  “There is a Joseph Asher of Rishown to see you, sir,” he said, stepping aside.

  At these words General Hays stood up, his face dressed in amazement. Indeed, the man entering his study was the self-same blacksmith he’d seen a year ago, in his office at the fort; the sword-fighting smith who’d been cleared of damning charges and released from his care… by the order of the King, himself. The young man seemed unchanged, and regarded the general with steady, brown eyes.

  “Joseph Asher?” the General managed to say. “Why are you here?”

  “I am come to speak with you, sir,” Joseph answered him calmly. The general seemed to recover his manners somewhat and offered a half-smile.

  “Forgive me, Joseph. Please come in. Sit down. I am merely surprised to see you.”

  Joseph sat on the chair opposite the general’s. Hays sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on the serious young man in front of him.

  “I am curious what happened to you since we last met,” the general said, carefully. He did not fear Joseph would harm him, but rather wondered at the lengths the King had gone to watch over him.

  “The king had a commission for me to perform,” Joseph replied, matching the general’s gaze. “I was to make new swords for the Shamar.” General Hays’ eyebrows rose, slightly.

  “Like the one you showed me?” Joseph nodded, once. Hays looked at him with a mixture of wonder and suspicion. “How come you by Dorenvines?” he asked, curious.

  “I am the smith here.”

  Hays smiled again; his face held a mild look of admiration.

  “The forge by the Stone Mountain gate?” he asked, rubbing his chin. “I have marked it, a good building.”

  Joseph took out a small, fine leather sack from his tunic; he laid it on the desk, though covered by his hand. Hays’ eye went to it, then back up at Joseph.

  “What is that?” the general asked. Joseph took a deep breath, exuding a calm he did not feel.

  “A bride price,” he said, gravely. “I have come to ask you for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.”

  Hays’ eyes grew wide. At first, he looked as though he would object… but instead, he remained quiet some moments. Feeling his nerves were about to burst, Joseph saw the general’s eyes slide down to the bag again.

  “May I?” Hays asked, indicating the bag. Joseph opened it and spilled out many pieces of pure, newly minted silver; Hays took one piece and looked at it, glanced at Joseph.

  “The king must have paid you well for those swords,” he remarked, placing the coin back in the pile. Joseph smiled.

  “He did,” he replied, watching Hays carefully. “I offer this, or I will give you a third of all I own.” Hays did not seem to hear this, and picked up another coin.

  “This must be at least five year’s pay,” the general commented.

  “More or less,” Joseph told him. “Again, I offer this, or a third of all I own, whichever you choose.” Slowly, the general reached for the bag and put the coins back in, counting to himself. It was a nice little sum, certainly three times more than he now possessed. The general weighed the sack in his hand, deep in thought.

  A knock came at the study door; a servant came in, with Harold behind him. Harold looked momentarily surprised to see Joseph sitting there but recovered nicely.

  “Harold! Come in… you remember Joseph Asher of Rishown?” Joseph fought hard to keep his countenance straight. Harold played his part meticulously. He nodded in his polite way, standing by the general’s desk.

  “I do, sir,” he said, smiling at Joseph. “How nice to see you again, young Asher.” Joseph grinned.

  “Likewise, Harold,” he returned.

  “Joseph is the blacksmith in the village,” Hays continued, still holding the sack of coins. “He has just asked me for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.”

  Harold’s eyebrows rose a little; he smiled.

  “Indeed, sir?” he said. Hays grinned, putting the sack on his desk, the coins clinked within making their presence known.

  “Yes. He’s offered me all this silver as a bride-price, or a third of all he owns.” A brief look of surpise flitted over Harold’s face, but still, he said nothing. “This is five year’s pay, at least,” Hays continued. He looked up at his former servant. “You were always good with figures, Harold,” he said, “Which would you take?”

  The man thought for several moments.

  “It is hard to put a price on such a kind, lovely girl,” he said, at last. “It reminds me of when I offered all my savings so long ago for my own sweet wife, God rest her soul. My father used to tell me that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

  The general sat for some time, his brows drawn in a deep line. Eventually, he took up the bag again, a wide smaile dressing hsi features.

  “Joseph… you are a fine young man,” he said, smiling. “In light of this great token, I’d be honored to have you for my son-in-law.” Looking at the manservant, he pointed out the study door. “Bring wine! We’ll drink to this happy union”

  Striving to remain composed Joseph felt great sense of relief wash over him nonetheless. Harold cleared his throat.

  “Mrs. Hays also agrees?” he inquired. General Hays looked uncomfortable for a moment, but quickly hid it in a smile.

  “I’ll speak with her,” said he. “If Elizabeth will have you Joseph, then I accept your offer.”

  Standing, Joseph took the general’s hand in a firm grip. They shook on the bargain and drank a small glass of wine, Even Harold had a glass and gave his congratulations to Joseph. The general saw his future son-in-law out and sent him off with many well-wishes, still holding onto the sack of silver coins.

  Li
fting his hand in farewell, Joseph rode away, returning to the relative calm of his forge.

  EIGHT

  Some hours after Mrs. Hays and Elizabeth returned to their residence, Elizabeth heard a knock on her door. Hiding her unfinished letter to Joseph in a hidden compartment of her desk, she rose and opened her door. Thomas, their manservant, stood just outside it.

  “Your father wishes to see you in his study, miss,” he said. Nodding, Elizabeth closed her door and followed the man. Her father seemed to be expecting her and ushered her in the room, closing the door behind them, firmly. Elizabeth felt momentarily afraid that he’d somehow heard of her speaking with Joseph that day.

  “You called me, father?” she asked, attempting to sound calm.

  General Hays nodded, sitting down at his desk.

  “Yes, yes… please sit, my dear,” he said, indicating a nearby chair. Elizabeth obeyed, sitting straight and fixing her eyes upon her father’s face. The general appeared to study her face intently, his countenance dressed in a strange mixture of happiness and melancholy.

  “Elizabeth…” he said, at last. “…today, a young man came here and gave me a bride-price for you; he asked me to give you to him for a wife.” Astonished at this news, Elizabeth forced down a wild hope that Joseph was this young man. The general paused several moments. “Do you recall a young man by the name of Joseph of Rishown?”

  The immediate smile present on his daughter’s face told Hays that she did.

  “I do,” Elizabeth said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “He gave you a bride-price? He is not rich, father. It must have been very little.”

  “Not so little,” her father said, fetching out a sack from his desk drawer. He let it fall, the coins inside clinking as it thumped onto the desk. “At least five year’s pay; two-hundred and sixty pieces of new-minted silver.”

  Elizabeth felt dazed at her father’s words; she glanced from the bag to her father; he seemed perfectly in earnest. Slowly, her smile returned.

  “Have you accepted his offer, father?” she inquired, quietly. Smiling a little, Hays leaned forward, his hands clasped before him on the desk.