In Service Of The King (Book 2)

by Steven Styles

  “Make certain all the dogs in the sector are destroyed,” Hezekiah said, gravely. “Once they eat human flesh, they are fit for nothing.” The general nodded.

  “My men report from fortress Morronai,” Fitz-Raden said, still standing tall. “There is no sight of Kingdom soldiers within it, only priest guards. They’ve drawn up the bridge and will not respond to any communication. We surrounded it in the early morning hours and captured a high-ranking guard. We… persuaded him to give us information.”

  Dunner gave a short laugh.

  “Good man…” the aging sailor said, smiling.

  “We gathered from him two things: there are four thousand armed men within, even barbarian mercenaries, of you can believe it, sir.” Hezekiah nodded.

  “I can,” said he. “What else did he say?”

  “That Bishop Sytel arrived there four days ago,” Fitz-Raden replied. “He is there still.”

  At this, Hezekiah sat up with a slight smile.

  “Excellent, general,” he praised. “Keep what men you need in the eastern sector, but send as many as you can spare to Morronai, along with the heavy bombardment carts from Fort Angelo. I will travel to Morronai directly.” At this, Fitz-Raden bowed and strode from the dining hall.

  Dunner puffed on his pipe in a thoughtful manner for some moments.

  “Sytel’s no fool,” he said, looking into the fire. “Morronai’s a strong fortress. Twill be a difficult siege, even for us.”

  “It will indeed,” Hezekiah said; turning, he beckoned to a nearby monk. “Brother, our horses should be saddled and watered as soon as possible, if you please,” he asked. The monk nodded and hurried from the room. “A siege such as I have not fought in decades,” he said, looking at Dunner. “The fortress sits up on the foothills, backed by cliffs; the moat is wide. We will need trebuchets and…”

  The Marshal stopped speaking; following Hezekiah’s gaze, Joseph looked at the doorway. Jack Rhine hovered there, appearing uncertain if he should come in.

  “Come in,” Hezekiah said, beckoning to him. “Sit and speak with us a moment.” The thin man did so, sitting on the bench with Dunner.

  “Is your family rested?” the aging sailor asked, gruffly. Joseph saw that his old friend was squinting a bit more than usual. Smiling, the young lord turned his attention to the men who’d helped them in the tunnel.

  Jack Rhine seemed unable to reply at first.

  “You may speak freely here, Jack,” Joseph told him, kindly. “You have nothing to fear from us; we are Kingsmen.” Jack nodded at this.

  “I figured as much. My family is resting now, thank you, sir,” he said, to Dunner. “It is… hard for me to see them so, but they are safe. You have my thanks, admiral, and to your men as well.”

  Dunner waved away the man’s words with a grin.

  “None of that, lad,” the aging sailor said; humor twinkled in his eyes. “That was canny of ye, changin’ garb with the mongrel’s guard! Very impressive.”

  “Indeed,” Joseph said, observing Jack from across the table. “Why was Bishop Ostene holding your family?” Jack’s face darkened at the mention of the priest.

  “I was his gardener,” he said, quietly. “I tended the cathedral gardens and I have been there but three months. I stumbled upon the tunnel entrance by mistake, and saw the food stored there.” He met Joseph’s gaze with an angry glare. “It made my blood boil, sir, seeing all that food there, just spoiling and the people above starving like they were! Even my own family was having a hard time of it. I got out as we did last night and went to find the magistrate.”

  Hezekiah mulled over this information a moment.

  “I take it the man did not believe you,” he stated, rubbing a thumb through his beard. Jack shook his head.

  “No, sir,” the man said, nodding. A monk came by setting a steaming plate of food in front of the man. Jack looked at it with frank appreciation but did not touch it.

  “Eat, young man,” Rubar said, kindly. “Your family will be fed once they wake.” Smiling, Jack Rhine did as he was told; he gave more of his story as he ate.

  “I must have been seen going out of the tunnels,” he told the Shamar. “When I got back home from the magistrate, the house was in disarray and my family gone. I did not know whom to turn to, so I tried to get them out myself. The bishop labeled me a bread thief and had me beaten, and thrown in the brig. I managed to get away once but they caught me again. They kept asking me what I’d seen, and saying I’d betrayed my service and my master, Bishop Sytel…”

  All three Shamar men looked up at these last words.

  “You were in the service of Sytel?” Hezekiah asked, leaning forward. Jack nodded, and took a drink of ale.

  “I was his gardener, these last four years,” the man said, continuing to eat. “He gifted my service to Bishop Ostene when his gardener died. I tended the yard at Morronai.” Dunner and Hezekiah exchanged a grin.

  “Tell us what you know of the fortress,” Joseph stated, quietly. “We will lay siege to it this day.” Chewing a piece of bread, Jack looked the young lord for a moment.

  “You could go in through the tunnels,” he said. “There are two; it would be easier than breaching the walls.” Hezekiah smiled, then laughed.

  “Ah… bless Styel’s fear of cave-ins…” he said, shaking his head. “He cut tunnels under the fortress.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jack said, returning to his food. “He always uses tunnels. Says they are one of civilizations few good inventions.”

  “You’ve been in the tunnels beneath Morronai?” Dunner asked, blinking.

  Jack Rhine shook his head.

  “No, sir,” replied. “I have heard of them and know where they come out; one in the cliff pass, above the fortress, and the other down by the wooded dell; I’ve heard the men speak of the lower especially; you can follow the creek in to the tunnel entrance.”

  Listening to the man’s tale, Hezekiah rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

  “I possess detailed maps of the area at my manor,” he said, standing up. “It is not far from here. Jack Rhine, I ask you accompany us to Morronai.” The young gardener stopped eating and looked up at the Marshal with consternation.

  “Do not be troubled, Jack,” Hezekiah continued. “We will not let harm come to you.”

  “It is not myself I worry for, sir,” Jack responded, respectfully. “I am loath to leave my family.” Rubar stood up, clapping an encouraging hand on Jack Rhine’s shoulder.

  “Go, young man,” the bishop said. “They will be safe here; I give you my word. My own physician and the sisters will see to their needs.” At this, Jack appeared somewhat relieved and nodded his thanks. Hezekiah stood up, taking up his satchel.

  “We must make haste,” he said, gravely. “We cannot know whether Sytel may use the tunnels now or wait. Let us not allow him slither away.”

  “Not on my watch!” Dunner said, wrathfully. “Though the King wants to try him at court, I wish nothing else than to strike the viper’s head from his body!”

  Outside the hall Joseph led Belator out of the stables and into the cobbled yard. The black horse appeared anxious to get going; smiling, Joseph patted the strong sides of his mount, eager to get to the battle himself. It was not so much the fight which drove him to go but the prospect of stamping this hidden evil from the land with one, mighty blow. A monk brought a horse for Jack, who mounted it quickly. Turning to look at Rubar, Jack saw the bishop nod; spurring on his horse, he followed Hezekiah and Dunner, Joseph riding close behind. The unit of soldiers from the night before accompanied their Marshal and his fellows through the waking streets of Angelo, and into a affluent neighborhood of grand estates.

  Hezekiah’s estate stood on a paved avenue, situated far back from sight; the manor-house did not match the other stately mansions nearby, with their cut lawns and grand, polished edifices The building itself was almost completely hidden from the road by a grove of trees in the middle of a wide, green field of flowing grasses. Once they rode
through the trees the manor stood before them, impressive in its size, yet quite plain in decoration.

  No servants came out to attend them as they cantered by the entrance. Hezekiah led the men back to his stables, a simple low building neatly kept. A single, aging stable hand came out from within and took their horses.

  “Good day Mathews,” Hezekiah greeted the man. “Just a little water and feed, if you will. We leave again in less than an hour.” The servant nodded at this, taking his master’s reins gently. Hezekiah ordered his unit to wait without the house and led his fellow Shamar and Jack Rhine over to the main entrance.

  The simplicity of Hezekiah’s manor surprised his guests; no furniture of any kind sat in the large, echoing rooms; no rugs lay upon the floor; no tapestries hung on the walls. The floors were clean and swept, however, and free of cobwebs. Hezekiah appeared unconcerned about the emptiness of the rooms; he strode through the grand, central hall with echoing steps. The small party passed two wide, staircases but did not go up them. After leading his fellows down a long, narrow corridor Hezekiah opened a small door at the end and ushered them through.

  At one time the room appeared to have been used as a study. Books lined two of the walls; a large desk took up one corner. Rolled parchments and maps lay neatly on shelves along another entire wall and looked to have been collected over many years. By the fireplace a low cot stood, complete with woolen military blankets folded upon it. A small chair and table sat nearby with a single lamp. It was a simple room for a Kingdom province marshal to posses.

  Hezekiah walked to his wall of papers and selected first one scroll, then another. On the table, he spread these out with a flourish and lit the lamp. Jack stood by along with the others, looking at the parchment maps. One of them clearly showed a fortress diagram, with detailed measurements and interiors levels. The other was a regional map, painstakingly drawn to include hills, streams and even rock outcroppings.

  Scrutinizing the second map Jack Rhine put his finger upon it, a little above the fortress.

  “The first tunnel entrance is here, or very close,” he said, with certainly. “The guards said it was dug in the shadow of the rock on the other side of the ridge from the fortress. A narrow goat trail falls from it, winding through the cliffs; it leads down to an abandoned field.”

  “How far is that entrance from the road?” Joseph asked, studying the map himself.

  “Quite far, sir,” Jack responded. “The other tunnel entrance is far more accessible.”He pointed on the other side of the fortress, within a wooded glade, by a creek. “‘Tis but fifty yards from the road.”

  Hezekiah looked at Joseph.

  “Well, Lord Asher…” he said, watching the younger man’s face. “What is our best course of action?” At the sound of the nobleman’s title, Jack looked surprised and glanced over at Joseph with new respect. Dunner stood silently puffing his pipe, apparently waiting as well. Joseph laid his finger on the pass entrance.

  “That is where I would go,” he stated. “By now, the road is already swarming with soldiers.” Hezekiah nodded.

  “He’d be a fool to take the first tunnel road with orders for his arrest circulating,” the marshal agreed. Joseph took out his daggers, laying them on the fortress map, pointing inward along one wall.

  “Make your attack here in front; bombard the fort fiercely, without letup,” the young lord advised. “If he has not left already such action will force Sytel to flee. Have men at both entrances, just to make certain he does not slip past us.”

  “Well done, lad….” Dunner said, grinning. “I’ll be up at the pass, with you.” He slapped his hands together and rubbed them with vigor. “Now, if Brother Hezekiah has not also sold his armament, we can prepare for battle!”

  Marshal Walters snorted.

  “I did not sell my furnishings,” he said, coldly. “My wife keeps to the floors above; what she did not take, I gave away.” He fixed Dunner with a calm glare. “I have left my armory well-stocked, even for a salty old sailor to call ‘satisfactory’.” Dunner grinned at his friend’s terse words and nodded.

  The men left soon after, their horses a little more burdened with bundles of armor, carefully wrapped in woolen blankets and tied onto the backs of the saddles. Extra swords and daggers were passed out, stowed away in saddlebags. Mathews, the stable-hand, brought out satchels of food from the kitchen and the men rode off, making haste to move through the city. It was a four-hour hard ride to the bishop’s fortress.

  FORTRESS MORRONAI proved an impressive sight as they neared it. The main building extended up high above the valley floor; it appeared built to resemble a cathedral. This structure was surrounded with a 20-foot stone wall and a wide moat.

  The roads and fields all around the fortress were choked with blue-uniformed Kingdom soldiers. Men marched in units, directed with precision to waiting areas for placement Already the troops closest to the fort were under fire from the fortress priest’s archers and light bombardment. A line of trebuchets and ballistas stood out of range of the fortress archers, many of them already assembled.

  Hezekiah spied the headquarter tent banner and rode towards it. Showing his signet ring, he gained access to the tent. Two generals stood within, as well as General Fitz-Raden. The men stood straight and saluted as Hezekiah approached them. Joseph and Dunner followed, bringing Jack Rhine with them. The white tent above allowed the noonday light in; the generals stood by a table covered with maps; nearby, two scribes were busy writing messages.

  “Marshal…” one general said, politely. “We’ve been reviewing tactics for breaching the wall. I suggest we begin digging the trenches, and tunnel under the…”

  “I thank you general for your excellent advice…” Hezekiah said, nodding at the man. “However, we have but one course of action. Pull back the men and bombard the southern wall. Fling everything we have at it and do not cease; order the archers to pick off any along the wall, especially those manning the bombardment as well as the enemy archers.” The general looked surprised at the change in orders, but did not protest.

  Hezekiah grinned.

  “I am not mad, gentlemen,” he said, beckoning to Jack. “Conveniently, two tunnels into the fort exist already. This man will lead myself, my unit and two companies to one entrance; the other must be guarded similarly, but not entered. Our enemies will likely try to use them as an escape, once the bombardment begins.”

  Another general cleared his throat.

  “Sir, I must tell you… the men are unsettled,” he said. “These are priest guards that we attack… and priests are reported to be within.”

  Hezekiah fixed the man with a hard look.

  “They are traitors,” he said, simply. “I have orders from the King for Sytel’s arrest. There is no place for weak-kneed politics here. Once the walls are breached with bombardment, kill all who resist and arrest any priests, guards or priests assistants within. All documents discovered will remain unopened and delivered to me at once.” The general in front of him bowed and tuned to direct his men.

  “The trail is but a half an hour’s walk around the hillside, sir,” Jack Rhine said to Hezekiah. “Though it may take some time to get so many men to it; the trail can only be traversed on foot.” The marshal nodded, beckoning Fitz-Raden over.

  “Have the battalions follow this creek into the wooden glen,” he ordered, pointing at the map on the table. “Give them mounts for chase and archers as well; a tunnel entrance is located near here… if armed men emerge from the entrance, shoot them down. Arrest anyone who lays down arms, regardless of their rank or ‘position’.” The general nodded and saluted; stepping around the gray-cloaked men, Fitz-Raden hurried from the tent.

  “We’ll need a unit of archers,” Joseph said, quietly. “Longbowmen, if possible.” Hezekiah nodded.

  The goat trail Jack told them of was not difficult to find; it wound up the craggy hillside over the ridge from the fort, heading into the pass. No guards or barbarians could be seen, nor was there evid
ence of a cart. Leaving the mounted men at the base of the hill, Hezekiah ordered silence and briefed his men quickly. Stealthily, five-hundred kingdom soldiers and two score archers crept from rock to rock, moving up the trail with caution.

  Reaching the crest of a small hill, Hezekiah, Dunner and Joseph crawled forward on their bellies to peer down into the cliff pass. Fifty yards away, a small, green dell stood below them, by the rock wall of the pass; the goat trail led through a narrow gorge, through the grassy dell and appeared to end at the rock-face. A shadow fell across the rock. Right by the shadowed entrance, ten well-armed priest guards stood, as if waiting. Despite their weapons, they seemed unconcerned by the sounds of the siege, on the other side of the ridge. Sharp cracks of bombardment could be heard drifting up from the fort.

  “Once they realize the wall is breached, they will pour out these entrances,” Hezekiah said, looking around. “It is such a confined space. Those guards will have nowhere to run. We could not ask for a better vantage point than this…”

  “One has a warning horn,” Dunner said, using his spyglass. “We should take him first.” Joseph borrowed the glass a moment.

  “Leave him to me,” he said. “The archers will be best used here; I will remain with them.”

  “I’ll be down there…” Dunner said, narrowing his gaze at the men in the glade. “… carving my way through the barbarian horde.” Hezekiah nodded.

  “I will join Dunner and the rest of the men,” he said. “We cannot know how many Sytel will send in front of him.” Joseph clasped hands briefly with Dunner and Hezekiah.

  “Blessed be Adonai, my strength,” Hezekiah said, lifting his face to the sky, “which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to battle…”

  “Amen,” the Shamar said, together. Hezekiah and Dunner moved back, heading down the rocks to the trail once more.

  The archers crawled forward over the hill some moments later.

  “Which among you has the keenest eye?” Joseph asked of them quietly. Huddled on the hillside, the men grinned and looked at each other. An older archer snorted.