In Service Of The King (Book 2)

by Steven Styles

  After resting for a few hours, Joseph said farewell to Hezekiah and Dunner. Both men clasped his hand heartily. The young lord also took his leave also of Tyrus.

  “I will see you at the end of summer, Lord Asher,” the gray-eyed captain said to him. “If I am invited to Stone Mountain for the wedding, that is.” Joseph smiled.

  “Here… I have not received an invitation, either!” Dunner grumbled, puffing his pipe.

  “Neither have I,” Hezekiah said, smiling. Joseph snorted.

  “First, brothers… I must go see if she will yet have me,” he stated.

  The men found his statement highly amusing. Joseph’s habitual diffidence did not fool his fellows. He braved their light mockery as the men assisted him to mount his great-black steed. Nodding at the Shamar Joseph spurred Belator onward, towards home.

  SIXTEEN

  Lord Asher’s returned to his estate without ceremony. News of his impending arrival, however, set his servants into a frenzy of preparation. The report of his return reached Elizabeth, but news that Joseph had been wounded abated her gladness. Forester Reeves sent for a physician from Dorenvines while she paced her chamber floor.

  As soon as the young lord was situated in his room to further recover, he sent for Forester Reeves. The aging steward came in with the physician, closing the fine chamber doors behind him.

  “How is she?” Joseph asked, immediately. “Is she well? Is she angry with me?” The young’s lord’s concern amused his steward greatly, though he man hid it well.

  “She is well… now,” Reeves said, allowing his voice to seem grave. He stood by the young lord’s bedside; he watched as the doctor clipped away the soiled bandaged on Joseph’s shoulder. “For several days…” Reeves continued, “We were worried for her; she wept a great deal; she was clearly grieved at being promised to a stranger, and then to be abandoned by her family…”

  Joseph’s face fell; gloom overtook his expression. He had not wished to cause Elizabeth anguish. Reeves kept a smile from his face as he continued speaking.

  “She behaved admirably, though, my lord, when the King spoke with her.”

  Joseph looked up at Reeves in shock.

  “The King came here?” he asked, incredulously. The steward smiled and nodded.

  “Indeed, my lord,” the man replied. “In response to a request you made of him to let the young lady know your true identity. He came to deliver the message personally.” Joseph thought about this for several seconds; he grimaced as the physician pressed on the wound. No contamination could be seen and the doctor nodded, well pleased.

  “Was she… much angered with me?” Joseph asked again, looking up at Reeves. The older man cleared his throat.

  “She seemed… thoughtful, my lord,” he stated. “She gave me this letter for you, once we heard of your return.” He held out a neat, square parchment; it was folded and sealed. Taking it gingerly with one hand, Joseph looked at it a moment.

  “What did the King say to her?” he asked, still looking at the note. Reeves hid a smile away.

  “No one but she knows that,” he said, quietly. “The king told me, however, that you have chosen a fine young lady of character for your bride.”

  Joseph looked slightly relieved at this. “If I may sir, my wife has some experience with the flowers and would be honored to aid your bride in decorating the castle for the ceremony.”

  “Yes… of course,” Joseph said, slowly unfolding the small letter in his hand. The doctor finished the dressing and bowed to the lord. Joseph thanked him and directed Reeves to give the man pay as well as an extra silver coin for his trouble. The men left the chamber, leaving Lord Asher to read his letter. After a few lines, Joseph’s face relaxed; he smiled and read the letter again.

  AIDAN SIMMS looked up as the door of his offices opened. His assistant came in, closing the door behind him. Early summer sunshine streamed through the windows into the room, lighting the neat compartments of rolled parchment along the walls.

  “There is a man here to see you sir,” the assistant said, quietly. “A General Octavian Hays.” The solicitor put down his quill at once.

  “Send him in,” he instructed, placing the top back on the inkwell.

  General Hays seemed a subdued man as he came into the office; he held his officer’s hat on his arm. The solicitor stood and nodded at the man in his office.

  “General,” he said, politely. “Please sit down.” Hays did so slowly, balancing his plumed cap on his knee.

  The man did not speak right away; the aging general’s brow was drawn with worry as if he carried with him a weighty burden.

  “I have come to… speak to you of the contract between the Lord of the Stone Mountain and myself. I Fear I must beg his pardon,” the general said, heavily.

  After many years as a solicitor, Simms had seen and heard things which would surprise most citizens. An apology from a General was rare. Simms offered the man a glass of wine, but Hays refused.

  “Please speak freely, General,” Simms said, sitting back in his chair. Clearing his throat, Hays met the man’s gaze.

  “I spoke with haste to you, at the ball,” he said, at last. “I am willing to bear the punishment of my actions. My daughter Elizabeth was indeed attached in engagement to another; if it were her choice, she would be still.”

  The solicitor looked at Octavian Hays for a long time.

  “Engaged to whom?” the man asked, quietly. General Hays let out a long breath.

  “The blacksmith of Dorenvines,” he said, slowly. “Joseph Asher. I accepted his bride-price for Elizabeth some weeks before his Lordship asked for her.” Simms nodded, slowly.

  “I can speak for his Lordship, that he will want to meet with you on this matter,” the solicitor said, gravely. “He will be in town on the morrow. When he is in town, he takes his noonday meal at the Iron Gate Inn.”

  At this, Hays nodded and cleared his throat again.

  “I will be there, “the man said, standing up. “And I shall bring his lordship’s chest of gold, should he wish to break our contract.” Aidan Simms smiled, as if he found the idea amusing.

  “Good day, General,” he said, standing up. Hays nodded and made his way out of the room.

  THE MAIN room of the Iron Gate was popular among the townsfolk for taking a meal, or simply having ale and conversation. The long, low room boasted many windows and a fine prospect ofthe town square. Rounded, wooden tables crowded the space with townsfolk and travelers occupying almost every chair. Voices rose in the air as serving women passed around baskets of bread and platters of food. One table in the center of the room, however, stood nearly empty. Aidan Simms and Harold sat there, waiting, with two empty chairs beside them.

  Octavian Hays ducked through the Inn door some moments alter; he spied Harold quickly in the crowd of unknown patrons. Making his way over to the table, the general nodded politely at the steward and solicitor.

  “My lord will be a few moments,” Simms told him. “Please sit down.” The general did, his plumed hat resting on the tabletop.

  In the corner of the long room, Joseph watched Hays as the man waited for his arrival. The general’s face appeared remarkably gray in hue; he moved frequently, as if unable to keep still for long. The man had not spied him, but glanced often towards the inn door. Reaching into his tunic Joseph took out a small, leather pouch and undid the cord binding the bundle closed.

  Nervousness welled up in General Hays like a growing spring; he masked it well and waited along with the silent solicitor. Harold asked after his servants and the new estate, to which the general could but answer simply. He had not the heart for conversation. In the corner, a tall man stood and walked towards their table; the movement of the man was familiar and drew Hays’ attention. Joseph Asher looked down at the general, standing on the other side of the table. The general looked almost ill, but said nothing, unable to look away from the young blacksmith’s face.

  Extending his hand Joseph kept his gaze on the general;
lowering his palm to the center of the table, he left an object on the wooden surface and turned away. Staring after Joseph’s retreating form, Hays looked down at the table. A gold signet ring lay there, glinting in the dim light. The general stared at it in shock, then looked up at Simms and Harold. Reaching out slowly, Hays picked up the ring and turned it over in his hand, his face dressed in unbelief; it was his own signet ring.

  “Lord Asher of the Stone Mountain wishes to know whether or not the contract will stand,” the solicitor stated, quietly. General Hays looked up at the man, his words momentarily stolen away.

  SEVENTEEN

  The week before his wedding Joseph kept busy in his rooms or riding across his land on Belator. In concordance with Kingdom tradition he did not speak to his bride for the entire week previous to their wedding. From his balcony, however, he’d catch small glimpses of Elizabeth, far below in the flower garden, either walking alone or accompanied by Mrs. Reeves. She made a lovely vision—picking flowers below—with the sun in her hair. Mrs. Reeves appeared to be instructing her in what to plant and where.

  Joseph soon grew weary of riding; after he’d visited each corner of his land the young lord fell back to his trade for comfort. He had no special projects on which to toil but hammering the glowing metal brought to him a sense of calm and occupied his hands.

  The arrival of Joseph’s family proved a pleasnt distraction. Joseph sent his own carriage along with a letter to his mother and her husband, the baker. Joseph’s mother found her son much altered but saw a maturity in his calm countenance which pleased her. After a few hours of walking around the castle in awe, the woman and her husband began to relax a little, especially when they met Elizabeth in the garden. The young woman proved well-bred but very polite to them. Harold showed the visitors to a large guest chamber on the second floor and brought tailors up to fit the couple for new wedding clothes, as was custom. They spent much time sitting on the grand balcony, looking at the waters of the great bay, talking with Joseph now and again when he was free to speak.

  Another carriage arrived the day before the wedding. At Joseph’s request, Bishop Rubar sent Jack Rhine and his young family to the estate of the Stone Mountain. The Bishop’s carriage pulled up in the drive and the man himself emerged as Lord Asher came down the steps.

  “A lovely estate!” Rubar said, jovially. “Truly a peaceful setting, this castle…” The balding bishop stood on the white-stone drive near the fountain, looking around appreciatively. “The valley is spectacular… the farms are all ready for harvest. ‘Tis quite a sight.”

  Joseph smiled as he greeted the man. Behind the bishop two young faces peered out of the carriage window at him, and then up at the grand edifice of the castle. Jack Rhine exited the carriage, helping his wife down; his boys stayed in the carriage wearing expressions of awe. The family appeared much improved in health and wore new clothes.

  “I am glad you have been so well cared for,” Joseph said. “Welcome to my home.” Mrs. Rhine smiled and nodded, her husband even more so.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Jack said, letting out a long breath. “And thank you for the position. Though the Bishop has been very kind… I admit I was glad to leave Angelo.”

  “Nonsense…” Rubar said, smiling. “Of course you’d want to start afresh somewhere else.” Rubar turned to address Joseph. “You’ve hired a skilled gardener. The boy did wonders with my herb garden. It will flourish for some time to come.”

  “Please, come with me,” Joseph said, walking by the fountain. “My former estate steward has retired to the King’s city.”

  Jack’s boys finally bounded out of the carriage and followed Lord Asher; the lads looked at the bubbling water in the fountain with interest, even dipping their small hands into the clear water, delighted smiles dressing their faces. “Steward Harold replaces him,” Joseph continued. “He has no family and resides near the castle. The steward cottage is located a little ways from here, on the bluff overlooking the bay; it will serve well for my new estate steward and his family. There is furniture within already, food and bedding. Just give your list to Harold on market day for fresh supplies.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Jack said, regarding the nobleman with gratitude. “I will keep your lands lush, to the best of my ability. The vineyard looks in need of pruning, I noted, on the drive up.” Joseph smiled, pleased at the man’s frank speech.

  After beholding the pretty cottage Mrs. Rhine became overcome with emotion for some moments; it had been long vacated by Elizabeth’s parents but newly furnished for the young family. The young boys chased each other around the green yard, playing tag around the huge tree trunks. Jack put his arm around his wife’s shoulders wiping away a tear from her cheek with his hand. Joseph left them to explore their new home by themselves, directing his servants to bring over the gardener’s satchels and luggage.

  Rubar walked him back to the carriage with him, smiling.

  “A grand thing you did for them, Lord Asher,” the man said, pleased. Joseph shrugged, a little.

  “Valiant men are rare,” he said, quietly. “Besides, with Harold busy with castle affairs, I needed a good estate steward.” Bishop Rubar chuckled under his breath. The young Lord rode with him back to the castle; he directed Harold to show the Bishop to a comfortable guest chamber.

  In preparation for the wedding at Stone Mountain, white-linen banners hung from the ballroom walls, with Lord Asher’s crest embroidered upon them. The many potted plants on the grand balcony sat arrayed already in flowers of every color; the servants arranged these along the edge of the balcony and erected a wide, wooden arch right against the railing. Under Jack’s direction, a flowering vine was trained up the arch; after some days it sprouted white, trumpet-shaped blossoms that gave off a light, sweet scent.

  The servants seemed to understand well that despite wedding of a nobleman, both the bride and groom preferred simple things over the extravagant. Some nods to formality were necessary, however; Joseph was obliged to be fitted for wedding clothes. After listening to his cook and Mrs. Reeves loudly debate what food should be served at the wedding feast, Lord Asher directed them to ask Elizabeth. His fiancées’ daily letter were his only source of respite for the entire week; his replies were lengthy and the frequent notes back and forth as the day approached caused Harold to complain of being kept too much from his duties.

  THE WEDDING day dawned cold at first but warmed well as the sun rose.

  Joseph stood on his chamber balcony, watching the water of the great bay dance with the glimmering light. It seemed hard to remember his many hardships looking on such a view, on his own land… and on his wedding day.

  Downstairs—on the grand balcony—servants busily strung up white, tapered awnings, fastened above the wall of windows to drape downward, and hook onto the tops of tall poles lashed to the balcony railing. Other servants wound colorful flower garlands up the poles, under Mrs. Reeves’ watchful direction. Joseph entered his chamber once more, feeling an odd sense of nervousness overwhelm him. Walking over to his desk he lifted some parchments and shuffled them around, not really interested in reading.

  A knock came at the chamber door.

  “Enter,” Joseph said, not turning around. Harold came in the room, bearing a breakfast tray; he was followed by a short, balding man holding a set of clothes carefully across his arms.

  “My lord, a good morning to you,” Harold said, grinning. “The tailor’s assistant has come to deliver the wedding clothes… and make certain they have not mistaken the measurements.”

  With a nod, Joseph stepped behind a wooden dressing screen; Harold passed over the clothes, one piece at a time. It certainly was the finest suit Joseph had ever possessed: fine rubbed-leather breeches dyed a rich brown, a light beige linen tunic and a brown corded jacket with gold buttons down the front and on the sleeves. New rubbed-leather boots with gold clasps accompanied it. Joseph buckled on his sword with his finest belt and felt far more lordly thus attired. Harold nodded with ap
proval as Joseph stepped out.

  “You look to be a nobleman, sir,” the steward said, gravely. Joseph smiled a little at this.

  The tailor scrutinized the groom judiciously.

  “If I may say, my lord, it is not customary for nobleman to go about bareheaded like a peasant, especially on his wedding day,” the man said, plaintively. “I have a few feathered caps… ”

  Joseph shook his head, holding up one hand.

  “No,” he stated, simply. “Thank your master for his fine work. Harold, see he is paid.” Standing nearby, Harold smiled. It appeared to him that Lord Asher had learned much about being a nobleman; unlike most, they were able to say ‘nay’ when most were obliged to comply with social demands. The tailor’s assistant bowed a little and exited the chamber.

  As soon as the man was gone Joseph glanced at Harold, habitually looking at the man’s hand. Reaching in a leather pouch at his wide, Harold produced a note from Elizabeth. Joseph took it with a grin.

  “If I may, my lord,” Harold began, “I am glad that after today I will be able to resume my duties as steward, and give over being the messenger lad,” At this, Joseph snorted; he opened the note from his bride.

  “I will be down in a few moments,” he said, focusing on the light cursive on the parchment. Harold let himself out of the chamber, a smile dressing his features.

  Elizabeth stood in the guest room in the steward’s cottage. The white gown she wore appeared simple but was cut of costly materials; Mrs. Reeves told her the fabric had come from a far-off land across the sea; it shone in the morning light and felt soft to the touch. She wanted no jewels or pearls in her hair, only a wreath of white rosebuds. Around her neck hung the precious necklace Joseph had made and given her in Khilar.

  “You look very well, my dear,” Mrs. Reeves told her, dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. “A fit bride as any I ever saw.” Elizabeth thanked her and followed the steward’s wife down the stairs; her steps did not falter, despite the fluttering feelings within.