Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King)

by Ron Smorynski

  Alfred headed over to them, but a burly man, obviously in charge and the lead carpenter, yelled for him to turn right back around. Alfred looked at the mean'ole carpenter and dropped his hammer, bag of nails and boards and took off.

  “Hey, where you going?!” The lead carpenter grunted and hobbled after him.

  Alfred reached Broggia and Boggin, who were hammering away busily and methodically. Alfred waved to them, “Broggia! Boggin! It's me!” Alfred stood and posed as he thought a young king should when he returns to his kingdom.

  Both looked up for a moment, then looked back down and continued their work. This stunned Alfred. He was expecting familiar guffaws and greetings.

  The burly lead carpenter grabbed Alfred's arm. “Hey boy, you ain't running away from your work!”

  “Ow, Broggia, Boggin, it's me, Alfred! King Alfred!” Alfred yelled.

  The carpenter was a bit stunned at the outburst and looked at the blacksmiths for any confirmation.

  Broggia and Boggin stopped hammering and with a look of dour exhaustion looked again. Boggin finally leapt up, “Alfred!!!”

  Alfred sighed relief. Finally!

  “It's King Alfred!! He's returned!” Boggin dropped everything and hustled over to give Alfred a big manly hug. Boggin wasn't so much big as he was a perfect medium in all ways: height, build, demeanor and haircut. But his hug was that of a man hammering all day long. Alfred choked in his iron grip.

  “Ho ho ho! Blessed be our kingdom!” Boggin's old father Broggia said.

  The big burly carpenter said, “Oh, forgive me, milord.”

  “King!” Boggin reminded.

  “Yes, king, the Boy King, who has arrived, forgive me!” The carpenter bowed, feeling awkward.

  “It's alright, sir. You do not know me. I have only just arrived. I am King Alfred!” Alfred attempted a little courteous bow.

  “That is our king, Master Carpenter. King Alfred! In all his glory!” Boggin jeered.

  Alfred looked down at the mud and the common clothes he was wearing. “I have medieval clothes on. Interesting how the teleportation magic works,” he quipped to himself.

  Broggia, the little old smith, dropped his heavy hammer, which no regular man could swing for very long. He hobbled over like the oldest, slowest, weakest man around. He was full of joy and laughter. When he finally reached Alfred, he hugged him twice has hard as Boggin.

  “Okay Broggia, okay... “ Alfred finally got a breath in.

  “Excuse me, milord, I shall return to my work,” the burly and now polite Master Carpenter bowed out and left.

  “Broggia, Boggin, what is going on here? Who are all these new people?” asked Alfred.

  “Oh King Alfred, a reckoning is upon us! Many have come to hear the tales and partake in the success and wonderment of it all! A boy, a mysterious disappearing Boy King has saved the Westfold!” Boggin spoke proudly.

  “The lords of the castle await their king!” A firm voice carried from a distance.

  Alfred turned to see Lord Tahnwhithe, a tall knight, hawk-noised, goateed and impressive. He was dressed in the most proper of royal garb with all the adornments of a royal knight. His tabard, or long medieval vest, was adorned with embroidery and heraldic symbols. Alfred was taken by the new look. It fit the man’s prim and proper personality.

  The knight smiled and opened his arms. Alfred rushed up to give him a long hug. “It is most improper of a knight to hug his king, Tahnwhithe confessed. “I'm sorry, but I was so compelled!”

  “It is very proper, as your king, I say!” Alfred said, his voice booming. Man and boy laughed, and Alfred returned to Boggin and his father.

  “Boggin, Broggia, I will speak with you shortly on many many things! We have much work to do! I have researched some new stuff!”

  Broggia nodded, “That's a good lad, my king, go and play now.” He returned to his work, chuckling about something strange.

  Boggin widened his eyes and gritted his teeth. Then he looked warmly at his old father and Alfred. “Of that we have no doubt! We look forward, my king, to your next quest and the use of our humble skills to assist.” Boggin bowed and returned to his work.

  Alfred skipped excitedly after Lord Tahnwhithe as they headed to the main Keep.

  Chapter Nine: Grotham Keep

  Grotham Keep was as Alfred remembered it, a squat square castle with four thick, high walls and four towers. Covering nearly all of the back wall, on the northern side, was the Great Hall. The main gate was on the southern wall. The Great Hall, or some called it the King's Hall, had an extra rear tower. It was the fifth tower where Tirnalth's room was located. It was built at the end of the Great Hall and in the middle of the northern wall. Its lower room, not the dungeons, was the room that led to Tirnalth's hidden libraries. This lower room took up nearly a third of the whole tower. Lady Nihan and her seamstress team resided on the next two levels above it. To Alfred, their rooms were rather small, but to the young ladies and Lady Nihan, they were perfect.

  The fierce ratkin battle took place in the Great Hall. There was a huge hole in the floor at its northern end, where one might expect a king's throne. It was more to the northwest, to one side, as the other side was where all the other rooms and passageways were. This was the hole Alfred fell down when he first arrived. It led him to the dungeon corridors where the giant spider resided and the ratkins were thwarted. Above the gaping hole was a walkway and various small rooms including the residence for Alfred and Abedeyan and the small chapel where Verboden lived and prayed.

  Also, at the rear of the Great Hall, on the northeastern side and sunken below the first level, were the kitchens and work rooms that once had many pots and pans and small carved waterways for sinks and going to the... uhhh... potty. The two were not in the same area, of course. The potties or latrines were at either end, separated by thick stone walls from the kitchens and servant areas.

  Much of the structure was built long ago and had fallen to ruin. It needed many repairs. Abedeyan sorted most of that out, but it surely did not look the way it once did. Each room, whether the kitchen or pantry or Alfred's room, was sparse and simple compared to what it must have been before the Westfold fell to Gorbogal.

  After many years of abandonment and ruin, the days were now being spent rebuilding. Abedeyan was busy giving orders to a sparse mix of peasant folk, old and young, to get everything rebuilt. He was old but had a great memory of how it once was. He'd look at the kitchen wall and say to himself, “There used to be pots and pans hanging here. That's what we need.” And off he'd go to request some from Broggia and Boggin. They would carve symbols on a wood board with charcoal. At the top was written, “Things to Craft.”

  Alfred and Lord Tahnwhithe stood at the mighty door of the Great Hall, having not yet entered. Alfred remembered it well. At least he remembered how it was. Today, several carvers sat with various cut logs, saws and carving knives, with plenty of wood chips all around them. They were making two great doors of splendor. They curtly bowed their heads, knowing the lordly knight, but their eyes darted suspiciously at the boy.

  “Carvers, meet the Boy King, Alfred!” Lord Tahnwhithe declared. The carvers remained seated, one whittling away at a small simple figure of a child with a bow and the other sawing smaller pieces of wood for the figurines.

  “Uh who? Whah?” the sitting carver wondered out loud.

  Lord Tahnwhithe deftly unsheathed his sword, flung it about and stopped just above the first carver’s head. The sword pointed at the carved figurine of a boy with a king's crown holding a spear as ratkins surrounded him. “Him! The King and Savior of this Land!”

  The carvers looked up at their own handiwork and recalled the story. “Was it true then? A boy? Is it he?” they wondered aloud. Both stopped working, got off their stools and bowed on one knee to Alfred.

  Alfred's eyes widened. He hadn’t noticed the carvings on the doors till now. It was more of a relief, showing the story from bottom to top. In the bottom panels, there was a boy coming fort
h from the woods with a cloaked man bearing a staff. This had to be Verboden. The next panel had him talking to many peasants, surrounded by farms and fields of crops. Then it showed the boy with children, some with bows and others with spears. The girls were shooting targets, and the boys were marching with spears. A boy figurine, Alfred, was waving his arms like a symphony conductor.

  Then it showed a dark forest where the boy and his armed children hunted a giant bear creature with a beak and giant claws known as a bikehnbahr.

  Next, it showed the knights and Lord Dunther, as simple figurines, entering the castle – and how more and more came to Grotham Keep. Alfred easily recognized in the simple carvings the sacrifice of Lord Gylloth, who saved him, the children, and Hedor and his bandits at the farm. They had captured how Gylloth had charged the goblin raiders when they nearly overran them. Next in the rough relief he saw a great mass of carved ratkins and goblins swarming the top third of the door. In separate frames were the fallen knights who fought to save the kingdom. It showed scruffy old Lord Dulocke, who leapt to save large burly Knight Byrom. Both had fallen during the final ratkin onslaught in the Keep.

  The doors then showed Hedor and his men, Loranna and the girls, and the boys with spears all fighting as Alfred, the Boy King, stood atop as the leader, waving his spear and wearing a crown.

  “It's wonderful,” King Alfred said.

  The carvers bowed even further. Lord Tahnwhithe sheathed his sword.

  The doors clunked and loosened. It slowly opened creaking loudly.

  “Been meaning to fix that sire.... King,” one of the carvers said.

  Abedeyan peered out from the doorway at Alfred and Lord Tahnwhithe, blinking his eyes from the sun. “What's this about the king?”

  Alfred turned toward him and smiled. Lord Tahnwhithe bowed slightly. The carvers continued their bowing. Others gathered – laborers, workers, messengers and the like – to see what was amiss. Many now recognized the boy, King Alfred.

  “Alfred!” Abedeyan's scruffy suspicious demeanor melted. He hopped out and hugged Alfred with many small pats and a dance. Alfred had had his fill of hugs today, but he supposed another wouldn't hurt. Each was unique to the person he embraced. Abedyen's gave him a sort of a pitter-patter of small chuckling sensations.

  “Oh my, oh my, whatever magic Tirnalth or Verboden does to have you leave us is most unwelcome! However, Verboden does keep us all in line. Well, he keeps us patient with his words. It is so good to have you back!” Abedeyan hugged Alfred again.

  “I'm sorry that when I go away, I’m gone for so long. When I'm away, it doesn’t feel that long. Time is different there to here.”

  “Assemble soldiers!” a loud gruff voice bellowed from behind them. Abedeyan jumped in annoyance at the clang of noise that suddenly erupted.

  Alfred turned to see several rows of men in black leather and goblin armour line up. They were scruffy but at least looked manageable. The captain he saw riding in earlier commanded them.

  “Hail to the Boy King, King Alfred!” he shouted.

  “Hail King Alfred!” the soldiers yelled in unison. Not all seemed enthusiastic, as they looked as if they had just awakened from a nap or were late to some gambling event in the towers.

  The commander walked up as professionally as he deemed fit and bowed. “At your service, King Alfred. I am Sergeant Jeurkaheen!”

  “York-ah-heen?” Alfred repeated.

  “Sergeant Jeurkaheen, sire.” He bowed again.

  Alfred returned the bow. Abedeyan sneaked up behind Alfred, saying, “You are not supposed to bow.”

  “Oh right, sorry. I forgot.” Alfred bowed to Abedeyan. “Oh, oops!”

  Abedeyan shuffled Alfred inside, remarking with a slight hint of annoyance, “Thank you sergeant for a call-to-arms. We shall schedule a more fitting time for the presenting of arms just as soon as the king is situated.”

  The sergeant backed away. It appeared to Alfred that Abedeyan and the sergeant were not the best of friends.

  Lord Tahnwhithe said, “It is good to have you back, King Alfred. I am at your service.” Then he bowed and went on his way. Alfred wondered where he was off to as he waved in not so kingly a manner – more like a boy excited to see a knight.

  Abedeyan lead Alfred through the maze in the crowded hall. It was filled with makeshift tables, chairs and benches. Alfred noticed a wooden platform with scaffolding toward the rear.

  “What's all that?” he asked.

  Abedeyan looked. “Oh, we are covering that dreaded hole and creating a dais for the throne for the king. It’s for you, Alfred.”

  “Where are the workers?” Alfred asked. “Everyone seems so busy outside.”

  “Oh,” said Abedeyan, gritting his teeth, “Lord Dunther called them out to build the battlements. He has been most... uh… forward in his wishes, his orders and commands.”

  “Has he been harsh or mean to you?”

  Abedeyan stopped in the midst of the Great Hall. It was empty and barely lit, cluttered with unfinished wood work. “Well,” Abedeyan replied diplomatically.

  “Lord King Alfred,” an old, calm voice called out.

  Alfred looked to see Lady Nihan and company of seamstresses looking down from the walkway above. He remembered quite well the stairs and path to reach her. She was like a long lost aunt, or nanny of sorts, who he cared deeply for and relied upon for everything.

  “Lady Nihan!” His movements toward her even surprised himself. He leapt adroitly over benches and wood piles and ran up the shanty stairs and along the balustrade, jumping to a stop in front of her.

  Lady Nihan was ever mindful of her duty as head mistress. She was always focused on keeping a certain rapport and a ladylike demeanor in front of her helpers. After all, she was in charge of all things noble and traditional and formal in the court of the castle. She stood, controlling her emotions, and gave Alfred a modest hug, barely touching him.

  Alfred would have nothing of that and swooped in between the polite arms and hugged her as a boy would a long lost aunt. The lady's eyes darted amongst her maidservants and seamstresses. She seemed embarrassed. However, her true emotions of missing him compelled her to hug him back dearly and deeply and kiss his head. And the tears flowed.

  This led the others to cry as well. Alfred released her before she might falter and fall to the floor from her emotions. He hugged the others as well. “I missed you all, I did! I missed you so much! You remind me of my mother!”

  When he said that, the lady gasped. She felt pain in the memory of the loss of someone who seemed gone forever. And yet, with his comment, suddenly, Lady Nihan realized that Alfred’s mother was alive and could be... well, could be with them at any moment.

  “Your mother, she's alive?!” Lady Nihan could barely ask.

  “Of course she is. That's where I go or disappear to, to be with her.”

  “When will she return?” a seamstress asked. Lady Nihan gave her a quick stern look, and the seamstress shrunk back.

  “I don't know.” Alfred patted the seamstress on the shoulder to comfort her.

  “She will never come back,” Lady Nihan said, indicating a stark change from her previous emotional state. She was accustomed to hiding her true emotions most of the time. Even though her eyes were moist, her demeanor was as cold as she could make it. “It is not safe for her to come back, not safe for any of us.”

  “Well, I dunno,” Alfred wondered.

  “My king,” Lady Nihan bowed formerly. She walked back into their work area. The handful of maidens bowed and followed her.

  Alfred let them go, still wondering about her comment about his mother. Could she return? Would she? He thought about it, but a shiver ran up his spine. Gorbogal came to his mind and dulled his thoughts. He shook it off. He did not want her name in his mind.

  He leaned over the balustrade and looked down. Abedeyan was looking up and shrugging his shoulders.

  Alfred hurried down the stone circular stairway, which made one feel quite claustro
phobic. He passed the main floor going down further. Abedeyan hobbled not far behind.

  “But milord, wizards and warlocks are for later. Now, you must be made aware of all the works and plans and what Lord Dunther has commanded whilst you were away!” Abedeyan breathed hard, hopping down the stairs of the back tower.

  Alfred reached Tirnalth's door.

  “Have you seen Tirnalth?” Alfred asked as Abedeyan rounded the corner, leaning on the wall to breathe.

  “The wizard? No... not for a long while,” Abedeyan said hoarsely.

  “I have, just moments ago before I returned,” Alfred said with a big smile. Alfred extended his open hand. Abedeyan grimaced as he handed Alfred the secret key to Tirnalth's door.

  The door was unimpressive, providing no clue as to what was behind it. Alfred raised the key and chanted:

  The abode of Tirnalth,

  The Wizardry!

  Magical portal,

  Open ...Says I!

  “You know it really doesn't rhyme the way most spells do,” Alfred said as he unlocked the door.

  “Don't ask me. I'm not wizzy enough to explain how magic works.”

  “Ah, but I am!” said Tirnalth, standing right before them at the door.

  Abedeyan yelped!

  Tirnalth stepped back, surprised. Alfred gave Abedeyan the key and rushed in.

  “I'll be out soon, and we'll go over everything,” said Alfred, beginning to close the door. “Just as soon as Tirnalth and I have a talk.”

  As the door closed on him, Abedeyan quickly interjected, “Just get him to cast a spell of patience and humility over the castle grounds, and things might turn out okay!”

  Chapter Ten: The Haunted Past

  “Alfred! You followed me back.”

  Tirnalth's abode contained a simple bed, table and lone chair with an oil lamp, which Abedeyan kept burning day and night. Far above, much too high for anyone to reach, were a few shelves stuffed with old dusty cobwebbed books. This room was the doorway to Tirnalth's secret library of hidden tomes.