The northeastern enclosure, on the side of the Great Hall under the east wall, was filled with workers, scaffolding and huts with stock provisions of raw materials. Most of it had to do with armour, soldiering, and gear. On the other side of the Great Hall, the west side were stocks of food and grain and livestock. On that side was also the fifth tower, where Tirnalth's abode was. It was built against the northern wall but stuck out on the western enclosure.
Back to the northeastern area, the soldiers made a lot of noise: marching, fixing gear, boisterous laughter of burly men, roughhousing and insulting each other. The northeastern area was considered the military area and was off limits to regular folk.
Sir Murith returned to Alfred. “I shall find Lord Dunther for you. Stay here.”
“I am not staying here!”
Alfred, finally venting some of his feelings, walked forward. Murith grabbed his shoulder, but Alfred rolled out of the hold. “You trained me to elude such grabs, remember?”
Alfred strode on. Murith puckered his face and followed. In a moment, Alfred spotted Lord Dunther. He was high above on the wall, inspecting the battlements, yelling at the Master Carpenter. Lord Dunther was wearing regular linens. He had a hammer and, it seemed, was testing parts of the wooden battlements. On one bang of the hammer, a board flew out and twirled in the air, coming straight down at Alfred far below. It had many bent nails in it and looked dangerous. Alfred was about to roll out from its final landing destination when Sir Murith swung his sword and deflected it. It landed on the ground near disinterested workers.
Up above, Dunther did not notice or care what was occurring below. He was yelling at the Master Carpenter while pointing at different sections of the battlements.
Sir Murith examined the wood and gritted his teeth. All the workers' eyes were on him. He tried to ignore them. Alfred looked at him. Murith tried to ignore Alfred too.
Alfred bolted for the garrison door, running past Sir Gorham and the men putting up their gear. Sir Gorham watched as Alfred easily ascended the narrow stone and wood stairs built along the interior tower walls. Alfred met his eyes as he climbed upward.
“Be our king, Alfred,” Gorham said.
Alfred nodded and passed up to the second level and beyond, emerging on the wall where Dunther was hammering out loose boards and spitting contempt, upset with shoddy workmanship of the battlements. Alfred came close enough that Lord Dunther noticed and looked up at him. He stopped midway in a swing, sweat coming down his cheek, strain and anger wrinkling his grizzled visage. He clamped his jaw shut, perhaps to contain a roar – at whom, Alfred was not sure.
Alfred stood against the battlement and looked out beyond the Keep, giving Dunther a moment to compose himself. To the south in front of the Keep's main entrance, Alfred could see the village outcroppings. Along the rear or northward, the view was mainly of open fields where a few soldiers milled about, halfheartedly practicing archery.
Dunther gave the hammer back to the Master Carpenter. “Redo all those boards with men who can hammer straight and proper! We do not have an endless supply of iron for nails! Now go and eat your lunch!”
The Master Carpenter bowed and hurried the opposite way along the battlements. Dunther shook off dust, straightened up and walked over the unfinished structures to Alfred.
“Al... King Alfred,” he began and then paused.
Lord Dunther stepped to the stone wall, an area not yet covered by the battlement construction. A cool breeze came by, quelling Dunther's overheated demeanor. Alfred felt the breeze and saw the fluttering of leaves on distant trees. There were many stumps in the forest, and some men were cutting down several more trees.
“Lord Dunther, we have so much to do,” said Alfred.
“What? Just where have you been?” Dunther was possessed by a strange emotion. Whether it was anger or pain, Alfred couldn't tell.
“I was with my mother, in the world... or... place where I grew up.”
Dunther acted quite annoyed. “And where is that?” he asked. “Across the vast oceans?”
“No, I don't think so... perhaps across the vast stars. It's magical, somehow,” Alfred said. “I don't know Lord Dunther how I get there or back here. It just happens somehow.”
“Well, that doesn't make for reliability, now does it?” Dunther hissed.
“No, Dunther. I have you for that.”
Dunther rolled his eyes and softly pounded the stone wall. “We cannot have a king who disappears and becomes a legend, a mystery right before our eyes.”
“We must. You must,” Alfred declared as he gazed at Dunther.
Lord Dunther looked at Alfred, reflecting on how much he had changed from when they first met. He was impressed. And Alfred realized that men like Lord Dunther and the knights may disagree, but decisions must be made. Alfred made one. Dunther knew it and remembered the king who led them to victory not long ago.
“I have done much and made decisions I am unsure of, my king. I was thrust into this role when you left. I’m… I am a warrior, a servant knight to a king. I am not this.” Dunther nodded his head and looked back, surveying the battlements.
“You know what it is Dunther, its me... I just left, without a word, huh?” Alfred sighed.
Dunther realized the truth. “Yes, my king. Yes, without a word.”
“When I am gone, Dunther, it feels like a short time. It doesn't feel like I am gone that long. I feel like we won the war only, I dunno, a few weeks ago or even yesterday. I guess more time passes here than where I come from. Next time, when I feel it’s happening, I'll tell you Lord Dunther. And, and, then we'll make plans together, okay?”
Lord Dunther looked at Alfred and nodded. “I think that would be in order, most proper.”
“So you have been building up the defenses of this castle?” Alfred pounded a nearby battlement support. It creaked, not to either of their liking.
“I have my doubts, my king, that I have chosen the right path.”
Alfred looked down at the workers getting up from their break to begin their afternoon work. “Who are these people? The soldiers? How did they come here?” he asked.
“From Telehistine,” Dunther replied. “Merchants came soon after your departure. They sold, to me, the contracts of soldiers and workers. King Alfred, you left and I had no men. The people, farmers and their children were exhausted. You left us, disappeared. Tirnalth, that wizard of yours, came to us and told us to carry on, to do what needed to be done. Verboden, Abedeyan, and Lady Nihan supported retaining you as king, even in abstentia.”
Lord Dunther looked down. The sound of the workers climbing the scaffolding and pulling up wood bundles grew.
“You didn't? You didn't want me to be king?”
“In absence? No,” Dunther admitted. “I was angry. Am... after such a great victory and awakening of the West, you were just gone. Gone. I thought some evil came into the West during our victory and from under our noses – took you! It happened to Gael and Ethralia... and Bedenwulf.”
“Gael? Who’s that?”
“She was the older sister of Ethralia, your mother...”
“You mean Gorbogal,” said Alfred.
“Yes. When she was Gael-Asura, she disappeared on the road back from Telehistine. Her company was attacked by vile goblins or so we were told. We searched for her, not knowing her fate, until... I'm sorry to say, Alfred, as blessed as your family has been in the fight, they too have lost much – too much.”
The noise increased. The Master Carpenter had brought workers nearby to redo the battlements. Dunther and Alfred had to raise their voices to continue talking.
“Let us go to my quarters where you can assess more of what I have done... begun... am doing, my king.”
Chapter Twelve: Knights and Plots
Alfred and Lord Dunther went down the narrow stairway of the tower to the stables. Gorham and Murith were sitting on makeshift benches, replacing worn straps. Lord Tahnwhithe was looking in, anxious to know about the outcome of the
ir meeting. When Tahnwhithe caught the eye of Dunther and Alfred, he casually inspected a saddle. Dunther tried to ignore the knights' repeated glances as he lifted up the trapdoor to enter the dungeons below.
Alfred stood waiting, looking at the reposed knights. “I'd like the Knights of the King to join us.”
Tahnwhithe, Gorham and Murith stood up. Dunther looked at them, then at Alfred, and nodded. They followed down into the dungeons. Dunther had made his home in the dark cellars. The narrow spiral stone stairway made Alfred feel claustrophobic. The knights banged against the walls nonchalantly as they descended to the dungeon.
The great spider encounter with Alfred happened here when he fell down the large hole, long ago. Now the dungeon was quite empty except for provisions, of which there were few. Abedeyan had no time to do much with it or stock up after the goblin and ratkin battles.
There were many holes in the northern area of the wall. Many passageways that led out of the dungeon to caves beyond. This was where Alfred, Cory and the boys fought the ratkins.
It took a courageous ornery man like Dunther to sleep soundly in a dark cell surrounded by mysterious ratkin passages that led to dark caverns. While the door to his cell was quite solid, if ratkins were to attack in his sleep, he'd be trapped.
Lord Dunther was the only occupant of the dungeon. His room had a small bed with a blanket stuffed with wool, a rustic wood table and chests used for seating. He lit candles and placed them so the five could see a map. He had a layout of the castle and region.
Alfred began the meeting. “Lord Dunther, Murith said the soldiers you hired came from the Silver Coast.”
“Yes, contracted by the Merchants of Telehistine,” Dunther answered as he placed daggers and metal objects at each corner of the map to keep it flat. “We have these four towers and the gate to guard. Plus, we rotate groups of men to patrol the farmsteads. We are stretched thin with the small group of forty that we have.”
“What about the children?”
“The children?” Dunther gritted his teeth but would not look up at Alfred.
“Yes, the ones who fought in here, in the dungeons, and the girls who shot arrows at hundreds and thousands of ratkins? What happened to them? Why isn't Loranna here? And Cory?”
Alfred bent lower to catch Dunther's avoidant eyes.
“My Lord...” Dunther glanced up. Alfred waited patiently for his explanation.
“They were truly heroic, truly noble in defending the castle. I do not question that. But they are still children. Men fight wars, not children. Men commit their all, their strength and lives, to fight. The evil witch will not send a cadre of small ratkins or goblins to us again. She will send fouler and greater beasts. We need fighting men.”
“So this group of paid soldiers from far away, from... didn't we fight Telehistine in the Crusades? Can we even trust them?” Alfred folded his arms.
“The Crusades? That was long ago. Telehistine is the only city holding back the evil of darkness from coming into these lands. They have been allies for generations since the Crusades.” Dunther waved a fist dramatically, trying not to hit anything.
“How much did you... we... pay for these soldiers? And with what?”
“With goblin steel, we paid,” Dunther sighed.
“What? How much?”
“With all of it. You see it worn on each soldier.” Dunther stood up and crossed his arms.
“What?! That was hundreds and hundreds of suits, thousands of pieces of good strong steel!” Alfred grabbed his head in dismay.
“The merchants took the rest, my king” added Lord Tahnwhithe. “Lord Dunther and the rest of us felt the need for men, for soldiers. It was all... the only wealth we had to barter with.”
Sir Murith and Gorham stood frustrated. At whom and to what degree wasn't certain until Murith spoke. “What choice did we have? You left us!”
Alfred turned to look at Murith, whose young visage burned with anger.
Tahnwhithe put his hand on Murith to calm him. He stiffened more than calmed.
Dunther raised his hand to wave off the tension in the room. “He is our king, and he has promised that from now on he shall not depart from us without providing guidance.”
“Lord Dunther had no choice!” Murith blurted out and then buttoned up.
“I'm sorry... I left, magically.” Alfred twiddled his fingers. The knights all leaned slightly away from him, thinking he might cast some spell on them accidentally. “Okay, okay, we gotta fix this,” he said.
“You must fix it,” a voice said from the darkness.
The knights all turned to see Verboden standing there. He had entered from behind Tahnwhithe's tall physique.
“Verboden!” Alfred leapt at him. The sudden twirl and hug were the polar opposite of Verboden's calm silent entrance.
“Verboden the Cleric, it would only be you who would open doors locked from my side and enter so quietly,” Lord Dunther quipped.
“Actually, I opened it,” said Gorham, nodding and stepping aside to make room. Murith plopped on Dunther's bed and made himself comfortable.
“I am a Cleric of the Order, not a rogue or thief,” said Verboden as he returned Alfred's hug. “Good to see you again. I have prayed for your return, and sooner has been the answer, than later or... too late.”
“Too late? What? Why? Is Gorbogal the witch attacking?” Alfred turned back to the map with big glazed eyes.
“No!” said Verboden.
“Not that we know of,” added Dunther, leaning back over the map, glancing intently at all he had drawn.
“Well, good! Right? That's a good thing!” Alfred looked up at eyes that did not seem so reassured.
Verboden leaned forward on his staff. To Alfred, he looked the same as before, a well built man wearing a natural white woven robe and clothes. He was always clean shaven with a simple haircut. Alfred guessed this was due to a barber-cleanliness spell.
“Alfred,” Verboden said, “would evil not attack? Would an evil such as the Witch of Devastation not commit to revenge upon those who resisted her?”
“So you guys are worried that since you don't know what she is up to, you don't know... And that's the most dangerous cuz it could be... anything?!... Right?” Alfred turned about, looking at them. All nodded with affirmative looks.
“Oh, right... well... I've got some ideas I want to do. I think they would really help us!” Alfred rubbed his hands.
The others shifted, leaning in, yet glancing at each other to avoid leaning in the most.
“I know I'm just a kid and disappear,” said Alfred with a meek smile.
The men eyed each other, sharing smug nods.
“And I am not really, you know... some powerful all knowing...” Alfred looked up and paused, his arms crossed and one finger tapping his lower lip.
“Just get on with it!” Lord Dunther finally said. “What do you want us to do?”
Lord Tahnwhithe interjected with a bow, “What Lord Dunther is trying to say, King Alfred, if I may, is that you have saved this kingdom, you have built up the farms and brought us knights back to honor. You have trained the people and given us a cleric and revived our mysterious wizard... but you have also been gone too long. We are frustrated and impatient. All of us... we are anxious for our king to lead us again.”
Alfred looked stunned. Murith stretched his neck. Verboden smiled.
“Oh okay, well... first, Lord Dunther, you can keep on with the building of the defenses of the castle. That's fine. But we are going to need more resources. We need iron.”
“How? We have nothing the Merchants of Telehistine want,” Lord Dunther asked.
Murith, getting more comfortable on Dunther's bed, spat, “They have drained us of all our wealth!”
“All of our deals with them have been one-sided, and I'm afraid not in our favor,” Tahnwhithe added. Dunther glared at him, and he returned the gaze until Dunther looked down at his map.
“It doesn't matter,” said Alfred. “Let's n
ot deal with them anymore. And as soon as you get done or not, Dunther, just let all these workers go. I don't like so many in the Keep. We can finish the work!”
“We have them till summer's end. Though it appears their work won't be done by then. They certainly know how to delay what was promised.” Dunther hit the table with his fist and heaved heavy breaths.
“The Merchants of Telehistine will no doubt return asking to renew the contract with more expected payments and many excuses as to why this initial deal did not meet our expectations,” said Tahnwhithe, standing tall, his face relaying dismay.
Dunther nodded to no one in particular. He was having difficulty focusing on the map before him.
Alfred could sense the weight in the room, the sudden silence.
“We'll need more taxes.” Dunther scratched his chin a bit too harshly.
“No,” Alfred replied.
“But how? How will we pay them?”
“We won't!” said Alfred. “I don't want us to have anything to do with them. I think they are in this to drain us of everything including our success. They are taking all we have back to their rich kingdom. I don't want anything from them. We can do this ourselves!”
The knights glanced at each other with bulging eyes, waiting for someone to respond, but none did. Murith reclined further, if that's even possible. Tahnwhithe seemed to be whistling a silent tune. Gorham rubbed his chin with a rather appreciative look. Dunther tapped his map silently while bobbing his head.
“What of the soldiers?” asked Gorham. “Do we keep them till the end of summer?”
“Let them go,” Alfred said.
The knights shifted in their uncomfortable stances.
Then Verboden spoke with a heavy heart, “And what if the Merchants of Telehistine do not like this deal? We are outnumbered. We are just a handful of knights against an army of soldiers and workers whose minds are enslaved to the merchants. What if they do not like a deal where they are told to leave?”
Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King) Page 7