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

by Ron Smorynski

  “We shall call on the citizens of this land, the ones who fought for its freedom,” Alfred said. “And we’ll enlist Loranna and Cory and the children to help too.”

  “The children?” Dunther chuckled in madness. “We can't!”

  “What's wrong with that? They can fight!”

  “And die! They will die going up against men. These are seasoned, trained men! We were so fortunate, Alfred! We were so very fortunate in the battles against diminutive creatures such as ratkins and goblins beyond the walls. But these are men who most likely are murderers and scoundrels of the Silver Coast. They merely wear our uniform for as long as they’re told. They are men who, I have no doubt, are capable of any evil they are commanded to do.” Dunther rubbed his hands to keep them from shaking.

  “And you brought them here, within our walls,” Gorham shot back.

  Murith stood up, defiant. “What choice did he have?!”

  Tahnwhithe stood between them, trying not to raise his arms, which might encourage more tension.

  “There were plenty of choices!” Gorham said.

  “Now... just... easy... hold on... ” Tahnwhithe replied.

  “We needed soldiers!” Murith spat.

  “We had them, our own!” Gorham huffed.

  “Those aren't soldiers, and you know it!”

  “They took on a whole army of goblins and ratkins!”

  Dunther's lips quivered. He leaned heavily on his fists pinned to the table, hearing the back and forth.

  “It's okay!” It was strange that a boy's voice, shouting, could break the angry banter of powerful fighting men. Somehow it did.

  “It's okay, Lord Dunther. You did what you had to, and I am okay with it. I'm glad you did something.”

  Dunther nodded as his shoulders sunk.

  “Even if it was kind of lame,” said Alfred with a smirk.

  The knights' mouths were agape. Dunther stopped long enough to focus on Alfred's expression. Then he chuckled and waved it off.

  “I am a Lord Knight, not a leader of workers and…”

  “The greedy Merchants of Telehistine?!”

  Alfred pounded his hands on the table. All moaned at the thought of dealing with them again.

  “You can't make a profitable trade? Huh?” Alfred said gruffly.

  Dunther, grimacing, waved for him to stop.

  Alfred waved an imaginary sword around and took a proper knight’s stance as he swung it at Gorham and Murith, who backed away. “You can go up against raiding goblins!” he roared. “And against a horde of ratkins! A goblin war chief! But oh... a shady business deal… and see how Lord Dunther falters!”

  Verboden accidentally spat out a laugh. He quickly covered his mouth, but his eyes gave away his mirthful surprise.

  “Oh, a contract, let me give you twice as much for half the return!” Alfred twirled. Gorham thought about that one and gave an agreeable smug nod. “And look, a little old steward of the castle over there, oh no, oh no... he is eyeing me with a mean look!”

  Tahnwhithe clapped. Then he hid his hands. Dunther looked away to hide his own glee. He couldn't help but retort, “I am not a handler of coin and purse!”

  “Oh, and a little old lady with a needle, a mighty needle! Seems a seamstress can outdo you.” Alfred raised a needle with thumb and finger, accentuating his extended pinky, as if he were raising a sword up high. “A mighty needle to scare off poor Dunther!”

  Gorham nodded. “Her needles are quite large.”

  Alfred pretended he was mortally wounded and swirled about. In so doing, he saw Abedeyan and Lady Nihan standing in the doorway behind Verboden. It appeared that they were not amused by his making a spectacle of them.

  Dunther gave out a sudden rude guffaw. Lady Nihan stared at him with dagger... no... needle eyes. His jaw clamped shut.

  Alfred froze and faced them. “Oh, hullo Steward Abedeyan and Lady Nihan.” He quickly bowed. “I was just, uh, talking about... Dunther here, his uh...”

  “His qualities... “ said Tahnwhithe, giving a curt bow.

  “His weaknesses...” Murith murmured. Dunther eyed him quickly and then glanced back, clearing his throat.

  “I am a fool when it comes to...” Dunther barely managed to lift himself up to face the new predicament. “…managing... dealing with... handling...”

  “The handling of economic concerns and the upkeep of castle affairs?” Abedeyan stated, asked... stated.

  Dunther looked up at nothing, thinking, counting in his head, with odd nods. Finally, after a final series of nods, he said, “Uh well, yes.”

  Alfred unfroze himself and clapped hands, rubbing them together. “Now that we got that cleared up.”

  “I assume things are going well down here?” Abedeyan finally huffed. “You are making plans to save us from the wretched evils that surround this very land, I presume?” Abedeyan paced the small crowded room of big burly knights, a cleric, and a king. “Are we having a wee bit a fun while the Westfold totters on the brink of annihilation? Are we? Fun?”

  Lord Dunther attempted to speak but was shut down by the little old guy's menacing stare.

  “We expect everything from you!” said Abedeyan, pointing at them all. “If you can't save us and the Westfold, then no one can!”

  Emotionally distraught, he put upon them all the weight of everything they knew. “Farmers, families, children... people of the Keep, cooks and cleaners who do all these menial tasks for you, count on you! For us all! For a king who brought us together and built up this land in one season, all the while preparing us for war and defeating the forward army of the most feared witch. He is counting on you too! We expect everything from you knights!”

  Abedeyan left as abruptly as he arrived. Lady Nihan followed him out but not before poking an invisible needle at them. They embarrassed themselves as they flinched.

  Dunther leaned on the table, staring blankly at the map. Grotham Keep was in the middle. A road led south to faraway Telehistine. Smaller paths webbed the region West, where the farms were. Northward was the vast forest, Danken Fuhr. Dotted about the castle were smaller forests. It was a simple map of the countryside.

  Alfred leaned in. “Lord Dunther, where is Hedor, Captain Hedor?”

  Dunther rolled his eyes.

  Murith stepped forward. “King Alfred, when Dunther... when we hired the men from Telehistine, there was an argument. Hedor knew not his place. Dunther expelled him from the castle.”

  “What?!”

  Dunther answered with a slight tremble in his voice, “He's about, somewhere in the farms. I didn't expel him from the land, just the walls, the Keep.”

  “Well, I need him! We need him and his men! How many men does he have?”

  Dunther, Murith and Gorham shared glances.

  Verboden spoke. “He has maybe a dozen?”

  “He has ten good men,” said Tahnwhithe.

  Verboden nodded. “It seems most have taken up their farming again. It is good, as we need more farmers. And Hedor isn't much of a commander, I must say. He doesn't take well to the order of leadership. He's more accustomed to giving than taking orders.”

  “He is a bandit leader, more like it,” Gorham said.

  “Well, I need him for sure. He mentioned to me long ago of miners within his group. We need them.”

  “Miners?” Dunther asked.

  “You wish to re-open the mines to the Underworld?” followed Verboden.

  “Underworld?” said Alfred. “I heard that before from someone. But who?”

  “The mines are dangerous,” Lord Dunther said. “Many foul beasts prowl those caves, and the goblins and picts reign there!”

  “Well, how do we get iron if we don't go?” Alfred shook his head out of his thoughts.

  Tahnwhithe spoke, “It is possible, as long as we don't dig too deep. We keep to surface mines. It involves more searching, along the surface areas to find the veins of iron ore.”

  “Making iron weapons do not match the enchanted qualities
of steel!” Dunther said.

  “Enchanted?” asked Alfred.

  “The secret of steel,” Murith sighed.

  “What do you mean, secret?” Alfred looked at them.

  “The magic of making steel has been kept by those in power,” Tahnwhithe said. “Its enchantment is known only by the foulest of sorcery or the royal smiths of the merchants.”

  “Magic?” Alfred looked at them oddly. “Oh no, my dear knights, it isn't magical at all.”

  “What?” Dunther looked at Alfred stunned.

  “Steel can be made by our smiths, here, and I know how.”

  The knights stood with mouths agape.

  Verboden broke the silence, “Well, it appears we have most certainly been anxious for our king to return.”

  Tahnwhithe and Gorham patted Alfred on the back with rather heavy arms. Alfred felt tousled about.

  “See my knights... I don't just disappear, okay? I do things while I’m gone, learn things to help. Okay?” Alfred shrugged as the knights patted him brusquely.

  Then Dunther whispered as if fearing goblins might hear him, “The mines are dangerous. Should we really be going there?”

  “We have to. We need it for everything. If we have given most of the goblin steel to those greedy merchants and have nothing to trade, the mines are our only chance. Besides, I want to go there!”

  Dunther shook his head no. “You go there? That is madness!” Then he angled his ear to hear more.

  “I am, and I must. I want to see for myself this Underworld. And what did you say lives there? Goblins and what?”

  “Goblins and picts?” said Dunther.

  “Yeah, goblins we know. What are these picts?”

  “They are small dark creatures that dwell in great kingdoms far below,” Dunther said. “They hate the light and rule where goblins fear to go.”

  “Where goblins fear to go?”

  “Yes, the goblins and picts have been at war for ages, fighting over the Underworld and its darkness. I say let them keep fighting each other and leave us out of it!” Dunther said.

  “Hmm... I want to know more about these picts.”

  “Oh, you will if you dig down there!”warned Murith. “And, I fear, you'll never see the light of the sun if you do meet them!”

  “Well, if they hate goblins as much as we...” Alfred paused to ponder all this. “We'll see. I must go see Hedor and get him to do my bidding... again!”

  The knights chuckled. Alfred had softened them up pretty well.

  “Oh, and Lord Dunther, call back the children. Have them begin training again under Sir Murith.“

  With this Alfred looked to Murith, who nodded nonchalantly and quickly rubbed something out of his eye.

  “Dunther, I don't want you to be watching over the workers anymore. I don't think that is your calling. Have Lord Tahnwhithe do it!” Alfred said this out of the blue. Even for him it was a surprise.

  “Me?!” said a flustered Tahnwithe. “I know nothing of woodworks!”

  “Cloth and attire are your calling, hey?” Gorham chided.

  “Proper attire for knights is of utmost importance, young knight,” returned Tahnwhithe dismissively, with a finger wagging at them all. “You’ll learn that soon enough if you ever enter a royal court.”

  “You know the hearts of working men and can lead them,” said Alfred.

  Dunther gave Tahnwhithe an affirmative glance.

  Tahnwhithe’s shoulders slumped as he nodded agreement. “I'll do my best, my king,” he said, bowing.

  “Lord Dunther, you shall drill the soldiers ragged outside the castle. Keep them busy doing things, always outside the walls of the castle. Set up camps out there and patrol them around and around. Sir Gorham will join you on this endeavor for now.” Alfred’s voice was commanding.

  “We'll keep them busy till the end of the contract, then let them go. Now, about that Underworld… I'm off to see Hedor.”

  Chapter Thirteen: Hedor and the Men

  Hedor would have to wait till tomorrow, for the day was settling into evening when Alfred departed the dungeon.

  Alfred, Dunther, Tahnwhithe and Abedeyan sat in what was once the waiting room of the kings of old. It was a large room off to the side of the Great Hall. It had a large impressive fireplace. The small fire that lit it today wasn't all that spectacular. Within the stony enclosure were just a few brambles piled atop each other with a slow flickering flame.

  They sat on small wooden chairs at a small wooden table. At one time the walls were adorned with hunting trophies and tapestries, and the room was filled with finely wrought furniture. In these dark times with limited resources, they had cleared it out of fat spiders and made it as comfortable as it could be with simple furniture.

  Verboden was there, much to his annoyance, as he did not care for the day-to-day affairs of men. Abedeyan kept the discussion to the tasks at hand, the upkeep of the, well... the Keep. He liked Alfred's commands already, including Tahnwhithe having to deal with the workers. Also, he was pleased that Dunther would not have the soldiers reside within the walls. Would Dunther be out there with them as well? Dunther had laughed at Abedeyan's apparent disdain for him and his ways.

  Daydreaming a bit, Abedeyan corrected himself. “I meant to say, Dunther will not be in here with the foreign soldiers. Their allegiance is at best... questionable.”

  The men shared farmer's cheese, crusty bread and a thickened broth the servants claimed was stew. All was well, though, for the likes of King Alfred, Lord Dunther, Verboden the Cleric, Sir Tahnwhithe and Abedeyan, the Castle Steward. There seemed a moment of knowing that when they worked together, great things could happen to save the Westfold.

  The next day Gorham set Alfred on one of the stout horses. Sir Murith and Gorham were to accompany him to find Hedor. They began bridling their ponies.

  “Gorham, are these the same horses you rode on when we first met?” Alfred inquired.

  “No milord, these are farm horses sold to us by Merchantlords.”

  “Sold to us by them? Why? What happened to your horses?”

  “A sickness came over them. It was fortunate that the merchants were here and had horses to sell.” Gorham tightened straps and buckles.

  “These are just farm horses, right? They don't seem like, well, knightly horses.” Alfred was sitting on a short squat pony suited to pulling carts and plows.

  “Our horses were lost,” said Gorham, pausing a moment to remember his horse.

  Alfred was certain now that he did not like these merchants.

  “What was the price for these?”

  Gorham and Murith exchanged looks. “The bows and arrows and spears once held by the children,” Gorham said.

  “Whaht?!”

  Alfred fumed, nearly losing his seating from shaking with anger. It was a hard blow to take. The children were so proud of the weapons they had worked long to craft and perfect. Now their arsenal was gone. The merchants had disarmed the most important defenses of the Keep and replaced them with farm horses and strange lazy soldiers. And it cost them! Everything they fought for was lost to these merchants from far away. They had definitely profited from the farmers’ heroic struggles.

  “Do not punish Dunther, milord,” said Gorham under his breath. “He regrets his decisions during your absence.”

  Alfred did indeed want to yell at Dunther again. “It is such a loss Gorham. What will children use to train with and fight with now?”

  “Well, we didn't… We didn't expect them to have to fight anymore,” Gorham replied as he and Murith plopped on their horses.

  Alfred bit his lip and yanked his pony's reins. “Let us go get Hedor. I definitely have a kingdom to build. Again!”

  Gorham and Murith shared a guilty glance.

  In looks, Captain Hedor was hardly a “captain.” He was a fisherman and by all appearances, a homeless one. Only Ruig, the younger of the former bandits, was with him. Noticing him at the creek’s edge with his wooden stick and string, Alfred waved
.

  “Hedor! It took me several farmers’ directions to find you.”

  Hedor sat quietly. Ruig, sleeping against a tree, awakened and sat up. Knowing Hedor's anger, he sat quietly. Sir Gorham and Murith waited a ways back on the road with the ponies.

  Alfred approached through tall grass. It was a beautiful summer day with the slow steady creek bubbling by, thickly lined on both sides with grasses and thick squat leafy trees. There were just the right amount of logs and tree trunks for sitting and fishing.

  Hedor watched the little string that led out to a floating cork. He was pouting. Alfred sat down next to him.

  “I talked to Dunther. He said he is sorry.”

  “Did he?” said Hedor in a huff. “Well then, I guess I'm the captain of the guard again. And my first order is to expel those soldiers for hire and get back all our weapons and armour.”

  “I agree.” Alfred pulled off a long perfect piece of grass to chew on.

  Hedor looked at Alfred. “And it's too late?”

  “Yeah, I get the feeling these merchant lords do not give refunds.” Alfred chewed a tad and found it rich with milk.

  “Refunds?”

  “Uh, give things back, give back what is ours. Anyway, it’s done, and we gotta rebuild again. I told Dunther to keep those men out of the Keep.”

  “So he is obeying your orders then? That stubborn mule!”

  “Yes, he is.” Alfred squinched, realizing the grass’s strong fibers and tart taste weren't meant for him to chew.

  “Well, that's a surprise.” Hedor sniffed. “I nearly lopped his head off!”

  “And he didn't kill you for it?” Alfred gently punched Hedor. “I know mistakes were made. And guess what? He knows it too!”

  “Grave mistakes, Alfred! Grave ones! Dunther was angry and did things out of anger. He dismantled all that we had, all that you had done! He took down all that had been built for us!”

  There were shadows of fish near the cork. Hedor realized that his shouting had made them nervous. He gulped in bitter acceptance.

  Alfred remained calm. “Hedor, I just want you to know that Dunther knows he did wrong. He knows he made mistakes, serious ones. I'm here to fix them. And I have a plan.”