“The best... are friends, true friends and hard workers. And what I found, in order to get hard work from friends, is you gotta do some hard work yourself.”
“Well, if that makes you a rich nation, I'm most curious about the procurement of such hard work!” The Magistrate laughed in his best political manner.
“Pro-cure-ment? You mean trading?... Magistrate, I must confess something to you. We, the Westfold, Grotham Keep, can't trade anymore. We are totally broke!”
Suddenly, the whole of the pavilion stopped dead silent. The music stopped, the pouring of wine stopped, the chomping of food stopped, the dancers froze... everything stopped. Dunther looked up from his meaty meal on a bone as it was taken right from his very hands.
“What?” the Ambassador sat up, food rolling off his chin. “What did I hear coming from this end of the party?”
“It appears the king and his merry band of volunteers are, shall we say, of no means,” the Magistrate spoke.
“Oh, no, no, no!... There are always ways around no means. There is always a means, a way to an end,” the Ambassador said, licking his lips and chubby fingers.
“Well,” said Alfred. “Lord Dunther made a contract with you that would be completed at the end of summer, at your arrival. And so we are certainly holding to that. Meaning, we can't afford the soldiers or workers any longer. So, you know, you can take them back with you.”
A pin dropped somewhere and made a loud ringing noise.
A small grape rolled out of the Ambassador's gaping mouth, onto his plump chin, then down onto his plump folds of clothing, settling nicely onto a plump pillow.
“Is it the Boy King's meaning that he is ending what appears to be all trade and contracts with the honorable Merchant Lords of Telehistine?” The Magistrate stood and waved his arms with pompous flair.
The Ambassador's eyes flicked back and forth from Magistrate to Alfred. His mouth fluttered with growing contempt.
“Well, we have nothing left to trade, and we don't need your soldiers.”
“You don't need our soldiers? Hear that, Ambassador? A remote kingdom attacked by goblins and vile creatures doesn't need our help? King Alfred and his realm do not need our soldiers?”
“Whah hah?” The Ambassador tried to bring his own wisdom into the conversation.
“Your soldiers, I said,” Alfred replied. “We don't need your soldiers.”
The silence once again was palpable. The Ambassador's jolly visage sunk to that of a dour doughy man. The Magistrate, who at first was stunned, now smiled with a devious look of satisfaction. “It appears this king doesn't want our help.”
Alfred stood up. “I do want your help, Ambassador. I ask for your help! I ask for Telehistine's help in an alliance. We need it. But we can't afford the cost you ask. We can't afford to do business trades when it is a time for war. We are a small kingdom trying to survive the onslaught of Gorbogal. We can't work out deals where we trade away our only resources, like all the goblin steel.”
“The trade for the goblin steel was fair!” The Magistrate waved ceremoniously, as if to protect the Ambassador. “We provided you with workers and soldiers at great expense and risk, a venture that merely settled on inferior and dismal goblin steel. It was you who gained while we barely scraped by – while we took on all the risk!”
Suddenly, the Ambassador jostled his plump body. Servants came rushing in to help. He shooed them off and waved for the Magistrate to be silent. The Ambassador hobbled over the pillows and food, kicking and knocking things over to get closer to Alfred. The Magistrate gave a wry smile and calmly stepped out of the way. The Ambassador finally made it to Alfred and stood straight in front of him. For a long moment he looked closely at Alfred.
Alfred looked back as meekly as possible.
The Ambassador then hugged him. “We will help you!”
The Magistrate stepped forward to balance the Ambassador, grabbing him tightly. “Ambassador! Our purpose?!”
“Silence, Magistrate! Our purpose in coming here is to help them! It is true, Alfred. We gained profit and sought even more. I must admit... heh heh,” the Ambassador said, beginning to ramble. “But you speak words of wisdom! If in these troubled times and times of war all we do is end up breaking your kingdom, then how will we ever profit off you in the future?”
He smiled sincerely and tapped his little chubby fingers together. He looked around at the audience for support. He gave them an eye of superiority. The Magistrate led them in supportive claps and positive nods.
“Thanks, I guess,” Alfred said, trying to balance himself amongst the pillows.
“Magistrate, we need to help him!” The Ambassador waved his chubby command finger as he twirled to return to his spot. The Magistrate bowed with a blank look. The Ambassador allowed his slaves to help him back to his cushions, where he promptly plopped down and then looked at Alfred. “For now, King Alfred, for now. But know you that we, Lord Merchants of Telehistine, always look at the profit line, always! We run the wealthiest, most elite, most prodigious empire of Merchant Lords! It would behoove you to attempt to keep relations with us! All wealth flows through Telehistine! And if you are part of it, you too will have the success to withstand the measly goblin hordes! Enough discussion for tonight!”
The Ambassador waved his hands in a strange flurry, and a dozen servants were upon him. He seemed to float away in their midst. Before Alfred knew it, he and Dunther were ushered from the pavilion and stood in the cool evening air of the Keep grounds. Festivities were still going on in the pavilion, they could hear the laughter and music. But alas, it was no longer for them. Dunther shrugged and burped. He was satisfied, smiling as he pat his tummy. He had not been so full in a lifetime.
Alfred smiled back, wondering what help the Ambassador was intending to provide and at what cost.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Nubio the Slave
Over the following days, the Ambassador and Magistrate had many deals to work out, but they were not with King Alfred or Lord Dunther. Whatever offer of aid the Ambassador spoke of the night in the pavilion seemed to be off their immediate list of deals to finalize. A line of officials waited to see the Ambassador – the same richly adorned officials who came with them on the caravan or lived in the village. Even the Master Carpenter and Sergeant of the soldiers, supposedly under Verboden and Lord Dunther, were going in and out of the pavilion.
Verboden was asked to help Tahnwithe with the workers. Alfred had hoped that Verboden's blessings and healings would encourage the workers and make them more diligent.
“My blessings seemed not to have an effect,” Verboden told Alfred.
“Not to have an effect? What does that mean?”
Verboden shrugged. “Without hope, without the light of goodness, what power do blessings have over one?”
Alfred wasn't sure what to think of that.
Finally, the servant Nubio, or slave, of the Magistrate, came to tell Alfred he was wanted. “King Alfred, my master says the Ambassador will see you and Lord Dunther now.”
Nubio came in as Alfred, Dunther, Gorham, Tahnwhithe, Verboden, Abedeyan, Loranna, Cory, Lady Nihan and the Keep's workers were sitting for their evening meal in the Great Hall.
“Your name is Nubio, right?” Alfred asked.
The dark skin boy smiled. He was nervous, darting a glance at Dunther and Gorham, who looked at him as if he were a fiend or something.
“Where are you from?” Alfred asked.
“From Khanifiah...”
“Where is Khanifiah?” Alfred asked, eyeing Dunther who had a mean look.
“I, I don't know.” Nubio shrugged. “I was very young...”
“Very young when they took you?”
Nubio nodded and tried to stand very still, not allowing himself to glance at anyone.
“Is the Magistrate your master?”
“Yes.”
“Can you go free if you wanted?”
“Free? No, he is my master. I am his slave.”
“We don't believe in slavery in this kingdom.”
“Speak for yourself, Alfred,” Dunther said. “Slavery comes in handy.”
“I am King, Lord Dunther. I will not allow it.”
“Uhnn... we all have our duties to King,” said Gorham.
“Well, duty and slavery are different. Dunther, do I force you to stay?”
Dunther thought carefully for a moment and then looked at Nubio and then Alfred. “No sire, you do not. I am free to go if I wish.”
“Hmmm...” Gorham nodded agreeably.
Alfred looked to Nubio and with a boyish smile said, “Lord Dunther thinks you are a demon!”
Nubio couldn't help but smile bright white teeth. He tried to cover it with his hands before they could see it.
“It's okay, Nubio. I know many boys and girls like you, and they are all nice. Many are my friends.”
“You do? Are they free like you?” Nubio suddenly blurted out. Then he quickly covered his mouth again.
At that question, Dunther looked up.
“Yes, Nubio... they are.”
A guard from the Ambassador poked his head into the Great Hall from the doorway. “Nubio?! Slave! The Magistrate requests, where is the boy king?”
Nubio suddenly straightened up more, if that was even possible, and looked desperately at Alfred.
“Tell him we will be there in just a minute,” Alfred said.
Nubio nodded and hurried off.
“Does that look like a demon?”said Verboden, leaning into Dunther.
“Demons are deceptive,” Dunther said under his breath, wiping his face with a cloth.
“I doubt deception is what you sensed from that dark skinned boy,” Verboden said.
Lord Dunther shrugged, getting up from his paltry meal.
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Plot Thickens
Alfred had never seen elves in this realm, not yet at least, until now. But these were not what he expected elves to look like, at least not from movies he had seen or games he played. When he and Lord Dunther entered the pavilion, the Magistrate stood with two smaller figures shrouded in dark green, hooded cloaks. They were not much taller than Alfred. It took him a while to see their faces and realize they were elves. They had finely crafted bows, quivers and blades. Everything was bejeweled or laced with shiny embroidery. Fine gold and silver vines twined all about their dark, forest green garments.
They stood silently and peered from beneath concealed hoods. Alfred observed that their eyes were more cat-like than human and quite large. Their hair was silver and curly, though most of it was covered. The skin he could see was odd – a white pale tone with shades of green and pink and blue, depending on how the light hit it. He became transfixed staring at them, and this was definitely not the time to be transfixed!
“Goblin raiders have been spotted, King Alfred!” the Magistrate said.
“What?! Where?” Dunther tightened into his warrior stance.
“Northward, by your dark forest Danken Fuhr, a large raiding party. They are preparing to ransack the farms on the outskirts of your kingdom! My elven servants have done you an invaluable service bringing this information. To help, of course.” The Magistrate motioned to his secretive scouts.
“There are at least a dozen families there,” Dunther said, turning to Alfred. He was already tightening straps on his loose armour to prepare for battle.
“We must call them to the Keep!” Alfred said.
“You must go and meet them! To save your farms,” the Magistrate exhorted, bowing.
“Yes the farms, Alfred! We need them. Harvest is soon. They are attacking early this year! To ruin the harvest!”
“My... er… the Ambassador's guards shall remain here and protect the Keep. It is the least we can do to provide aid.” The Magistrate bowed, almost too far.
“Yes, yes, of course. Can your scouts show us the way? Scout for us?”
The Magistrate looked to his mysterious elves, who nodded they would. “They can,” the Magistrate said, smiling again. He had a strange look that Alfred couldn't figure out.
Lord Dunther regained his knightly demeanor. “King Alfred, by your leave, I shall go forth to meet these goblins and protect the farms!”
“Should you leave the Keep? Who will defend it if anything were to happen? Maybe your Captain of the Guard could go?” asks Alfred, quite vexed.
“Oh no!” the Magistrate said with a cold smile. “No, no, the Royal Guards stay with the Ambassador. But I assure you, if this Keep were attacked, as long as the Ambassador resides here, we will defend it!”
“We have no choice, Alfred. I must go. Sir Gorham and I must meet and end this raiding party.”
Alfred knew something didn’t feel right, but he didn’t know what. In the past, he would have been the first out the door. Now he felt something strange tug at him to stay. He looked at the elves, still veiled and mysterious. He reluctantly nodded okay.
Dunther bowed quickly and turned, exiting the pavilion. “Sir Gorham! Soldiers! Prepare for battle!”
Alfred looked up at the Magistrate's upward tilted head.
“You see, King Alfred, the Merchant Lords are most gracious in helping those who give allegiance.”
Alfred's eyes widened. He looked at the elves once again as they were busily whispering to each other. “Thank you, Magistrate, and thank the Ambassador.” He gave a quick bow, a nod really, and left.
The Magistrate returned a full and gracious bow.
Alfred hurried over to Dunther and Gorham, who were bridling their squat ponies in the small tower stables. The soldiers were outside putting on their armour.
“If only we had stallions such as the Captain of the Guard's horse, hey Dunther?” said Gorham as Alfred entered.
“Aye, these ponies will have to do. I'll fight goblins on foot if I have to,” said Dunther, hurriedly affixing the saddle.
“Lord Dunther, I am not so sure you should leave the Keep?!”
“What do you mean, King? Would you not go yourself? Did you not go to save the farms before?”
“Yeah, but we have these strangers here. I don't know if we can trust them.” Alfred spoke carefully and quietly.
“I could stay,” Gorham shrugged, busy with his preparations.
“No, Sir Gorham, you shall fight at my side!”
“Dunther, I feel like we are being spread out!” cried Alfred. “What if goblins attack from the south?”
“The south?” Dunther looked at Alfred oddly. “There aren't any farms there.”
“King Alfred, do you feel this is a ruse?” Sir Gorham calmly asked.
“A ruse? What's that?” Alfred asked nervously. Lord Dunther rolled his eyes and huffed, not hiding any of it from his King.
Sir Gorham continued, “A trick, to draw us away from the Keep in the wrong direction.”
“Yes, yes, a ruse!” Alfred nodded affirmatively.
“Look, goblins are goblins, and farms are farms. Besides, you have the Ambassador and his Royal Guards!” Dunther explained. “They are better equipped and trained than us, so you already have a defended castle!”
“But, but...”
Sergeant Jeurkaheen came to the door. “Lord Dunther, the soldiers are ready and able!”
“Alfred, lead the defenses here. You are quite capable! Now, let us knights do our job and defend the farms in the North,” Lord Dunther said. “My liege, your bidding?”
Lord Dunther and Sir Gorham waited as Alfred looked away, darting his eyes back and forth. He finally nodded. Lord Dunther hustled out. Sir Gorham followed and put his hand on Alfred's shoulder for one last grip. Alfred stared after them.
Lord Dunther raised his arm, and the large gate was opened. He had two score men-at-arms following behind. Lord Dunther, Sir Gorham and the Sergeant Jeurkaheen were on the stout ponies. Once the gate was fully open, he lowered his arm, and the assembly marched forth. The two elves suddenly appeared ahead of them and dashed rather rapidly out the gate and into the evening shadows.
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Duty of Heroes
Alfred went out on the wall with Loranna, Cory and Verboden. They watched as Dunther and Gorham led the soldiers down the road, through the village and beyond. They could see them along the dark countryside for some time, as the soldiers carried torches.
“They are led by elvish scouts,” Alfred sighed.
“Elves? I have not seen any, ever!” Loranna said.
“You would not want to see these ones. They look evil,” Alfred said sadly.
“And they are leading our knights away,” Verboden said.
Alfred nodded, looking down.
“We should go back to the mines and get the archers and spearmen to defend the Keep,” Loranna said.
“Spearboys!” Cory interjected.
“No, I prefer them protecting the mines. We must keep the mines a secret. I don't want these merchants getting any ideas about buying that up too.” Alfred rested his head on his arms atop the battlement. They stood on the open stonework of the unfinished walls.
“Do you expect the Ambassador to defend the Keep if goblins should attack here?” Verboden asked.
“I'm not sure, Verboden, but I know I have no command over them.”
“Well, what do you expect us to do? What do we do if the Keep is attacked, especially if the Ambassador chooses otherwise? Are we to have Lady Nihan and her seamstresses defend the Keep?”
“Did you make a joke, Verboden?” Alfred asked, still sad.
“A joke? I'm not sure.” Verboden shrugged, leaning on his staff.
“We have a plan, Verboden, a fallback!” Loranna said.
“Shhh!!!” Alfred suddenly burst out.
“A secret you keep even from me?” asked Verboden.
Alfred glanced past them. They all turned to see a guard pacing nearby on the wall, acting as if nothing was going on. He turned and walked back the other way, under the shoddily constructed battlements, as a guard might do.
Loranna turned to them. “I must go warn my family and the farmers. My home is not far.”
Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King) Page 14