The Immortal King: Part One of the Godyear Saga

by Jason Malone

  “Thank you, Lady Ecwyn,” I said.

  I had heard of Ward, but I had not heard the rumours that he survived. The siege of the Capital was a bloody affair, and after the usurper Wim defeated the Capital’s defenders, he put them all to the sword, along with anyone else who supported or conspired with King Edwin. The Royal Godspeaker, Ward, was definitely in the Capital while it was besieged, but if he escaped then he might still be alive.

  And Ecwyn was right. If I could find Ward, I could possibly find Emrys. The Royal Godspeakers are said to have held many secrets that only they and the king know, and the truth about Emrys could have been one of those secrets. It was not much to go by, but it could be my best lead.

  “Where will you begin your search?” Adalbert asked.

  I thought about it for a moment. “The Capital. If Ward did escape, his trail will start there.”

  “Yes, if anyone can discover the truth about the last Royal Godspeaker, it is Edward,” Ecwyn said.

  “Very well,” Adalbert said. “I will provide you with provisions for your journey north when you decide to leave. Now, Matilda, is it? Tell me about Henton. It has been a while since Earl Harold has visited me.”

  And so Matilda told Adalbert of Henton and her father. Adalbert reminded Matilda and I that we were welcome to stay for as long as we liked. I thanked him and said that I would stay for Winterlow but that it would be best if I left as soon as I could, though I did not tell him about Hakon. I asked that he take in my servants as his own, because they would be a burden on the road north. He accepted.

  After the meal, we all wished each other goodnight and headed to our rooms. Matilda told me she had her quarters in the opposite wing of the keep to where I was staying, at the top of one of the towers, and she said I could visit her there if I needed help finding information about Emrys.

  I bid her goodnight, and once I arrived at my room, I found the servant girl from before waiting for me. She sat on my bed in nothing but her shift, with her hair down. She had obviously bathed while I was eating.

  “Did you have a good meal, lord?” she asked.

  I closed the door behind me. “Yes,” I said. “What have you been doing in here?”

  “Making myself ready.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Eida, lord.”

  “A pretty name.”

  Eida smiled. “Thank you, lord. Will you join me?”

  And so I went to join Adalbert’s spy on the bed. We slept little that night.

  Winterlow is the most important time of the year for the people of Ardonn. It is a tradition that reenacts the formation and eventual end of the world, and it reminds us of the cycles of death and rebirth. Of creation and destruction. Winterlow is the name we give to the final month of the year, when the days are coldest and the nights longest, before the arrival of spring and a new dawn.

  Sacrifices are made and feasts are had on each of the nights of Winterlow, and peasants, warriors, and priests all come together and forsake their differences to celebrate the turning of the year. We make prayers, give offerings to our ancestors, and placate the god Alcyn so that we may avoid the wrath of his hunting horde, and on the final night of the month, a horse or a cow is given to ensure that we may see the sun once more.

  The Last Night’s feast is always the greatest. The special Winterlow mead is rolled out and everyone gets roaring drunk and stays up until sunrise the next day, when we all shout at the sky and pour our drinks in honour of the god Hefencyn and his consort Morenlea. The new year begins that day, since from then on the days get warmer and longer and the worst of winter has passed. It is great fun.

  Adalbert’s servants began preparing for Winterlow shortly after my companions and I arrived, though the lord himself took little interest in the arrangements. What he did in his spare time I did not know, but Ecwyn took charge of the preparations and made sure everything was running smoothly.

  I told my servants that they would work for Adalbert now, at least until I could rebuild my home, and while disappointed, they did not protest. They helped with the Winterlow decorations, and Matilda and I helped where we could, but I spent most of my time with her in the library looking for information about Emrys or Ward, the last Royal Godspeaker.

  Ecwyn would often visit us in her spare time, and she would sometimes even help us with our search. When she did, however, she and Matilda would spend more time gossiping than reading.

  “Ecwyn, did you know that according to this lawbook, the very first edict of King Wim after his coronation was to outlaw slavery?” said Matilda on one such day.

  “Yes, I remember that. Many were not pleased,” said Ecwyn.

  “Why would the new king make a law that would upset so many in his kingdom?”

  “Ah, well there are whispers that Wim was in love with a slave girl from the south,” Ecwyn said. “The late King Edwin supposedly violated her, and so Wim vowed to purge slavery from Ardonn by whatever means necessary.”

  “They are rumours, nothing more,” I interrupted.

  Those rumours were, in fact, very true.

  Ecwyn and Matilda got along quite well. They became good friends, and Matilda was happy in those two weeks before Winterlow.

  I also allowed Dughlas to teach Matilda how to fight. Matilda watched Adalbert’s warriors training in the yard with Dughlas some days and decided she wanted to learn too, Gods only know why. Initially I forbade it, but since Matilda had sworn no oath to me, I could not stop her from doing as she wished, although I could stop Dughlas from aiding her.

  Eventually, though, I saw that there was probably no harm in it. Women should not fight, but these were strange times, and I had come to learn that strange things were happening every day somewhere in the world. I had Dughlas teach Philip how to fight every morning and every afternoon, and Matilda sometimes joined in with those training sessions. She was terrible, of course, but everyone is at first, and she learned fast.

  When I found the time, I would walk with Philip through the castle and the forest nearby, or take him to the castle’s library. I spent time teaching him about the Gods and the spirits that come into our world from the Otherworld, and the role those with the Gift must play in this world. I also taught him how to read.

  Matilda wanted to search for insects in the woods, which I allowed as long as she stayed within a hundred feet of the castle and did not enter any sacred spaces. She collected so many critters that she had to clear out an entire bookshelf in her quarters to make room for all her new jars. Ecwyn even encouraged her interest by having a shipment of the materials Matilda needed to preserve the insects sent from Oldford.

  It was not long before Winterlow came around. The first day of the season began like any other, but as evening drew near, Adalbert’s servants began making preparations for the rituals and the feast. As the sun set, Adalbert’s guests came into the keep with food as their contribution to the night’s meal. The guests were mostly churls from the homesteads near Oldford, but there were some wealthy individuals from within Oldford itself. I suppose Adalbert did have some allies within the town.

  I watched from the library window as the guests all crossed the castle’s courtyard and entered the main hall, despite the cold wind and snow that battered them. A storm was coming.

  I turned to hear a knock at the library door. “Who is it?”

  “It is me,” Matilda said. She was wearing a beautifully modest green woollen dress with long, loose sleeves. It was fitted tight around the torso, but at her waist the skirts puffed out.

  “You look lovely,” I said.

  She blushed and made a curtsy. “It is Ecwyn’s, but she let me borrow it.” She wandered over to a pile of books I had on the desk in front of me and began tracing the spines with her finger, her sleeves hanging low from her wrists.

  “Careful with those. Many of them are rare,” I said.

  She pulled her hand away. “And very old, by the looks of them.” She turned to me and grinned. She did indeed
look very beautiful, and despite the cold, a touch of warmth radiated from her face.

  “Ecwyn found them in the cellar, locked away in some old chests. They are ancient compared with the ones kept in this library,” I said.

  Matilda looked fascinated. “I would like to have a read of them sometime. Anyway, Lady Ecwyn sent me to inform you that the celebrations are about to begin, so you should come down to the main hall now.”

  I nodded, packed up what I was doing, then headed through the castle to the feasting hall. It was crowded when we arrived, but two seats at the high table upon the dais had been reserved for Matilda and me. My seat was at the right of Adalbert, and that was significant. Before the Usurper’s War, the Royal Godspeaker would sit in a seat to the right of the king’s throne. Nowadays, the First Minister would sit to the right of the king, or on some occasions, his high priest. Adalbert’s high priest was seated to my right.

  Ecwyn was seated to the left of Adalbert’s chair, which was traditionally the location of a lord’s heir. This, like my positioning, was likely a display to the powerful men who found a place at Adalbert’s tables.

  Besides that on the dais, Adalbert’s hall had four tables for the ordinary guests. These were already packed, and I spotted Dughlas and Philip sitting down there talking with the other guests. Evergreen branches, wreaths, and even small trees decorated the walls and rafters, and the large firepit was raging. Matilda and I took our seats, with her sitting beside Ecwyn. Adalbert had not yet arrived, but Ecwyn was already seated, and we greeted each other.

  Once all the guests had filled the hall, Adalbert finally made his appearance. He walked slowly to his high seat at the centre of the high table, sat down, and coughed. The lord glanced at me. “I see my daughter has put you in Lodulf’s seat,” Adalbert said, his voice hushed. Ecwyn looked over at me from the other side of her father and winked.

  “Yes, My Lord,” I said.

  Adalbert nodded and raised his hand for silence. He waited for everyone to settle. “Welcome, everyone,” he said. There were some mutters of thanks from around the hall. “I am glad that despite the weather tonight, you could all join me and my household for our annual Winterlow feast. There will be sacrifices, prayers, and feasting, as is custom. My temporary Godspeaker will now speak.”

  There was little charisma in the way he talked, and I noticed him suppress a cough once he finished speaking. I stood, unsure of what to say, since I had not known I would be doing this, and looked down on the guests staring up at me.

  “Greetings all,” I began. “As you know, Winterlow is a time for prayer, reflection, and worship. It is a time where we honour our ancestors and Alcyn, the god of death and winter. We placate the spirits of the Otherworld as they leak into our world in this dark time. But let us not forget that Winterlow is a time for celebration! A time when we can remind the Gods that once again we have conquered the dying of the year and shall again see the birth of a new one. For many, winter brings hardship, and although we remember those who have died, we also celebrate those who still live. So, I bid you all enjoy the coming month and indulge in the festivities that Oldford has to offer.”

  There were some cheers from the audience, and many of the guests thumped the tables in agreement. I sat back down, and Lodulf the priest leaned over to me. “Good speech,” he said. I thanked him. Lodulf was an old man. He had seen around sixty winters, was balding, but he had a thick silver beard and a mind full of wisdom. In the weeks I spent in Oldford I had come to like him.

  Lodulf asked me how my search for Emrys was going, and I admitted I had found little information about the Immortal King. I told him that finding Ward would probably be the best lead, but I did not know how I would find him even if he still lived.

  “My advice would be to seek those who knew him. People who were close to him,” Lodulf said. I agreed that would probably be a good start. It seemed my quest would indeed take me to the Capital. “Ward would have had many friends in the Capital, though I advise caution, for he would have had twice as many enemies,” Lodulf said.

  I nodded and stared into the crowd. Lodulf knew that I sought to prevent Emrys from being released, and the deeper I delved into the lore regarding Emrys, the more my youthful hubris made me believe I could — should — destroy Emrys forever and prevent Aelda’s prophecy from befalling. Finishing what Godwin could not would bring me immense fame. My glory would be immortalised in history and legend.

  And the more I thought about it, the more it became clear that Ward, if he lived, would be my best lead.

  The guests talked and laughed for a little while as I sat deep in thought, and breads, cheeses, and wines were brought to the tables for the guests to pick at before the main feast following the sacrifice. I spoke with Adalbert and Lodulf now and then, and noticed Ecwyn eavesdropping on us as she watched the guests.

  Eventually, the doors at the front of the hall were pushed open, and two of Adalbert’s men hurried in, huddled in furs. They closed the doors behind them, but not before a strong gust of snow and wind blew through, its howl echoing throughout the hall.

  Alcyn, the Lord of Winterlow, had come to visit, and with him rode his horde of dead men. They were here to receive our sacrifice.

  We all gathered in the woods behind the castle. A path lined with torches led us to a clearing, at the centre of which stood an enormous, leafless ash tree. A face had been crudely carved into the tree, and two torches stood on stakes at either side of it.

  Adalbert led the procession to the clearing and was flanked by me and Lodulf. Ecwyn and Matilda followed, and behind them were the rest of the guests and Adalbert’s warriors, servants, and courtiers. The slow, rhythmic beat of drums followed the procession while a woman sung a sombre tune. I could feel the presence of the Gods all around us.

  Everybody crowded around the tree, at the edges of the clearing. All were hooded, for this was a sacred space, and despite the icy wind and snow battering them, they stood emotionless. Dark clouds rolled and tumbled above us, and lightning flashed, illuminating the sky and giving the appearance of great monsters battling above us, though oddly it neither rained nor snowed. The Gods were celebrating.

  At the base of the tree was a stone slab — an altar — and beside that sat a large wooden bowl. The guests watched Adalbert intently as he knelt before the altar and called upon the Gods to look down on us. I felt them watching. Adalbert called out his prayers and asked that Alcyn spare us his wrath this winter. A crack of lightning split the sky and was followed by a deep grumble. Lodulf began to chant a hymn to the Gods while the drums rumbled and the woman from the procession hummed a wordless song.

  And that was when it was brought before the tree. A pig, traditionally the first sacrifice of Winterlow. A rope had been tied around its belly, and it was led by one of Adalbert’s men into the clearing and up to the altar, unaware of its fate. The man came and stood beside Adalbert, keeping the pig close on its leash. It trembled and looked to be crying. Or perhaps that was just the snow that fell on its face.

  I emerged from the crowd and approached the man with the pig. He handed me the leash, and I led the pig over to the stone slab by the tree. The singing woman handed me a bowl of water, with which I washed my hands and face. She bowed when I had finished.

  Two more of Adalbert’s men came forward, and the four of us lifted the pig onto the altar. It wriggled and squealed, but we managed to hold it in place atop the slab. The pig writhed and screamed. It kicked and swung its head, its eyes now wide with fear. Did it know its fate, or was this merely instinct? I gestured for another of Adalbert’s men to help us hold it down.

  I made the next step quick. I picked up the sacred blade and held it against the squealing animal’s throat, and in one swift motion I brought it up and then there was nothing but the sound of howling wind and creaking trees. Adalbert declared his offering to Alcyn, and that was met with another flash of lightning and a clap of thunder.

  I watched dark red blood flow swiftly from the bea
st’s open throat and into the bowl. The Gods were pleased. I could feel it, and I am sure my guests could too, for many bowed their heads as a show of humility. Lodulf’s hymn grew louder with the drums. The pig had stopped jerking, and what had been a gush became a trickle of blood.

  Adalbert’s men picked up the carcass and took it away. I then placed the blade down beside the altar, picked up the bowl now full of blood, and handed it to Adalbert. He placed the bowl on the altar then prostrated himself before the tree.

  “You may now place your offerings on the altar,” I said, turning to face the crowd. I gestured towards the great stone slab. and the guests began to place personal gifts of food and drink for their ancestors and the god Alcyn, while Lodulf engaged in a fierce singing match with the growling clouds.

  I caught Matilda watching me from the crowd. She stared with a face betraying little emotion, deep in thought, though about what I could not tell. I knelt beside the altar, my eyes still locked with Matilda’s. Neither of us could turn away. My heart was racing. Was it the Gods doing that, or something else? Ecwyn nudged Matilda, and she looked away, then I bowed my head and whispered quiet prayers to my ancestors.

  I was the last to leave the clearing that night. Everyone else headed back to the castle after leaving their offerings, followed by Ecwyn, Matilda, and Adalbert, then Lodulf returned with the singing woman, who I learned later that night was Lodulf’s concubine. But it was I who stayed in the cold the longest.

  It seemed as if the feast had been going on for hours when I finally returned to the keep. Most of the men were already drunk, and people were digging into the various fruits and vegetables, fish, breads, and meats served by Adalbert. The guests shouted insults at each other, told jokes and tales, and boasted of their deeds.

  I joined the others back up at the high table and filled my plate, but I did not drink, for I needed to have a clear head this night. Once I went to bed, I would dream and receive visions from the Gods. I needed to keep a clear head to interpret them and ensure they were not distorted. That was another aspect of my gift. The Gods could speak to anyone they chose, but only a few could understand them. Oneiromancy was an art all Godspeakers knew.