The Immortal King: Part One of the Godyear Saga

by Jason Malone

  “Did you not tell him who I was?”

  “No. I only told him your name was Edward and that you were one of my bodyguards, but that is all. I worried that if he knew your identity, he would never release you. I thought he served King Stephan.”

  I smiled, for that was clever of her. “Why did you tell him the truth this morning, then?”

  “Last night, I noticed Arne wore a dragon emblem on his belt. I thought nothing of it then, but when I awoke this morning I realised I had seen that emblem before — on Ward’s lockbox and the seal on the letter you received in Oldford. I made the connections and some risky guesses and then hastened to tell Arne you were on his side. That was when I saw them ready to execute Dughlas.”

  “Thank you, Matilda. I owe you my life,” I said. She blushed and shook her head. “One of the guards made it seem like you were mistreated. Is this true?”

  Matilda frowned. “No, I was treated rather well.”

  I sighed, relieved. Matilda had been entirely unharmed. The healer cut the thread and tied it, completing the stitch. She then started pressing my chest, and Matilda looked away.

  “Does it hurt to breathe?” the healer asked.

  I nodded. “A little.”

  The healer pressed my chest in different spots, trying to feel if there was a break. She ran her fingers along each of my ribs, frowning. “I can’t feel a break,” she said. “It’s probably just bruised. I think you will be okay. Just don’t get into any fights for a few weeks.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said.

  The healer smiled. “Are you a farmer?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  She shrugged and started washing her bloody hands in a bucket. “You have the chest of a farmer. Broad and tough. I can tell you work often.”

  “Why are you making this observation?” Matilda asked.

  “You should try to rest for a while instead, Edward, and avoid work,” the healer said.

  I thanked her and stared out of the window. It was late morning now, and the snow was still falling. Ash fell from the sky too, because Arne’s men had burned down most of the huts around the fort, and so smoke billowed above the keep and overpowered the stench of death.

  I heard men outside cleaning up the bodies, piling them all at the base of the hill. The pile would be burned when we left the keep, and that was soon. Arne did not want to linger here for much longer. I wondered how Dughlas was. The rest of Ward’s warriors had been executed, but Arne had spared Dughlas because he was my companion. He had been hurt badly too, but the healer assured me he would recover. He always healed fast.

  I mourned for Cubert. His body would likely be among the others, piled up and waiting to be burned. But I could take comfort in the fact that he died a warrior’s death.

  At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and Arne entered. His puppies ran into the room ahead of him and leapt up onto the bed to pounce on Matilda. She laughed and fell back, and the puppies started licking her face as she ruffled their fur.

  “His Lordship gave them to me as a Winterlow gift,” Arne said. “His blacksmith’s bitch gave birth to a litter, but he did not want the puppies. Is Edward healed, Louisa?”

  “He is, lord,” the healer replied.

  “Good. We can be off soon then. Edward, I have sent a rider ahead to Tillysburg to inform His Lordship of what happened here and that you will be coming with us. I am sure the king will be eager to meet his champion.”

  “I never knew I was so famous among Carol’s men,” I said.

  Arne laughed. “The king is always talking about you. He tells us all how well you guard his realm from Otherworldly threats and of how you work for the betterment of his subjects’ souls. He believes you are Godwin reborn.”

  I knew Carol planned to make me his Royal Godspeaker should he reclaim the throne his father had lost, but I never realised how important I was to him. It seemed as though Carol already thought of me as his champion, just as Godwin had been the champion of King Carol the Great all those centuries ago. I had never met the Pretender, but now I was going with Arne and his men to meet him.

  Arne told me that after Roger had overthrown his brother and become the Earl of Tillysburg, Carol took his army from the fort in the mountains and marched to support Roger, who had pledged fealty to Carol. Carol now ruled his small kingdom from Tillysburg and was preparing for the war King Stephan was bringing. So, we were going to Tillysburg, and from there I would set out to find Philip. I still worried about him, but I was hopeful now.

  Arne had come to this room to give me fresh clothes, return my weapons, and tell me to prepare to leave. Matilda and I packed our things and made ready to ride north, and we then met with Dughlas. He was sore, but he was strong, and I was confident he would live. His left arm was in a sling, mangled from the axe blow, and he had a fractured ankle which gave him a limp.

  We joined Arne in the courtyard outside the keep, and he returned our horses to us. I mounted Brand, then Matilda and I followed Arne and his men out of the broken gate, back down the hill, and through the ruined, scorched village. A wagon followed, pulled by two mules, and Arne’s dogs sat in that with the healer Louisa, Dughlas, and some other wounded men.

  We rode past the pile of bodies outside the hillfort, and some men dismounted to set it ablaze. It was an awful smell, and some of the men even vomited as we passed it. I noticed Ward’s bald, bearded head among the pile of bodies. His eyes were wide open, giving me an empty stare. I am sure Cubert was in that pile as well, but I did not see him.

  I bowed my head as a show of respect and carried on north with the rest of Arne’s warriors. I held no animosity towards Arne and his men for slaying my friend. We were warriors and had all fought bravely and fairly. Cubert had fallen in honourable combat and was now drinking and feasting with his ancestors.

  It was shortly after we left Mudhill that the tiredness hit me. I struggled to keep my eyes open and at one point almost slid from my saddle. Arne did not want to stop till nightfall because he knew the local nobles would see the smoke at Mudhill and send men to investigate. I was glad of Arne’s hastiness, for I wished to reach Philip as soon as I could, though the riding took its toll. Matilda insisted that I let her ride Brand for me so I could rest. I reluctantly agreed.

  She sat in the front of my saddle and tied her horse to mine with a rope so it would not wander off. Matilda took the reins and rode Brand onwards while I put my arms around her, rested my head on the back of her shoulder, and drifted off to sleep.

  It was a week-long ride from Mudhill to Tillysburg, and it both rained and snowed frequently. The pain in my chest lessened, and it no longer hurt to breathe. My shoulder and leg still hurt, but they were healing nicely. Dughlas’s wounds were healing too, and Louisa assured him that it was unlikely infection would set in at this point. He even managed to ride his own horse on the seventh day.

  “Have you heard the tale of how Tillysburg earned its name?” he asked as he rode at my side.

  “Can’t say that I have,” I said.

  “I have,” said Matilda.

  I raised my eyebrows. “A tale you two know, but which I do not. That’s a first.”

  “One of the men told it to me,” said Dughlas. “But go on, Tilly, let’s hear your version of it.”

  Matilda smiled and cleared her throat. “Tillysburg was named in honour of Matilda Meatcleaver, the woman I am named after. She was the daughter of the Lord of Everlynn during the War of Betrayals nearly two centuries ago, but the way she acted, one would think she was his son.

  “When Everlynn fell to Hemma’s forces, Matilda fled the city with several hundred warriors and made her way to a hillfort near the Alps. Hemma’s army followed her, and there she made a final stand.

  “She held them off for months, with her warriors killing eight times their number, until eventually they were betrayed and the fort was infiltrated. Matilda stood her ground on the bridge to the keep, and it is said she slew forty men single-handedly befo
re they managed to cut her down. Her enemies had such respect for her that when they captured the fort, they named it in her honour. Tillysburg.” Matilda looked proud when she finished telling her story.

  “That’s not how I heard it,” said Dughlas. “The man I spoke to said nothing about a betrayal, and that Matilda fell in a duel, not after defeating forty men.”

  “Well, your version is wrong,” Matilda barked. Dughlas smirked. “At any rate, Matilda was a fierce and noble woman, and I am glad to share her name.”

  “How did she earn the title of ‘Meatcleaver’?” I asked.

  “It was her sword. They say it was so large, one swing of it could cleave a man in half,” said Matilda.

  I grinned. It was a rare thing for a woman to fight in battle, and rarer still for one to become so legendary, but I had seen and heard of stranger things.

  We arrived at Tillysburg in the afternoon of the final day of our journey. It sat upon a low, wide hill, and a small fort rose above the buildings in the centre of the town at the highest point. Beside that castle stood a tall bell tower.

  A high wooden wall surrounded the outer edge of the town, but it was in a state of disrepair. Numerous gaping holes could be spotted, rendering the wall more or less useless. Men were filling the gaps with freshly cut logs, barrels, and anything else they could find to patch them up. War was coming, and they anticipated a siege. Stephan would be lucky if he could catch Carol here. I remember feeling that this town looked eerily familiar, though I could not place where I had seen it before.

  As Arne’s small army approached the gates, they were slowly pulled open for us to enter. An archer above the gate waved down to us, and Arne waved back. “The king is in the town hall,” the archer called. We entered Tillysburg, and the gates closed behind us with a loud groan.

  The houses inside the walls were mostly made of wood, though some upper-class homes had brick and stone. It was not shoddy, though, and the buildings were well maintained. If I had to pick one word to describe the town, I would simply use ‘brown.’ The streets were bumpy and made from cobblestone, so we had to leave our horses in the huge stable at the gate. Only the wagon came with us.

  Dughlas struggled to walk along the cobbles, so he sat with the other wounded men and Arne’s dogs in the wagon. Matilda walked beside me through the town, and Arne walked ahead of us at the front of his column. As we walked, women threw flowers down onto the warriors from the windows, and people cheered as we passed. Some women wept, for they had lost their loved ones in the attack. I felt guilty, for I knew I had killed some of them.

  Matilda stopped suddenly and turned, and I looked to see what had halted her. She was staring at a large wooden temple, which was now surrounded by scaffold on which builders worked to repair the sacred building. But what had caught Matilda’s eye was the scene in the square outside it.

  “By Hefenstea…” she whispered.

  My blood ran cold. In front of the temple were eight tall gibbets rising high above the square, from which naked men were hanging by their feet. Their skin was blue, they were castrated, their guts hung down from open bellies, and their eye sockets were empty. Flies buzzed around them, drawn to the rotten stench. One of Arne’s men noticed us staring at the scene before us.

  “Traitors to the king are hanged or beheaded,” he said and then nodded at the hanging men. “But traitors to the Gods suffer a fate far worse.”

  I realised then who those men were. They were priests. Men who had likely maintained and performed rites in the temple outside which they now hung. Carol must have had them executed when he arrived in the city, because many priests these days spewed false words about the Gods and rejected the old dynasty in favour of the new. I took Matilda’s arm and pulled her along, leaving the priests to rot.

  We saw a similar scene when we arrived at the town hall, but the men on the gibbets here were only hung by the neck. Arne told me they were the town’s wealthiest men, along with the mayor, who had been punished for refusing to support Carol or for aiding the usurper Wim during the war.

  The town hall itself was impressive. It was three storeys tall, with exquisite carvings and niches displaying statues and beautiful windows. Attached to that building was the bell tower that rose up above the town. A half-rotten corpse in fine clothes hung from the top of that tower, and I assumed that was Rainulf, the earl’s twin brother. So much death in such a little town.

  To the north, rising above the wooden houses, was Tillysburg’s small stone fort flying the town’s white banners. Arne’s warriors all waited outside the town hall while he led Matilda and I inside.

  He took us into the council chamber, which had tiered seating along the left and right walls. At the opposite end to the doors was a high dais on which sat a throne. The throne was backed against a wall, from which hung four tall banners. They were a deep purple, and a golden dragon was emblazoned on each one.

  About a hundred men sat in this chamber, and we could hear them roaring with laughter even before we entered. Two warriors stood at the door and bowed to us, and in the middle of the room stood a young man dressed in a fine grey woollen tunic woven with golden threads.

  He wore tall black boots, black gloves, and a rich purple cloak was draped over his shoulders. He was blonde, clean-shaven, and his wavy hair, which fell halfway down his neck, was cut sharply at an even length. He was incredibly handsome, and even without that simple iron crown atop his head I would have known he was Carol the Pretender.

  Carol was holding some pieces of parchment and addressing the audience. The scene at first looked as though Carol was reciting a comedy, but I quickly realised he was reading legal proposals sent across the land by King Stephan to the nobility.

  “And hear this one,” he said. “The ‘good king’s’ council wishes to enforce his laws throughout the kingdom by planting his own men in the lands of the nobility and revoking the traditional rights of Ardonn’s lords. Does the bastard really think he can keep men from joining my cause with such edicts?”

  This was the first time I had heard Carol speak, and I immediately liked him. His accent was elegant and noble, he was charismatic, and his voice alone sounded as though it was touched by the Gods. It was high but commanding. Calm but firm. The men in the chamber all laughed when he finished, and he bore a handsome grin.

  “Lord King, forgive me,” Arne said. He bowed, and Carol turned to us. The hall went silent. I bowed too, and Matilda made a low curtsy. We stood straight again, and Arne opened his mouth to speak, but Carol raised a hand to silence him.

  “You are Edward,” he said, gazing at me from across the hall. I bowed my head low. “By all the Gods, you are finally here…”

  The hall was silent. I kept my head down and heard his footsteps echo as he made his way over to me. He lifted my chin, and I noticed the dark makeup he wore around his eyes. He smiled as our eyes met. They were a bright blue, like the sky at dawn, and they shone like jewels. He threw his arms around me, and as he pulled away I fell to one knee.

  “I am at your service, Lord King,” I said.

  He looked down at me and smiled. “And I am at yours, Edward of Oldford. My friend.”

  The Gods were smiling. The king and his champion had finally met, and our plan for this kingdom was ready to be set in motion.

  “That throne is my right,” Carol told me. “My fathers have held that seat for eight hundred years. That bastard Stephan sits on my throne and rules my kingdom, and now you tell me that a dead man also lays claim?”

  Carol and I were sitting alone together in a study high up in the town hall’s tower. He was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace while I sat in a chair beside the hearth. His crown was now sitting on the desk, and he had removed his cloak. Carol had dismissed his council after my arrival and insisted we talk in private. I told him everything that had happened since I arrived in Henton and warned him that a noble named Hakon was planning to release the legendary Immortal King.

  “No, Lord King. I am
telling you that a man who never died will try to claim it,” I said. I watched the pretender pace with a cup of wine in his hand.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I know the legend of Emrys. He is my ancestor, you know.”

  “I did know, Lord King. Many will follow Emrys. He will represent for many a return to the old order and a better age. There are many in your kingdom who see no hope in neither you nor Stephan. Hakon believes Emrys is Alcyn incarnate, come to chastise and reforge the world in the fires of war, and he will convince many of that lie.”

  Carol turned on his heel, smiled, and came to sit in the chair beside mine. He leaned in close. “According to legend, my ancestor King Carol the Great, whose name I bear, fought side by side with your predecessor Godwin, and the two of them sealed Emrys away inside a mountain. But we both know deep down that it was Godwin who did all of the work.”

  “I do not see how that is relevant, Lord King.”

  “Ah, but it is, do you not see?” Carol tipped back the rest of his wine, placed the cup down on the chair’s arm, then took my hand in both of his. “You are Godwin’s heir! I wager that Fate has brought you and I together to defeat Emrys once and for all, and then we shall return my kingdom to glory.”

  “If you insist, Lord King.”

  “I do insist, Edward. I shall provide you with whatever help you need to hunt down this Hakon character and rescue your apprentice, but should Emrys be freed, you will have my army at your back, and the two of us will fight this immortal warlord side by side. And please, call me Carol. ‘Lord King’ is only necessary in public. More wine?”

  I nodded, then Carol stood and marched over to the table, where he poured us both another cup.