The Broken Kingdom

by Andrew G. Wood

  By the final course of the evening, the topic of conversation had reverted to what Luca could only describe as a more family orientated one. While this ultimately meant he and Edward were not part of it, Luca didn’t mind listening in as both families chatted about the more everyday, mundane parts of their respective days. Luca again thought how this was a part of family life he personally had never experienced. Just sitting down at the dinner table and chatting openly to his parents was something he had never done. The only time he was even allowed to eat with them was on state occasions, which typically meant him being stuck at the end of a table somewhere out of the way. It was as if he needed to be there, be seen as it were, but not heard.

  Luca glanced over at Edward and watched as the young man stared vacantly down at his empty plate. Did he miss his family? Luca assumed he must. Yet, despite the obvious good relationship he had with his father, Edward had given it all up for duty. A task in truth that he had fulfilled, and while Luca was actually getting used to having Edward there, was it really fair to keep him from his family?

  “Do you miss your father?” Luca eventually asked. Although he had kept his voice low and quite quiet, it seemed everyone else had overheard, as all eyes suddenly peered Edward’s direction.

  Edward sighed. “A little…I guess.”

  “Why don’t you go back to see him?” Luca found himself saying even though he wasn’t certain he should be making such offers. After all, it was Lord Oakley who had arranged with Edward’s father for him to be his bodyguard.

  “It’s fine…besides, I kind of quite like it here with you lot,” Edward replied blushing a little as he looked for their responses.

  “And we love having you with us,” Clarissa replied with a smile that stretched from one side of her face to the other, a sentiment that was soon echoed by her mother.

  “Although I’m certain Luca is sick to the back teeth with me?” Edward added, informally referring to the crown prince. While Luca had asked him to do as much, it was still evidently clear that neither Lord Oakley nor Lord Dalby were impressed with him doing so. As if sensing the awkwardness of the moment, Luca thought to answer it quickly, “Not at all. I’m actually getting used to you snoring,” he replied trying to make light of the situation.

  “I don’t snore,” Edward replied instantly.

  “Is that the noise I can hear from my room across the landing?” Samuel added. “I wondered what that was. I just assumed it was the animals outside.”

  “Yes. Haha, very droll,” Edward replied as he realised he was being made the brunt of the jokes.

  “Seriously though. I don’t mind you being around,” Luca quickly added, trying to divert the comments away from him.

  Edward glanced over towards Luca and gave a wry kind of smile. Luca noticed again how Edward’s gaze drifted across the table to one person in particular.

  “Wow,” he mumbled under his breath, grinning to himself. Strange how he had never noticed before, but now Luca thought about it, the more obvious it was becoming. Did Edward have some kind of crush on his cousin, Clarissa? They were of a similar age, but surely Edward couldn’t hope to ever be anything more than friends with her. After all, Clarissa was the daughter of one of the great noble houses, and would surely marry someone with a similar status, or at the very least perhaps a son of one of the lesser nobles. Edward was just a commoner, his father owned an inn… Luca quickly dismissed the thoughts thinking he was probably reading too much into it anyway. Even if Edward did like Clarissa, then he was probably aware that they could never be anything more.

  With the evening meal finished and cleared away, Lord Oakley and Lord Dalby both had a glass of brandy in their hands as Luca and Edward left them to continue their chat. Samuel, who it seemed was being invited more and more to join them in those chats went with them. Nerina, made her excuses and after yawing ridiculously loudly, much to her mother’s annoyance, she wished everyone a good night and headed off to her room. Luca thought to watch Edward carefully as they left the dining room and again smiled to himself as he spotted him glancing back Clarissa’s direction. A slight look over the shoulder it may have been, but it was definitely there.

  Although he had Edward beside him, Luca knew there would be two guardsmen following him up the stairs and two more on the landing. Entering the room, he shared with Edward he glanced back and watched the young man lock the door before lighting a second lamp to give the place a little more light. While a little tired, Luca wanted answers to the questions he had decided to ask. After kicking off his boots, Luca dropped down onto his bed and pushed his back up against the wall into a sitting position.

  “What do you think of Nerina?” Luca asked, working his way onto the main topic by starting with someone different.

  “Why? Do you have the hots for her?” Was not the reply he was expecting, and feeling his cheeks redden, Luca quickly pushed on.

  “No…Don’t be ridiculous. Anyway, she hates me. What do you think of Clarissa?” he quickly added trying to get the topic of conversation back under his control.

  Edward did not answer. At least not in any way that Luca understood. There was a large sigh and some kind of grunting noise, but no words. Thinking that was good enough to confirm his suspicions, Luca thought to leave it at that, and started getting ready for bed.

  Chapter 20. Not as they had planned.

  Lord Elthan sat at his desk with his head in his hands.

  “Defeated by a group of woodsmen!” he grumbled as much to himself as to his son who was sat in the room with him. In truth, Frederick had been quite happy to let his father take control of all the matters requiring the slightest bit of effort. Personally, he was enjoying the high-life of a king, even though he wasn’t one, nor would ever be one. However, if he could get Elysia with child, then perhaps his son would be. While that hadn't happened as yet, he had quite enjoyed trying. So much so that they tried at least three or four times a day, or in truth, whenever Frederick demanded it.

  “Are you listening boy!” Lord Elthan shouted raising his voice so loud that half of the palace could probably hear. Frederick suddenly squirmed, jumping slightly, startled by the sudden outburst.

  “You cant talk to me like that, Father,” Frederick replied trying to show that he had some backbone.

  Lord Elthan stood and walked slowly over to where he son was lounging, half slouching on one of the chairs. “I will talk to you how I like, you ungrateful little sod!” he snarled through gritted teeth. As much as he loved his son, there were times when he pushed his patience to the absolute limit.

  “If we don’t deal with this boy prince soon, it won't matter how many times you hump that whore of a woman, we will all be strung up by our necks!”

  Frederick sat up, visibly scared by his father’s outrage despite being a grown man. Like an admonished child he dropped his head slightly, “Perhaps I can get Elysia to put pressure on the nobles for her support?”

  While Lord Elthan wasn’t certain, that would work, at least Frederick was doing something to help. The few that had sided with him had only done so through greed as opposed to any real loyalty to the princess. Thankfully it had been these nobles who had suffered the greatest during his defeat in Scarwood, and the bulk of his own troops had managed to retreat back to a safe distance. Knowing he had underestimated Lord Oakley and his ability to defend his lands, Lord Elthan was confident that he would not make the same mistake again. Next time, he would plan properly and not just ride in gung-ho and allow half of the army he had put together to be slaughtered. Worse still, from the reports he had gotten back, was that Lord Oakley had not lost any men. Added to that the fact he was being supported by Lord Dalby of the Casillian Isle, which only made any further attempt to look even trickier.

  Leaving Frederick to sulk on the chair in his office, Lord Elthan walked with purpose down the corridor of the palace. Heading to the part of the building where he had permitted his sister and her followers to use. As usual, interspaced along the corr
idor were several black-clad figures, their faces all but covered up except for the eyes which followed him along the corridor as he passed them by. The lamps on the walls flickered, casting a dim half-light making the entire place feel much darker than it should for that time of the day. As was now the norm, Lord Elthan was held up briefly at the door to his sister’s suite, although this time the guards on duty did permit him to enter.

  Loretta was scantily clad, in a near see-through silken gown that left nothing to the imagination. Lord Elthan turned his gaze away, “Can’t you put some clothes on!” he said disgusted at what he saw.

  “Oh brother you are such a prude…I’m your sister,” Loretta replied in her usual teasing voice.

  “Exactly. So that means I don’t wish to see your…” Lord Elthan said getting somewhat het up and flustered.

  As if sensing her sibling’s annoyance Loretta wandered over to the far side of the room and picked up a robe that had been thrown over the back of the chair.

  “Is that better dear brother?” she said with a smile.

  “Yes, Thank you!”

  Loretta sauntered over towards him and placed her face right up in front of his own, to the point where he could actually feel her breath on his face. Whether she was being playful or just intimidating he didn’t much care and had little patience for her nonsense.

  “What can I do for you?” she said sensing he was in no mood for her playful antics.

  “You know we were defeated in Scarwood?” he said.

  “I do…It would seem you underestimated the enemy,” she said slowly strolling over to the window that overlooked the gardens at the rear of the palace.

  While Lord Elthan hadn’t personally been the one who had underestimated those defending the prince, he accepted the comment nonetheless.

  “We’re struggling…I’m not sure what to do next?” he admitted.

  “Come and stand beside me,” Loretta said keeping her gaze firmly fixed looking through the pane of glass. While Lord Elthan was in no mood for her silly games, he did so anyway, taking up a position just beside her.

  “If we are to succeed, perhaps I could help a little more?”

  “How are you going to do that. You’ve already said the boy is being protected by someone like you?”

  “Give me one week to amass my followers, and I shall send them to Garley in such numbers, Lord Oakley will not know which way to look first!”

  “You have many followers Loretta? What can a few of your cultists do, that hundreds of trained soldiers could not?” Lord Elthan replied all but dismissing her offer of assistance.

  Loretta turned her head sharply to look her brother in the eye. “I can muster hundreds of followers. Moreover, they can move about in smaller groups and hence cannot be tracked so easily as your army was!”

  Lord Elthan held his sister’s gaze, before nodding his head just once in approval.

  “Anyway, dear brother. You will need all your men to deal with the other armies being raised against you,” Loretta explained.

  Lord Elthan had been keeping a watchful eye on the other nobles and any strange activity that might suggest that was the matter of fact. While he was certain that Lord Romley of the Northern Marches had done just that, news about the other nobles not yet involved had been somewhat sketchy.

  “You know something I do not?” he asked in a tone that suggested he was annoyed with his sister for not revealing such information earlier.

  “Within a month you will be attacked from all sides, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. Your only hope is to kill the boy…”

  “You have foreseen this?”

  “I have,” Loretta replied turning her head to look out of the window once more.

  Lord Elthan was aware that his sister’s glimpses into the future were somewhat sketchy. After all, she had foreseen him controlling the kingdom, and while that was true as things stood, this had not been the way he had envisaged it. Killing the king and queen had seen his family taking some form of rule, but he was no fool. With the prince alive and well, it would only be a matter of time before his ever-more tenuous grip on the throne slipped from his grasp. If as Loretta had seen in some future vision that all the nobles had sided against him, there was no way he could defend against such odds. His hope now lay in her cultists, and while he didn’t like relying on his sister, he knew he had little option at the present time.

  In Garley, Lord Merrington had been forced to spend the night in the dungeon. With only a little straw to cover the cold, damp stone floor, he had shouted and whined incessantly for half the night about his poor treatment. Naturally, the guards on duty had ignored all his moaning as they had been asked to do, and after a few hours he had finally given up. Lord Merrington had at least been given a cell to himself, although barely big enough to lie down in, there was every chance the other prisoners were similarly being held. The only light came from a lamp outside his cell that flickered through the small square of bars near the top of the thick timber door.

  Lord Merrington shivered and winced slightly as he felt a sharp pain from the injuries he had sustained. Feeling cold, hungry and dirty he heard the rattle of keys from somewhere outside his cell and immediately got to his feet. With the roof only just high enough for him to stand upright he moved a little closer to the door and tried to peer through the gaps in the bars. Barely an eight or nine inch square with four iron bars running vertically within it was all he had to try and see what was going on. He was startled when a grizzled looking face appeared just the other side of the door.

  “Step back!” Came a deep, gruff sounding voice, and although Lord Merrington thought about complaining again, he felt he no longer had the strength to do so.

  After hearing the key turning in the lock, the door was shoved open, and two burly looking guards wearing the house colours of Lord Oakley stepped in through the door of his cell. Being crowded with one person meant it was full to bursting with three, leaving Lord Merrington little option to back away against the far wall. He felt his arms being grabbed and his body dragged forcefully out through the cell door into the area beyond. The other doors, all leading to cells similar to the one he had been forced to spend the night in, led off in the other direction, as he found himself hauled towards a set of stone steps.

  Another man appeared holding a set of iron manacles. Before he could speak, the two soldiers holding him twisted his hands around his back, causing him to curse and swear as the pain from his shoulder injury seared throughout his body. Feeling the cold metal against the skin on his wrists, the nobleman was shoved forward up the steps and ordered to walk.

  The steps were narrow and evidently old, and with the only light coming from somewhere up above, quite hazardous to climb up, especially with his hands bound behind his back. As he emerged onto the top step, there was a small opening that went up and out into the yard of the keep. Lord Merrngton squinted his eyes as they were suddenly overpowered by the bright sunshine. Half-blinded he was shoved forward and told to keep moving. While he could hear other voices around him, Lord Merrington could not make them out as his eyes tried to adjust. Nothing more than blurry dark shapes moving around the yard, he found himself dragged up another set of stone steps.

  “Take him into my office!” he heard someone say. A voice that sounded familiar, but with his head still spinning and confusion reigning he wasn’t certain whose. In his mind, he struggled to think who it was talking. Knowing he must now be inside, being as the bright sunlight had gone, and it being much cooler, Lord Merrington found himself shoved in through another doorway and onto his knees. Opening his eyes and lifting his head, he felt the soldier’s grip upon his arms loosen and eventually release.

  There were several figures before him, some standing, some sitting, but one more than any other caught his attention. A teenage boy stared back at him, and Lord Merrington knew exactly who he was even despite the somewhat less than regal looking clothes he was wearing.

  “Give him a drink, p
lease!” he heard the boy say to the man standing just behind him. “I want him able to talk clearly.”

  As requested one of the soldiers duly poured a little water into a cup and proffered it to Lord Merrington’s lips, tipping it just slightly to allow him to drink. Such was his thirst, the cool refreshing liquid tasted so good, and at that moment felt better than any wine he had ever tried. Almost disappointingly the cup was taken away, but feeling a little better for having the drink, Lord Merrington spoke, although not asked to do so.

  “I demand to be treated fairly!” he said keeping a level tone, but sounding a little hoarse, probably a result of all his shouting the previous evening.

  “You are alive, I think that is fair enough,” came the reply from the man he knew to be Lord Oakley. Lord Merrington sneered at the comment. This two-bit noble would get his comeuppance and when it happened all these lands would be his, as promised by Lord Elthan.

  “You can’t win!” Lord Merrington eventually responded, although this time his words were quickly followed by a sharp blow to the side of his head as one of the soldier’s hands struck him.

  “You will only speak when asked to do so!”

  This time it was the boy who spoke and not Lord Oakley.

  Lord Merrington glanced over at the soldier who had struck him, remembering the face for future reference. This man would suffer at his hand for what he had just done.

  Still, on his knees, Lord Merrington shuffled slightly as the wound in his leg began to cause some significant discomfort.

  “Why?” was the single word question that was aimed his direction. He glanced up, feeling dirty, unshaven and with hair that looked as though he had been standing in a strong wind, Lord Merrington held the gaze of the boy who had asked it.