“And then you killed him?”
“No, I backed up, but I tripped and fell. It was one of the scariest moments of my life; I was sure I was going to die.”
“But you’re alive now, so what happened?”
Gerald blushed, “Meredith saved me.”
Anna’s brow knitted. “So let me get this straight, the girl, Meredith, kept you safe? Did she kill the man?”
Gerald cleared his throat, “No, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“So what happened exactly?”
“Meredith jumped on his back, and it threw him off balance. He fell forward, onto the knife I was holding.”
“And that’s when you killed him?”
“Yes, that’s when I killed him.”
Anna stared at him for a moment. “You know, that’s not the most heroic account Gerald. Is there a point to this story?”
“Yes. Even though I was scared, petrified even, I still tried to fight. I knew it was the right thing to do. Sometimes you have to do what you think is right, regardless of your fears.”
She nodded wisely, taking it all in. "I know what I have to do Gerald," she said earnestly, "but I have to do it properly. Will you help?"
"Of course, Anna, tell me what you want me to do."
"Alright," she began, "first you have to tell Sophie…" the instructions were clear and, to Gerald’s mind, very well planned out. He didn't know where she got her ideas from, but she spent some time finalizing every detail.
Sometime later, Renfrew arrived at the clerk’s office, summoned by a servant. The door opened, and the groundskeeper invited him in. He walked in, his back straight, expecting to see a recovered Hanson, or perhaps his successor, sitting behind the desk. Instead, an unexpected scene presented itself. Princess Anna was sitting behind the desk appearing impossibly tall, or was it his imagination? The groundskeeper, Gerald, pulled out the chair for him, and Renfrew graciously accepted the invitation. To his surprise, as he sat down, he fell a little further than he had expected. The chair was smaller than usual and had shorter legs. He suddenly realized why it was a tight fit; he sat in a child’s chair! He made as if to stand up, but a growl erupted from the side of the desk. He turned to see the massive dog sitting on the princess’s right. The groundskeeper’s firm hand was placed on his shoulder to keep him seated.
He was infuriated but acquiesced. He was about to say something when the princess suddenly put her finger to her lips and shushed him.
"Mister Renfrew," she began, "I am going to tell you what's going to happen and you, in turn, will listen carefully. When I am done, you may have your say, agreed?"
Renfrew was about to speak again when the dog growled, a low rumbling sound that shook him to his very bones. He nodded nervously.
"During your time here, you have taught me very little that I didn’t already know. You have taken me away from my friends, and you have mistreated me. That will cease immediately. In fact, your services are no longer required. I would dismiss you, but another replacement would likely be sent in your place, so I'm going to give you an alternate arrangement. You will continue to take your place here at Uxley as Royal Tutor, but I will have nothing to do with you. You are free to come and go as you please and live a life of relative luxury commensurate with your position here. I will even give you a slight raise. All you must do in return is write your regular reports and glowing recommendations about how well I am progressing as your student. Is that understood?"
Renfrew nodded, but a devious look crossed his face. He was about to speak again.
Anna looked briefly at Gerald for steadiness. He smiled, she was doing well.
"If you do not," she continued, "I shall write a letter to the king, about your callous disregard for my well-being." She stumbled a little at some of the words but grew more confident the more she spoke. "I needn't tell you the king is not known as a man who takes criticism of the Royal Family well."
Renfrew paled at the thought. The king indeed was not known as a merciful man. His justice was often brutal and quick. He gulped, then nodded.
"Now," she continued, "you may have the rest of the day off. Here are two crowns, consider it a bonus. Go into town, have a drink, maybe a meal, but I warn you, if I learn you have double-crossed me or slighted me in any way, your punishment will be permanent."
He stumbled out a, "Yes, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness," before being hustled from the room.
Gerald closed the door as he left. They could hear the tutor almost running down the hallway. He was so proud of her; she had stood her ground and dealt with the problem. He turned back to see Anna, still standing behind the desk when he noticed her trembling. Tears were starting to form in her eyes, and she was shaking even as she stood there, oblivious to her surroundings. He cursed to himself. He had pushed her to do this, telling himself it was the right thing to do, but now he had doubts. It wasn't worth it to see her in such turmoil. He walked around the desk, enveloping her in his arms. "It's all right Anna, it's over now!" he soothed. She clung tightly to him for some time, until she stopped trembling.
She straightened herself back up. "Look at me, I can't even do this without falling to pieces!" she said in self-disgust.
"It's all right Anna. When I was in Bodden, I didn't stop shaking for two days." He looked at her with a straight face until they both burst out laughing. She would survive this.
Chapter 17
The Ambush
Summer 957 MC
IT was a warm summer's day as Gerald finished harnessing the horses. He had decided to head into town with the wagon to pick up some supplies for the kitchen. He looked forward to having a light lunch, and maybe an ale or two, at the Old Oak Tavern with Sam. It was still relatively early in the day. He could see Anna off to the side of the Hall, playing with Tempus. She looked over and noticing him, ran to see what he was doing.
"Are you going into town Gerald?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "I need to pick up some supplies for Cook. We're running a little low. I'll be back just after lunch."
"Can you do me a favour?" she requested.
"Certainly, what is it?"
"Well," she considered her words before speaking, "I'd like some pastries from the bakery. Can you wait a moment while I go and get some coins?"
"That's all right. You can pay me back later. Do you want to come along?"
She thought about this before answering, "Much as I would like to, I need to bathe Tempus. He's starting to stink up the house and Cook is getting a little upset."
"Then I'll leave you to it. See you this afternoon." He waved goodbye, then climbed up into the wagon, giving the horse a gentle snap of the reins. The wagon lurched forward, the familiar sound of horse’s hooves striking gravel greeting his ears. He manoeuvred onto the main entranceway heading toward the gate.
Anna and Tempus ran toward the wall that lined the road, the better to wave to him once he exited the gates to start his trip to town. It was looking like a beautiful warm day with just a hint of a breeze to help overcome the heat of the summer.
Once through the gate, which was always left open, he turned to the right, down the winding road, which led into the village. The wheels were creaking, as they always were, and the horses occasionally sniffed the air. He drove them parallel to the wall, and he could see Anna and Tempus leaning on the wall waving, so he waved back.
He had only gone a few hundred yards when he heard a sound, and suddenly his leg exploded in agony. He looked down to see an arrow protruding from his thigh, very near his old wounds. A scream of distress erupted from his lips. He saw two men step out from the trees at the edge of the road. They were holding swords, with a third man, just behind them, holding a bow.
The first man stepped forward raising his hands to stop the horses. "Hand over your coins, old man," he demanded. "We know you're going to town with an empty wagon, and I'm guessing you've got some coins on hand to pay for goods. We’ll gladly relieve you of them."
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br /> Gerald was in a great deal of pain but still held onto his wits. He dropped the reins and nodded, reaching below the seat to where the strongbox lay. He waited while the second one sheathed his weapon and climbed onto the wagon, then Gerald made his move. Lying beside the coin box was his cane, and he grabbed it and struck while he had surprise.
The cane hit the brigand on the side of the face, causing him to lose his footing and fall back into the wagon bed.
Gerald lunged toward the back of the wagon, intending to throw himself on top of the man while grabbing for his opponent’s sword, but the arrow in his leg caught on the seat as he dove and there was a snapping noise as the arrow broke. He could feel blood flowing freely from the wound as he desperately threw out his arms to grab the prostrate man. The bandit now struggled to draw the blade free while lying prone. He had half withdrawn it before Gerald was upon him, grabbing for the hilt as well. They were both trying to draw it forth, each knowing it was a life and death situation, but Gerald had fought many times before, and the wars had taught him how to survive. He brought his right knee up to smash into the man’s groin causing a loud groan of pain from both of them, for the action had done worse damage to an already injured leg. He felt something give in his leg and knew it was now useless, but it had given him the initiative, and in that desperate second the bandit let go of the sword. Gerald pulled it from the scabbard and struck without hesitation, bringing the hilt crashing down on the man’s face. Again, and again he struck, desperate to kill his opponent before the other came upon him.
He could hear one of the others yelling, and the wagon shook as someone climbed aboard. Gerald flipped onto his back to face his attacker, and the world spun. His leg was hemorrhaging blood in such great gouts he knew the arrow must have hit an artery. Seeing the second bandit stepping toward him, he struggled to hold onto the sword. He stabbed, but his opponent blocked his weakened blow, knocking the sword from his hand. The bandit stood over him grinning, straddling his body and raised his sword overhead for a two-handed blow that would finish him. Gerald did the only thing he could think of; he sat up, grabbing for the man’s sword belt, and pulled him forward. The bandit, poised for a downward strike, was unbalanced and tumbled to the wagon bed, falling heavily on Gerald. The sword flew out of his hand and Gerald, with his remaining strength gripped the man by the throat. Now there was a terrible test of strength as his attacker struck back, beating him across the face and arms in an attempt to loosen his grasp.
He could feel himself getting ready to pass out, the wagon bed now slick with his blood. It felt like his life was draining from him. At last, his attacker passed out with a strangled gurgle and fell slowly to his side. The whole world swung about like a spinning top, and then he saw death coming. The last attacker had mounted the wagon, but he stood in the front, his bow drawn and his mouth curled back in a nasty sneer.
The bandit was about to loose the final gift of death when Gerald heard a loud growl, and suddenly a monstrous blur passed before his eyes blocking his sight. Then the last opponent was gone, horrible screams erupting from him somewhere on the ground. Gerald tried to sit up, but the world shook itself, and he fell, almost lifeless, back into the wagon bed. Then finally, the blessed darkness took him away.
Gerald could see himself, lying there, his body covered in blood. He heard a wolf howl in the distance. Was this a portend? Perhaps a calling to the Afterlife? He saw Sally, sitting beside him, holding his hand and waiting to guide him to the spirit realm. He tried to call out to her but had no voice. He struggled to move toward her; it took all of his efforts to get closer. Then her dark hair turned blond and her face transformed from Sally into Anna right before his eyes. He looked on in shock, then felt himself being drawn back into his body.
Gerald opened his eyes to see he was in a well-appointed room. The tableau shifted, and he clung to the bed sheets to stop the feeling of vertigo.
A dog’s bark made him swivel his head to the side, and he could see Tempus, sitting on the floor beside Anna, who was seated in an over-sized chair. She rose and moved toward him saying something, but he couldn't understand the words, so clouded was his mind. She grabbed his face with both hands and stared into his eyes, mouthing something. There was a slight ringing sound in his ears, and then, ever so slowly his hearing began to return, and he could finally understand her.
"Thank Saxnor your awake Gerald. I was so worried about you!" The tears were running down her face. He was touched by her caring. "Now, don't you worry," she continued, "I've sent for the Royal Physician. He should be here in a day or two."
Gerald struggled to get the words out. "How long have I been under?" He tried to move, to sit up in the bed, but even the small movement sent agonizing pain through his leg. It felt as though his entire lower torso was being roasted over a fire.
"Don't move!" Anna ordered him. "You have to lie still, you've been unconscious for almost two days."
"What happened?" he asked, through gritted teeth. "I saw something flash across my eyes before I passed out."
"Tempus saved you! We heard the fighting and Tempus ran to save you. The last man was going to shoot you with his bow. Tempus jumped clean over the wagon and took the man’s face off. There was ever so much noise from him. It's all right though; they’re all dead. Now you need to rest."
She turned slightly to the side, and he heard her wringing out a cloth in some water, then she placed a cool compress on his forehead. He was sweating profusely; he could feel the bed was soaked with his sweat. He could see the sheets were stained red around his right leg, and the pain was excruciating.
"Drink this," Anna prompted, holding a small mug to his lips. Gerald sipped the concoction, and the effect on his throat was instant. He felt the warm liquid, some herbal tea, soothe his ravaged throat, and he realized how thirsty he was. He gulped the tea down, almost choking on it. The pain slowly eased, and he relaxed back into the bed. Anna was bending over him, wiping his face with the cloth, a concerned look on her face. He lost focus on her as his vision failed. He fell back into a fit-full sleep.
Red hot fire erupted from his leg, and he was thrust awake, screaming in agony. The room was lit only by candlelight. He saw an older man, clean cut with a neatly trimmed beard, leaning over his leg. He held a small metal rod, and once again he poked it into Gerald’s wound releasing another tortuous spasm of agony.
He could see Anna standing nearby, nervously wringing her hands while Tempus, ever alert, watched her with great concern.
The old man was speaking, "I'm afraid there is little we can do, the corruption has already set in. I shall flush it of course." He reached into a bag, withdrawing a small bottle which he proceeded to pour onto the wound.
A new wave of torture struck him. He could have sworn the man had set him on fire.
The man squeezed the wound, and surprisingly this did not hurt. "You can see here that the puss is oozing out. There are probably fibres in the wound turning it necrotic."
Anna's voice spoke up, seeming so child-like in the presence of the what he had to assume was the Royal Physician. "What about warriors moss, would that help?" she pleaded.
"I'm afraid not Your Highness. Oh, warriors moss might stop it from leaking so much, but nothing will fix the rot that has embedded itself in this poor fellow’s body."
Anna's voice was trembling as she spoke. "What if you amputate the leg? Would that work? You must save him!"
"My dear," the physician spoke, sounding very condescending, "I'm afraid you must say your goodbyes, this man will die. There is nothing more you, or anyone else can do for him."
Gerald could see her face set and her visage became angry. "Get out!" she shouted. "Get out and never darken this Hall again!"
"But Your Highness-"
"How dare you come here with your overbearing attitude and tell me there's no hope. I will not give up while he still breathes. Get out of here and pray I don’t report your failure to the king!"
These were the last words
Gerald heard before he once again succumbed to unconsciousness.
When next he opened his eyes, he was so weak he could barely move. It must have been the middle of the night. The light of a lantern suffused the room with a yellow glow. He turned his head to the side to see Anna on the floor. She had books spread around her, and she was examining them intently, each turned to a different page. She looked up at the door, and Gerald was shocked to see her face. It was gaunt and sallow; it looked as if she hadn't slept in days. She barked out an order to some servants who were standing in the doorway. They didn't seem to react, and suddenly Anna yelled, "Mary!" The young girl turned to face Anna, dragging her eyes away from Gerald's deathly pallor. The poor girl was in shock and didn't seem able to do anything. Anna turned to one of the others. "Sophie", she commanded, "go and get some beef broth from Cook, not too hot, and bring a spoon."
"Yes, Your Highness," Sophie responded, and pushed her way past the other servants. Gerald closed his eyes. He wanted this nightmare to end. It was destroying him to watch Anna devolve before his very eyes; better for him to die quickly and put an end to it.
He woke sometime later. His leg felt cold, and he wondered if he had lost it. Sophie was holding his head and, with the help of Charles, was lifting him, tucking pillows behind his back to prop him up. Anna came forward with a bowl and started to spoon a warm, filling broth into his mouth. He could feel some strength returning to him. She finished feeding him and set the bowl down on the nightstand. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked ragged.
"Anna," he finally got out, "it's no use, I can't last much longer. Please, get some paper, I want to dictate my will before it's too late."
"No," she said firmly, "you will not. You are not giving up on me, Gerald Matheson. I’ve put warriors moss on your leg and sent for the Royal Life Mage from Wincaster."
"It's no use," he said, "he won't come, I'm a commoner."
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