Servant of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  Gerald could hear men yelling, “Heave, ho,” trying to get a rhythm to the rocking of the carriage. He fell to his knees with the motion, and suddenly one of the wheels broke, causing the carriage to tilt to the side. Suspecting it was about to topple over, he hastily turned and launched himself toward the rooftop. He flung his sword through the air as he leaped, hearing it bounce on the clay tiles at the same time as he reached desperately for the roof. He landed on the corner with a force that drove the air from his lungs, causing him to struggle to find his grip. Gerald felt himself slipping, the weight of the chainmail working against him. At the last moment, his fingers caught the brickwork, and he began to pull himself up. The crowd roared with anger at their perceived loss, but it was too late, he had made it onto the roof. He rolled over on his back gasping for air, the pain in his chest telling him he was still with the living. He would be battered and bruised come morning, but he was at least alive to feel it.

  He forced himself to his feet and cast his eyes about, searching for his sword and finding it only a few feet away. Sophie and Anna came over to him, and they made their way back up the street by going over the rooftops. He was thankful for their adventure the previous day as he now knew he could find a safe passage for their flight from the violence below.

  The sound of fighting had attracted attention, and now the town watch was responding. They came down the street in a group, their weapons drawn and ready for a fight. It was all over in a little more than an instant. The malcontents had no real strength, and they fled quickly, leaving a number of dead behind. He could see Hansuld, his horse covered in blood and Gerald saluted him with his sword, the horseman returning it. This had been a bloody day and an unmitigated disaster; there would be a price to pay, and he knew who would get the blame.

  Gerald had seen his fair share of luck over the years; soldiers often live by chance, but today he was sure his luck had finally run out. He was waiting, along with others, in the great hall of the Palace. The king had returned to Wincaster even as they were leaving to go and visit the slums. Now he had heard of the slaughter, and he was not amused. He had ordered the Royal Guard to punish the attackers. As retribution, they had made their way through the poorest districts, indiscriminately killing and damaging property. They must be taught their lesson, the king had said, and he was ruthless in his punishment. It only required the king to pass judgement on Gerald to finish dealing with the problem.

  He was brought forward before the king, and he bowed deeply. The king had a stern look, while Anna, with Sophie behind her, stood to one side, the tracks of tears still evident on her face. Marshal-General Valmar, the self-styled Hero of Merceria, stepped forward from the king’s side and moved toward Gerald. He grasped the neck of his tunic and pushed him to the floor so that he lay prone. “Get down dog, until the king says otherwise!”

  Gerald felt the cold stone pressed against his face and went still, sure that his execution was only moments away.

  “Lift him up, Valmar,” the king said, sounding bored. “I would see his face.”

  He was hauled roughly back to his feet by the marshal-general, his hands held behind his back.

  “You have,” the king lectured, “by your actions, put the life of a member of the Royal Family in jeopardy. By all rights, I should take your life, but it has been pointed out to me that your actions also saved my daughter’s life; therefore it behooves me to be merciful.”

  Gerald could hear Valmar’s grunt of disgust, and his arms were pinned even more uncomfortably behind him. “I shall, therefore, spare your life. It is our command that you be discharged from your position and that you leave the city immediately. The Princess Anna will return to Uxley Hall under a heavy escort, and from this day forward shall always be accompanied by guards. Marshal-General Valmar, please see to the disposition of the guards and see that this individual is escorted to the gates of the city.”

  “We are not without mercy,” the king continued. “See to it that his belongings are returned to him at the gates to the city.”

  Valmar nodded and turned, passing Gerald to two knights who were standing nearby. “I’ll remember you,” he said threateningly. Gerald felt relief as he was passed off to the knights. He was familiar with Valmar’s reputation. Chances are by tomorrow, he wouldn’t even remember Gerald’s name.

  As they escorted him from the room, he glanced back at Anna to see her standing tearfully behind the king. She turned and buried her face in Sophie's shoulder; he thought it was the last he would ever see of her.

  The journey to the gate was difficult. The guards kept tripping him, and more than once he was pushed violently, sending him to the ground. They arrived at the gate and roughly pushed him outside with his armour and sword tossed on the road. The Royal Guards returned to the Palace, and he was left to gather his belongings. The gate guards looked on with some sympathy. No one liked the Royal Guards these days. They had become nothing more than Valmar’s thugs. As for Valmar, Gerald's prediction had come true. The mighty marshal-general was far too important to escort the prisoner in person. For that, he had to thank Captain Dayton of the Royal Guard; a name that he would not soon forget.

  Fortunately, they had seen fit to throw a sack his way, and now he pushed the chainmail inside it, tying it up and heaving it over his shoulder. He looked to the west to decide on his course of action. He had no coins to speak of, the guards had seen to that. He had his armour, his helmet, his sword and the clothes on his back. He was banished, again, from Wincaster, and had nowhere to go.

  He started walking. He had no idea where he wanted to go, but the road went west, and thus, it was his only choice. The more he walked, the more the soreness left his body and soon he felt almost normal again, at least physically. He felt a great loss and realized how much he would miss Anna. She was like a daughter to him; made him smile, laugh, made the day worth living. The further he travelled, the more he thought about her, and like a bolt of lightning, his mind was made up. They ordered him out of Wincaster, removed him from his position as groundskeeper, but they had not barred him from Uxley. He resolved to return to Uxley Village. He knew the townsfolk there and was sure he could find something to keep him busy. Sam would, no doubt, look after him until he was settled. He might even be able to farm, though it had been some years since he had done so. It was the spring and with a little luck and some help, he ought to be able to get some crops into the ground. His pace picked up, his mind racing as he marched. He could even keep an eye on Anna, for he was fearful for her safety. He knew that Valmar was now responsible for her protection, and he didn’t trust the marshal-general one little bit.

  Chapter 29

  Friends

  Spring 959 MC

  IT took all of Gerald’s skills and experience to make his way back to Uxley, for, with no supplies and no coins, there were only his abilities to keep him alive. He decided to cut across the country and live off the land. He had operated deep in enemy territory before so he knew what he could eat and what he should not. He spent time setting up some snares and managed to catch himself a hare. It slowed him down, but he drew inexorably back toward the little village that was calling him. He thought briefly of returning to Bodden, for he was sure the baron would take him back into service, but he knew he had made a vow to protect Anna, no matter what. He couldn’t think of her being surrounded by enemies, for make no mistake, Valmar was no friend.

  It took him a week to get back to the village, and by the time he arrived, he was leaner and more fit that he had been in years. He met up with Sam, and they walked over to the Old Oak Tavern to catch up on the news. Sam was shocked to hear what had transpired. The princess had returned several days ago, her carriage running straight through the village without stopping. They entered the tavern and sat down at a comfortable table. Arlo Harris, the owner, came over with a jug of cider and looked at Gerald, “Tell me, what’s happened?”

  Once again, Gerald recounted his story, and soon all the villagers gathered around
to hear the tale. He talked between the mouthfuls of food that they placed in front of him, for which he was grateful. The story finished, the patrons returned to their seats to discuss the matter in more detail. It was then that Arlo came over and joined them.

  “Mind if I sit?” he asked.

  “By all means,” said Gerald, looking at him with some surprise.

  Arlo looked at him for a moment as if trying to make up his mind. “Are you a noble?” he asked cautiously.

  “Me?” Gerald replied, genuinely shocked. “No, why would you think that?”

  The tavern owner leaned in conspiratorially and talked in a quiet voice. “A few years ago a noble came in here asking for you. I told him you were up at the Hall and then he left. The next day he shows up again looking for me, if you can believe it.” He reached into his apron and withdrew a sealed letter. “He gives me this letter and says that one day you might need it, and would I hang on to it till then. I have no idea what it is, but I think this is when you might need it.”

  Gerald gingerly took the letter, carefully breaking the seal and opening it up, holding it to the candle to see it better. He recognized the handwriting instantly. It was from Baron Fitzwilliam.

  12 November 957

  My Dear Gerald,

  I have just now returned from my visit to Uxley Hall. I am pleased to see you in good health and spirits and must congratulate you on your friendship with the young lady. I am convinced that you have her best interests at heart, but we cannot tell what the future might bring.

  To that end, I have made arrangements with some of the locals to assist you should the need arise. I have left this note with Arlo Harris, to deliver to you when he deems it necessary. I have purchased a house and plot in Uxley Village in your name, the deed held by Brother Clarence at the church. He also has, in his possession, a purse to the tune of 100 crowns for you to utilize as you see fit. He has been suitably rewarded for this task, so don’t let the beggar tell you otherwise. If you should find more funds are necessary, you may contact me in Bodden, though I dare say it might take some time.

  My hopes go with you for a prosperous future, and I hope I shall see both of you again.

  Your friend,

  Richard Fitzwilliam,

  Baron of Bodden

  Gerald read the letter and tears came to his eyes. He rubbed them, quickly complaining about the cheap candles. He was a lucky man. He had friends he could count on. He would have a place to live and make a livelihood while keeping an eye on Anna.

  He thanked Arlo with all the warmth he could muster and promised to reward the favour tenfold. He looked around the room and saw one of the local farmers, Edwards. He pushed the letter into his pocket and strode over to the man.

  “John?” he said, extending his hand.

  The huge man shook his hand. “Good to see you’ve safely returned, though I must say I’m surprised, considering everything that happened. I would have thought Uxley was the last place you’d like to be.”

  Gerald grinned, “Hardly. I’ve grown rather accustomed to this location. I was wondering if you might be able to do me a favour?”

  “Consider it done,” the big man responded without hesitation. “What is it I just agreed to do?”

  “The estate still buys their grain from you, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course.”

  “I was wondering if, next time they pick up some, you might slip them a letter to take up to the Hall.”

  “For the princess?” assumed John Edwards.

  “No, I think the guards might intercept that. I want to send a message to her maid, Sophie.”

  “Clever. I can see you’re not just a pretty face.” The large man laughed at his own joke, with Gerald joining in.

  He called for a quill and ink, which Arlo was pleased to provide.

  Two days later Gerald had moved into his new home. The house was similar in size to the groundskeeper’s cottage at Uxley Hall, though not nearly so well furnished. He used some coins and favours to obtain seeds, and he was soon working feverishly planting cabbages, peas and other vegetables before it was too late in the season. It was a kind of work that he had done years in the past, and though it took many hours, he found it rewarding. It was mindless, and he had plenty of time to think things over, to evaluate what he needed to do. He wanted to make sure that Anna was doing well. That was his priority, but he also needed to know how they were treating her. Was she a prisoner? Was she mistreated? Was she under the thumb of Valmar? He had no clue.

  It was mid-afternoon, and he had been back in Uxley for a number of days. He was planting again, though half his time was spent removing the weeds that had infested the place since it was abandoned. He was moving down the line he had etched into the dirt, digging small holes and placing the seeds within. So engrossed in his work was he that he didn’t notice he was being watched until a familiar voice barked. He looked up to see Tempus, his front legs on the simple fence that marked his property. He cast his eyes about searching for Anna and saw, off in the distance, a carriage. She was stepping down from it as a group of soldiers looked on. The armed soldiers looked grim, and he sized them up. They looked more like thugs than soldiers to him; their armour was mismatched, and their weapons seemed to be a mixed collection as you would expect a raider or a bandit to have, rather than the uniform arming of Royal Guards.

  Anna, hearing the bark, turned to see Gerald and ran over, leaving the guards to trail along behind her. He could see the discomfort in their faces; they had probably not expected to be protecting someone so active.

  She rushed toward him, oblivious to the dirt which covered him and ran into his arms, throwing hers around him with no care in the world. She held on to him while he tried to keep the tears from his eyes. Tempus started running around in circles, barking, joining in the happy occasion, an act which put the guards ill at ease, for they were obviously nervous around the great beast.

  “I missed you ever so much, Gerald,” she said with tears of joy in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for telling you to take me into the slums. I should have known better.”

  “It’s all right,” he promised. “I'm all right, and look, I’m a farmer now. You can come visit me anytime you want.”

  “I shall come every day,” she declared. “I don’t care what the guards say.”

  He eyed the guards warily. None of them seemed to be in charge, and he wondered where their leader was? There must have been someone given the task of handing out the duty roster and so forth. He held Anna an arm’s length. “Let’s get a good look at you,” he beamed. “Why, you must have grown a half a head taller since I saw you in Wincaster.”

  She laughed, and it eased his mind. If she could be this happy, surely things were not too bad for her?

  “Who’s in charge of your guards?” he asked.

  “They’re sending someone. These men,” she absently indicated them with her hand, “are just the first group. There are ten of them in total. I always have to have two guards with me, four when I go into town.”

  “How are they treating you?” The look of concern on his face must have been obvious.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “They still have to follow my orders, but I have to submit to their guarding of me. The rest of the staff is fine.” She leaned in close and whispered, “Good idea, sending the note to Sophie. They read all my letters; I think they feel it’s their right.”

  “Doubtful,” Gerald noted. “I suspect your father doesn’t know anything about that. I think it’s Valmar’s doing. He wants to know as much about you as he can.”

  “Well,” she said with a smile, “that will backfire. I’ve started writing letters to non-existent people talking about all sorts of strange things. That should keep Valmar busy for years.”

  He laughed, and suddenly everything was put to rights; still Anna, still plotting and planning as usual.

  “I’ll need you to do me a favour, however,” Anna said. “I don’t want to go to the grotto and risk them f
inding out about Lily. Can you visit her?”

  He assured her he would, and they moved toward the front of the house, where there was a bench. They sat talking, while the guards stood around looking uncomfortable. They began to play a game, to see how long the guards would remain. Several times the guards suggested that she return to the estate, and on each occasion, she just refused. By the time the light was failing, Gerald and Anna had partaken of a snack and drunk some cider, all while the guards fidgeted with no recourse but to wait for her command. Anna even suggested the guards go up to the tavern, but they refused. Valmar must indeed have been strict with his orders.

  Finally, she decided it was time to return. She called Tempus, and together they made their way back to the carriage. With a final wave of her hand, she left, and he watched her disappear up the road to the estate.

  Over the weeks that followed Anna visited every day. The guards eventually bowed to the inevitable will of the princess and started to disappear into the tavern upon escorting her to Gerald’s. This gave them the chance to talk in private and discuss things. He fit in a visit to the grotto once a week and kept her apprised of how things were going. Lily proved to be comfortable around him and would often meet him on his way now that he was on a regular schedule. Each time the Saurian would ask after Anna with that same sort of musical lilt to her voice.

  On her subsequent visits, Anna brought work clothes with her, and once the guards disappeared she would change into a simple skirt and help with the farming. It was like the old days, cleaning out weeds while Tempus rolled around in the dirt. The faithful hound was the perfect guard, for if anyone showed up, he would warn them with low growls. He even got to visit Jax once or twice when they dropped by. It became the worst kept secret in the village, as the locals soon learned that the princess was visiting daily. The baker would often ‘just happen by’ with some pastries to sample, and more than once Aldo of the Old Oak dropped by with a jug of cider for their consumption. It was, thought Gerald, a most idyllic life, a life that he could happily continue until the day he died.