Alfred: The Boy Who Would Be King (Alfred the Boy King Book 1)

by Ron Smorynski

  Once the farmers and their children had become skillful with their weapons, Alfred began focusing on defensive tactics, especially in repelling ratkin attacks. He spent many hours with the boys exploring the lower dungeons to learn the layout. The room that Tirnalth was in was off limits for now. He told them he had a secret weapon in there that could not be revealed.

  “Why can't you reveal it?” Cory asked.

  Alfred shrugged, “If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret weapon.”

  The boys were curious, but Alfred kept them busy enough that they did not ask again. They found many corridors and passageways in the dungeons, many paths ratkins of the past could have taken to dig up and collapse the floor in the King’s Hall. They found more spears and weapons throughout the passages. Standing over the spot where the spider's burned body once lay, the boys stared in awe at the size of the smudge.

  Examining the dug holes, claw marks and trails, Alfred began reconstructing how each ratkin wave came through the dungeons and how they attacked. He found a few dried carcasses, old and decrepit, which still looked menacing. Just as he imagined, they were small with humanoid shapes but rat snouts, teeth and claws. No doubt they were agile and vicious. The young king contemplated many ways to try to defend the castle, thinking through scenarios as if he were home playing his computer game – except that here he knew the concentrated effort was no game.

  Upon King Alfred's orders and standing over the hole, Abedeyan recounted in a soft voice what happened. The children listened intently. “Because the few remaining knights held the goblins off at the doors, the ratkins came out of that hole in the floor. When they broke through the floor, a river of them flooded into the hall. Though the knights fought valiantly, swinging their swords and smashing with their shields, the numerous ratkins surrounded and overtook them. They had no chance.”

  Abedeyan bowed his head in silence. The children looked about, now knowing what caused their kingdom to fall before they were born.

  Chapter Fourteen: Honor the Mother and Father

  Mothers would often come to visit their children in the Great Hall or King's Hall – whichever you pleased. It wasn't much of a surprise when they would see their children eating cooked rabbit or wild pig or wild goat, as the children were very successful on their hunts. Still, some, especially mothers of girls or the younger ones, asked for their children back. Alfred would convince them to let them stay to train. He felt a gnawing sense of urgency to have everyone prepared. It wasn’t as if he kept them like prisoners. They were always free to go home if they wished. Alfred was puzzled by the worried looks on these women’s faces. The children were eating better, getting stronger, and having a lot of fun with each other.

  Derhman, the parent most angered and so objected to Alfred’s conscripting of his son, burst into the Hall and took Cory back by force. Derhman stopped short of pushing Alfred, the King, out of his way. Cory merely snuck back each day. Derhman came to get him several times in this manner.

  Then one day, to Alfred’s surprise, several of the castle laborers, the cook and a stonemason followed Derhman into the Hall. Instead of helping Derhman, they stopped him from taking Cory.

  The portly cook waved his portly arms about. “Just look at the children! They are getting stronger! Let him stay!”

  “He's my son!” Derhman said, yanking Cory along as the children rolled their eyes, continuing their training. Cory, resisted but only a little, holding in his anger.

  When the cook and mason approached, Derhman's face reddened and he released his boy, producing fists.

  Alfred stepped forward, hands raised for calm. “Ah, guys, it’s okay. Thank you for your help.” The cook and mason raised their hands and stood back. Cory was nearly in tears, holding his spear tight as he stood at a distance from his father.

  Alfred spoke, “Derhman, you may take your son.”

  “Thank you, your sire, that's all I've been asking, as his father!” Derhman said, not so politely.

  Then Alfred turned to Cory, “And you may not return until your father allows it.”

  The cook and mason sighed loudly. The children gasped and stopped what they were doing to look one last time at Cory, whom they held in high esteem.

  Abedeyan and Lady Nihan came in from different doorways to see what was amiss, showing looks of disdain at the whole matter.

  Cory looked at Alfred with dismay, as if his heart were crushed by an invisible hand.

  As Derhman went to take his boy, Alfred turned toward him. “Derhman, do you know of any great spear men or warriors? Know of any knights?”

  Derhman mumbled as he pulled his son away, “No, milord, I know of none.”

  “Well, you can take your son, but you’ll have to replace him with a knight,” Alfred said.

  Derhman stopped. His crazed eyes beheld Alfred with contempt. Cory’s spirit was in ruin. Derhman grabbed the spear and tossed it to the floor at Alfred’s feet. The cook and mason advanced in anger, but Alfred signaled them to stop.

  “Well, Cory is the best fighter we have,” Alfred declared. “He is training the rest of us on the spear. Look what he showed me.” With that, Alfred thrust and parried with his spear. “So you can take him, but the only person that could replace him, his pride and his skills, would have to be a knight. In this hall, only a Royal Knight of great skill could replace your son.” Alfred posed with his spear.

  Derhman was stunned. Perhaps it was the dust in the hall or his anger that caused his eyes to water and his face to turn red that day. Visibly shaken, standing still and quiet, he looked at his growing boy, pondering the words he had just heard from the king. Cory’s eyes met his father’s.

  The cook and mason looked at each other and smiled. Abedeyan glanced at Lady Nihan, they shrugged and looked on with a less stern look.

  Derhman rubbed his son’s hair and gripped his shoulder, tears flowing more freely now.

  “You’ll have him and all of us to help for harvest,” added Alfred. “That I promise.”

  Derhman’s pride was evident. Joy swelled in his heart as he nodded acceptance and walked away. With what emotion he had left, Cory ran after his father, and they embraced.

  It was late spring. The castle was as busy as ever with people bustling about. Many came to practice in the field with Alfred. He had all the men and women practice too. At first, the women were meek and hesitant, fearful of their husbands' jealous eyes. When Alfred reminded them that their children would be the first targets of evil creatures, that the young are always taken first – well, no one could imagine the ferocity of these mothers' protective anger!

  All learned to thrust a spear, to charge and swing, to block and roll. Alfred devised all of these movements. The first few times were awkward. Many seemed dismayed. But as Cory and the other boys showed how to do these motions over and over, even Cory’s mother got into the right rhythm. Derhman joined in as well, leading the men in formation. Clearly, he had set his pride aside to support his son and the larger endeavor.

  It seemed what the folk really came for, though, was to see their children practicing their marksmanship in the King’s Hall. Their high hopes were not disappointed. On the other hand, it was a bit surprising for them to see their girls handle the small bow with such ease. They fired with great skill into targets newly sewn by Lady Nihan and her seamstresses. The young maidens were stronger and stood straighter than anyone expected. They were quick to smile and spoke without hesitation. Indeed, they spoke with conviction, and Alfred encouraged each and every girl and boy.

  He had the boys handling spears and shields. They spent many hours in the crypt and dungeon. Alfred had Derhman’s son, now called Sergeant Cory, devise defensive tactics against ratkins, as these nasty critters would invariably dig their way in and try to overtake the lower passages.

  Alfred discussed with the old smith, Broggia, and his son, Boggin, the many drawings of shields and spears that he felt could work well against such an attack. The bucklers were designed with a pie-cut h
ole for the spears to go through. And the surfaces of the shields had small protruding nails. Based on the evidence in the castle, Alfred believed the ratkins were strong with large clawed hands. He designed the spears to have jagged teeth just under the head. If a ratkin were to grab any of the boys’ spears or leap upon their bucklers to take them down, they would be instantly wounded.

  Alfred wanted each fighter to have a light buckler shield that could block many of the smaller corridors. The boys spent many hours with the old man and his son, getting instructions on how to hammer in nails and make holes in the material to create the shields. Broggia and Boggin got to know the boys well.

  The boys then practiced blocking a corridor from a potential onslaught of ratkins while jabbing their spears through the holes in their shields. Cory taught them to yell and scream, more to summon their own ferocity and tenacity than to intimidate the ratkins. Alfred knew that the boys needed to be strong and capable, trained as mean fighting machines.

  They did not know what a machine was, but they liked chanting the phrase “Mean fighting machine!” Alfred told them stories of large fighting machines, which men made of metal, with no souls, lumbering forward, swinging huge mauled fists and firing big rockets.

  “What’s a rocket?” Cory had asked.

  “Oh, it’s a big stick that fires off, kind of like a wizard’s magic. You know, it has a fire at one end which pushes it into the air, causing it to fly fast like a giant arrow!”

  Just before bed time, late into the night, Alfred would describe many such things to the boys and girls, their eyes wide open with wonder. In the mornings, when he sent them back to their families, they would have scratches and bruises from their time at the castle. These were healthy “in training” type wounds. Wanting to be sure they stayed strong, Alfred ordered each of them carry his or her weapons as well as a bundle of firewood and food for their families.

  Alfred had the girls concentrate on archery. Broggia and Boggin spent many hours making arrows and simple bows. Alfred made sure the children helped. Broggia was amazed at how quickly they learned to make their own arrows, helping with fletching and fixing up the old goblin bows. In case you didn't know, the word fletching means to attach feathers to the end of an arrow to make it aerodynamic and help balance the shaft with its heavier arrow head. There was more than enough work to keep each girl busy.

  The older girls spent much time caring for the younger ones, especially in bandaging blisters and picking out splinters. Alfred was impressed by all the children's abilities and strength. He could see a change in each one. They practiced tirelessly all day, even on their days off at home on their farms. All across the countryside there were makeshift targets with children’s arrows stuck in them. The peasants became jumpy, flinching at the slightest movement of a sparrow or rabbit. You see, the children were everywhere, with their arrows flying at any moving target!

  There were some problems, however. One day a farmer came to the castle to drop off firewood. When he put down his huge load, the backside had six arrows stuck in it. Lady Nihan fainted right there! The other seamstresses had to cool her poor head. The farmer stared in disbelief while the smiths laughed a bit too much. Realizing that he could have been seriously injured, the farmer became angry and complained to Abedeyan, who in turn told Alfred.

  Alfred knew this was serious. The girls were just practicing but should not be shooting at farmers. They needed to understand and respect the fact that their weapons were not toys. So Alfred gave them all a serious speech about the importance of training and showing respect for their elders by not shooting at them or even near them. He was firm but not harsh. The children listened and agreed. Later a young girl came to him to confess that it was she who had fired at her uncle’s large load. She cried. Alfred told her he was glad she owned up to this and cautioned her not to do it again. He then made her run a lap around the castle. Twice.

  Alfred got them organized into squads made up of eleven girls -- one older girl as leader and ten archer girls. They learned to fire in unison. Then he had each squad fire with other squads, each taking turns.

  Alfred paced the stony hall, chewing some hay. “Okay, so now that you are in squads and know how to fire together, I want you to get into three squads and then fire in turns. Any of you see the movie Zulu?” In that old movie about a colonial battle, British soldiers with single fire rifles lined up in three rows, each shooting in turn while the other lines loaded their weapons. He had forgotten that this was a medieval world, one of fantasy, not a modern world with televisions and old movies. Most of the children shook their heads no to the question, but one of the younger girls nodded yes. Alfred pointed at her and then looked about the medieval stone hall. “Wait a minute!”

  The young girl giggled.

  “Sorry, I forgot. You guys don’t have TV!” Alfred bellowed.

  “What’s a tee vee?” asked Loranna, a girl Alfred’s age. She was strong and fast and very pretty with long bushy brown hair. Once when they were eating, Alfred, joking around, tried to wrestle a piece of moldy bread away from her, but she evaded him deftly and twisted his arm. He was a bit shamed by this but also happy to have her on the team. And the incident gave him the idea of having all the children learn some wrestling moves. This was a beneficial break from archery and from the boys' shield and spear maneuvers; they would all grapple each other outside along the hillside.

  There was some discomfort in this – boys and girls wrestling! But alas, it was an order from the king. As dismayed as the peasant folk were at what their children were being forced into, they could not ignore the fact that they were becoming stronger and for the first time in their lives were filled with confidence and pride. They even worked harder and faster when they were at home, helping with daily chores.

  The farmers now found plenty of time to visit each other and talk about their children and what was going on. Though there was plenty of complaining, they knew their children were healthier and happier because this new boy king had come. These conversations generally ended in a quiet warm feeling of contentment and hope.

  Back at the King's Hall, Loranna yelled “Fire one!” From a line of girls, arrows flew to their targets at the other end. “Fire two!” Another line of girls let loose. “Fire three!” A third line fired. By that time the first line was loaded and ready again. Alfred clapped politely. Loranna turned and leapt in front of him. “What's a tee vee again?”

  It was difficult for Alfred to explain this. He would need to tell the history and culture of his land, his time and place. He had to keep it simple. He puckered his lips, fluttered his eyes. “Ah! You know about puppet shows, right?”

  Most of the children shook their heads. Alfred was bewildered. These children had not even seen a puppet show? Hmm... so from that moment he decided that in the evenings after sharing their meals, they would put on puppet shows. Better yet, he wanted them to put on a larger show, a theatre production for the people of the castle. In the evenings, after chores were done, there wasn't much to do. Everyone prepared for sleep, bundled in itchy wool blankets on piles of straw. It was quiet and somewhat lifeless. A stage play would be just the ticket to liven things up.

  Alfred tried to explain what theatre was. He pranced and danced and sang, but this was awkward. The children looked perplexed.

  Loranna stepped forward and said, “I know a bit of dance. Perhaps we could have a dance?” She twirled on her feet, swirling and waving her hands in the air, looking beautiful even in her tattered dress.

  “We could show our maneuvers!” said Cory, rising with shield and spear and beginning to chant commands. The boys quickly took formation and chanted various howling responses to each of Cory’s shouts. It was almost like an Indian dance, Alfred thought, very impressed. Some of the kids clapped.

  “Yah, we could have a variety show,” Alfred said. “That would be a nice starter. We could show off each of the children’s skills. Cool.”

  So each night Alfred would get the boys to pract
ice chants. He became so excited that he began drumming his own spear and shield, stomping his feet, and creating a rhythm that led everyone to clap and holler. So emerged a percussion type ensemble, the boys banging their spears on their shields, jabbing the butts of their spears onto the stone floors and stomping their feet. It took them a while to get this perfected. Laughter erupted whenever someone would mess up. Alfred would sometimes have to yell, “Stop laughing so much! We're trying to have fun!” The girls would dance about and periodically form a line and then weave in and out of the boys. It was all good natured and merry.

  “What is all this?” asked Abedeyan as he entered the Great Hall one evening, wearing an odd looking oversized bed robe and carrying a small lantern. Lady Nihan was right behind him with her own fancy lantern. She appeared to be the instigator of this inquiry. The children rushed about to hide, but Alfred stood with his spear and shield in hand, smiling, sweating, exhilarated.

  Abedeyan hobbled jerkily up to Alfred. “What’s all this noise in here each night, keeping us all awake!?” he demanded to know. Lady Nihan stood tall behind him, eyeing Alfred over an upturned nose.

  As the children ran to their appointed cots or piles of straw, huddling together, Alfred began his little spear and shield jib. He was quite good at this. He then began dancing around Abedeyan and Lady Nihan. Abedeyan crossed his small arms and rolled his eyes. Lady Nihan gasped and flung her lantern about like a disco light. Then Alfred stopped and drew himself up proudly in front of the Steward.

  Abedeyan had held a stern grumpy face throughout the performance. Lady Nihan breathed heavily, leaning on him. The children remained deathly silent as they watched from afar. Abedeyan set down his lantern, raised one hand and stood still. All wondered if he was going to slap Alfred. Lady Nihan smiled in an assuring way. Then Abedeyan clapped the raised hand with his other hand, again and again, slowly but firmly. Then he hummed a strange yet lyrical old tune and began to prance with great conviction yet light as a feather. He tapped his toes softly, stepped to and fro, circled Alfred and Lady Nihan many times, and sang a wonderful old song.