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

by Ron Smorynski

  They had only begun to display their snobbery. Once they were clean and well fed, all other important work had to stop so that their armour and weapons could be repaired or, if not repaired, then replaced. Broggia the smith tried to tell them that nails and tools were still needed by many in the castle and on the farms. Abedeyan supported him, attempting to persuade the knights that other work was crucial, but Gorham pushed the old steward aside, and Dunther declared to all within earshot that their foremost duty was to the knights. He warned that any who didn’t obey, would be cast out.

  Broggia and Boggin began the long tedious task. In days gone by, this work would have been done in a timely manner. But now, with the quality of workmanship the knights expected, with limited materials and with the realm’s only two smiths taxed already, it would take weeks if not months to refurbish or remake their suits of armour.

  A few days after their arrival, Verboden arrived with the two dozen hungry bandits. Immediately he went to heal Setheyna and Cory. When the knights found out about this, they yelled at him, saying that their aches and pains were more important. By treating someone else, they argued, he had done them a great dishonor!

  Also, they wanted to hear Verboden’s views on the boy's claim of kingship. Verboden spoke to them in private, doing his best to support Alfred, but to everyone’s dismay Gorham and Dunther still were not convinced.

  And they went on enjoying themselves at everyone else’s expense. They expected ale and wine. They told ladies, boiling water for laundry, to begin making ale for them immediately or they would cut their throats. Perhaps this was a mock threat, because they laughed. But their deranged looks were quite awful to the ladies.

  Abedeyan knew this was going too far. Verboden was called on to speak to them repeatedly about their behavior. In these hard times the ladies should not be required to undertake such a time consuming process, especially as they had little barley and oats These knights’ threats left them distraught. Yet somehow the two received mugs of ale and were showing them off as they got drunk.

  Verboden slept for many days after healing Setheyna, Cory and the knights. Rumors had it that he himself cast his spells of sustenance—not for the hungry and needy but to cater to the selfish knights’ need for drink.

  Alfred finally recovered from a fever that kept him bedridden for days. Abedeyan went to him and told him that the knights were acting as warlords, taking over the castle with fear.

  “Where is Gylloth?” Alfred asked.

  “He is in the small chapel. I reckon he is praying for the last twelve years of his life, the many sins, I do not doubt, he committed with Gorham and Dunther.”

  “What of Broggia and Boggin? I hear they are laboring over the knights' armour.”

  “Yes,” said Abedeyan. “The work is too much for father and son, the crazy goons! Neither was trained for such master craftsmanship, and making these repairs is a sheer waste of their valuable time!”

  Alfred was beside himself with anger, pacing, thinking. “...And who are these other men that came with Verboden?”

  “They are bandits he met on the road,” said Abedeyan. “He fed them, and now they are willing and able to help. They are good men. Most were farmers in the surrounding country just west of here. They experienced much loss...”

  “Are they warriors? Can they fight?” Alfred asked, pondering.

  “Well, they are bandits and lived in dangerous lands all these years. I reckon they have some skill...”

  “Let’s go meet them!”

  The bedraggled bandits lay in the half built stables where a few goats were tied. The men were snoring, resting peacefully with their tight shrunken stomachs full of a farmer's meal. Hedor was awake, sitting quietly in the back shadows as Alfred and Abedeyan entered.

  Alfred walked around them, looking at them. The weariness of this life was on their faces, from the very young boys to the old feeble ones. All were gaunt, dirty and ragged. Alfred picked up a weapon. It was but a hoe wrapped with rotted leather and a stone added to give it weight. He put it down and picked up another implement, a small wood axe that had been repaired with additional branches to reinforce the broken handle.

  “They’re not much of warriors, just thugs,” Alfred said quietly to Abedeyan.

  Hedor spoke from the shadows. “Deagle, Snig, most were farmers. Gjorg and Smillin were carpenters. Ruig and I worked in the king’s mines long ago.”

  “Mines?” Abedeyan asked. “We are in need of ore. We have a little that we’ve scavenged off of dead goblins and ratkins.”

  “Forget it, old man,” said Hedor. “The caves haven’t been mined since the fall of the king. There’s no telling what lies within those dark tunnels.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. First, I need your help, the men’s help,” Alfred replied.

  “How can we be of service?” Hedor leered with rotted gums.

  “Watch your tongue, commoner. This is the king, and what he says is law.” Abedeyan stepped forward, sternly pointing an old wrinkled finger.

  “Naw, you don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to.”Alfred crouched near Hedor to speak quietly.

  Hedor shirked back. Alfred seemed a bit too close.

  “We’re in trouble. I have two knights that are creating problems. They don’t like me as the king. They’re eating all the food, making everyone work for them and...”

  Hedor stood up. “Just tell me where they are.”

  Alfred and Abedeyan were impressed at first. However, that faded as they saw Hedor more clearly. His visage, viler than the meanest of Gorham’s looks, was not all that comforting.

  “Uh, wait, I don’t want to kill them or anything.” Alfred stood up and smiled meekly.

  Abedeyan nodded in agreement. “Yes, no fighting.”

  “Oh?” Hedor sighed.

  “Let’s just kick them out,” said Alfred. “Maybe that will change their attitude.”

  Hedor spat on the ground. “Knights changing their att-i-tude? After twelve years of death and famine, goblins raiding at will, killing fathers of wives and children, and all the knights can do is whine and complain about themselves? If that won’t change their minds, I don’t know what will.”

  The mood was somber. Hedor must have suffered greatly. Alfred stood next to Hedor. “Well, I know what you mean. But we can’t go about fighting each other when we have so much building to do. I just want to show them force, you know, that we’re united and can push them out. Maybe when they’re standing out there, they’ll realize something or go away. I don’t care. I don't want to kill them. We have a chance here of doing something good for everyone.”

  Hedor, with the weight of his memories, shrugged. “What’s your plan?”

  “To rid us of those idiots!” Alfred smiled.

  “Give us a look, hey?” Gorham said to a young lady who dropped off more food. Drunk to the gills, he was trying to fondle her. His rotted teeth and gums were not too enticing. Nor was his countenance. In a land struggling to survive after so many years of turmoil, this knight seemed less concerned about the troubles of others than his own pleasure. Dunther sat across the table, drink in hand, waiting for his turn. The young lady was red-faced and fearful. She tried to leave but with each attempt at departure was pulled back in.

  “Come on, you haven’t finished yet, have you?” Gorham chuckled.

  “I think she has, Gorham,” said Alfred, walking in and motioning to the lady that she could leave, “and I think you have as well!” The lady left with great relief, thanking Alfred on the way out.

  Gorham and Dunther had holed up in one of the towers, making it their lair as it were. They had kicked out the three families who were residing there. They still had the keg of ale that Verboden created for them. Alfred was furious with him for making ale when many were starving. He spoke to Verboden angrily about it as the cleric was woken from his long sleep having used up too much of his powers.

  “They are the Royal Knights,” Verboden had said. “They ar
e second to the king.”

  “I don’t care! They are worthless to us! They’re just drunks and jerks who act tough and probably are, so they bully everyone. That’s all a knight is, a bully! That is probably all a king is too, just a gang boss, a warlord. I’m not going to be like that, and I’m not going to let them bully everyone. We have too much to do, and too much is at stake!”

  Verboden, lying quietly under comfortable covers, had turned to Alfred and fixed him in a drowsy gaze. Before lapsing into a long deep sleep, he said, “I'm sorry.”

  “Well, what do you want, boy!?” Dunther said, waking from his drunken stupor.

  “I want you two out of here. I want you to leave us. We’ll give you food and water and your horses and armour. Then leave.”

  “Our armour is not done!” Gorham thundered, waving his finger, sipping from his mug.

  “Your armour will never be done, not the way you want it to be. We have cleaned your old armour as best we can. Take it and your arms and your horses and leave.”

  “You don’t tell us what to do, boy! How dare you!” Dunther rose from the table, lifting his dagger to point at Alfred.

  “Then, we do it my way,” Alfred said.

  Loranna and her archers appeared from above with all their arrows pointed down at them.

  Dunther and Gorham looked up perplexed. Alfred stepped back. “I will have them shoot if you do not drop your weapons and come out.”

  The knights, fully loaded, gazed vacantly at the girls. To see them poking their heads through the upper balcony railing, looking down at them, was amusing at best. Ignoring drawn bows, the men laughed raucously, clicking their mugs in toast, slapping their small table with uncaring hands.

  Alfred did not know what to do. This was too confusing. Some of the girls started to giggle. More upset, Alfred lifted his arm as if to order arrows to be fired. Loranna and the girls nervously aimed. Hedor grabbed his arm from behind and tugged at him to leave.

  “No, boy,” he said. “Let them laugh.”

  “Girls?!”

  “He brings little girls with toy arrows?”

  Throttled in this way, Alfred was further perturbed. Hedor could see this. “Leave it to me, young king. Drunken brutes like that have a pattern. I know.”

  Alfred nodded, still worked up. He waved at the girls. They climbed down from the tower, some giggling while others elbowed them to be quiet. Alfred looked at them all sternly and motioned for them to leave.

  “Come the morrow—you’ll see, boy,” said Hedor. “Go and get some rest. We’ll take care of this.” His mates in crime smiled with pleasure, many with black gums and missing teeth.

  “No killing,” Alfred said.

  “Oh no!” they all said in return. “Not a hair!”

  Hedor kept his word. Alfred woke to distant echoes of laughter. He dressed quickly and ran out to find Hedor and his men on the wall facing outward, laughing. The peasants and workers were there too, but they looked forlorn. Alfred clambered up the stone stairs to look over the wall.

  There in the field, waking up and dressing themselves in the cold, were Dunther and Gorham. Both looked terrible, and of course, they were angry. Beside them, along with their horses, was a pile of their belongings.

  “Now run you off, maggots!” Hedor yelled.

  Alfred looked closely at him and his friends. “You’re drunk!”

  “Oh, ‘tis okay, I’m a good drunk!” Hedor said with a laugh. His men next to him all had mugs or bowls of ale.

  “That is so lame!” Alfred said.

  “Don’t worry. We are just finishing it off. Besides, it’s a meal in a mug! Now come on young king, we did what you asked. They’ve been taken care of, and we’re not rude like them. We’re simple folk.”

  “Bandit folk, we are!” said a younger man, flashing a drunken, evil-looking grin.

  “Well, we are in times of need—in times of need only,” Hedor said. He tried to be somber, but as he met the eyes of his fellow thieves, he let out a laugh with them.

  “Hey you, who put us out!?” Gorham yelled from the field.

  Hedor and the crew began their laughter anew, pointing derisively at the two abandoned knights. Dunther sat dressing in his armour, fully aware of his predicament. Gorham was still unclear as to what happened.

  “Who are they laughing at?” Gorham asked.

  “At you, Gorham, at us.” Dunther put on his old worn clothes.

  “What do we do?”

  “Get on your armour.”

  Once the knights were somewhat dressed and somewhat armed, they mounted their horses and stared up at the walls of the castle, at Hedor and at Alfred.

  “I don’t know why you gave them their weapons, sire,” said Hedor to Alfred. “They are much too dangerous.”

  “Well, there are goblins about, and I want them to be able to defend themselves.”

  Hedor and the bandits gave signs making a mockery of the knights. Alfred noticed. “Stop it! All of you, stop it!”

  “Hey, we’re just having a bit of fun,” Hedor said.

  “I don’t care. Just go. And—and thank you.” Alfred watched the knights. He expected to feel satisfaction. Instead he felt sadness.

  Some of the younger bandits wanted to continue the fun, but Hedor pushed and herded them down the stairs. One became belligerent, leading Hedor to knock the bowl of ale from his hands. The young one shoved Hedor back. All were stunned and fell silent.

  Hedor threw down his own ale and begin knocking down the rest of their mugs and bowls of ale. “Now, do as the king says and go and clean yourselves up! Now!”

  As they left, Alfred looked at the peasants and workers to gauge their reaction. They looked forlorn at the knights’ predicament. With tears in their eyes, they looked at the knights. Alfred walked up to them. “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve abandoned the knights, milord,” a lady finally said.

  “What do you mean? They were mean to us.”

  “Yes, that is true. They were. But they also protect us and are our champions.”

  Alfred shook his head. “No,” he said. “We will protect ourselves. We will be our own champions. If they want to join with us, then great. But if they’re going to oppress us and take everything and tell us what to do, then forget it.”

  The peasants and workers listened to Alfred with a sense of wonder and perplexity. Many nodded. All remained silent and somber. The lady nodded, wiped her tears and went down the stairs. The others followed.

  Alfred was alone on the wall. He looked out at the two knights. They were mounted and motionless. Gorham looked from Dunther to Alfred and remained silent.

  Alfred and Dunther looked at each other from a long distance. Alfred felt as if Dunther was shaking the very foundation of his resolve. He began to shiver. Fear, doubt and uncertainty grew within him. As if all else did not matter, he wanted to open the gate and let them back in, with their might and strength. He turned to go down the stone stairway.

  “Don’t you let him do it to you, boy king. Don’t you let Dunther have his way.” It was Gylloth, dressed in a simple robe with a belt and sword, looking up at Alfred from the lower steps.

  Alfred took a deep relaxing breath, as if releasing a ghost. He stepped back up to the wall and looked out at Lord Dunther again. Gylloth came up and stood beside him.

  Dunther was visibly upset now. He turned on his horse and rode off. Gorham, sharing one last glare with Gylloth, turned and followed.

  Chapter Twenty One: Loranna

  After Cory’s wound healed, he and Alfred focused on toughening up the boys and improving their spear skills. Remembering the ferocity of the goblins, the boys learned better ways of protecting themselves from goblin attacks. They rushed about the tunnels below the Keep, wrestling and screaming and yelling. Alfred and Cory decided to look and behave like goblins. They told the boys, “We'll be right back,“ and rushed away. They put on goblin helms and dirtied their faces with mud. Then they rushed in screaming and yelling. A few of th
e boys fled. The second in command, Wilden, quickly formed up a wall of spears and had the remaining boys jabbing at Cory and Alfred.

  Both backed away, swinging wildly at the boys. The younger boys, remembering the goblins’ viciousness, would pull back as Alfred and Cory swung. But then they would move right back in to fill the gaps and prevent a charge. The boys who fled returned and joined the lines, encouraged by the braver ones. Wilden and the boys then advanced. Alfred and Cory quickly surmised that they had been beaten back and took off their goblin helms and rubbed the mud from their faces. There were great cheers from all the boys as they passed the test.

  There were many such drills, including having the boys with large shields charge the archers. Loranna got the girls to form three lines of archers with their small goblin bows. Loranna then yelled, “One fire! Two fire! Three fire!” A hail of clay and cloth tipped arrows flew at Alfred, Cory, Wilden and the boys. The drill was to ensure that the archers would be able to fire under pressure as an enemy charged. A few boys in the lines, using sticks as spears, held off the charging boys. The exercise was a great success. All gained valuable experience along with many bruises.

  From time to time Alfred or Cory would get through and swing their sticks at the archers. Each day someone would cry from an injury, bruise, cut or just plain aches and pains. Alfred established that anyone who got hurt would receive immediate attention from Loranna and several of the older girls. He decided to have a few classes on first aid, as he called it. Whenever there was an injury during the practices, the children would cry out “Medic!” The worst incident was when a little girl got her eye poked by a stick and her eyelid began to bleed. Many of the children fainted and after that, were reluctant to continue with training.

  The girl got better after a while, though her eyelid had a small scar. The whole experience had Alfred worried. He was constantly reminded that this was dangerous and not at all a game. With spears, arrows and fighting, he had to take the training seriously and be careful. He had to make sure all the rambunctious children understood the dangers as well.