Ædelmær nodded, resigned to his fate. His heart sank to his stomach in the knowledge that his father would surely whip him black and blue for his transgression. His father was not the kindest of men, and he dreaded the next encounter with him.
They arrived twenty minutes later outside of the entrance gates to the manor, an old stone building with many windows and just as many servants. Lord Wulf demanded a tidy garden, and so several gardeners tended the delicate bushes and shrubs, despite the rain. The facia of the building, covered in years of ivy growth, was neatly trimmed around the windows. The whole place screamed order.
Ædelmær turned to Jericho. ‘Please, don’t do this; you have no idea how badly my father will take this. I beg you.’
‘Son, I’m sorry, but you need to learn that you cannot wander the streets, commit a crime and get away with it,’ Jericho sighed. He knew he could have let them off with a warning. However, his instructions from Curator Orodor were clear: detain anyone breaking the law, however slight, and bring them before the local court for judgement. This year had seen plenty of strife, and The Brotherhood needed to clamp down on disturbances. Jericho pushed Ædelmær and the others ahead of him, and together they marched up the pathway to the manor.
As they approached the building, a stout man wearing a black shirt and pants huffed his way down a set of steps to greet them. ‘Masters Wulf, what have you done now?’ the man enquired.
Ædelmær rolled his eyes. ‘That’s Dungam, our guardian and protector. He’s been in father’s service since before we were born,’ he told Jericho.
Up close, Dungam appeared piglike, with beady little eyes that missed nothing. He grasped the boys by the ears and scowled at them. ‘Tell me what you have done,’ he demanded.
Jericho stepped forward and removed Dungam’s hand from the boy’s ears. ‘Easy now, there is no need for that.’
Dungam looked affronted and squared up to the soldier. ‘And who might you be?’
Jericho stood straight and commanding. ‘I am Lieutenant Dareth Jericho, Order of The Wulf, and this is Private Perindar. We are here to bring these boys before Lord Wulf, to face charges of disturbing the peace,’ he replied.
Dungam looked worried. ‘I’m sure there is no need to bother the Lord, he is, after all, a very busy man,’ he objected.
‘If only I were able to countermand my orders, then I would do so. The order to escort all wrongdoers before the court comes from the highest level,’ Jericho replied.
‘I assure you, kind sir, that no good will come of this. His Lordship is, well, shall we say not the most pleasant of justices in the land,’ Dungam pressed.
‘Be that as it may, the rules of justice stand. Lead the way to the Lord’s chambers, or I shall be forced to locate them myself.’ Jericho looked down his nose at the smaller man. ‘It would be a terrible breach of court protocol, but needs must.’
Dungam muttered under his breath and sighed. ‘Very well, this way,’ he gestured.
Gravel crunched underfoot as they made their way up the last remaining portion of the pathway, to be replaced by the clack of boots on stone. Several steps later, they had entered the grand reception hall of the manor, and their footsteps echoed back at them. Perindar remained outside to tend to the horses.
Dungam turned to Jericho and made a slight bow. ‘If you wait here, I shall fetch the Lord’s chief advisor,’ he said.
Jericho nodded. ‘Boys, take a seat on that bench over there. Be quiet, and do not move,’ he growled.
Ædelmær and the others obeyed and sat down on a wooden bench at the side of the hallway.
Jericho, satisfied, took the time to look around him as the sound of Dungam’s footsteps retreated to parts unknown. The lavish hall held a grand staircase that doubled back on itself. A wide balcony ran the circumference of the hall, and Jericho spotted a girl of no more than three or four peering down at him from between the balusters. He waved at her, and she waved back.
‘Get down from there,’ Ædelmær chastised the girl.
‘Did I not ask you to remain quiet?’ Jericho scolded.
Ædelmær held his tongue, though his expression clouded.
Jericho turned to the girl. ‘What are you doing up there by yourself?’ he asked.
‘Playing.’
‘Playing what?’
‘Hide and seek.’
‘A splendid game. My name’s Jericho, what’s yours?’
‘Marisa,’ replied the girl shyly.
‘Pleased to meet you, Marisa. Perhaps you should come down from there, and find your mama.’
The girl’s shyness got the better of her, and she giggled and disappeared from view without a further word.
He smiled at the cuteness of the girl. One day he hoped to have a child of his own, a girl preferably. Turning his attention to the paintings hung from high picture rails, he noted that a handful was dominated by a proud-looking man in tight riding breeches, sat atop a fine brown stallion. Jericho heard footsteps approaching and snapped to attention as a portly man plodded into the room, red-faced, with the look of the harassed about him. Behind him trailed Dungam, and he looked exceedingly unhappy.
The newcomer who stopped three feet from Jericho reeked of fine wine, and his stomach flopped over his tight belt like an apron. His stubby hands on short arms were clamped firmly about his waist. ‘I am Lord Wulf’s Chief Advisor, Meroop. What gives you the right to disturb his Lordship’s peace?’
Jericho remained at attention, and neither glanced at the man nor moved. ‘By order of Curator Orodor, and The Brotherhood of The Wulf, I am obliged to bring all wrongdoers before the court for sentencing,’ he replied stiffly.
Meroop laughed hollowly. ‘What crime did these three commit?’ he asked.
‘Breach of the peace, assault with a weapon in a public place, theft, and fisticuffs,’ Jericho reeled off.
‘And for this you expect the exceptionally busy Lord Wulf to drop all his works and attend to these minor infringements of the law?’ Meroop cocked his head. ‘Not to mention try with a crime his own sons, whom you hold prisoner.’
‘I do indeed. These things start small, good sir, though we all know how quickly events can grow out of proportion. ‘Nip it in the bud’, I think is the saying, before the situation gets out of hand,’ Jericho replied.
Meroop scowled, and the lines of his face creased deeply. ‘Very well, I will advise his Lordship that you wish to see him. However, you should know that it will not be today,’ he smirked. ‘I suggest you take your prisoners to the barn and await my call in the morning.’
‘The barn?’ Draken objected.
‘Silence boy, it is more than you deserve. You have brought shame upon this house, and be glad you do not speak to your father today. Fear what tomorrow will bring, not your sleeping arrangements,’ said Meroop angrily. His neck would see the hangman’s noose if Lord Wulf were to be disturbed today. The Lord had so many important deeds to be done.
Draken looked sullen and mutinous at Meroop’s words, and Ædelmær knew that he contemplated striking the advisor. He restrained his brother with a calming hand. ‘Easy brother. As the fat one says, fear tomorrow,’ he whispered.
Inside Ædelmær quaked. His father’s anger knew no bounds, and he had been subject to the lash ever since he could remember. His father had even hanged an unruly servant from the great apple tree in the gardens of the manor, for answering back to him, or so the rumour said.
❖
After a cold and damp night spent in a rickety old barn hidden from view, Jericho awoke stiffly and stretched his aching limbs. He wiped hay from his garb and looked to where Perindar sat, on guard over the three sleeping boys, and smiled. Perindar had shaped up to be a good partner. They had joined The Brotherhood at the same time and had been partnered fairly swiftly thanks to their ability to work together as an efficient team. Jericho had skills and a leadership quality about him that set him apart, and as a result, he was heading up the ranks swiftly.
Jerich
o stood and kicked at Draken’s feet, and the young man stirred and growled in his slumber. He shook his head and kicked harder. ‘Get up. Today is a big day.’
All three boys slowly sat up and grumbled. Each rubbed the sleep from their eyes and yawned slowly, momentarily confused by their surroundings.
‘Right boys, wash up and grab a bite to eat from the sack over there. We will be meeting with the Lord this morning,’ Jericho ordered.
Draken stood and glared at him. ‘I do not take orders from you. I shall go to the kitchens and have the cook prepare breakfast,’ he said.
Jericho, unimpressed by the young man’s outburst, faced the mutinous boy. ‘You will do no such thing. If I have to bind you, I will,’ he said, his voice rising slightly. ‘You are under arrest and in my charge, and while you remain so, you will continue to do as I ask. Understood?’ The flush to his cheeks was evident.
To emphasise the point that The Brotherhood were in charge, Perindar stepped up behind Draken and breathed heavily upon his neck. Draken took the hint and retreated a distance.
While the soldiers tended to the horses, the three prisoners attended to themselves. The boys had extracted cold cuts of dried meat from a large sack on the barn floor and pulled faces as they chewed on the stringy flesh.
A crunch of gravel outside of the barn caught Jericho’s attention, and he left Perindar to investigate who had decided to pay them a visit. He opened the heavy barn door with a groan of iron hinges and poked his head outside. There stood Meroop with an impatient look about him.
‘It is about time you showed your face. I have been waiting now for a full thirty minutes for you to join me at the manor. Instead, I had to trudge through the mud to fetch you,’ Meroop complained.
‘I am so very sorry that you are inconvenienced, we will join you immediately,’ Jericho nodded, and ducked back inside the barn where he gave Perindar a withered look.
Meroop heard him bark orders to those inside and smiled to himself. This man may have caused him some inconvenience, yet he admired his efficacy.
Several minutes later, Jericho stood with his prisoners beside a dark oak double door, almost as high as the hallway itself. Meroop had disappeared behind it a moment ago with orders for them to stay put.
Ædelmær looked positively green, and Draken appeared stoic. Lordich still looked for escape; Jericho could see it there in his shifty eyes. He remained behind the young man and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘Escape is not an option boy, you must answer for your crimes,’ he said.
Lordich looked at him with disgust and wondered if he would be able to strike the man and make an exit. He, however, did not get a chance to test this, as a moment later the right-hand door opened silently, and Meroop stepped out. He stood rigid and upright. ‘Lord Wulf will see you now,’ he said. ‘This way, gentlemen.’
Jericho ushered the three young men ahead of him, and now that the moment had come he could sense their reluctance to enter the room. But enter they did at his insistence, and at the point of his sword.
The room, three storeys high, had a balcony that ran the length of it above a most lavish and ornately carved chair, raised on a small platform. Wooden pillars supported the high roof, and banners bearing The Wulf Crest hung from the walls.
Below, and either side of the platform, two tables created a natural walkway, and at these sat a dozen or so attendants to the Lord. A handful entered figures or notes into ledgers, and others eyed the prisoners with frowns and exchanged whispers with each other as Meroop escorted them before their master.
Meroop stopped a foot before the low platform and knelt on one knee, inviting the visitors to do the same. Without looking up, he addressed the Lord. ‘My Lord Wulf, your grace, I bring you most disturbing news,’ he said, his tone worried.
‘What is it now Meroop. I am tired, can it not wait?’ Lord Wulf asked.
Meroop looked up at him. ‘I’m afraid not, my Lord, this Brotherhood soldier demands that you—’
Lord Wulf stood up quickly and his long court robes swished about him. ‘Demand?’ he roared. ‘Who dares demand of me?’ He instantly eyed the boys and focused his attention on them. His tall and imposing frame stepped down from the platform, and he rubbed his bushy black beard. ‘Rise,’ he ordered and stood to face Jericho. His hard, grey eyes took in the young soldier. ‘You demand what exactly?’
Even though Jericho knew that he had the might of The Brotherhood and the law behind him, he felt intimidated by this man, and it was all he could do to hold his gaze. ‘I demand nothing, my Lord. I humbly request that you try these criminals in accordance with the laws of the land.’
Lord Wulf blanched. ‘You wish me to try my own children like common filth in the street?’ he snarled.
‘I desire no such thing. Your children have broken the law, and you are the presiding official charged with defending and upholding the statutes of law,’ Jericho began. ‘Try these men, or I shall be forced to take them to Rostha to be tried by the justices there, and I am sure King Hantestum will wonder why his representative in Westeroe refused to do as the law requires.’
Lord Wulf looked at Jericho like he was poison, and then suddenly his expression changed to one that held a new thought. ‘Very well young soldier, I will do as my duty requires, although you may not like the outcome,’ he said with a smirk.
Lord Wulf returned to his chair and sat heavily. ‘Read the list of charges soldier,’ he demanded, ‘and make it quick. I have not breakfasted as yet.’
Jericho read the list of charges and described the scene in the village square that he had come across. He and Perindar had exited the Dragon’s Breath Inn and had climbed into the saddle just moments before coming across the fight. They’d had no choice but to intervene.
‘Hmm,’ said Lord Wulf, ‘a tale as unlikely as any. Meroop? Approach. I wish to speak with you privately.’
Meroop looked decidedly ill at the prospect of approaching his master and nodded. He tripped in his eagerness to please the Lord.
Lord Wulf sighed deeply. ‘Today,’ he growled.
Meroop stepped up to the Lord and bowed his head low. Lord Wulf grasped his collar and wrenched him close.
‘I’ve been looking for a way to get rid of Draken once and for all. His mother would never forgive me if I were to kill him. Nevertheless, a new opportunity has arisen.’ He talked low and looked up to make sure no one had overheard him.
Jericho leant in closer and tried to hear the whispered conversation between the two, though it was futile; there was far too much noise in the room. Instead, he drummed his fingers on his leg.
After a few more minutes of deliberation, Meroop returned to stand by Jericho, and Lord Wulf grandly swung his arms in a circle.
‘There comes a time in every young boy’s life when he must venture forth and become a man. I can see that all my lessons have taught you nothing,’ he said, looking to Ædelmær and Draken. ‘Therefore, I have decided that the best course of action would be to entrust you both to The Brotherhood of The Wulf. Perhaps there you will learn some valuable lessons in life, and come back to me as better men. If you are to one day take my place, you need to understand discipline, and where better than in the ranks of The Brotherhood. I, therefore, sentence you to ten years service under the watchful eye of Curator Orodor. Let us see him suffer your infuriating inability to do as you are told,’ Lord Wulf finished. He sat down and stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Jericho was dumbfounded. He had expected a whipping or some other punishment, but here the justice of the land had sentenced Ædelmær and Draken to service in The Brotherhood guard. Curator Orodor would not be happy. He heard a cough to his left and looked to find Meroop had raised a hand.
‘Yes, what is it now, Meroop?’ Lord Wulf asked in a bored tone.
‘Forgive me, Lord; you seem to have overlooked the other boy.’ He grabbed Lordich roughly by the arm and dragged him forward.
Lord Wulf rose sharply. ‘How dare you Meroop!’ he thundered a
nd relished at the servant who cowered before him. ‘I forgot nothing.’
‘No, milord,’ Meroop agreed, despite the full knowledge his master had indeed forgotten. To admit that would surely see him receive the lash.
‘This stray shall join the ranks also. You, boy, will serve The Brotherhood. Take them away, Meroop,’ Lord Wulf finished. He walked towards his private chambers, needing to explain to his wife what had happened to their sons. She would get over it in time, he was certain of it.
Meroop and Jericho began to lead the boys from the court when Draken suddenly broke free and chased after his father. He grasped for a candlestick on a table and threw it at his father’s back. It struck home, and his father fell to his knees and let out a great cry of pain.
‘How dare you, how dare you do this to me,’ Draken yelled. ‘You will pay for this old man.’
Lord Wulf stood, himself still shaken, and turned to face his son. ‘That is the last time you dishonour this house and me. Take him away and hang him,’ he ordered to his personal guards.
Jericho acted quicker than anyone and launched himself in front of Draken. ‘You will not harm this child. He is now under the protection of The Order of The Wulf,’ he warned.
Lord Wulf laughed menacingly. ‘You are but one boy, and you expect to protect this … fruit of my loins who is no better than a street rat?’
‘I will uphold the law, and the rights of my brother, for that, is what he is now,’ Jericho announced.
‘Then take him, and the other one. Though know this,’ he snapped, turning to Draken, ‘you are banished henceforth. You will never darken my door again upon pain of death. You are dead to me,’ Lord Wulf ranted and turned from their presence to storm away.
Draken hung his head in silence and Ædelmær wrapped a consoling arm around his shoulder. ‘We still have each other,’ he whispered, his only thought for his brother despite his own trauma.
Except Draken had not been listening and allowed himself to be escorted from the mansion and to his new life. Lordich was the only happy individual present. Madam Zambere had been correct; he was indeed headed for greatness and embraced the chance of a new beginning readily.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 40