Heart of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  Alric decided the best way to handle the situation was to ignore it and retain his composure. Things soon settled down, and the eating resumed.

  * * *

  Sometime later the meal was cleared and servants came to take away the tables. In Weldwyn this was a common tradition, the better to let the nobles mingle and converse, but the visitors appeared surprised by the move. Everyone wanted to meet the princess, of course, but the presence of the hound constantly at her side meant that only the bravest of them actually approached.

  Alric was bored, this was turning into another intolerable social affair, and he wanted to leave, but he knew his absence would be noted. He glanced around the room, taking it all in. The Knights of Merceria caught his attention again. There were almost a dozen of them, most of which were women. He saw Lady Beverly and decided to engage her in conversation. At least, as a noble, she could be counted on to carry on a decent discussion. She was standing to the side of the room constantly on the lookout. He approached her slowly, nodding slightly when their eyes met.

  "Lady Beverly," he said, trying to sound as polite as possible, "I hope you're enjoying the festivities."

  She nodded slightly, "Yes, Your Highness, they are most agreeable."

  "Have you sampled the wine? We have a number of fine vintages."

  "I regret I have not, Highness. I drink very little."

  "I must say, I was surprised to see women in armour. Is this common in Merceria?"

  Lady Beverly smiled, "It is rare, but not unheard of. The princess insisted we recruit as many as we could for the order."

  "The order?" asked Alric.

  "Yes, Highness. Knights are sworn to an order, a type of brotherhood, or sisterhood, if I may be so bold. It binds them together. Have you something similar in Weldwyn?"

  "Well, we have cavaliers. I suppose they would be the closest thing. Tell me more about this order of yours, I find the topic fascinating."

  The redheaded knight warmed to the conversation. "In Merceria, knights are sworn to the service of the crown. The king's order is the Order of the Sword. The king, on occasion, allows knights to follow other nobles. These knights are usually assigned to these orders on a temporary basis, but we are different."

  "How so?"

  "We are sworn to the service of the princess. We are the Knights of the Hound."

  "Fascinating," mused Alric. "And so, knights would be Knights of the Sword as well as the Hound? Can a knight belong to more than one order?"

  He watched a look cross the woman's face before she answered.

  "In most cases," she continued, "every knight would be a member of the Order of the Sword, but I am only a Knight of the Hound."

  Alric felt there was more to this story but could sense the unease in the woman. Was she disgraced somehow? He decided to change the subject.

  "I must say the armour you wear is quite fascinating. I see your smiths have managed to fashion steel plates over your chainmail. We have no such armour in Weldwyn. The chest plate you wear seems quite ornate. If you don't mind me asking, how much did it cost you?"

  Beverly smiled, "Nothing, Highness. My father's smith made it."

  "Surely the man must command a fortune for such work?"

  "He is in service to my father, it is his duty and passion."

  "I'm sorry," said Alric, "I'm afraid I don't understand. Is the man not a craftsman?"

  "Indeed he is. However, my father looks after him, provides the smithy, feeds him, pays him his wages. In exchange he makes armour and weapons for the Keep, is it not so in Weldwyn?

  "No, here smiths are independent professionals. Hired by the crown in many cases, but every weapon is paid for."

  "So you are saying even an earl has to pay for each and every weapon?"

  "Yes," Alric answered.

  "An interesting situation," mused Beverly. "I wonder how Aldwin would fare under these conditions?"

  "If your armour is any indication, he would do quite well for himself. Tell me, is such armour common in Merceria?"

  "Only amongst knights and the nobility. The cost to make such armour is very high."

  "But I thought you said the smith was not paid for his work?" prompted Alric.

  "There is still the cost of the iron. It requires a high grade of metal for this sort of work. Most armour is not of this quality."

  "Perhaps I shall entice this smith of yours to come to Weldwyn and serve my father. I'm sure he would be well paid."

  Beverly smiled again. "I doubt he would be interested," she said.

  Alric thought he detected a slight blushing on her part but put it down to the warmth of the room. "So tell me," he continued, "how long have you known the princess?"

  "Only a few months, Highness. I met her this last spring, though I must admit it seems like such a long time ago, now that I think about it."

  "How well do you know this Gerald Matheson fellow?"

  "Quite well," she announced. "Why do you ask?"

  "I'm not sure what he does," Alric stated.

  "What he does? What do you mean?"

  "Well, I understand the knights, their purpose is obviously to protect the princess. Then there's the woman who brought the dog, she's obviously the beast's handler-"

  "That was Dame Hayley," she interrupted. "And she's not a handler, she was a King's Ranger, and now she's a Knight of the Hound."

  "Oh," said Alric, "I meant no disrespect. Tell me, who actually handles the beast?"

  She stared back at him for a moment before answering. "Tempus? No one handles Tempus. He'll listen to the princess and Gerald. He seems to like Hayley, and I suppose he'd listen to Sophie, but no one really handles him."

  "Tell me you're kidding. Kurathian Mastiffs are trained to bring down war horses. Aren't you afraid he'll kill somebody?"

  "Tempus? He's very gentle when he likes you, though I've been told he can rip out a throat with very little effort." She smiled, and Alric felt uncomfortable.

  "But I digress," stated the prince. "You were going to tell me about this Gerald person. What is this hold he has over the princess?"

  Lady Beverly laughed, "Gerald Matheson was my father's Sergeant-at-Arms. A more worthy man you won't find this side of the Afterlife."

  "So you know him?" he asked again.

  "I've known him all my life. He was my mentor. It was he who taught me how to fight."

  "So he's a knight, then?"

  "No, though he's more than worthy. He was born a commoner. Nobles don't like that in a knight."

  "So where does he fit into the princess's entourage?"

  "He's Gerald, that's all that matters. I suppose you'd see him as the princess's right-hand man. He's her advisor but also her friend."

  "So how do I treat him? Do I treat him as a commoner?" This was all so confusing.

  "You treat him as you would any other Human being. He is a man, just like you."

  Alric bristled. "I'm a prince," he replied, somewhat insulted by the comparison.

  "True, Highness, and I meant no disrespect. But it's men like Gerald who keep the kingdom safe, isn't it? The man has seen more battles in his day than likely the rest of us combined. His experience makes him especially valuable."

  "So he is a military advisor?" Alric pressed.

  Beverly sighed, "No, Highness, as I mentioned, he is her friend. You have friends, don't you?"

  Alric was taken aback. "Of course I have friends, I'm a Prince of the Realm."

  No sooner had he said the words than he was shocked into a realization. Did he have friends? Certainly, people paid him attention, but did he truly have what he would consider a friend? He thought of Uncle Edwin. He was the closest friend of his father, wasn't really an uncle, and yet he could say anything in his father's presence. He was accepted by the whole family. Did he have anyone in his life with such a relationship? He had to admit to himself that he didn't and it suddenly left him feeling somehow alone, despite the busy room.

  "I thank you for the enlightenment, La
dy Beverly," he said finally.

  "I'm typically addressed as Dame Beverly, Highness," she replied, "though Lady Beverly is perfectly acceptable."

  "Dame Beverly it is, then," Alric agreed. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have many people to talk to."

  "Of course, Your Highness," she replied.

  * * *

  It was in the wee hours of the morning that Alric returned to his room. He was about to enter when his brother hailed him as he walked down the hallway.

  "Alric, what did you think of our guests?"

  "Confusing," he replied. "I think I have a better understanding of their knights but this Gerald person still baffles me."

  "How so?" prompted Alstan.

  "He's a commoner. It sets a dangerous precedent to have a commoner advising a royal."

  "Have you seen the man's armour? He's seen battle, and I daresay many times. I'd love to know what he could do against our cavaliers. I bet he'd give them a run for their coins."

  Alric perked up, "You think so? I think he's just an old man. Likely he served the king, and this cushy job is his reward for past service. I don't have anything against the man, I'm just not sure how to treat him. How do I address him?"

  "You've put far too much effort into this," teased Alstan. "Just treat him like one of our mages, they're all commoners."

  "I suppose that would work. So I call him Master Matheson?"

  "Everyone in the Mercerian delegation simply calls him, 'Gerald'. I suppose Master Gerald would be more appropriate, but I wouldn't keep worrying about it. You should get to sleep, Brother, we have to move out tomorrow, and we need to be on the road by noon."

  Alstan left him to his thoughts. He soon fell into bed thinking about his day. One thing was certain, the coming months were likely to be anything but boring.

  Eleven

  Ambush

  Summer 960 MC

  The sun was high in the sky by the time the entourage was ready to move. Anna sat in her carriage along with her maid, Sophie and Tempus, while outside, the soldiers were forming up. King Leofric had provided a Royal Guard for the visitors, and these troops made up two detachments; one to the front and the other to the rear of the column. In between marched the knights, with Hayley leading, the princess's bodyguard under the command of Sir Arnim, and the servants, who followed behind the Royal Carriage. Gerald rode to one side, while Beverly rode her horse, Lightning, to the other.

  Alric had watched them mount up and was stunned by the sheer size of the Mercerian Chargers. He had been raised around horseflesh, even considered himself a master rider, but the great Mercerian mounts were astounding to see. Not all the knights rode them, Dame Hayley, in particular, preferred a more nimble beast; a surefooted breed. He wondered if some of these mounts might be purchased and bred in Weldwyn? He would have to suggest this to his father.

  The plan was for Alstan and Alric to ride just ahead of the Knights of the Hound. Alric noticed his brother chatting with the guard captain. He rode past Lady Beverly, nodding at her as he did so and was surprised to hear a call from the carriage.

  "Prince Alric?" came the princess's voice.

  "Yes, Princess?"

  "Are we leaving soon?"

  "We should be marching in a few moments. Captain Brown informs me that his men are ready, we're just waiting for some of the supply wagons to pull into line."

  Getting a line going with this many people was a difficult task, he thought; the princess likely has no idea how much work is involved.

  Anna leaned out the window to call to Gerald, "Any sign of when we're going to move?"

  Gerald looked toward the back of the column before answering, "'Fraid not. I don't think these people have a clue how to organize this thing."

  "It's a good thing we didn't have this problem when we marched to Eastwood."

  "I might remind you we had precisely this problem, Anna. It took a lot of effort to correct that mistake."

  "Should we speed things up a bit, do you think?" she asked.

  "I wouldn't suggest it. We might upset them. We're not really in a hurry, I think it best we let them have their moment. Perhaps the princes are just inexperienced."

  Alric rode up to his brother near the front of the column. "Are we ready to go yet?" he asked.

  "Shouldn't be long now."

  "What's the holdup?" asked Alric, eager to be on the way. "I don't want to put up with the whining from the princess."

  "Yes, about that..." said Alstan.

  "What about it?"

  "I've been thinking about our guest. I've decided to have you ride in her carriage, if she has no objection."

  "What? You can't do that to me! I don't want to be stuck in a carriage with the girl."

  "Oh come on now, Alric, she can't be worse than Althea, and she's almost the same age."

  Althea was the eldest of Alric's two younger sisters. She was a constant pest, and Alric could well imagine what she would be like if she were here. "Can't you send someone else?" he whined.

  "As a matter of fact, I can't. Come on, Alric, she's a Princess of Merceria, we can't ignore that. We need to make a favourable impression."

  "Then you ride with her," he pleaded.

  "I can't. I've too much to do here. Besides, you're whining, you two should get along well," he said, laughing at his brother's obvious discomfort.

  "Fine, I'll do it, but you owe me big time."

  Alstan smiled, "Of course, Brother, anything for you."

  The column finally started moving down the road. The carriage lurched forward and then had to stop. The whole column moved and stopped like a large accordion until the rhythm of the march finally took hold and their speed stabilized. Alric sat across from the princess, absently gazing out the window at the passing countryside. It was Anna who broke the silence.

  "So tell me, Alric," she said, "do you really think all these guards are necessary?"

  Alric, startled out of his daydreaming, looked at the girl sitting facing him. "Of course. You're a Royal Princess, anything less would be impolite. We place great importance on your protection."

  "No offense, but I'm pretty sure my knights are more than capable of defending me."

  "Yes, but our troops lend an air of respectability to the march."

  "Are you saying," asked the princess, "that my knights aren't respectable?"

  Alric stammered, "No, that's not what I meant. It's just that you're in Weldwyn now, it's only proper you be guarded by our troops."

  "I suppose that's acceptable," responded the princess. "So tell me, is your brother the heir to the crown?"

  "Yes, Alstan is the heir, as the oldest son. Were my father to die, he would be crowned after his approval from the council."

  "Approval? What do you mean by approval?"

  "Well," Alric continued, "the Earls' Council has to approve him."

  "So the earls control who becomes the next king?"

  "Not really, it's just a formality."

  "Interesting," mused Anna, "but what if they didn't agree?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "What if they didn't agree to making him the next king? What would happen?"

  "The king's wishes are never questioned, it's just a formality," stated Alric again, beginning to get agitated.

  "But what if they objected?" she pressed.

  "The question is irrelevant," Alric responded, perhaps a little too vehemently, "they've never disagreed."

  Anna smiled, "There's a first time for everything. It would be interesting, I think, to see what would happen. Is your father an absolute ruler or a constitutional leader?"

  Her questions were starting to infuriate Alric, but he told himself she was just a girl. Perhaps if he imagined his sister across from him, he might be able to avoid this problem. "My father, you see, is the king. He is the ruler of the land. People do what he says because he's the king."

  "I'm not ten years old," exploded Anna, "you don't have to treat me like a little girl. I'm asking you if there are oth
er limits to your father's power. You already mentioned the Earls' Council."

  Alric knew his tactic had failed and tried to start again. "Sorry, I'm used to dealing with my sisters. My father has a lot of power, but there are limits," he offered.

  "Such as?"

  "He can't declare war without the support of a majority of the council. Other than that, he pretty much has free rein to do as he pleases."

  "So, if I understand correctly, the earls here have a lot of power."

  "Well, yes. Isn't it the same in Merceria?"

  "Yes, and no. Titles don't necessarily imply power, but certainly, some have more influence than others."

  "But isn't your father an absolute monarch?" he asked.

  "King Andred has absolute power, but it wasn't always that way. For years the nobles held the balance of power, but after the Farmer's Rebellion, years ago, the crown started taking it back, slowly but surely."

  "And that," offered Alric, "led to a happier kingdom?"

  Anna took a moment to digest the question before answering, "I wouldn't say that exactly. Merceria, like any kingdom, has its detractors."

  Alric smiled, "You can't say that about Weldwyn. We have the happiest people in the land."

  "I doubt that," muttered Anna.

  The conversation stuttered to a halt after that, and they rode in silence for some time, Alric eventually falling asleep in the carriage.

  * * *

  The journey to the capital was estimated to take two weeks. The plan was to rise early each day to start on their way, only to halt just after noon. The remainder of the day would be spent setting up camp and cooking the meals. Tents would be set up and guards posted while the rest of the day would be spent in relative peace.