The Ghost Of Eslenda (Book 1)

by Jim Greenfield

  "How did Hal escape? I had him locked up. I was betrayed. I have not rooted out all the betrayers yet but I will. I must find them soon else, all my work will fail. Hal must die! Hal has always hated me. He knows I am the king Eslenda needs. Hal is weak. I tried to tell him, but he would never listen. He never listened to me. He turned Father against me. I am more the son of King Henry than Hal could ever be. I warned Hal, but he did not hear me. He never understood what I was saying. Now he is a traitor and must die. He must die! I would have given him a chance to swear fealty to me. Well, maybe I would have given him a chance. Now, he will die."

  Some of his words were too faint for Quink to hear. He pressed his ear against the opening and the material rustled slightly. Edward sat up straight, turning his head in Quink's direction. Quink moved back from the opening. He heard no sound from the throne room and moved up to the opening again. Edward sat, listening as he cocked his head.

  Quink noticed a thin hollow reed fastened to the wall. It moved upward out of sight but the end of it had a leather opening large as a finger. Quink moved to it and blew into it. A mournful howl flowed throughout the throne room.

  "What's that?" asked Edward. "Is anyone there?"

  Quink smiled at the opportunity and blew again. Edward turned around in the throne staring in every direction. He jumped up moving quickly around the room, listening. Quink watched him for a few minutes, smiling at the discomfort of Edward. Then a thought came to him and he nodded to himself. Waiting until Edward moved back to the throne Quink reached for the reed again.

  "You murdered me…" Quink moaned into the reed.

  Edward jumped out of the throne, spinning in every direction.

  "Father? Father, is that you? I did it for Eslenda."

  "Dooommm, dooommm," said Quink.

  Edward ran to the nearest tapestry pulling it back to reveal an empty alcove. He ran to the next and the next trying to find the hidden speaker, but he was alone in the room. His breath came fast and his hands trembled.

  "Father! You cannot haunt me! You are dead! Dead!"

  Again, Quink moaned into the reed mouthpiece.

  Edward ran to the door and threw it open, and disappeared as he called for a servant.

  Quink found a laugh for the first time since King Henry's death. There had been real terror in Edward's voice and face. It would be suitable payback for what he had done. He would look for Edward to return to the throne room and continue the fun. Perhaps he will seek out Edward's room to see if there is a spy hole there. He wondered who built all the spy holes and who put the reeds in place. It was nicely done; he said to himself.

  After several minutes, a servant entered the room and walked around the edges looking for hiding spots. He walked back to the doorway and shook his head. Edward stepped back inside and said something to the servant who hurried away. Edward ventured farther into the room. Quink brought the reed to his lips again and moaned softly, but cut it off as Lord Robert Tucker entered the room.

  "Did you hear it? As you walked in?"

  "No, sire, I did not." Tucker looked around the room, his hands on his hips. "I assure you, we shall find the cause of this. Someone is tricking you. Hal perhaps?"

  "No. He was seen riding northward. He is not in the castle. One of his fellow traitors no doubt."

  Tucker drew his sword and followed the same path as the servant but he poked his blade into the tapestries instead of moving them aside. He checked the window and it moved slightly.

  "The window is not closed tightly. Perhaps the wind?"

  "I heard distinct words, I am sure."

  "I shall seal this window and station a guard outside the door. We shall uncover the truth, sire."

  "Thank you, Lord Robert. I shall rest easier tonight. I want the council in this chamber tomorrow morning. I have some new laws to enact."

  "Yes, Sire."

  Tucker left Edward alone. Quink reached for the reed twice and shook his head. Suddenly, he grabbed it and moaned. Edward jumped. Quink closed the shutter and softly walked along the tunnel. He wanted to find Edward's quarters and haunt him there too. It was lucky Lockwell wanted him to remain in the castle; this was a task he could enjoy.

  The tunnels were intersected by narrow low passages but Quink decided against entering their darkness. He had found listening posts to the throne room, the Great Hall and the library, but nothing to lead him to the upper levels. Either there were no passages there or the entrances were on the upper level. He was sure he would have found stairs within the tunnels if any still existed. Most of the tunnels were narrow with low ceilings but perfect for Quink's size.

  He moved out of the tunnel into the anteroom outside the throne room. He climbed the stairway to the third level where Edward kept his quarters. As he found a room unoccupied, he silently entered and searched for places that might conceal an entrance to the tunnel system. He carefully checked the empty rooms he found. After an hour, he returned to his dingy room, tired and frustrated. He scolded himself and wondered why he should expect to find an entrance so quickly when it took him years to find one by mere chance. At least, he would listen to Edward's audiences in the throne room. That should provide some information that Hal could act on.

  Perhaps he should tell Lockwell what he was doing. He moved around his bed to a dark corner to rub the stone and report to Lockwell. Quink felt useful again. He was serving King Hal.

  The next morning he found his usual path to the kitchen and helped himself to a half dozen muffins, disappearing back into his tunnel. The cook had long since blamed the disappearance of the muffins to the castle ghost. Stories of the ghost were common among the servants and merchants who did business at the castle. However, when news of Edward's ghostly encounter in the throne room reached the servants ears, their tongues wagged in earnest.

  The rumors reach Robert Tucker's ears and he tried to stop it by threatening those who repeated them, but it continued unabated and soon reached beyond the walls of the castle. The ghost of the castle was discussed in the streets of the town.

  Life in the castle changed little except it was less often to see a servant moving about the castle alone. Robert Tucker could not rein in the rumors but he was pleased that the gossip of Riverdowns centered on the ghost, not the legality of Edward taking the crown. At least, he was pleased for a few days, and then the rumors focused on who was the ghost. The rumors came to him that Henry haunted the castle looking for his murderer. The rumors did not help settle Edward's nerves and Tucker had not yet found the source of the whispers Edward heard. Tucker could not silence the tongues of the people either. The 'ghost' would have to be caught and displayed for the people to see. Tucker continued his efforts to find the culprit.

  Quink spent most of his days traveling in the tunnels, committing them to memory. He had walked them so often he could no longer find places easily that had not been disturbed. He saw a figure ahead in the tunnel. He stopped. He could not tell if it was Lockwell or not, so he waited. Then he moved forward and found a cup and bread that someone had been eating. Perhaps he scared them off. If the diner had been Lockwell, Quink would not have been scared. But he did not know for sure and a queer sensation shook through him. Had the diner been waiting for him? Quink took more care in moving through the tunnels, no longer acting as if they were his providence alone.

  Edward was alone in the throne room. Quink could not tell what he was hearing at first, but when he opened the spy hole, he heard Edward sobbing. Quink immediately moaned through the reed and Edward choked.

  "Father?"

  "Murderer…."

  "Father, no, it wasn't like that. You were letting the kingdom fail. Eslenda was not great anymore. No one feared us. The Turucks would never have crossed the sea if we were strong. Grandfather Oswald was strong."

  "Murderer…"

  "Father, listen! Norman Oswald would have been a strong king. We needed Oswald blood on the throne."

  "Blood…."

  "Father! Father!"

&nb
sp; "Sooonnn…"

  Quink finished with a fading moan and quietly closed the shutter. Then he walked in the direction of his room. He smiled, knowing he was helping Hal. He had not been sure if he would be able to aid Hal, King Hal. The 'ghost' was proving to himself that he could be more than a jester, a fool. King Hal mentioned Quink would be suited as an advisor to the king. Was he kidding? No, he was serious. Yes, Quink was sure of it. He could be an advisor to King Hal. He would have some respect for once in his life. He smiled.

  A sharp noise ahead made him stop quickly. There was a shape just beyond his torch.

  "Lockwell?" said Quink.

  There was no response. Quink took a couple steps further and he saw there was someone, dressed in white robes he thought. It was hard to tell in the gloom.

  "Lockwell?"

  The shape stopped moving and turned back to Quink. He could not see its face. Then it moved forward and suddenly, it went through the wall.

  "A ghost!" cried Quink. He ran up the tunnel as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. He missed a turn and ran into a wall, making a loud noise. He heard a voice on the other side of the wall but he did not pay it attention until after he returned to his room. Then he realized it had been Robert Tucker's voice. Had Tucker heard him in the tunnel? A chill shook him as he remembered the ghost. He pushed his chest in front of his door and pulled his blankets over his head. It was sometime later when he fell asleep.

  Chapter 12

  James kept his soldiers far to the east of the castle and sent scouts to watch the approach of Howard Cane's army. Cane's castle, Rockwood, was twenty miles upriver and soldiers from the castle would follow the river to reinforce the soldiers coming north from Riverdowns. There had been no sightings of Cane himself. The reports were that Cane remained with King Edward and Cane's eldest son led the soldiers to the siege of Far Greening. It did not matter to James; Cane's soldiers would die just the same no matter who led them. James' plan was to strike at night and fall back after the initial hard strike. Their charge would push forward they passed the first two rows of campfires and then vanish into the night. Successive nights of attack would weaken the resolve of any army and then Hal would storm out of the castle for the rout.

  He expected his scouts to report soon. He sent out rotating scout teams to keep the information flowing. He expected Cane to scout out the land and James commanded his scouts to engage and eliminate any of Cane's scouts they find. No messages were to get back to Cane.

  There was a lot of movement in the land this night. Prisoners had escaped from Riverdowns in the commotion of Lockwell's fire and many ran north to Hal. James sent each on to the Far Greening castle, more soldiers for his father, enthusiastic if not skilled. The difficulty was the rolling terrain. Limited vision meant foes could be hidden within bowshot without being seen. James made sure his men were alert in this dangerous situation. James had led his own company since he was fifteen and in the seven years since they had developed into the finest fighting force in Eslenda.

  "The first wave of scouts has returned to the camp, Captain," said Grawlin. "They will report directly."

  "Thank you, Grawlin."

  James requested his men call him Captain, instead of Prince, for the obvious protection of his identity, but also because he needed a deeper trust among his men. He would ask his men to leap into mortal danger and they would leap without question. He did not want to distance himself from them. They knew he would take a blade for them and they would do the same for their captain.

  "I feel a change in the air, Grawlin. There are more potent forces than just warfare. The world is changing."

  "Yes, Captain."

  "Prepare the first raid for six hours past sundown. We shall penetrate one line of campfires, no more, and then pull back."

  "As you command, Captain." Grawlin hustled away to his duties. James grinned to himself. Grawlin always squirmed when James spoke of omens and dreams. Grawlin liked what he could see and touch; he desired not to read the currents of the air and listen to the changes in the grass. No matter how close James tried to get to his men, his thoughts and understanding of the world around him separated them again.

  Presently, the scouts approached. They saluted and waited at attention.

  "Report."

  "Captain, Cane's men approach from the southeast. They have few scouts out. They are moving rapidly and should reach the flat land just beyond the Great Rocks by nightfall. Tomorrow they should meet up with more of Cane's men coming from Riverdowns. There are many refugees in the plains - prisoners from Riverdowns. They aren't a threat, but they are unhandy."

  James smiled at the understatement of the scout.

  James gave word to pull back the majority of his men. He did not want to be too close to Cane. After the hit and run attack tonight they would need to put some distance between them and Cane. Then the next night they would strike again.

  The first raid began after midnight. Grawlin sent two parties, one from the southeast and the other circled around the Great Rocks to approach from the west. They waited silently until the whistle rose over the camp and then they charged. The thunder of their approach shook the tents and they caught Cane's men unawares, cutting down several before the defenders could put up resistance. They drove the defenders into the tents, one row, and then a second. The power of the horses tore down the tents and the blades of James' men cut down the defenders. The short battle was fierce and bloody. A shrill whistle pierced the darkness and the horsemen turned and galloped back into the darkness. Cane's men gasped for breath, some not sure what happened. They stood with their unbloodied weapons, staring into the darkness. Their captains screamed and kicked at them. The sound of hooves faded.

  James finished his breakfast as he watched them bring the woman to him. She had been found trying to steal food. Most soldiers would have struck her down, but James' men followed a strict code and merely bound her. She told the soldiers she was fleeing Riverdowns.

  She was pretty despite her condition and appeared a Nunari. She was slight of build but carried a presence about her. Her haunted copper eyes bore into him. She had seen too much in her life. There was no joy in her eyes and James felt a hard pang inside him. Why had Henry kept such prisoners? Henry never tried to ransom them. James heard rumor that they were used for slave labor, among other things. There was a dark side to his grandfather that he did not want to uncover.

  "You are safe now," said James. "After you rest I will send to Far Greening where you can find fresh clothes and rest."

  "Then what will you do with me?" Her voice sounded stretched and weary, a person consigned to their bitter fate.

  "Me? I will do nothing with her except to help you return to Nuneland."

  "No! I cannot return! I am no longer worthy."

  This startled him for a moment, but he did not show it.

  "Then you may stay at Far Greening as long as you desire. How are you called?" He could see dirt and grime darkened her hair. It was difficult to say whether her hair was blonde or white, although she seemed too young to have white hair. Then he saw a red streak among the dirty strands. It seemed to resist the dirt unlike the rest of her hair. He thought he knew her identity.

  "I was called Sena."

  "Then you shall be called Sena again. Who are your parents? Husband? We should send word that you live."

  "I do not want to burden my parents. I have no husband. I have been in that hell for nearly ten years. I am dead to them now and I cannot return. I have been used badly in my time as a non-person. I will bring no honor to my family to return. It would have been better had I died. I have no home to go to."

  Something in her words tugged at him.

  "Sena, I promise you we shall do everything we can to help. You can stay at Far Greening as long as you want."

  "Why would you want to help me?"

  "I don't know. There is something in your face. Its beauty cannot be dimmed."

  "Why do speak thus to me? You are a Prince. Take
what you want!" She spat out the words.

  The anger in her voice forestalled his words. He shook his head.

  "I wish to take nothing from you. I have no desire to add to your shame. Please, eat and rest a little before you go to Far Greening. I do have a washbasin nearby if you wish to use it. The stream water is very cold, but refreshing." He smiled at her and then pretended to turn to other business.

  "You are a strange man, Prince James of Eslenda."

  "You are a beautiful and strong woman, Sena Tagjet of Nuneland."

  "You know who I am?" she gasped.

  "I will keep it secret, do not worry. You have the look of your brother, Per. I met him last year and he spoke of his lost sister. You are missed despite what you may think. Your identity will not be revealed by me, although some others might guess it as I have. Especially if you wash the dirt out of hair. No one else has such hair. Your red streak is very striking in your white hair. It should be released to the world again. But it is your unusual copper eyes that mark you."

  Sena looked at James. "You look barely twenty, from where does this wisdom come?"

  James laughed. "Wisdom? Oh, for some wisdom, I would give much. Sena, I do not profess to be wise. I only do what I must. If it is wisdom I speak, I am not aware of it. Now, please take some refreshment and in an hour or so I shall send an escort with you to Far Greening."

  He bowed to her and smiled. Sena did not smile, but her eyes were not so dead.

  "I was to be a seer," she said suddenly. "Onyax Lor said the red streak was a mark of the gods. Onyax Lor was to teach me when I returned from a wilderness search."

  "Onyax Lor is the Wiseman? I think I saw him once. What is a 'wilderness search?"

  "A pilgrimage for the initiate. To hear the voices of nature, to discover the power within that would determine what type of seer you would become. I spent two weeks alone in the wild before I ran into the soldiers who took me to Riverdowns. I was thrown in prison. No one even spoke to me. No one asked my name."