Six Heads One Crown (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 3)

by Jason Paul Rice

  The next day, they arrived at the outer gates of Castle Cuthbart. Tersen stared at the menacing black stone castle. The wide bridge was covered with moss and roots and there were several giant gargoyle statues made of ivory that had weathered over the years. The moat stunk like there were dead bodies in it and a quick peek showed four floaters before Tersen turned away. Giant columns with babery chiseled into them and red ivy wrapped around them from top to bottom flanked both sides of the bridge. As they neared the castle, they saw that demons, unknown symbols and downright scary creatures were carved into the facade of the castle. The detail was amazing and the grotesques stood out in high relief.

  They wheeled the cart right up to the front steps of the castle. Porters came and carried their belongings inside. A smiling Harold Cuthbart greeted them on the bottom step. Tersen’s heart raced even more as the young lord stared intently at him. Harolg finally wiped away the devious smile and bowed. He said, “Welcome, my esteemed guests. Why don’t you come inside?”

  “Thank you for the hospitality, my lord,” Alvyra said as she passed the teenager.

  “Thank you for the generosity, my lord,” said Sir Oliver as he passed the young Cuthbart.

  Tersen refused to bow down to a man of lesser station and silently passed the husky young man. Even though every man who was born to a lord bore the right to be called a lord as well, Tersen ignored this custom and walked by without even a nod of the head. In his mind, and only his mind, he was still a king. Lord Harolg invitingly pointed the way and followed the trio up the steep stone steps, through the lifted gate and into the south entrance. The wide foyer was lined with armed guards against two walls. The men had their swords in their right hands with the blade diagonally across their chests. Tersen started to think that he was about to be sacrificed.

  “So how were your travels, my king?” Lord Harolg asked.

  “Majestic. There’s nothing like tangling with nature now and then,” he lied.

  “I see no reason why we shouldn’t move straight to business,” Alvyra said.

  Harolg responded, “She has beauty and keeps her mind on the task at hand. Quite a queen, I must say. Open up those barehides and let’s see what we have.”

  His guards pulled crown after crown from the leather cases and laid them in a row. Lord Harolg spoke, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. There they are in all their opulence. The Seven Crowns of Donegal and the three captured crowns. I suppose these carry some value. A raven told me that what you seek is gold and an armed guard to take you to Castle Wedgeword. Did my ears hear the right words?” Harolg asked.

  “That is indeed true, my young lord,” Tersen decided to indulge him.

  “Bring it in,” Harolg told a page who ran off to relay the message.

  Moments later, Harolg’s men carried in seven rectangular wooden boxes. He slid open the tops to expose neatly stacked gold rounds. Tersen thought he saw countless thousands of the coins. The three visitors moved in for a closer look and the gold proved to be real. “The one hundred men you see will be included as well. They are some of my best men, so don’t get them killed. Does this offer appeal to you, my king?” the high lord asked.

  “We graciously accept,” Tersen blurted out.

  This offer is ridiculously rich. The crowns are valuable but this will help me raise an army.

  Hope was instantly injected back into the former king. This quantity of gold could raise an army of free swords to come back and reclaim his throne.

  I might have Sir Oliver killed if he keeps treating me poorly. My wife better wise up too. At least this little lordling is showing me the proper respect. It’s only a matter of time before I return to put Jon Colbert’s head on a spike. I will resurrect the Wamhoff name as Alvyra prophesized. I will be the king again.

  “Alright, so everything is settled. You can stay for the day or be on your way if there’s nothing else.”

  The young lord shook his finger and continued, “How forgetful of me. I forgot we had one more piece of business to negotiate.”

  What is he talking about?

  “What is the going rate for a deposed king on the run? I know whom we should ask,” said Lord Harolg. The one man Tersen wished to never see again entered the foyer.

  “How about a hunt, good uncle?” asked Kryen Wamhoff.

  Tersen tried to bolt like a horse but was quickly overtaken by the surrounding guards who kept taking unnecessary shots at the former king. One of the guards noticed a dirty look coming from Lord Harolg. The guard shrugged his shoulders and said, “I never got to punch no albino before.”

  “Oh now, where do you think you are going? We haven’t even started with you yet, my king,” taunted a smiling Harolg.

  Two more rectangular boxes of gold coins were added to the deal and Alvyra gladly accepted.

  “You betrayed me. The two people I trusted more than anyone,” Tersen lamented.

  “I maximized your worth right now just as I have our entire marriage. At least you can rest comfortably knowing you’ll keep me a rich woman for the rest of my days. Now I can begin my life with a real man,” Alvyra told him. Sir Oliver leaned down and kissed the former queen. She spoke to Tersen, “Your suspicions were valid. We started our affair the moment you appointed him Captain of the Guard.”

  “That’s bigamy,” shouted Tersen.

  The voice of Kryen entered the conversation, “It’s only bigamy if you are alive, good uncle. You never know what can happen on a hunt,” Kryen taunted the former king.

  I am as good as dead. My wife sold me like a common slave. I used to be the King of Donegal.

  “Kryen is going to ask you a few questions and your answers will go a long way in determining whether you will be alive tomorrow,” Harolg said and turned to Sir Oliver and Lady Alvyra, “I can’t thank you enough for this gift. Won’t you stay for the night?”

  “Certainly, we’ll leave on the morrow,” said Sir Oliver.

  “Great. We will have a grand time this evening. Reinholdst, show these fine nobles to the guest apartments. Thanks again and I will see you in a bit,” stated Harolg as Tersen’s travel mates were whisked away into the castle.

  Tersen was still being held by the guards when Kryen asked, “Why did you do it? Why did you kill my father, brother and Ali-Ster?”

  Tersen started crying, “All I ever wanted to be was king. I was kicked around by my own family my whole life. Then it was so close and my wife kept pushing and pushing. Look at me, I’m an albino, a worthless albino is all. I didn’t see it as killing your father or brother, they were just names in the way of me becoming king.”

  “Just names in the way, huh? No one defended you more than my father. He denounced Ali-Ryen and any chance to rule the realm to support you. When everyone criticized you all the time, and I do mean all the time, he was always quick to defend you,” Kryen told him.

  “My wife, it’s been my wife, you heard her before. She convinced me that Ryen never loved me and that he talked constantly about me behind my back. It was all her,” Tersen explained.

  “Blaming a woman. And a lovely one at that. I know you may still be upset that she sold you away to be tortured, but that was minutes ago,” laughed Harolg. He continued, “Oh, did I say tortured? I guess the secret is out.”

  “Do you even feel sorry for what you’ve done?” Kryen asked.

  The sobbing Tersen said, “Every day, every night and even when I sleep. If there is anything in my life I could take back, it would be that day in the King’s Woods. I pray to the Gods for forgiveness every day.”

  “Perhaps you should pray harder. I don’t believe him,” Kryen said.

  Harolg turned to the guards and spoke, “Take this man down to the board and strap him in to be stretched out. Kryen and I will be down shortly to have some fun. We must first check on our guests. We’ll have a few chalices of wine and then show our king the respect he deserves.”

  Tersen was dragged down the steps as he thought about how
long he would remain alive. Less than a fortnight ago, he was King Ali-Tersen and now he was thrown into a rat-infested room with several torture devices scattered about.

  JON

  King Jon tried to get comfortable in his new meeting room as he wiggled in the chair. The room had been stripped of all Wamhoff mementos and the circular table and chairs seemed almost too plain for a prominent room in the King’s Castle. Jon looked down at the piece of parchment and read over the list.

  King’s Council

  Falconer-Lord Kelvyn Harros

  Master of Coin-Lord Enric Plast

  Grand Lord of Defense-Lord Hydell Kenzy

  Admiral of the Sea-Lord Errol Swansmore

  Foreign Overlord-Lord Rance Perry

  Master of Spies-

  Jon wrote ‘Count Silzeus’ in the blank space left for Master of Spies, and completed his new council. All the new members were in attendance along with Ruxin Colbert.

  “Who is most likely to arrive first?” the King of Donegal asked.

  “Lord Ellsworth’s party touting Ali-Varis Wamhoff as king should arrive first from the east. The Queen of Goldenfield shouldn’t be too far behind them from the west. We seem to have hit a spot of luck in the north. There is a standoff between two sizable forces. Let them slaughter each other, I say,” Lord Kelvyn reported.

  “We need be careful they don’t band together. Three opponents would be nearly impossible to fend off,” Jon Colbert added.

  “Yes, my King. We have received word that the construction of the protectionary wall is going faster than originally expected. The wall to the east is making rapid progress so we can keep that barbarian horde away,” Hydell Kenzy said.

  “Are the pyromancers working in conjunction with the building process?” the King asked.

  “Indeed they are, your highness. The vast number of workers is moving this project along nicely,” Count Silzeus told him.

  The King’s days had been filled with meeting after meeting, but securing the castle and Falconhurst were paramount. He hoped that at least one of the contenders for the crown would give up after he took the throne. He had to be on constant alert with the ever-present threat of an invasion looming large.

  Jon instructed his council, “Let’s concentrate on the east and west sides of the Capitol and leave the north alone for now. The only thing we need to worry about in the north is plugging the Blue and Silver Cap Mountain passages.”

  “On another matter, the lowered taxes are reaping results. Morale is starting to rise amongst the poor. The citizens appear to support their new King,” said Lord Enric.

  “Lowering taxes will make some people like me, aye, but it also upsets those who collect the taxes. We need to keep the nobles happy but also make them understand this policy will be enforced strictly. There won’t be any roguish increases when the king turns his back. Any lord caught extorting from his subjects will be tried for treason. The days of phantom policies for the sake of inflating reputations are over. My father proved what could happen when the common class has a strong leader. The poor rise up in unity and the numbers will always favor the poor,” Jon informed his council.

  “We will need to keep a close watch on a good many lords. Scared citizens would never disobey their liege lords. We’ll have to catch them in the act. It should take only one greedy offender for us to make an example of, and the rest will fall in line. Everyone needs to see that the laws will be enforced,” Count Silzeus said.

  “All laws will be enforced. I don’t put up with nonsense, my good count,” Jon reminded the old man.

  Count Silzeus’ words often made Jon curious about the previous rulers. The castle veteran’s warnings and concerns were common sense that his predecessors must have lacked. A page entered the room and whispered in the King’s ear.

  “Men, we must reconvene at a later hour. I have a pressing matter to tend to. Thank you for the time; you are all dismissed,” Jon said.

  The men rose, bowed and left the meeting. A barefoot, dirty man entered the room in a tattered kirtle. He slowly slid his bare, black-soled feet across the stone floor as he walked, and spoke when he neared Jon, “Quite plush accommodations.”

  “I am the king. I need to present a position of power,” Jon Colbert explained.

  “There’s that word again. Power. I grow weary of most men who wield that word. Religion is faith, almost a blind hope. We ask people to believe in Gods they cannot see. We ask worshippers to believe in the heavens which they may never see. In good faith, these principles are realized after we die, but there is no substantial proof to back this up. Kings are much like religion. Citizens must have faith in their king. They must believe. They want to believe in a king that will treat all men equal. I firmly believe no king will be able to accomplish that task, so I ask myself who can come the closest. I trust you are pure in your intentions. My skepticism from last week has waned as I have seen the vision. The Gods have selected you as King of Donegal. I searched deep in my soul and asked the Gods why you presented me with this opportunity. All moral inclination pushed me far from the proposition until I had a revelation. If there could be a king who will stay committed to his people, all his people, I could help a man driven by this passion,” Orian told him.

  “Is that when you realized I needed you to correct our church system?” Jon asked.

  “Not quite. I still had doubts until a met a lovely Princess in the castle dungeons. Your daughter’s soul might shine brighter than a sinless newborn. Sin can chip away at a person while good deeds and strong faith only fortify us. We all sin, most from a very young age, but living by the Words of our Gods can outweigh our immoral intentions. I accept your offer to attend your daughter’s wedding ceremony, albeit for a short time. I will perform the ceremony and would like to talk to the young couple and advise them to live by the Words of the Gods. I also accept your offer to rectify the religious order of the realm. It shall be a purging resurrection. There will be no high priest, only pure creatures, dedicated to delivering the proper message. I will be equal to every man who accepts the holy vows. All churches will be stripped of excessive decoration. We must get back to an emphasis on prayer and holy service rather than elaborate buildings and magic devices of trickery. Men and women will be spiritual again, not just claim they are by throwing gold at a brother or sister of the Faith. Donations will not grant special favors either. I shall cleanse the land and remove all the wayward priests known to sell their souls for false salvation. The Faith shall also reserve the right to try any wrongdoers and punish the guilty accordingly. The king will have his laws and the Faith must do the same. Sometimes, a gentle man needs to make hard decisions for the benefit of the whole and I am certain none understand that more than you. Our Gods do not grant exemptions to repeat sinners and we must be swift to purify the faith,” Orian Vangor finished his demands.

  “You will have my backing on everything. The only problem I foresee is not having a hierarchy to solve internal problems. You need a higher voice to settle disputes among the priests,” Jon said.

  “I have already established The Council of Seven to reach verdicts on major issues. I make everything sound simple at times, but I would never accept an offer had I not already set up a strong interior system of balances. The Council met yesterday to devise ways to praise the Gods without turning it into a status symbol. The Faith of Eternal Light shall remain as our religious order but the delivery of the holy messages will change drastically,” the old man smiled.

  “You can talk directly to my Master of Coin, Lord Enric Plast. That should speed matters up when you need money. I will alert him to grant any request you may have,” Jon told him.

  “That is a genuine endorsement. I hate that we need money to fix these problems caused by money, but we will only take what we must. I also have a request for uh…uh…some larger men to help me enforce the faith. I prefer men who worship our Faith but any man whose ears are open to the words of the Gods will suffice. Again, the unfortunate side to bein
g a father to the people. But just as a father disciplines his child, so must a king with his citizens and a priest with his repeat sinners,” Orian said.

  “Aye, I’ll direct you to my Training Master. He can provide further details on which men have strong faith. How many men do you think you will need?” Jon asked.

  Orian scratched his head and said, “A good one hundred men will make for a good start. The Words of the Gods just aren’t enough anymore.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Is there anything else I can do for you?” the King wanted to know.

  “I have told all the crooked priests to evacuate the House of Eternal Faith. They returned with an angered argument containing vulgarity that is very unbecoming of a servant of the Gods. I may need you to flush these men from the House. We need to make a public display of sinners being cleansed from the Capitol. We need our citizens to see the impoverished members of society being offered accommodations over the nobles. Symbols, actions, stories, offerings, statements. Any of these can send a strong message to the people. There are times when words will be enough to convince the people but this isn’t one of those situations. We need to send a message of action, not empty words, this time,” Orian instructed.

  “I couldn’t agree more. If you should require anything else, I believe you know where to find me. If you set up in the House, I could come see you upon request,” Jon said.

  “Oh, no. I need to spread the word. I need to travel the lands and see exactly what needs to be repaired. I’ll be leaving soon enough. The Words of the Gods have boundless wings, and those wings need to fly. I will stay for the matrimony of your daughter. I wish to recruit her to join me in spreading the gospel. The faith runs pure in her. You should be well proud to have produced such a fine daughter. I will be happy to bless her union,” Vangor offered.

  “Thank you, I will have my guards escort you back to…well, wherever you need to go,” Jon said.