Deck of Cards

by Johnson, ID

  Edward pounded his fist against the wall. Katey jumped as the reverberation filled the space around her. “Listen, Cuthbert,” he said, pounding the soldier on the arm, “It does not matter to me what you thought could or could not happen. What has happened is the Arterian army is pouring past our last line of defense. At the current rate, they will be standing in these very halls in less than two weeks. Two weeks! That does not happen. Re-gather your troops. Form a new last line of defense. Use the thick swamp of the Lowetian Forest to your advantage and hem them in. King Philip may not understand the implications of this breech, but I do!” Another blow, to the wall, this one even harder. Edward, unable to control his rage, grabbed Cuthbert and slammed him up against the hard oak door. “This infiltration goes no further! Find a way to stop them!”

  Cuthbert grimaced, his air cut-off from the large, gnarly hand near his throat. “Yes, yes sir. I will.”

  Edward stared forebodingly at the smaller man. “Good,” he began to pat Cuthbert on the shoulder, a jarring motion that did not match his affirmative words. “Good, you do that. You find a way. Or else, I am holding you personally responsible.” He finally released Cuthbert, who resisted the urge to rub his arm though it was already beginning to ache. “Now, let’s go up to the tower and pay our guest a visit and see if we can get him to tell us some information that will be helpful to our cause.” Edward began his slow cacophonous march out of the library and down the hall, Cuthbert behind him.

  Katey waited a moment. She knew they were going to see King Matthew and she must follow them but she also did not want to be detected. There was no way they would knowingly let her follow them. At least now she knew he was being held in one of the towers. Unfortunately, Castle Blackthorn had several, ominous black towers with high, pointed parapets that jetted out of the structure like thorns. She heard Edward down the hall, approaching a turn and decided it was time to follow.

  Silently placing the book back on the shelf, she made her way to the door, peeking out before opening it and slipping out. She could just see the heel of Cuthbert’s black military boot rounding the corner to the right. She knew that the hall only had one possible next turn, to the left, so she took extra precaution to be quiet as she made her way down the hall. However, she almost didn’t make it to the end of the hall in time to see where the pair went. It was not to the left as she had anticipated--it was into the wall! There was a secret button somewhere that caused the wall to slide open. She ducked around the corner, just in time to avoid being seen by Edward as he glanced over his crooked shoulder to make sure they were not being followed. Then, he and his still visibly shaken minion disappeared into what should have been solid stone and the wall closed behind them.

  Katey hesitated. Knowing there was a secret passage in the wall got her that much closer to finding Matthew, yet following now could be extremely dangerous. She was not sure what might be on the other side of the secret door. It might be an easily navigable path that allowed her to follow in secret or she could find herself in a situation where she was trapped. It would not be easy to explain what she was doing in a secret passage, especially without speaking, so she needed to be extremely cautious. Edward did not seem the type to show leniency to snooping visitors.

  She decided to wait. If Edward and Cuthbert came out the same way that they went in, there was a good possibility that she would be able to find Matthew without having to follow. If they did not, that meant there were other secret passages and she may have more trouble. Nevertheless, she now knew two critical pieces of information: Matthew was being held in a tower and the way to reach him lay somewhere within the walls of Castle Blackthorn. She retreated back into the shadows, prepared to wait as long as necessary.

  ***

  Matthew lay sprawled on his straw mattress, attempting to avoid the prickly pieces of hay sticking out in all directions from almost every inch of the ancient, rotting vessel. He always had plenty of warning when Edward was making his ascent up the stairwell right outside of his abode. Either the stench would hit him full in the face first or he would hear the thumping, scraping sound of his useless foot as he struggled to pull it up the stairs. And Edward never visited alone. He always had one or two lackeys with him to do his dirty work. Just thinking about his last visit left Matthew rubbing his jaw and feeling for the healing gashes covering his back and shoulders. He did not look forward to Edward stopping by but it usually meant that Caleb was winning and, if Caleb were winning, then, perhaps, he would be free soon.

  Or, on the other hand, if Caleb was winning, it might mean he was soon to meet his executioner.

  Either way, he wouldn’t be spending too much longer in this filthy hovel and so Edward’s visits were not as negative as one might think.

  There was no way for Matthew to actually see who was at the door. There was only a small slot, lined with black iron, where once a day some poor hack from the kitchen would slide him a small portion of gruel. At first, Matthew couldn’t even stomach it, but as his stay was extended and his strength began to waiver, he found a way to keep it down. He supposed he could get down on his knees and peek through the little slot if he really wanted to view someone’s knees but there wasn’t much sense in that so he waited patiently for Edward to make his way to the top of the stairs, curious as to whether or not the jingling of chainmail was one lackey or two.

  A rattle of keys, a little huffing and puffing from his primary capture, and the door flew open, bringing with it a new level of putrefied air. Matthew was sitting on his crude bed. He did not bother to stand as Edward and his companion, a new face to Matthew, though surely as inconsequential as all of the other minions before him, made their way into the small circular room.

  This new person stared at Matthew as if he was expecting something else, as if he had no idea what six months of confinement and torture could do to anyone, even a king. He stared in disbelieve and it took a quick blow from Edward to make the younger man remember himself.

  “Well, your Majesty,” Edward began in his snarly croak of a voice, “How did you get along in the storm last night?”

  “Slept like a baby,” Matthew chided. He didn’t move. No reason to waste energy on these two, not yet.

  “I find that very unlikely,” Edward said spying the soggy condition of the bed sheets and the puddles still accumulated under the arrow slits on the floor.

  Matthew ignored him, sitting with his knees bent, arms hung loosely as if nothing horrible was about to happen.

  “Matthew, this is my. . .” in the face of Cuthburt’s recent defeat, Edward struggled for the correct word, “associate, Sir Cuthburt.” Cuthburt nodded, slowly, his demeanor began to change, as if he was suddenly remembering that he was an officer in the army, a man of power, a man with a purpose. And his purpose just now was to hurt King Matthew of Zurconia, to hurt him and make him pay for his brother’s recent victory.

  Occasionally, Matthew would entertain himself by acting overly formal when being introduced to one of the men whose sole purpose in meeting him was to beat the bloody hell out of him. Today, he was not in the mood. He was ready to just get it over with. He met Cuthburt’s eyes with an equally steal-like stare, held his gaze for a moment, and waited for the other man to look away. It did not take long. Cuthburt was weak. No wonder Caleb was able to decimate his army so easily. If only Matthew had had any sort of understanding of the forces he was dealing with before Zurconia was over-run by these ill-trained but staggeringly plentiful barbarians, perhaps he would not be sitting a captive today.

  Edward seemed to notice Cuthbert’s state of intimidation and became even more annoyed. Nevertheless, Matthew was about to pay for his brother’s transgressions, even if he had to met the punishment out himself. “We are in need of your assistance, Your Royal Highness,” Edward stated, his words dripping with sarcasm and loathing. “It seems that your older brother has somehow gotten his hands on some very important architectural renderings of battlements. Perhaps, you might have some idea as to where
he obtained these sketches and what other information he may have managed to procure.”

  Matthew chuckled out-loud, despite the fact that he knew it would only anger Edward, which it did. He laughed even more to see Edward’s jaw tense up and a bright hue of red begin to creep up his wrinkly, wart-covered neck. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I really can’t help you with that. But it’s nice to know Caleb has his sources.”

  Matthew actually didn’t believe for a second that his older brother was able to gain victory because some disgruntled member of the royal family had leaked information to him. No, he was quite sure that Caleb’s army would be able to defeat Philip’s troops in almost any circumstance simply because Caleb was hell-bent on releasing him from this prison and destroying the Kingdom of Clovington. Caleb and Matthew had trained in every type of combat imaginable since they were very young boys. Matthew was never too keen on learning about military tactics and engagements, but Caleb soaked it up. He read every text he could find, studied battle maps, had conversations with those returning from battle, particularly anyone who had led troops into combat. Matthew knew quite a bit himself because he was always following in Caleb’s footsteps but when it came to knowing field tactics and strategies, he truly believed there was no one alive who had as much information as Caleb. And with Caleb’s incredible intelligence and work ethic, there was very little chance that Philip or anyone else was going to be able to defeat him.

  It was just a matter of time.

  But for now, Matthew seemed to be out of that.

  He watched between narrowed eyes as Cuthburt removed his gantlet and began to measure out Edward’s only form of satisfaction.

  Chapter 2

  If Katey had been praying for a sign, then surely she got one, although this was not exactly what she had in mind. She waited about an hour for the two men to finally come out of the secret tunnel in the wall. Interestingly enough, the stone she needed to push so that the wall would open up actually moved when Edward and Cuthburt came back out so she was easily able to tell what she needed to do to find Matthew. Beyond that, they literally left a trail, a sticky, red, coagulated trail, dark crimson splashes lining the floor all the way up the secret staircase, turning and winding, sometimes dripping from one cold stone step to the next, leading right to a solid oak door with a small slit, just wide enough for a small dish. Behind it, even from her position several steps from the landing at the top of the stairs; she could hear what sounded like muffled moans coming from the poor soul locked on the other side.

  Blood soaked the so-called mattress, the sheets, and was pooling on the floor next to the bed. Cuthburt may have seemed like a complete pussy but once Edward made him mad enough, he unleashed some devastating blows. In fact, Matthew was pretty sure the wound to his scalp was pretty significant and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to remain conscious. It was actually Edward who pulled Cuthburt off of the king when merely ordering him to stop before he killed their one asset did nothing but make him hit harder. He was also bleeding from a gash above his eye, the blood creating a veil, making it difficult to see. He lay down, hoping to lose consciousness, part of him hoping he could just lose it for good.

  But, he reminded himself, the pain meant Caleb was winning.

  As he began to calm down, he thought he heard a quiet scuffle on the stairs. He braced himself for a moment, afraid perhaps his tormenters had returned. But he knew there was no way that Edward could ever be so quiet, so his temporary fear morphed quickly into curiosity. He propped himself up on one arm, as if that would somehow help him to listen better. He whispered into the still air around him, “Pardon? Is someone there?”

  Katey stood completely still, her heart racing. She couldn’t decide whether to move forward or turn and run for the safety of the hallway below. She did neither. She stood perfectly still for a few more moments and then slowly crept backwards down the stairs. She heard no more noises coming from Matthew’s chamber so she sighed a silent sigh of relieve and slowly pushed the heavy stone door open. She glanced both ways down the hall before slipping out and shutting the wall behind her.

  ***

  Philip rolled over, untwisting the bed sheets with one hand as he tumbled away from the naked redhead sprawled beside him. She was a temporary fix. No amount of sleeping with whores was going to solve the problems he was facing. Invading army practically knocking on his door while all of his generals were incompetent, a mute princess who shuttered every time he so much as touched her arm, and an odiferous uncle who constantly seemed to forget who was the ruler of this kingdom and who was merely an out-of-breath, out-of shape old prude.

  Even the soft moans coming from the girl next to him were not enough to quill his anger for long. He was a good lover, of course he was, but she was over-dramatic, and it often made him want to slap her across the face when they were done. But she was also convenient and that’s what he needed today. A quick lay and then back to the war room, back to tactics and defense and all of those things he wished he could simply delegate to someone else. Unfortunately, there was no one else competent enough to handle it. Hell, they couldn’t even execute his well-thought out plans, much less design the concepts. He was beginning to think this war his uncle had pressed upon him was a costly mistake and that he was going to end up losing his entire kingdom based on the ill-conceived notions of vengeance his ancient uncle had conceived far too many years ago.

  Rose stirred beside him, pulling the sheets up around her, gathering them between her breasts so he could still see exactly what she had to offer. She had considered herself extremely fortunate to be bedding the king. She was ambitious and for her, this was about as much success as she could possibly ever hope to accomplish. She rolled on her side, resting her head on her hand and gazed at Philip, wondering what he was thinking. She dare not ask. Such questions after sex often made him extremely irritable and on more than one occasion, she was quite sure he was about to throw her out into the hallway in the nude. His well-sculpted chest rose and fell with each breath, his brown eyes darting to and fro, obviously in deep thought. He had one arm tucked under his head and she could see that he was not resting but contemplating something important. She had learned over the years it was best not to interfere with his thoughts. Most people learned very quickly that Rose was extremely intelligent for an unschooled commoner. Yet, King Philip thought of her as nothing more than a cheap harlot and he made it clear to her on more than one occasion that she was not to give him any advice, on any subject, ever.

  She thought, perhaps, she could interest him in another round. Though he had satisfied her, as he always did, she was always willing to give him multiple opportunities. She contemplated stroking his cock to see if he was ready to go again but she could tell by his demeanor that he was not interested. She knew it was probably in her best interest to slip quietly out the door, but it was times like this when she allowed herself to pretend, for just a few moments, what it would be like to actually be the queen. So, she rolled on to her back, adjusted the sheets, and lay very still, daydreaming of being a royal while the actual king contemplated how to defeat an army that was advancing further into his kingdom each day.

  Though Rose was trying her best to pretend she was queen, that this was her husband and her bed, she was having difficulty getting over the fact that the soon-to-be-queen was now present somewhere in this very castle. She had known for a long time that Philip was to wed Princess Katherine of Placidia. Everyone knew that. Honestly, the idea of him marrying royalty was actually more pleasant to her than the knowledge that she was not his only source of pleasure amongst the rabble. She wasn’t supposed to be able to compete with a princess but it made her mad as bloody hell to hear when he had shagged some other wretched member of the lower class. She really didn’t think Katherine would be too much of a threat. She was strikingly beautiful, that was for sure, but she had some enormous personality issues that Rose was quit certain she would not be able to overcome. Philip might be marr
ied to Princess Katherine, but Rose was planning on staying his number one partner between the sheets.

  As Philip lay there next to one redhead, his mind wandered to the other. Though he had been told that Katherine did not speak, he was utterly baffled when he met her and she literally would not say a word. He could not wrap his mind around how someone would simply choose not to talk for over a decade. She was fully capable of speaking, she just chose not to! He thought for sure that she would meet him and suddenly remember why it was so important to be able to communicate, that somehow his attractiveness would bring her around. Of course, that had not happened and he was completely put-off by it. Unfortunately for him however, his body thought otherwise. Every time he was around her, he began to physically respond to her. He wanted to strip her naked, tie her to the bedpost, and make her scream his name. It was a challenge he was looking forward to taking on soon. In fact, he should have married her and had his way with her years ago. But war after war had impeded his ability to settle long enough and move forward with the nuptials. The further into his kingdom the invading Arterians got, the more he knew he could use some assistance from Placidia. Though they were not necessarily known for their army, Placidia was an extremely wealthy country. They could acquire weapons and mercenaries. He needed to compete the transaction with Placidia so that he could formally request their assistance against the Arterians. Although he had mentioned his need for more soldiers, properly trained and disciplined soldiers, to Queen Nicole and her worthless husband Kenneth in his most recent correspondence, they had ignored his pleas, saying only, “We will consider Clovington our full ally once the wedding ceremony has been performed and the marriage is complete.” Those words had prompted him to send for his bride-to-be and she arrived on his door-step just a few weeks later, no pomp or circumstance, just one lady-in-waiting, a few footmen who scuttled back to Placidia, a few trunks of clothing, and a chest full of precious gems, intended as a dowry which must now be used to fund the rebuilding of the Tower at Glendor, previously destroyed in the 10th Century by invading Goths, rebuilt several years ago, and most recently annihilated by the Arterians.