by Chuck Black
Praise for
Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court
“With sanctified imagination, Chuck Black transports readers back to the days of chivalry and valor, clashing steel, and noble conflict—but ultimately he transports readers to the eternal triumph of the King who reigns!”
—DOUGLAS BOND, author of Hold Fast in a Broken World
and Guns of the Lion
“Chuck Black is a word crafter who is able to weave Kingdom principles into the fabric of one's moral imagination. The characters he has created and the passions they exude will motivate readers to follow their examples, which have now been etched into their awakened conscience.”
—MARK HAMBY, founder and president of Cornerstone
Family Ministries and Lamplighter Publishing
“My son, Nathan, loved the first book in this series, and he said the second was even better. In my son's own words, ‘Mom, it was exciting and full of mystery. It compelled me to read more. I couldn't put it down.’ As a mom and an author, I give Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court two thumbs up!”
—TRICIA GOYER, homeschooling mom and author
of eighteen books, including Generation NeXt Parenting
Praise for
The Knights of Arrethtrae Series
“Chuck Black is a master storyteller. The fourteenth-century feel of his books is wholly captivating. Sir Kendrick and the Castle of Bel Lione is no exception. Yet the principal anchors of the story—faithfulness, friendship, loyalty, redemption, and forgiveness—are what make it fully worthwhile. Expect to see very little of your young knight after he gets ahold of this book. He will more than likely emerge from the pages with an intensified determination to fight the battles in his own life as a faithful Knight of the Prince.”
—JENNIFER IGARASHI, freelance writer, homeschool-resource
reviewer, and mother of an eleven-year-old Kingdom
series fanatic
“Chuck Black has once again transported his readers to the time of knights, castles, and damsels in distress. The Kingdom Series was such an enjoyable read that I was surprised to find Sir Kendrick and the Castle of Bel Lione even more delightful.… I was drawn into the tale and cared almost immediately for the characters. I rejoiced in each victory, wept with each failing and loss. Chuck is clearly maturing in his skills, and I look forward with great anticipation to his forthcoming works.”
—GAIL BIBY, publications editor for the North Dakota Home
School Association and author of North Dakota Guide to
Home School High School
“Chuck Black is the John Bunyan for our times! Sir Kendrick and the Castle of Bel Lione is a reminder of the origins of the spiritual warfare we are to fight daily.”
—IACI FLANDERS, inductive Bible study teacher
and homeschool mom
To Andrea,
my wife, friend, and partner in this journey called life.
Thank you for passionately living your faith
and for the vision, encouragement, love, and respect
you have given me.
CONTENTS
Kingdom's Heart: An Introduction to the Knights of Arrethtrae
Prologue: Clad with Zeal
Chapter 1: Young Noble Knight
Chapter 2: The Mettle of a Man
Chapter 3: An Act of Treason
Chapter 4: Outcast of Chessington
Chapter 5: Counting the Cost
Chapter 6: A Pauper's Life
Chapter 7: Maiden of Mercy
Chapter 8: Lord of Oppression
Chapter 9: The Painted Ice Princess
Chapter 10: A Sentence of Death
Chapter 11: The Lord of Holbrook Court
Chapter 12: A Dangerous Enemy
Chapter 13: The Waters of Resolve
Chapter 14: The Hog Farmer's Daughter
Chapter 15: Because of the Gardener
Chapter 16: The Ashen Knight
Chapter 17: Camp of the Lucrums
Chapter 18: The Yagormoth's Lair
Chapter 19: Return to Holbrook
Chapter 20: Guise Revealed
Chapter 21: The Death of Love
Chapter 22: Holbrook Foray
Epilogue: Courage and Mercy
Discussion Questions
Answers to Discussion Questions
“Eirwyn” (written for Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court)
Author Commentary
KINGDOM'S HEART
An Introduction to the Knights of Arrethtrae
Like raindrops on a still summer's eve, the words of a story can oft fall grayly upon the ears of a disinterested soul. I am Cedric of Chessington, humble servant of the Prince, and should my inadequate telling of the tales of these brave knights e'er sound as such, know that it is I who have failed and not the gallant hearts of those of whom I write. For their journeys into darkened lands to save the lives of hopeless people deserve a legacy I could never aspire to pen with appropriate skill. These men and women of princely mettle risked their very lives and endured the pounding of countless battles to deliver the message of hope and life to the far reaches of the kingdom of Arrethtrae… even to those regions over which Lucius, the Dark Knight, had gained complete dominion through the strongholds of his Shadow Warriors.
What is this hope they bring? To tell it requires another story, much of it chronicled upon previous parchments, yet worthy of much retelling.
Listen then, to the tale of a great King who ruled the Kingdom Across the Sea, along with His Son and their gallant and mighty force of Silent Warriors. A ruler of great power, justice, and mercy, this King sought to establish His rule in the land of Arrethtrae. To this end He chose a pure young man named Peyton and his wife, Dinan, to govern the land.
All was well in Arrethtrae until the rebellion, for there came a time when the King's first and most powerful Silent Warrior, Lucius by name, drew a third of the warriors with him in an attempt to overthrow the kingdom. A great battle raged in the Kingdom Across the Sea until finally the King's forces prevailed. Cast out of the kingdom—and consumed with hatred and revenge—Lucius then took his rebellion to the land of Arrethtrae, overthrowing Peyton and Dinan and bringing great turmoil to the land.
But the King did not forget His people in Arrethtrae. He established the order of the Noble Knights to protect them until the day they would be delivered from the clutches of the Dark Knight. The great city of Chessington served as a tower of promise and hope in the darkened lands of Arrethtrae. For many years and through great adversity, the Noble Knights persevered, waiting for the King's promised Deliverer.
Even the noblest of hearts can be corrupted, however, and long waiting can dim the brightest hope. Thus, through the years, the Noble Knights grew selfish and greedy. Worse, they forgot the very nature of their charge. For when the King sent His only Son, the Prince, to prepare His people for battle against Lucius—the Noble Knights knew Him not, nor did they heed His call to arms.
When He rebuked their selfish ways, they mocked and disregarded Him. When He began to train a force of commoners—for He was a true master of the sword—they plotted against Him. Then the Noble Knights, claiming to act in the great King's name, captured and killed His very own Son.
What a dark day that was! Lucius and his evil minions—now known as Shadow Warriors—reveled in this apparent victory. But all was not lost. For when the hope of the kingdom seemed to vanish and the hearts of the humble despaired, the King used the power of the Life Spice to raise His Son from the dead.
This is a mysterious tale, indeed, but a true one. For the Prince was seen by many before He returned to His Father across the Great Sea. And to those who loved and followed Him—myself among them—He left a
promise and a charge.
Here then is the promise: that the Prince will come again to take all who believe in Him home to the Kingdom Across the Sea.
And this is the charge: that those who love Him must travel to the far reaches of the kingdom of Arrethtrae, tell all people of Him and His imminent return, and wage war against Lucius and his Shadow Warriors.
Thus we wait in expectation. And while we wait, we fight against evil and battle to save the souls of many from darkness.
We are the knights who live and die in loyal service to the King and the Prince. Though not perfect in fulfilling our call to royal duty, we know the power of the Prince resonates in our swords, and the rubble of a thousand strongholds testifies to our strength of heart and soul.
There are many warriors in this land of Arrethtrae, many knights who serve many masters. But the knights of whom I write are my brethren, the Knights of the Prince.
They are mighty because they serve a mighty King and His Son.
They are… the Knights of Arrethtrae!
CLAD WITH ZEAL
I am Cedric of Chessington, Knight of the Prince and servant of the King. Although the edge of my sword has met the steel of many a dark foe, I have for a time yielded to my mission of parchment and pen. I do so not begrudgingly but with zeal. Why? Because zeal to serve the King and His Son fuels one's heart to courageously seek the truth and to tell it.
Sir Bentley's tale shows us this zeal, for he was not content with the traditions of mere men. The truth of the Prince would not let his soul rest until he had discovered it. As a former wealthy Noble Knight, he had much to lose by pursuing this truth, but his heart was clad with zeal. And in his quest of discovery he came to learn of the beauty of mercy as well. Sir Bentley was not only brave enough to follow at great cost a call he did not yet understand, but compassionate enough to follow it into the ugly places of the world, places where men and women cry out with need. And there he too became a storyteller… as do all of us who try to walk in the footsteps of our Prince.
I myself was once a pauper, but the Prince made me a knight. Listen then to the tale of a knight who once became a pauper. Perhaps you will agree that the story of Sir Bentley and his noble pursuit inspires all who hear it to discover this truth: the King reigns… and His Son!
YOUNG NOBLE
KNIGHT
“Bentley of Chessington, do you swear to uphold the Articles of the Code, to defend Chessington and her citizens from enemies both outside and within her borders?” Lord Kifus's voice echoed through the great hall of the palace.
“I do.” Young Bentley looked up at Kifus. Sand-colored hair formed loose curls around the young man's neck and ears. His square, cleanshaven jaw revealed a small, faint scar—a badge to remind him never to become prideful about his considerable abilities as a swordsman. Bent-ley's shoulders were broad, and he carried himself with the distinctive posture of a nobleman. In spite of his comely appearance and his social charm, however, Bentley did not hold himself in high regard, and thus there was very little to dislike about the young man.
“Do you swear to uphold the honor of the Noble Knights, placing the protection of your fellow brothers-in-arms above your own?” “I do,” Bentley replied.
Nearly all two hundred Noble Knights were present to witness the knighting of one more squire into their brotherhood. It was a time-honored tradition that often followed the family lines of the wealthiest men in Chessington, and such was the case with Bentley. Behind the Noble Knights stood two to three hundred highly respected citizens of Chessington, for this was a significant event for both the Noble Knights and the citizenry.
“Do you take this oath without reservation, fully understanding the authority and responsibilities granted to you by the King—an oath that binds you to the order of the Noble Knights until death?”
Bentley hesitated, looking past Kifus toward the two men standing behind him. His father, Sir Barrington, and Sir York, the man who trained him at sword—his role model and his mentor. Could any two men be more different?
Bentley looked toward York and then to his father. A few seconds passed, and the delay became awkward. Barrington gazed at his son, smiled, and nodded. The room filled with tension, and Kifus's gaze became stone hard.
Bentley looked back to the white-haired knightly leader, an icon of the perfect knight in many eyes. This was what Bentley had wanted his whole life, and yet something tugged upon his soul from another direction. It was those last few words that caused him to hesitate, for such an oath was a seal that would establish the course of his life forever.
He repeated the words in his mind:
“Do you take this oath without reservation… an oath that binds you to the order of the Noble Knights until death?”
What could be more honorable than service to the King?
“I do.” Bentley lowered his head in submission.
As if the doors of a flooded chamber had opened, the tension abated. Kifus lifted his brilliant silver sword to just above Bentley's shoulder.
“Then I dub thee Sir Bentley, protector of Chessington and Noble Knight of the King!”
He touched the flat of the blade to each of Bentley's shoulders, and a roar of shouts and acclamation filled the great hall. Bentley stood and Kifus offered his arm as a token of brotherhood.
“Well done, Sir Bentley. You are young but well deserving of the honor.”
“Thank you, Lord Kifus.”
Kifus turned to greet some of the approaching prestigious knights and citizens. Bentley's father stepped forward and embraced his son.
“I am proud of you, my son.” Barrington smiled broadly through his cropped salt-and-pepper beard.
“Thank you, Father. You and you alone have been my inspiration.”
York stepped forward and grasped Bentley's arm.
“Sir Bentley … has a nice ring to it, aye, laddie?” He slapped Bentley hard on the shoulder with a meaty palm.
Bentley bowed his head toward York. “I am indebted to you for all the training you have given me, sir.”
York's smile vanished as his mind seemed to return to a former preoccupation. “Aye, and ye'll be needing those skills in the days to come. The Followers continue to be a menace to our cause, and Kifus tells me our missions to eradicate them will increase.”
“Yes, sir,” Bentley replied, but something in his heart resisted the words. “What was it like before?”
York squinted and cocked his head to one side.
“Before the…ah…Followers?” Bentley added. It was an unusual question, and it conveyed much more than curiosity. Those few words carried a subtle message that raised the eyebrows of both York and his father.
York looked back and forth between Barrington and Bentley. When he spoke, his words vibrated with passion. “It was a time when the authority of the Noble Knights was never questioned! That's why we must fight well in coming days. The lingering effects of that dead Stranger will end, and we will restore the order of the Noble Knights to its rightful place when we eradicate His imbecile Followers.” York's countenance had assumed a familiar ferocity, his eyes beneath their bushy black brows seemed to shoot forth fiery darts.
Neither Bentley nor his father said a word. It was exactly the response Bentley had expected, and he wasn't sure why he had even asked the question. The momentary awkward silence between them ended when his mother took his arm and a dozen other knights and citizens moved in to offer congratulations.
When the knighting ceremony was over and the accolades were finished, Bentley lingered behind in the great hall. It was a day he had looked forward to for a long time. He took a deep breath and tried to enjoy the moment. It felt good to be a Noble Knight… almost perfect.
Almost.
Bentley's heart pounded hard in his chest. He readied his sword in a midguard stance as he stood face to face with a fierce warrior whose markings Bentley had never seen before. The warrior yelled and initiated a diagonal cut that nearly blew Bentley's sword from his g
rip. Preoccupied with his own survival, he was barely conscious of the clanging of other swords nearby.
He tightened his grip and countered with a rising cut, followed by a horizontal slice. His sword was met by the nearly immovable dark blade of the warrior, and he had to retreat to avoid the next deadly slice.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his fellow Noble Knights fall to the ground—and realized that he, York, and his other five companions could shortly succumb to the same fate. The five warriors they faced were much more than mere marauders; they had the look of seasoned war veterans. The Noble Knights had the advantage in numbers only, for the skill and power of these men far surpassed anything they had ever experienced.
Bentley considered his next move. How could they have made such a serious miscalculation and come to such a desperate situation? The months following his knighting ceremony had been filled with raids on the Followers, but each week seemed more intense than the previous. This was already their third mission this week.
They had received news from an informant that a handful of Followers was meeting near a hut in the hollow at the northwest edge of Chessington. When they arrived, a strange old woman had yelled at them and cursed them from afar. York had ignored her and insisted they search the hut and the surrounding area. When they dismounted and neared the hut, these five massive warriors had attacked. Bentley had barely been able to draw his sword in time before one warrior launched a deadly slice toward him. Ever since, he had been fighting for his life.
Another powerful slice came terrifyingly close, and Bentley ducked. He heard the swoosh of his enemy's blade pass just above his head. Bentley initiated another rising cut, but missed and found himself slightly off balance. He knew that such an experienced man of war would capitalize on Bentley's mistake—and he did. The next slice came from Bent-ley's left, and he was only able to raise his sword for partial protection before the grisly blade blasted through his defense.