Holding The Line (Book 2)

by Andrew Wood

  At seeing his sibling, being held up by two guards, he like the crowd feared something had happened. Dagon explained to him what had taken place, and the prince had merely healed a woman's broken arm, that was all. The cheers and clapping had followed when the daft woman shouted out like it was some god like miracle. Caldar looked at the old man explaining, and thought, Luken was right, this was probably the most insufferable human being on the planet.

  Relieving one of the guards from his burden, Caldar helped carry Luken into the keep and start the trek upstairs to their rooms. Dagon started to follow, but Caldar was in no mood for the horrid little man, "we can manage Dagon. Have you not got a service or something to write?" he said snidely. The old man gave the crown prince a stare, realising he was being politely told to go away, he dropped his head and shuffled his way back down, and out of the door.

  Luken opened his eyes, he was lying on what he assumed was a bed. "He's awake," he heard the familiar voice of Taylor shout. Lifting his head slightly he saw a whole cast of people before him, all smiling and staring his way. Taylor climbed up and gave him a hug, and Sarena leant down to give him a kiss. Caldar and Vanessa were there, as was Lord Galliss, Darak and even General Skalton. "As amazing as you are little brother, I do wish you would stop scaring us like this." Luken gave a wry smile, "you did magic again dad, and there was a huge crowd cheering you outside," Taylor said excitedly.

  Caldar told him, that he had spoken to Dagon, and the two agreed, for now at least to put a hold on his magical exploits. Taylor appeared to be the only one not happy of that outcome, but said nothing. In a small way, Luken was glad of that discussion as well. On one hand, he was always pleased when he had managed to do some good, such as fixing the woman's arm, on the other he certainly would not miss the after effects it sometimes caused him.

  Chapter 6.

  The recruits camped south of the city of New Easton stood lined up in their usual two ranks. Today they would be allocated their respective units. Most already had a good idea whether they were becoming archers, infantry or cavalry, a few were not so sure. It occurred to a few that they may not get the post they had wanted.

  Captain Jak Corley stood at the front of the lines, holding a paper. He started reading down the list of names, giving each their selected group. Dane had wanted to be an archer, but as yet, for some reason his name had not yet been read out. "Camden, Infantry. Patrick, Infantry. Rowan, light cavalry, lancers..." He could not help himself, as Rowan let out a cry of "yes!", and Jak Corley looked up at the young man, who a week or so earlier was on the verge of being kicked out.

  Camden and Patrick looked at each other, the latter not particularly pleased with the group he had been given. He had wanted to be a cavalryman, and would be making a plea later to get it changed to what he wanted. If not he would be leaving, if he could not do what he wanted, then he would not do it at all. All the other names had been read, and Dane was still none the wiser as to his calling.

  Jak Corley looked up from his list, "that is all. Dane step forward please." His name had not been read, and the feeling of dread came over him. He had tried and worked hard, done as he was asked, and he feared he was being told he was surplus to requirement." He nervously stepped forward, standing upright at attention, waiting for the inevitable. "Dane," Jak spoke again, "the other trainers and I have deliberated, and have selected you to be promoted to Squad Leader. Oh and your with the archers by the way," he added as an afterthought.

  Dane stood with his face beaming a smile even bigger than the usual one it had, as Jak pinned on a badge indicating his rank. It was only a low rank, but it still put him higher than every other recruit stood with him. "Thank you Sir," he uttered as the Captain took a step back from him. He turned and noticed several faces staring at him, as he rejoined the ranks.

  Patrick felt even more enraged, not only did he not get the position he wanted, he would now be expected to take orders from someone three years his junior. Jak gave a nod in Dane's direction, and the young man knew what it meant. He stepped forward and turned to face his fellow recruits, "Squad, dismissed," he shouted.

  Several people, including Camden and Rowan rushed straight over to Dane, congratulating him on his promotion. Patrick however, made a beeline straight for the captain, who was making his way to his office. "I'm not being in the infantry," he shouted after him, "and I am certainly not taking orders off that idiot," he pointed back to where Dane stood. Jak ignored the shouts and continued onwards, opening his door, entering through to his office and shutting it behind him.

  Patrick thumped on the door, "oh! Old man, you deaf, I said I am not ..." he was cut off by two guards, pulling his arms behind his back. He yelled in defiance, struggling to free himself, as Jak re-opened the door. "Charge this young man with insubordination; he is fined two weeks wages. If he struggles further, you will tie him up. If he continues to rant and rave, you will flog him." With that threat, the door was slammed back in Patrick's face, and Jak hoped it would not go any further.

  The young man was enraged, how dare he be treated in this way. As the child of a wealthy merchant, when younger he had always gotten what he asked for. This would be no different and he continually wriggled as he felt a rope being tied around his wrists. He then felt himself pushed to the ground, and a further rope was bound around his ankles. He looked up at one of the guards to give him what for, but was told, "Listen son, you already lost two weeks wages and your temper has got you bound up. It is up to you what we do next. You can shut up and stop behaving like a spoilt child, or we fulfil our next command and you will regret it the rest of your life."

  Patrick in hindsight probably regretted his next move, which was to spit in the direction of the guard. The man did not take kindly, and knocked on the door to the Captains office to report the incident. Jak stood in the doorway shaking his head. Shouting at a superior officer was one thing, spitting at one was something on a completely different level. "Tie him to the post, give him six lashes," he said rather reluctantly. It always pained him to dish out such punishments, yet this young man seemed intent on self-destruction.

  The commotion was now such, it had drawn the attention of virtually everyone else on camp. The other recruits watched in shock as Patrick was hauled over and dragged to the nearest post. One of the guards ripped the shirt off his back while the other fastened his hands to the vertical stake. Captain Jak Corley stood over to one side, overseeing the punishment would go ahead as instructed.

  Dane did not know why he ran forward, but he found himself standing before the man that had just handed him his promotion. "Captain, please don't do this. Perhaps let me talk to him, and maybe if he apologises...well would that suffice?" Jak looked at the young man's face, in some ways he was angry his best recruit was attempting to delay his orders from being carried out. On the other hand, he was pleased for two reasons, firstly he never liked having people flogged, and secondly it showed him, the man selected for officer had been the right choice. Only a man of a certain calibre would go to such lengths, risking punishment himself sticking up for one of his own.

  "You have five minutes. If he has not calmed down, and come forth on his own initiative to offer formal apologies to both myself, and the guard he spat at, then he will be flogged. He must also understand, that the fines remain, moreover he will report for extra duties everyday for a week." Dane thought through what was said, "Yes Sir, thank you Sir."

  The other recruits were shepherded away, and the guards retreated, and Dane was left alone with a bound, very angry Patrick. Thinking quickly what he was going to say, he stepped nearer," Patrick," good start he thought. "I know you don't particularly like me, for what reason I am not sure. However, the Captain has said if you say sorry for what you said and did, you won't be flogged." He looked expectantly at the older recruits red, flustered face, "piss off you little whelp." This was going to be tougher than he first thought, maybe next he would think before volunteering for such things.

  He decided to
try a different approach, "you are probably one of the best swordsmen amongst us, if not the very best." Patrick looked at him, "you kidding, I got my ass kicked by that young kid the other day. I want cavalry or else I'm quitting...in fact the minute they have flogged me I am off anyway." Time was rapidly ticking away, and he was getting nowhere fast, "you lost to the young lad, true, but you bettered every one of us to get to challenge him. Moreover, that lad has been having private lessons for weeks with the Captain, and is for his age is an outstanding swordsman."

  He thought he saw a glimmer of calmness appear, "yes I suppose I was the best to fight him." Dane hoped to continue in the same mood of optimism, "Just think about it. They are not going to put the best swordsman in our entire group, wielding a lance on a horse. Why else do you think they picked you for infantry?" Patrick looked at him, "I want to ride, and I can wield a sword from a horse." This was hard work, "we all ride, even archers get to ride, and it is just easier for us to fight on our own two feet, same as you with a sword."

  Dane looked over his shoulder, expecting the guards to be returning any second, but for now, they still kept their distance. Perhaps the Captain had allowed him a little longer; at least he wished that were the case. "Listen Patrick, all you have to do is apologise to the guard and the Captain, and all this is stopped. Oh! And your fined two weeks pay," he added as an afterthought. Patrick dropped his head, and Dane thought at last, he had gotten through to him. "Oh and you have to report for extra duties, for a week," he had forgotten that one as well.

  "Please Patrick, none of the lads wish to see you get flogged, now quick, they are coming back," he said as the guards and Captain Jak Corley made their way to them. Dane had done all he could, and Patrick looked him in the eye before dropping his head back down. "Well, what is it to be?" the Captain spoke firmly. Dane discreetly crossed his fingers, hoping that Patrick had calmed down sufficiently to think rationally. "I wish to offer my apologies Sir, to both you and that man there. I was being foolish, and I regret my actions. I hope you accept this, and agree I must be punished for my conduct."

  Captain Jak Corley stared at the youngster bound up and tied to the post, then at the young man he had promoted to Squad Leader. "I accept, and so does he," he said pointing to the guard Patrick had spat at, who was about to speak, before being given a stern look by his superior. "You are fined two weeks pay, and furthermore shall report to me each day after training for further duties, the pair of you." Dane looked up, "me sir?" he asked confused. "Oh yes Dane, as much as I admire a man sticking up for one his own. You did question my orders, did you not?" Dane's shoulders dropped, "yes Sir, sorry Sir." Clapping his hands together, "right this business is finished here. Patrick I never want to have to go through this again, understand. Good, I'll see you both later for extra detail then," he smiled at them both and turned to return to his office.

  Dane knelt down struggling to untie the knots that held the ropes around Patrick's wrists. "Thanks for standing by me," the older recruit said, starting to realise he had probably acted like a right fool. "No problem, come on we best join the others," he said as he managed to get the rope free. "I need to undo my legs yet," Patrick called after him. Dane laughed, "Sorry, here I'll give you a hand."

  Over the past few days, two further sets of housing had been handed over to new occupants. One more row of the family homes had been finished, as well as a number of smaller residences, which they thought suitable for the more elderly amongst their number. The main object of completion however, was the two huge oaken gates, being painstakingly put into place at the entrance to the city. Two teams of ten men, very slowly lowering the huge gates onto the massive iron hinges.

  Once these were in position, the city was at least now a fully defendable safe haven for those within. The repairs to the outer walls were now all but finished, and this freed up more workers. Some of these were put on the repairing of the river port, the remainder asked to continue the mammoth task of house building in the city. The keep was also now fortunate to have its own external doors fitted, and work continued on the cities offices being located on the ground and first floors.

  Caldar was already sat at his desk, when Luken joined him, and seated himself on one of the two vacant seats. Each prince had papers in hand, having made notes of problems encountered or solutions thought up. Whilst they were alone, they also had a few ideas they wished to run by each other. Two of these involved Lord Galliss and his son, and they thought it best to discuss it before the man joined them.

  A knock at the door, and in stepped Lord Galliss, who greeted them both, and Caldar duly gestured for him to be seated. First item on the agenda was the daily report on the progress of the cities buildings. Which was little different from the previous days, with the exception of the main gates. Following that, Galliss proceeded with his treasury report, and handed Caldar a pile of papers that represented monies owed. The crown treasury was paying for the rebuild, so any item not sourced locally, had to be bought in from merchants further south. Items such as glass and the clay pipes used in the sewerage system were all purchased and paid for by them.

  They were fortunate that costs did not matter, and so many traders were now sending their wares northwards to them, now that word had spread of the rebuild. Some had moved north and tried to set up in the city itself. What they did not want was traders coming in, and pushing aside somebody else already planning on building, a similar business. As such, they had started a register, and Lord Galliss had reckoned a number for how many of each type of trader they needed. First call was to be given to the refugee's, and any outsider trader encroaching on any fledgling local businessman was turned away.

  Once Galliss had finished his reports, Luken nodded to his brother. Caldar spoke, "Galliss, Luken and I were discussing your position with us. Well we wondered if you accept the position of Mayor of New Easton. Of course, it would mean you having to live and work in the city." Lord Galliss did not need long to answer, "I accept. I have already been talking about moving here sire. I need such a challenge, if I am honest, and you probably think me mad for saying as much, but I am thriving on this responsibility for rebuilding the city."

  Caldar laughed, "Yes your right, I do think you're mad, but you more than welcome to it. You have no qualms about leaving your estates?" Galliss shook his head, "No sire, not at all. I was only thinking the other day; it is time I passed all that onto Aric. He is a good lad, and I think he is ready." Luken added to the conversation, "We were also wondering about Darak. Do you think he would want to stay in the city, or go back with Aric?"

  Lord Galliss pondered the thought for a moment, "No I think he has made friends here. He is as happy now as I have seen him for some time sire. May I say I think that is mainly down to you," he spoke to Luken. "Even those little lessons he has with Taylor, practicing with swords as they do. Well he loves every minute of it." Caldar and Luken eyed each other, before asking, "Well do you think Darak would accept the position of city treasurer?" Luken asked, before adding, "He is a person I trust personally, intelligent and diligent, and someone Caldar and I think perfect for the job." Galliss smiled, "I am sure he will accept, but alas I cannot answer for him. Perhaps run it by him later."

  Caldar went on to explain, as Mayor of the city Lord Galliss would be given quarters and offices in the keep, and if Darak accepted, he would be equally housed. The two would be paid a good salary, and live rent-free. In addition, they would have access to the royal staff in supplying them with food and drink. With discussions over, they wished Galliss farewell, and agreed to meet up with him, again as usual the following morning.

  A large timber construction was taking place just outside the keep entrance. It was some forty paces in length and twenty from back to front, and standing about five feet above ground level. The area immediately around the keep wall was roped off into sections, and fortunately with no building work taking place in this particular area, meant sufficient space for any crowd. Off to one side, where a section had b
een marked out for a market square, the cobbles were hurriedly being repaired. This area was going to be used for the musicians and refreshments, all of which would be available freely to all.

  After the ceremonies and the area cleared, it meant this part of the city would be ready to use for its intended purpose. It was planned for one day per week to start with, for traders of the area who sold goods not available in the city, to come and promote their wares. It was a fine balancing act, of allowing outside businesses without affecting negatively those starting up in the city. A little further down the line, when the cities inns were up and running, it was hoped this influx of traders would be a good source of income for them.

  Dagon was sat besides the river, thinking of his service. He enjoyed the tranquillity of the flowing water, and away from the hammering and banging in the city, was a peaceful retreat for him. He looked up from his several pages of notes, and watched as a small bird, darted down from a low branch into the water, and returning a few seconds later with a small fish. He thought how that bird was an expert in what it did. It had barely broken the surface, in capturing its lunch. Then for some reason he wished that idiotic prince boy were as professional. It was true, that lately, and with much hard work on Dagon's behalf, some modicum of success had been achieved where the boy was concerned.

  He pondered on whether he should mention anything about the prince's idiocy and stubbornness in the wedding service, then thought better of it. The young girl he was marrying, it seemed was just as dopey as he was, and Dagon had concluded the two perfectly matched for each other. The older brother, Caldar, for whom he had already written the coronation service, did appear a little more normal. However, even he appeared as impossible to work with as the younger sibling did. He recalled the occasion when he helped the prince back to the keep, after his small job of fixing the woman's arm. All those people had made such a palaver over him it was sickening. It was not as if the boy had healed the world of Cholera or Typhus, all he had done was heal an arm.