Mercerian Tales

by Paul J Bennett

  Fitz laughed, “You know me too well, my dear. There is indeed more to the story. But surely someone else has a tale to tell?”

  “Oh no,” said Anna, “you must keep telling us your tale now that you’ve started.”

  “Did you ever reconcile with your brother?” asked Hayley.

  “I’m afraid not,” said Fitz. “It wasn’t long after this that Albreda’s prophesy came true. Still, I’m getting a little ahead of myself; it was still some two months away from the coming siege.”

  “I remember Sir Maynard's death, though I can’t say it surprised me,” reflected Gerald. “At least now I know why you didn’t lead any patrols. I thought you were training me.”

  “I was, my dear fellow, and you did a magnificent job. If it weren’t for you, we would have been finished.”

  “I should have stopped Sir Maynard,” Gerald commiserated.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Fitz. “You had no way of knowing. No, it worked out for the best in the end.”

  There was a silence as he sat in contemplation.

  “Well?” prompted Anna.

  “Well what, Your Highness?” asked Fitz.

  “Father,” said Beverly, “we’re waiting for the rest of the story.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” the baron continued, “Now, where was I. Let’s see, oh yes I’d just learned Albreda’s name and promised to talk to my brother…"

  Fitz and the Witch: Part III

  The Mage in the Tower

  Spring 933 MC

  The view from the map room always impressed Lord Richard. The entire barony could be surveyed from here, and if it weren’t for his brother always being in the room, he would spend more time up here overlooking the land. The door opened, and Edward entered as if summoned by Lord Richard's very thoughts.

  “Brother,” said the baron, “I’m surprised to see you here, you’ve been so quiet of late.”

  “I might have a solution to our problem,” offered Fitz.

  “Remind me again which problem we are referring to?”

  “The animal attacks.”

  “Oh, that again? Very well, what do you propose?”

  Lord Richard gathered his thoughts, “If we stop hunting in the Whitewood, the animal attacks will end.”

  “Again, Brother? I’m tired of hearing this.”

  “It’s true; the animals are only attacking to protect their land.”

  “Don’t be daft, animals attack because they're animals. With their leader in chains, there's no one to command them. Sooner or later we’ll have them all hunted down, and then the attacks will be over.”

  “And how many people must die before then?” demanded Fitz angrily.

  “As many as it takes,” replied the baron. “They’re doing what needs to be done. Certainly, sacrifices will have to be made for the greater good, but we will win through in the end.”

  “How can you be so callous about the loss of life?” exclaimed Lord Richard.

  Edward turned on him quickly, “I am the baron, and it is my decision who lives and dies. The running of the barony is my responsibility, Brother. You may not agree with my decisions, but they carry the weight of law.” Fitz watched his brother once again stopping himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly in an attempt to calm himself.

  “I know you mean well,” the baron continued, “but you cannot trust the word of a witch. In time you’ll see for yourself. Perhaps it would be best if I had her executed. If we hang her from the walls, maybe the enemy would back down.”

  “I forbid it,” declared Fitz.

  “You forget who you’re talking to, Richard. I am the baron here.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “and you gave me responsibility for the prisoner, that includes the choice over life and death.”

  “Very well,” said the baron in resignation, “have it your way. We won’t execute her, but the prisoner remains here, at the Keep.”

  * * *

  The door opened, and Albreda looked up to see Lord Richard Fitzwilliam standing in the doorway. “I’ve decided to move you,” he said, without preamble.

  “Move me? To where?” she asked.

  "There are four small towers at the top of the Keep; I’m moving you to one of them. You’ll still be a prisoner, but you’ll have fresh air and daylight. I must ask you to promise not to attempt to escape.”

  “Why would you trust my word? I could simply agree, and then escape anyway.”

  “While that’s true, I believe you to be an honourable woman. I will take you at your word until I have a reason not to.”

  “Very well, I give you my word. When will I be moved?”

  “Late this evening. You can't be seen; my brother still wishes to keep your presence here a secret.”

  “Is he afraid that the animals might attack the Keep? I can honestly say that’s quite unlikely.”

  “No, but he fears your magic. I don’t want to bring any more attention to you than already exists.”

  “Won’t my presence be noticed by the guards?”

  “No, the towers are mostly ornamental, and the guards don’t use them. Sir Rodney will have command of the watch; he’ll make sure no one goes near the tower you'll be housed in. I know it’s not the best arrangement, but at least you won’t be locked down here.”

  “I thank you for this small kindness.”

  * * *

  It didn’t take long to move her. Lord Richard had arranged to have furniture waiting, and so he merely escorted her to the tower in the middle of the night. Sir Rodney kept the watch busy on the other side of the Keep, and she was soon ensconced in her new accommodations. It was a small room, only several paces across, with a single window that looked to the east and heavy shutters to close should the weather require it.

  Albreda settled in without complaint, and Fitz left her to get some sleep, returning at first light. He was carrying a new book for her and knocked quietly, in case she was still resting from the late night activities. He opened the door to see her standing by the window, silhouetted against the rising sun. She turned as he entered, a smile on her face for the first time since he had met her.

  “Lord Richard,” she said, “I trust nothing is amiss?”

  “There’s been another attack,” he informed her.

  “I know,” she replied. "I’m afraid they may continue until we can come to an agreement.”

  “You control the animals,” he persisted. “Please tell them to stop.”

  “As I've explained to you before; I don’t control them. They make their own decisions.”

  “But you can advise them,” he reminded her.

  “I see no reason to,” she stated.

  “I understand your reluctance,” he continued, “but we need to hunt. The farms aren’t producing enough food, and with the Norland raids over the winter, we’re stretched to the limit.”

  “There are other places to hunt,” she suggested.

  He was ready to counter her argument, but her logic surprised him. “What do you mean?” he pressed.

  “Only the Whitewood is my concern,” she explained. “Let the men of Bodden hunt elsewhere.”

  “Where?” he asked. “We don’t have the time or manpower to search for richer grounds.”

  “What if I found a better place for you to hunt? Would the baron stop hunting my friends?”

  “Surely,” he responded. “But how would you do that from here?”

  “You might be surprised at what I can do,” she said, “but you must trust me. I will need to cast a spell.”

  His trepidation must have been evident, for she quickly added, “I swear my spell will do no harm, nor allow me to escape.”

  “Very well,” he reluctantly agreed, “you may cast your spell.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I will begin casting in just a moment; it’s important that you don’t interrupt my concentration while I’m undertaking the spell.”

  “How will I know when you’re done?” he asked.

 
; “You’ll see my hands stop moving. Now, are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’m ever going to be,” he stated.

  She gazed out of the window and starting chanting, the words barely audible to Lord Richard. He couldn’t make out anything he recognized, but it felt as if the air suddenly went calm. She kept muttering, and then stretched her arms out the window, holding them there until a bird quite unexpectedly landed on them. She brought her limbs back inside, and Fitz was amazed to see a wild falcon perched on her arm. She bowed her forehead, and the bird placed its head against it. There was a moment of shared space, and then the bird leaped from its perch, flying out the window.

  Fitz watched the entire scene play out before him, afraid of disturbing it. “What just happened?” he asked at last.

  “I have sent him to search the area for game. He’ll come back when he finds it in sufficient numbers.”

  “How long is that likely to take?” he asked.

  “A couple of days, perhaps?” she guessed. “It depends on what he finds.”

  * * *

  The great hall at Bodden Keep was busy with activity. Lord Edward Fitzwilliam, Baron of Bodden, sat in his usual chair while all around him food was being served. The complete complement of knights was present, for he had ordered a feast to be prepared. He was in a particularly good mood this day, though his cheerfulness seemed to dull as his brother, Lord Richard Fitzwilliam, entered the room.

  “How goes it, Brother?” asked Lord Richard, in a particularly jovial tone.

  “It goes well,” answered the baron, suspicion creeping into his voice. “Why do you ask?”

  “No particular reason. It’s an especially warm day today, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose so,” muttered the baron, returning to his food.

  “Sir Rodney,” said Lord Richard, ignoring his brother's disdain, “how goes the hunt?

  “It is going particularly well, Lord,” the knight responded. “The new area is proving most bountiful.”

  “New area?” said Lord Edward, looking up from his plate abruptly. “What new area?”

  Sir Rodney, who was about to drink his wine, carefully placed his flagon back on the table. “To the southwest, Lord. ‘Twas your brother who suggested it.”

  Edward looked upset, and Fitz wondered if he was about to unleash a tirade against him. It was unlikely to happen with the knights present, but he had seen his brother do stranger things on occasion.

  The baron beckoned him to his side to whisper, “What are you up to, Brother. I told you not to mess with things.”

  “No,” Richard replied, “you wanted a solution; I have given you one. Tell me Sir Rodney,” he continued, raising his voice, “how many animal attacks have we suffered in the last few weeks?”

  “None,” reported the knight. “Everything is calm.”

  They spoke no more of it until the knights had had their fill. Now, the two brothers sat, drinking their wine, as the servants cleaned up the mess.

  “It’s safe now,” said Fitz, “you can release her. There’s no reason to keep her prisoner any longer.”

  “You’re wrong, Brother,” the baron replied. “We need to keep her as a hostage against future attacks. As long as I’m the baron, she’ll remain in Bodden Keep.”

  -Interlude III-

  Bodden

  Summer 960 MC

  “That explains how the attacks stopped,” said Hayley.

  “Yes,” said Beverly, growing more exasperated, “but it still doesn’t explain Albreda’s promise. Why did she come to our aid during the siege?”

  Fitz smiled, “I was true to my word, while my brother was baron, she remained a prisoner.”

  “Wait,” said Gerald, “I remember now. When Sir James told you that you were the new baron, you said you had something to take care of.”

  “That’s right, my friend, I had to release Albreda.”

  “Oh no,” said Anna, “you’re not getting out of it that easily. I want details; your story’s not over yet.”

  “Very well, Your Highness,” the baron said, “I shall tell you the rest. It was right after the siege.”

  “Wait a moment,” said Hayley, “what siege. We were at the siege; I don’t remember a prisoner.”

  “Not that siege, that was more recent,” explained Beverly.

  “How many sieges have there been, exactly,” asked Hayley.

  It was Gerald who answered her question, “Three in recent memory. The first took place back when I was young.”

  “That’s where you killed your first Norlander,” provided Anna.

  “Yes, that’s right," the baron interjected. "The second siege was when my brother was killed.”

  “That must be the one in your story, where Albreda was a prisoner,” said Anna, a triumphant look on her face.

  “Yes, Your Highness. Gerald and I led a small band to take out the enemy catapults. While we were returning, an explosion lit up the wall that was under construction. The devastation was terrible…”

  Fitz and the Witch: Part IV

  The Promise

  Summer 933 MC

  Fitz stood amongst the rubble of the wall, staring in disbelief.

  “You are the baron now, Lord,” stated Sir James. “What is your will?”

  Fitz looked about him at the destruction. He had never wanted this. Even though he had always argued with his brother since he became the baron, they were still family. Edward's death hit him hard, but he knew he must take action, for he was now responsible for the defence of Bodden.

  “Place guards on this wall. I doubt the Norlanders will attack again. We’ve broken their will.” He turned to his stalwart companion, “Gerald, see that this wall is shored up as best you can. Sir James?”

  “My lord?” replied the knight.

  “You will take orders from Sergeant Matheson here. Do as he says.” He was about to leave when the knight objected.

  “He’s not a noble, my lord.”

  Fitz turned to berate the man, but his energy was sapped; it was all too much to take in. “He has my complete confidence to carry out my will,” he spat out, perhaps with more venom that he wished, “and I am the new baron, correct?”

  “Of course, my lord,” replied Sir James.

  “Then do as I say. Gerald, when you’ve got this secured, meet me in the map room. I have something else to attend to first.” He wondered if Albreda was still safe, for the catapults had been merciless in their assault, and he had had not yet had time to check on her.

  “Aye, Lord,” replied Gerald, and began barking out orders.

  * * *

  He made his way to Albreda’s room, knocking on the door as he always did. As her voice beckoned, he opened it to enter. She was standing at the window and turned as he came in.

  “I trust all is well?” she asked.

  “My brother is dead,” he declared, “and while it grieves me to think of it, it means I’m the baron now.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said with sympathy in her voice.

  “Really?” he responded fiercely. “I should think you would be elated at the death of your captor.”

  “Death is never to be celebrated,” she explained, an easy confidence to her voice. “It is not something I would wish on anyone, despite our differences. Your brother acted according to his conscience, I cannot fault him for that. What will happen now?”

  "I’m releasing you,” said Fitz. “You're free to go.”

  “You’re releasing me? After all this time?”

  “Yes,” he affirmed. “You should have been released long ago, but it wasn’t within my power. Now that I’m the baron, it’s my decision.”

  “Just like that? I can walk out of here?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, just like that. I’ll escort you to the gate myself; my troops are a little busy cleaning up from the siege. I trust you weren’t injured?”

  “No,” she answered. “The catapults came nowhere near me, but you look like you�
�ve seen some fighting.”

  Fitz looked down at his armour, still covered with dirt and blood, “I suppose I have. If you’d like to gather your things, I’ll lead you out.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve little to gather, other than my notes. I do wish to thank you for the clothes you have provided; I will leave them here.”

  “You may keep them,” he offered, “they are no use to me.”

  She smiled and bowed her head slightly, “I thank you, Lord, or should I say, Baron. Please, lead on.”

  He guided her down through the Keep. In the wake of the siege, the people were far too busy to take note of the two of them as they descended the stairwell.

  “I want to thank you for the treatment you’ve bestowed on me during my captivity. You’ve been most gracious.”

  “I’m only sorry,” said Fitz, “that things couldn’t have been resolved sooner.”

  “What will happen after I’m gone?” she asked.

  “I will give orders that none of my men will hunt in the Whitewood, that shall be your domain. I will leave instructions that the woods are to be left undisturbed and ensure that the agreement is passed down to future generations.”

  “I thank you for that. In exchange, I will promise to keep control of the animals that live therein; your people will be safe.”

  They had reached ground level and were crossing the courtyard when Albreda stopped suddenly, using a hand to steady herself against a wall. Fitz, looking at her intensely, noticed that her eyes were closed; she was breathing heavily as if she had just completed a great exertion.

  “Are you all right-”

  She raised her hand to forestall his enquiry. He could see her struggling with some sort of inner turmoil, and then she opened her eyes, exhaling as she did so. “Everything is fine,” she said quietly. “I’ve just had a vision, it happens sometimes.”