Everliving Kings (the Heroes of Darkness Saga) (14 page)

16

             
The midday sun was high in the sky, glowing through a thick layer of threatening clouds, when the first blast from the royal horns alerted the residents of Nottingham castle the Prince was near. High Sheriff of Nottinghamshire and Devonshire, straightened his finest silk tunic as he reached the top of the stone steps to greet his royal guest.

             
His brother, the most holy Bishop Brewer lined up behind him and tried in vain to force a smile to cover his concern. Knowing him far better than anyone else the Sheriff could easily read his brother’s mood.

             
“Oh relax Edward! Prince John doesn’t bite.” he teased.

             
“No.” the bishop replied, “But the headsman’s axe does!”

             
William only had time to shoot his brother a dirty look before the Royal coach came to a stop in front of them, sending the coachmen into a flurry of activity.

             
Once the stairs were in place and the door held open, Prince John, Regent of England, count of Mortain, Earl of Gloucester, King of Ireland, Keeper of the Holy Rod of Antioch and youngest son of the Royal house of Aquitaine, stumbled backwards from the coach with a belch. Apparently this was his normal mode of disembarking from the carriage, as the doorman caught him in mid fall and directed him to the ground like a ballet dancer.

The Brewer brothers exchanged a concerned look before the prince, empty silver goblet still in hand, looked up and smiled at them. The Sheriff rushed down the stone steps afraid the unsteady monarch may try to navigate them without any help.

“You’re Grace! Welcome to Nottingham castle, I am so honored; nay overwhelmed you could make the time to come!”

Prince John frowned until he located the sound of the voice he was hearing, “Ah,
Sheriff Brewer! So good to see you again! I was sorry to hear of your being called away from London so fast last week, I do hope all is well here in the shire?”

The Sheriff smiled and raised his eyebrows surprised how coherent the Regent was. “Ah, My
Lord your concern and dedication to duty due you credit! Please come inside and rest yourself from your journey before we need talk of business.”

The Prince Regent had never met a free drink he didn’t agree with, or any drink for that matter, so he was more than happy to have the Sheriff guide him up the steps and into the dining hall of the keep. Once he was sitting comfortably and his goblet was once again full, the High Sheriff slid into the seat next to his Noble guest and asked, “My
Lord, your correspondence mentioned you would be traveling with the Archbishop, should we still expect him to be joining us?”

Prince John took a long pull of his wine before answering, “Hmm? Oh yes, the
Archbishop. Yes he will be along shortly; he had to make a stop at the Abbey o
f
Kirklees on the way. My cousin from Normandy sent me his eldest daughter Marion as a ward, and she is looking into the possibility of joining the convent there. Nice enough girl I suppose but far to prude for my tastes. If she decides against the cloth I may have to find some noble suitor for her to wed. As for the Archbishop himself, I am sure he will be along before supper, like all of those religious types he is dreadfully superstitious. He always grumbles that he hates to travel at night, something about Druids and monsters in the forest or some such nonsense.”

Sheriff Brewer paused in thought, wondering if he should wait and see if the
Archbishop arrived before putting his plans in motion. He was sure the Prince Regent himself would be easy enough to manipulate in his normally inebriated state, but the Archbishop was another matter. What if, for example, he saw right through the Sheriff’s plot and actually had some influence over Prince John? Would he turn the Prince against him? Would he use his influence to blackmail the Sheriff instead? One thing for sure without the Archbishop in the room for him to read the mood and body language of the man, any plan he tried could blow up in his face.

The problem now was
, all of this pondering of his plotting had already gone on too long, as Prince John frowned at him and said, “What’s wrong with you man? You look as if your best Falcon has flown off, come on now out with it.”

The Prince’s prodding roused Brewer out of his thoughts and he had to scramble to cover hi
mself, “Oh, no you’re Grace; I am quite fine thank you for your concern. There are some important things I did wish to impart to you my Lord, and to confess that is also part of the reason I  invited you here…” Before he could continue a messenger rushed into the room and dropped to one knee in front of them.

“Apologies my
Lord, you’re Grace, your Majesty, but I was told by my Lord Gisbon this is most urgent.”

Brewer frowned at the messenger before snatching the scroll from his hand and rolling it open to read it. To his surprise he had to bite back a laugh he covered with a sigh of disgust. “I do beg your fo
rgiveness for this intrusion your Highness, but apparently that rascal Robin Hood has struck again!”

Both the Regent and Bishop Brewer leaned forward in their chairs to hear the Sheriff’s news. “Yes, my
Lord, Robin Hood, a notorious wolfshead who has been terrorizing this shire for several months now. His Latest outrage is no less than the murder of a noblewoman! Gisbon reports that he murdered the Lady Huntington and then made off with most of the wealth of the manor-house! Disgusting!” at that he crumpled the scroll and tossed onto the table as if it offended him. “I feel I must apologize yet again your Highness, I had hoped to break the news of this criminal a bit more softly.”

The Regent drained his mug and then frowned at the Sheriff, “Dreadful! A peasant yeoman who murders nobles for their wealth; why just imagine the audacity
of such a fellow! So tell me Lord Brewer, how do you plan on capturing this scoundrel?”

The Sheriff frowned for a moment before speaking as if he were deep in thought. “Well, pe
rhaps my Lord we can use that very boldness of his against him. During the festival I was planning on holding a royal archery tournament, but perhaps we should change that to a Grand contest instead.”

Prince John’s eyebrows went up as he grasped the Sheriff's plan. “Ah, yes… we could open
the ranks of the game to all archers, rich or poor serf or noble!”

The Sheriff smiled from ear to ear, “Yes my
Lord! We can offer a grand prize to the winner! Why I bet every archer worth his salt within ten leagues of here will line up for the chance to shoot!” he laughed thinking of how much Robert had bragged of his archery skill during his stay at the castle.

Prince John frowned and waved at the servant to re-fill his goblet. “Don’t you think he will know it is a trap? He must know the festival will be heavily guarded and being a wanted man…. Just what makes you so sure
he will come?”

The Sheriff let his lopsided grin peek out as the whole idea became clear to his mind. “I will offer a prize he won’t refuse… I have in my possession a
silver arrow; well, more of a Roman spear-head than an arrow but it is called an arrow. This object is very old and was once one of the sacred items of the local Druids. If he has taken up with the outlaws of the greenwood then he will have no choice but to go after it!”

“So this arrow is some kind of pagan tool? I had thought all of those Drui
ds had long since disappeared by now.” The Regent muttered causing the Bishop to cross himself for protection.

“No my
Lord, not around here, you will find that many of the peasants still cling to the old ways even while passing themselves off as good Christians. That is why I am so sure he will come. I have no doubt he will try to disguise himself, but be he tinker or fletcher, butcher or blacksmith no disguise will hide his skill with the bow.” The Sheriff sat back with a smile thinking how well this all seemed to be going so far. Now all he had to do was inform the Prince of the monsters on the way to attack them, and of the living dead girl he wished to marry and ask for his royal blessing. That thought quickly erased his smile again, a point not missed by the still sober Prince.

“Well what is it now man? Are you having se
cond thoughts about your grand plan?” the Regent asked.

The Brewer brothers exchanged wide-eyed looks before realizing what ‘plan’ the Prince was r
eferring to. “Oh, no my Lord, not at all,” at that he flashed a smile towards the Bishop. “I was just thinking of another distressing matter I need to bring to your attention. I do apologize you’re Grace, I intend for your stay here to be a pleasant one, and that is why I am not sure how to break it to you.”

Prince John threw back his drink, and waved for another before shaking his head. “Ah, Sheriff you and I have been friends for some time now, if you need to say something then just go ahead and say it. Now, what troubles you so?”

The Sheriff exchanged glances with his brother once more. “Ah, yes well, I am afraid I must inform you of a plot I have uncovered designed to usurp the throne from you and King Richard. You see, I discovered the shocking news that Lord Rathbone has hired fifty thousand French Knights, bowmen and footman to arrogate the Throne.”

At that the Regent’s eyes went wide and a smile peeked out from his beard. “Nonsense,
you’re pulling a jest!”

The Sheriff shook his head, “I know how it sounds
you’re Grace, but I do believe that was part of the reason for his return to England. With King Richard still on the battlefields of Judea, I am sure he saw England as an easy target. It is well known the King likes to lead his men into battle my Lord, perhaps he is counting on the King not surviving the Crusade.”

Prince John snorted back a laugh, “It is well know he likes to buggar his squires after the battles as well! Are you quite sure this is so? You know for a fact
that your source is reliable?”

“I am afraid so my
Lord, you see his own daughter and her handmaiden discovered this plot while still in the holy lands. Lord Rathbone imprisoned them both and then dragged them all the way back here in chains. The wildest part of the story is even more horrific and unbelievable than treason. It would seem that Lord Rathbone has taken to consorting with….demons!” at that the Sheriff paused to see the reaction of his royal guest.

Prince John frowned but could tell the Sheriff meant every word of what he was saying. “
You can prove all of this Sheriff? These are some wild accusations you are throwing at a fellow noble. I know you must be aware of the punishment for false charges like this.”

Brewer nodded his head, “Yes my
Lord, I would not have bothered you with it if I did not have convincing proof. I must admit I did not believe it myself… at first. My Lord, please understand, I know this news is distressing and difficult to believe but if you will allow it, I will ask the Lady Anya, his daughter to show you her proof.”

Prince John waited for the servant to pour his wine before he reached up and snatched the bottle from the startled girl. “I will keep that and pour my own thank you.
Very well Sheriff, bring the girl in, but I warn you, if I don’t find her to be credible you will be the one to pay for it!”

The Sheriff smiled
and shook his head before standing and saying, “My Lord, may I present to you the Lady Anya Rathbone.” He did not have to look to know she was already there; in fact he was sure she had been listing to their whole conversation from her room.

The Regent however, was surprised to see the girl drift into the room on cue and curtsy
. Once she looked up and smiled at him, his attitude changed completely. “Oh, my poor dear, come here sit with me and tell me what has happened.”

Anya shifted her eyes back down to the i
mported Persian rug just to keep from laughing out loud, until Prince John insisted she look up.

“There, that’s better; now tell me child, what is all of this nonsense about demon worship eh?”

Anya closed her eyes and covered her mouth, now sure she was going to laugh in the face of the man who just called her a ‘child’. Luckily, he took her actions to mean she was upset and trying to compose herself and gave her time before prying; and for her part, she would not have to hold it back for long.

Not knowing how this strange little man was going to respond, Anya simply pointed at her mouth before opening it to show him her fangs. To say he screamed like a little girl before fainting would be a disservice to little girls everywhere, and once he was out, the
Vampire roared with laughter.

17

Lord Rathbone tied his horse to a tree and commanded his men to set up a campsite, even though they could see the stone turrets of Nottingham castle from where they stood.

Scarlet, the leader of the local shifter-wolves was so surprised he marched up to the
Lord and demanded an explanation.

“Look at those troops in front of the keep; do you recognize that standard they are flying? It is the royal house of Aquitaine…meaning Prince John hi
mself is here, meaning….she must be up to something.” Rathbone grumbled.

Scarlet frowned at the
Lord as if he had grown extra ears, “She? Meaning da’ prisoner? ‘Ow can a prisoner be up to any-fing?”

Rathbone shook his head, “I don’t know
! I wasn’t here was I? What I do know is that demon witch is clever! This wouldn’t be the first time she convinced fools to help her escape my grasp!”

“Well why don’t we just go an’ find out why the Prince is ‘ere? Jus’ ask em’ eh?” Scarlet fired back with a wave of his hand.

Rathbone looked from the shifter to the keep and back again before deciding on a plan. “Look, why don’t you talk to your people, get them ready. We may have a fight on our hands now. I will go and speak to the Regent and see if it is that monster manipulating events, or if it is just a coincidence. Don’t do anything until I return.”

Before the
Lord could stomp away, several shifters in wolf form rushed up to their leader and started barking a report.

“What is it? What are they saying?” Rathbone demanded to know.

They said that girl is no prisoner, she confronted them when they chased a young Risen. She is not alone and was no’ under guard.”

Lord
Rathbone’s eyes went wide in rage, “I knew it damn her!”

Before the enraged
Lord could do or say anything else, Shamus O’Connor stepped up to him and offered to help. “You asked me ‘ere ta help dat girl, so I’ll be commin’ with ya then. Beside I know Prince John; I should pay me respects in person, one King o’ Ireland to another.” With that he winked at Scarlet.

“What about your little John there? Don’t you have to chain him down again?”

“Dat’s Shawn, not John, but yeah, we will get him tied down again in a few. He didn’t say what got so riled up da first time, but I doubt it will happen again.”

Lord
Rathbone glared at the Irish wolf-king, “Right now, I care more about stopping that monster from getting away from me again, so do whatever you have to do but do it fast!” before any of the shifters could respond, the Lord turned and stormed away.

Scarlet put a hand on the Irish King’s shou
lder, “Don’t worry ‘bout yer man Shawn, dis ‘ere is my forest. He cana’ get in ta too much trouble.”

Shamus nodded and smiled, but in his mind he could hear an ominous voice reminding him, that such boasts often seem to return to haunt those who dare to use them.