Spellbinder, p.52
Spellbinder, page 52
part #2 of The Jester King Series
“No! Unclean spirit. Go away. Please, go away.” He closed his eyes and turned away.
Billy watched in amazement as Ergyfel wept.
“I am not your lover. Please ... let me be.” He pulled away as if someone was stroking his face in a bothersome manner. “I’m sorry, Caenne. I had to kill you. Dheumon would have taken Maeven. I had no choice.”
Ergyfel looked Billy in the eyes. “I had no choice. I had to kill Caenne to save Maeven. Don’t you see? I didn’t want to kill her. I swear it. But the demon gave me no choice.”
A ruckus exploded from the grand gallery above. Billy and Ergyfel turned to see the lords and ladies of the court standing at the railing, pounding it with their fists. Many leaned over it to spit insults and curses at their king, others simply to spit. Some shouted for Ergyfel’s death.
“Kill him! Kill him!”
Three armored knights followed by a handful of lords scrambled down the steps from the gallery to the floor. As they approached the dais, the leading knight transformed before their eyes, becoming a coarse, stocky, lopsided fisherman with scraggly wet hair. The air reeked of putrefaction. The lords and ladies in the gallery above gasped and the knights backed away.
The fisherman smiled at Ergyfel with his bulging red eyes and black stained lips.
Ergyfel whispered his name, “Dheumon.”
The sinister old fisherman’s smile broadened. “A parting gift for Your Majesty,” he said with a dramatic bow. Then, without another word, the foul demon collapsed into a dark puddle on the floor and disappeared down a drain, leaving behind only his stench.
The lords and ladies of the court resumed their yelling and cursing and spitting. Billy could barely hear himself think over the hubbub. Their shouts to kill Ergyfel felt like a hammer on his neck and an anvil on his sword hand.
“Quiet!” When at last the hall was still, Billy spoke. “You would have me kill your king? The king you crowned in this very castle!”
“Yes!” they shouted. “Kill him!”
The mob once again erupted in noisy chaos, every soul present clamoring for Ergyfel’s death. Billy looked at their distorted faces and recognized many as the same lords and ladies who had demanded his death at his trial before King William. He then looked at Ergyfel, whose grotesque face was as grim as the gallows. All he could feel was pity.
Billy gave a shrill whistle, and the crowd quieted.
“Ergyfel began his reign ... by killing my father, the king.” He pressed on Ergyfel’s throat with his blade. “It’s true, he deserves death.”
The crowd interrupted Billy with cheers.
Billy shouted over the mob, “If I am to be your king … ”
The lords and ladies became still, and Billy continued. “If I am to be your king ... my reign will be different, starting right now.”
He withdrew his sword, sheathed it, and turned to face the crowd. The lords and ladies stared at him in stunned silence. Whispers grew into mutterings. With each step Billy took away from Ergyfel, the din grew louder. He stopped at the top of the steps to observe their folly. He threw up his hands and started down the steps, shaking his head.
Then gasps and cries reached him from the gallery. Billy looked to his left, and then spun to follow their eyes to the dais behind him. Ergyfel stood above him, raising his sword high over his head. Billy reached for Lura Zahn, and the weapon leapt into his hand. He threw his sword up to block, but in his haste, stabbed the blade into the wooden stage.
Billy glanced down and pulled, but the blade stuck fast. He felt trapped. Ergyfel roared and swung his sword.
A long black blade burst from Ergyfel’s chest. His head fell back as he dropped his sword behind him. The weapon clanked onto the wooden deck. Then, with mouth wide open, he fixed his eyes on the blade in his chest. His hands groped the gory blade, and he turned to see his killer.
Ergyfel wavered, and then retreated a step. His heel caught the edge of the dais, and he fell. Billy dodged out of his way, and the usurper landed on his back at the bottom, driving Drif’s sword through his body to the hilt.
Billy looked to the top of the steps and found Maeven standing with bloody hands clasped over her mouth, tears streaking her face. He stared at the shaking queen, then back to her husband lying at the base of the steps. A tear bled from the dying king’s eye as he gazed upon his wife.
“My love! My love!” Maeven sobbed. “I—I couldn’t let you go on ... knowing what you did to Caenne.” The queen let out an anguished cry and fell to her knees, pulling the hair at her temples. “Please! Please! Forgive me, my love!”
Maeven held out a pleading hand to her husband. He reached for her with a trembling hand.
“I did it to save you.”
Maeven closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. No! No!”
The queen rose up and hurled herself forward onto the blade protruding through Ergyfel’s chest.
Billy’s breath caught in his lungs. It felt as if all the air in the room had escaped. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to breathe. He held his breath until it ached. Then the queen spoke, and he had to look.
“My beloved.” Maeven kissed Ergyfel’s cheek.
Ergyfel sobbed. “No. Not you. Only one ever loved me. I killed you, too.”
“Shhh.” Maeven touched a gentle finger to his lips.
Ergyfel gestured to their surroundings. “I thought all this ... would mean something in the end. But it’s empty ... except for you.”
Ergyfel’s face transformed and, in that moment, he was wholly human. Maeven smiled. Ergyfel smiled. They kissed and were still.
The door at the back of the great hall burst open. King Ergyfel’s page rushed in.
“Your Majesty! Your Majes-ty!”
The youth stood panting halfway between the door and the dais, staring at Billy and the bodies of his king and queen. His eyes wandered to the wreckage on the floor, and the forest of giant trees that circled the hall and the open roof above. His jaw dropped as he ambled forward.
“What news?” asked one of the knights standing near Billy.
The page shook his head and returned his eyes to his king’s body.
The knight demanded, “Lyart! What news?”
Lyart gave his eyes to the knight. “I ...”
“Yes?”
“I come from the wall—” The page’s eyes gravitated back to Ergyfel and Maeven lying on the floor. “I have news ...”
“What news, boy?”
“For the king.”
The knight shook the royal page by his shoulders. “What news?”
“The battle has begun! The Gwythies are attacking.”
Billy looked up at the shattered ceiling and saw blue sky streaked with wisps of cloud. Morning painted golden light on the remaining plaster through the leaves on the column-trees.
The knight nodded to his companion, then turned to Billy. “Forgive me, Highness. We must go. They will have need of us on the walls.”
The two knights and a number of lords headed for the exit.
“Wait!”
The men turned to Billy.
“Hang a red and yellow flag from the top of the highest tower of the donjon.”
“But Highness, … those are the enemy’s colors.”
“It’s the signal to call off the attack.”
The hall broke into pandemonium, as all present looked about and shouted for a red and yellow flag. Most of the lords and ladies ran from the hall or sent their servants scurrying out the door to search elsewhere.
“And somebody get a doctor for my friend!”
Lyart approached Billy and bowed. “I shall fetch the physician immediately, Your Highness.” The page then sped off, dodging rabbit-like between noble and servant alike.
The roar from Hereweald’s army and the pounding of their siege weapons filtered through the broken roof. The frantic search continued for several minutes, but they could find no red and yellow flag.
“You.” Billy grabbed a passing lord.
The man spun, holding his hands up defensively.
“Take off your hose.”
The man was, at first, perplexed, but then dropped his eyes and spied his red and yellow leggings. “Oh!”
Within seconds, the lord’s bare feet were standing on the wet stone floor, and his hose were speeding their way to the highest tower in the castle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
When the Hurly-burly’s Done
Billy sat in the great hall of Orgulous, on the throne of Lyonesse, wearing the crown of his father, King William, which had mysteriously reappeared in its presentation case on the day of Ergyfel’s funeral—an event that had a smaller turnout than the local cheese tasting that same day. Billy’s coronation occurred a respectable three days later, and so many were in attendance that the ceremony had to relocate outside to accommodate them all. Now, one day after that glorious event, all the inns were still full, and a city of tents covered the hills outside Orgulous and Nyraval for the multitude that wished to meet their new king and swear allegiance.
This being the first day he held court, Billy was nervous, but he soon relaxed when he saw all the smiling faces that crowded the floor and gallery of the hall. All evidence of Ergyfel’s reign had been swept away, and the people reveled in the hope and returned glory brought by the heir of their beloved king, William. They also marveled at the colossal trees that now lived in harmony with the great hall, gathering light through an ingenious system of louvers. The initial bramble of branches from these giants had vanished, leaving only smooth, graceful trunks and a lush canopy up top. All else in the hall had been restored to its original grandeur.
Billy took a scroll from a large stack that sat on a table next to his throne. He opened it, scanned it, and then addressed his court.
“First things first. I hereby decree that Lady Myrredith of Cyndyn Hall shall be legally, and in all other considerations, my sister.”
The crowd sizzled with whispers, and Billy gave them a moment to quiet before he continued. However, instead of quieting, the crowd passed through muttering and went straight to buzzing. He held up his hand. When that was unsuccessful, he looked to Hugh, who marched to the middle step of the dais and thumped on the steps with his sword. The heavy thudding soon got the court’s attention.
Myrredith bowed. “Your Majesty, it is too much!”
“You don’t want to be my sister?”
“There are many here who would feel uncomfortable with me as an heir.”
“Let them be uncomfortable.”
“But—”
“Would you give my father this much trouble if it were his decree?”
Myrredith bowed her head. “I suppose not, Your Majesty. Please, forgive me.”
Billy waited until he could see Myrredith’s eyes, and then he smiled at her. “Don’t worry, sister. Once they have time to chew on it, the people will see the wisdom of my choice.”
The new king took another scroll and read it. He then turned his gaze to Hugh. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Sir Hugh, you are hereby reinstated as a knight of this realm and as King’s Champion, with all titles and responsibilities thereof. I also return to you all lands and titles that should be yours by right of inheritance from your mother and father. The word ‘traitor’ shall be stricken from any record found in the kingdom that identifies Sir Sedgemore as such. Furthermore, the name of Sir Sedgemore shall hereafter be spoken with the awe and respect befitting a hero of the realm, and I decree that a history and ballad be written to honor his great and chivalrous deeds.”
“A song, Your Majesty?” Hugh frowned.
Billy looked up from the scroll. “You’re the ones who talked me into accepting this crown. Now that I have, it seems only fair that you listen and accept my gifts and decrees.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“I worked really hard on these!”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Billy handed the scroll to his scribe. “Make it two ballads. Oh, and one for Sir Hugh.”
Hugh shot Billy a dismayed look, which the king reposted with a smirk.
Billy picked another scroll from the pile. “Malcolm the Magnificent!”
Malcolm came forward and bowed. “Would you care for some juggling, Your Majesty?”
“Later.” Billy gave him a grin. “Malcolm, you have been my teacher, my partner, my rescuer, defender, and stalwart friend. There is much I could reward you with if you would stay here in Orgulous.”
“Well, Your Majesty ...”
“But I think you like the road under your feet as much as castle floors, perhaps more.”
“His Majesty knows me well,” the highlander said.
Billy got up from his throne and descended to the bottom step of the dais. “Since you cannot be persuaded to stay, you must have something to take with you on your journeys. Kneel.”
Malcolm looked surprised, but knelt. Billy turned to Hugh and requested his sword with a hand gesture. With sword in hand, he laid the heavy weapon on Malcolm’s shoulder. Then, in rapid succession, he touched his shoulder, the opposite shoulder, and back. This went well until the final blow, which grazed Malcolm’s ear.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry—sorry!” Billy tried hard not to reach out and touch his old juggling master’s ear. He returned Hugh’s sword and crossed his arms.
The court snickered, then someone let loose a guffaw, and all pretense of solemnity fell away. After a brief laugh, Billy raised his hand, and the assembly quieted. He watched as the juggling master felt his ear for blood.
“Arise, Sir Malcolm, Knight of Lyonesse.”
Malcolm rose to his feet with a grin, his hand still rubbing his sore ear. The court let out a loud cheer. “Sir Malcolm! Sir Malcolm! Hurrah!”
Billy backed up to the top of the platform and raised his hand and his voice. “And I also offer you this gift.” He held up three gold balls, each with dozens of star-shaped holes perforating their surfaces. Engraved on each ball were the letters: M.M. “The customary gift for a knight is spurs, but I felt you, and we, would be better served by these. I believe you know how to use them?”
Billy tossed the balls into the air, and bright light shone from the tiny star-shaped holes, splashing dots of light across the entire hall. The crowd gasped, their breath held captive by the dazzling display.
Just before they hit the ground, Malcolm snatched the golden orbs from the air and confined them in his hands like fire stolen from heaven. He then opened his cupped palms to examine his prize. A wide grin spread across his face, as he held the orbs to his chest and bowed to Billy.
As Sir Malcolm strutted back to his place in the crowd, Billy picked up yet another scroll and examined it briefly. “Stitch ... Aeth? Are you here, my friend?”
“Aye,” came a voice from the rear.
All eyes turned to watch as Aeth ambled to the front of the great hall with the aid of a cane. His legs were still crooked, but serviceable, and the bandages were all gone. He kept one hand tucked into his new tunic and wore a patch where an eye should have been. Billy smiled when he realized that Aeth’s new clothes were in Cyndyn house colors and looked very much like those given to him by Lady Myrredith on the occasion of Kathryn’s wedding to Gaelyn. The Lady of Cyndyn stood nearby, nodding to her new friend.
“Your Majesty,” Aeth said with a bow.
“I’m sorry we were unable to undo all the wickedness done to you. Perhaps with more time and knowledge, we can one day do better.”
“My thanks, Your Majesty. I know ya did your best.”
“When last we spoke, you said you weren’t sure what name you wanted to be known by. Have you made a decision? I only ask because this is pretty official stuff.”
The court giggled.
“Derian, Your Majesty.”
“Your father’s chosen name?”
“Aye.”
“You certain?”
“Yes. I grant ya, the reputation of that name needs mendin’, but I’m willin’ to put in the effort.”
“I see.” Billy handed the scroll to his scribe. “With that attitude, I know you’re the best man for the job.”
“Job, Your Majesty? I wasn’t actually looking—”
“I hereby appoint Derian Stitch as Guardian of Dyven. His name shall be added to the charter of noble houses, as a member of my clan, and granted the title of lord.” Billy turned to the scribe and said, “Please, read the rest.”
The scribe stood and read aloud from the scroll as Billy descended to the floor.
“I further decree that money from the royal treasury be set aside for the building and maintaining of Dyven Home, a home for lost children and orphans, which will be under the supervision of the Guardian of Dyven, as advised by the Lady of Cyndyn Hall, with a royal mandate to help lost children and orphans find their way home.”
Billy signaled the scribe to stop and put his hands on Stitch’s shoulders. “It goes on a bit more. The point is that you have a new purpose in life, my friend. All the lost children of Dyven—and this war has made plenty—all of them will be your charge. I want you to find them, and then find them all a home—find them a family.”
Derian Stitch stood before his friend the king with a tear in his eye. He stood as tall and straight as he could manage. Any semblance to the boy Aeth had all but disappeared. He bowed. “It will be an honor to serve, Your Majesty.”
Billy stepped forward, and the friends hugged.
“Derian Stitch, huh?” the ex-pickpocket whispered.
“I thought you’d like that.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“You can call me Billy.”
“Hey, are you taller?”
Billy pulled back and examined himself and his friend at arm’s length. “I suppose I am.” The friends parted, and the king ascended his dais.
“Camion!” Billy announced next. When the giant approached, he continued. “Camion, I appoint you to the office of Harbor Master of Dyven.”
Camion looked askance at the scroll in Billy’s hand.
