Heart of the Crown Read online

  And so it begins…

  His uncle disappeared down the hallway, a concerned look on his face. Alric sat back, resting his head against the wall, willing the ale to remain undisturbed in his stomach. He heard a door open, and then the familiar voice of his oldest brother, Alstan.

  "He left early this morning, Father. I doubt he'll show his face around here anymore. There's nothing left for him in Weldwyn."

  His father's voice, deeper but similar to his son's, boomed out, "About time. I can't stand people who work against their sovereign; it's the worse crime imaginable, in my opinion. You must remember that Alstan, for one day you'll be king."

  "Yes, Father," the elder brother replied. "Do you think he'll cause any further problems?"

  "I've made it quite plain in the capital that no one is to support his plan to rebel against the King of Merceria. We can't afford a war right now."

  "Should we be taking precautions?" Alstan asked.

  "I've sent word to the cities on the border. They'll keep an eye out for him. Hopefully, he'll skulk back under whatever rock he crawled out from and never be heard from again."

  "So," muttered Alric, "the usurper has left. I suppose it'll be back to boring again. Pity, I was looking forward to a little excitement, not much happens around here these days."

  He thought back to the joust and saw himself mounted on a large black horse. He was Alric the jouster, champion of all the cavaliers! A hand shook him awake, and he opened his eyes to see the face of his father looming over him.

  "Alric? Are you all right?"

  "Yes, Father," he stammered out, surprised at the interruption.

  "Then get yourself to bed, boy. The last thing we need is a drunken prince passed out in the hallway."

  Alric slowly rose to his feet and stood, wobbling, as he straightened his tunic. "Yes, Father," he said and staggered down the hall.

  "And there," remarked Alstan, "goes the future of Weldwyn."

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  Heart of the Crown

  Heir to the Crown: Book Three

  Paul J Bennett

  Contents

  Map

  1. Alric

  2. News from Court

  3. The Traitor

  4. Treason!

  5. The Court of Wincaster

  6. Plans

  7. Bodden

  8. Revi

  9. Kingsford

  10. Across the Border

  11. Ambush

  12. Ride like the Wind

  13. The Capital

  14. Autumn

  15. Unexpected Visitors

  16. Faltingham

  17. Norwatch

  18. The Battle of the Northern Wood

  19. Loranguard

  20. On the Town

  21. The Rival

  22. Unexpected Events

  23. The Search

  24. The Nest

  25. Chaperone

  26. The Ship

  27. The Recovery

  28. Tivilton

  29. Baron Parvan

  30. Trapped

  31. Riversend

  32. A Strange Malady

  33. Mourning

  34. Trouble

  35. Counter Attack

  36. Aftermath

  37. Farewell

  Epilogue

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  Also by Paul J Bennett

  About the Author

  One

  Alric

  Spring 960 MC* (Mercerian Calendar)

  The dancers moved in harmony across the floor, their slow, measured steps carried out in perfect unison. They were ablaze with colour, for the noble lords and ladies of the Kingdom of Weldwyn vied to outdo each other with their finery.

  Alric was not impressed. He sat, watching their movements, bored with the majesty of it, his young mind filled rather with thoughts of combat and glory. His musings were rudely interrupted.

  "Alric, did you hear me?"

  He glanced up to see the face of his mother, Queen Igraine, looming down on him in disapproval.

  "Sorry, Mother," he answered.

  "Don't sorry me, we have guests to attend to. I know you're young, but you're still a prince, and you have responsibilities."

  "To do what? Dance with the young ladies?"

  His mother's frown grew increasingly intense, and he knew he had overstepped. "Sorry, Mother, it's just that they're all so..."

  "So what?" she pressed.

  "Sycophantic?"

  "Well, what do you expect? You're fifteen, Alric. Your brothers were both engaged by your age."

  "That's not fair, Mother. Alstan is the heir, he had no choice, and you picked out Cuthbert's wife when he was only six." He watched her face soften but knew what was about to come.

  "I'm sorry, Alric," she said. "I know it's a burden, but we are royals, we have responsibilities."

  "And what, exactly, are my responsibilities?"

  "We will have to see," she said, avoiding the answer, as always. "Now, let's get you onto the dance floor, shall we? You have an impression to make."

  He knew he was defeated, as always, but he could never stay upset with his mother for long. Rising to his feet, he straightened his tunic and was about to step onto the dance floor when the music stopped, the melody complete. He glanced about desperately, anything to avoid the attention of Lady Julianne, who was now walking toward him. His eyes rested on his oldest brother, and he moved toward the eldest prince with purpose. Lady Julianne tried to talk to him, but he pretended not to hear and strode past, ignoring her entirely.

  "Alstan," he called out.

  Prince Alstan was standing in a small knot of people and turned upon hearing his name. His face lit up. "Alric? What is it?"

  The young prince had kept walking until he was directly in front of his brother, but now words failed him. He had been so eager to avoid the attention of the young lady that he had stumbled into what perhaps might be an even more embarrassing moment. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Julianne bearing down on him, and he felt a moment of panic.

  "Court," he blurted out, "something about the court."

  Alstan knit his brows, "I'm surprised you heard about that. I didn't think you had an interest in such things."

  Now that Alric was part of the conversation, he dove in, desperate to avoid the unpleasant encounter he had run from. "I was quite fascinated," he said, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. "Tell me more."

  Alstan pursed his lips, and Alric knew he recognized his bluff. Luckily, his brother also knew not to embarrass his family in a public place, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have fun with it.

  "He's coming back tomorrow," Alstan said at last. "You should come by and see how Father deals with him."

  Alric had no clue what his brother was talking about but felt trapped. "What was the fellow's name again?" he asked.

  Alstan smiled, "Lord Garig of Eastwood."

  "From Mercenaria?"

  Alstan leaned in close to whisper, "I've told you before, Alric, they call themselves Merceria now, have done for centuries. If you had spent as much time with your books as your sword, you'd know that."

  Alric blushed. "Of course," he said, "but why would a Mercerian noble come to our court?"

  "He wants to raise a rebellion against his
king."

  Alric snorted, "Father won't go for that."

  "True," said Alstan, "but Father is wise enough not to dismiss him out of hand. He told him to come back tomorrow. He wants to hear his story in private."

  "And by private, you mean..."

  "With his advisors, of course, the usual bunch."

  "So you, as his heir, will be there."

  "Precisely," said Alstan, a smile crossing his face, "but I think you should be there too. It'll do you good."

  Alric was not sure it would be a positive experience, but he had buried himself in his rush to avoid the young lady, and now he was committed.

  "Besides," said Alstan, interrupting his thoughts, "Lord Weldridge will be there."

  Alric's eyes lit up, "Uncle Edwin?"

  "Yes, and I believe he just might have a seat for you at the tourney."

  Alric smiled; a day at the jousts was just what he needed. He heard soft footsteps approaching from behind, but now his mood was joyous at the thought of tomorrow's activities. He wheeled about suddenly to face a startled Lady Julianne.

  "Lady Julianne," he said, bowing deeply, "what a pleasant surprise. May I have the honour of this dance?"

  He took her hand as she looked on in surprise, and led her to the dance floor; Uncle Edwin always said it was best to take the bull by the horns.

  * * *

  King Leofric of Weldwyn sat on a chair at the head of the table as Alric and Alstan entered. The king's eyebrows rose when he saw his youngest son.

  "Alric? Are you ill?"

  It was Alstan who spoke up, "No, Father, I thought he might benefit by coming. Shall I send him away?"

  "No," responded the king, "it's good he's here. He'll give me another perspective. Come and sit beside me," he said, indicating the seats to his left. "Lord Weldridge will be here shortly, and then we'll let our visitor in."

  They sat down and waited while the servants brought wine. Before they could pour, the king interrupted them, "I'll do that. Leave us."

  After the servants left, Leofric turned to his sons, "Listen, but don't interrupt. You may ask questions if you like, but don't accuse and don't comment. We'll feel him out, see what he really wants."

  Alric thought the whole affair was probably going to be a waste of time but nodded his head dutifully. The door opened to admit Lord Weldridge.

  "Edwin," said the king, "good of you to come."

  "Thank you, Sire, it was gracious of you to invite me. And what do we have here, do my eyes deceive me? Two Princes of the Realm?"

  Alric blushed. It was all an act, he knew, and yet he was always glad to see his lordship. Lord Edwin Weldridge was not related by blood, but he may as well have been. He was the lifetime friend of the king, and to the rest of the family, he was simply Uncle Edwin, except, of course, at official functions.

  "To what," Edwin said, glancing at the two young men, "do I owe the pleasure of such grand company?"

  King Leofric spoke, "Alstan thought it might do Alric some good, learning the ways of court and such."

  "Hmm," said Lord Weldridge, "I suspect it's a bit more than that, but perhaps that's a discussion for another day." He looked to the king, "What do we know of this fellow we're about to see?"

  Other than his mother, Alric had only ever seen Uncle Edwin talk so informally to the king.

  "The fellow who's coming to see us is a noble from Merceria."

  "Merceria, you say? Anyone I might have heard of?"

  "I doubt it; a man named Lord Garig. He's a minor noble, but he comes representing the Earl of Eastwood. What do you know of this earl?"

  Weldridge pursed his lips as he often did when thinking. "I believe he's a very powerful man, Leofric, perhaps one of the most powerful men in their kingdom. We'd best listen carefully to what his representative has to say rather than dismiss him out of turn. Are we sure this isn't some type of trick?"

  The king smiled, "I knew you'd say something like that. I've had the Steward of the Heralds check his documents. The seals are legitimate, as far as we can tell."

  "Well then," said Weldridge, "let's get the man in here and see what he has to say."

  King Leofric called out the order, and the door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man with a plump belly and a shortage of hair atop of his head. He stepped forward, bending his knee as he bowed.

  "Your Majesty," he said, "I bring you greetings from the Earl of Eastwood."

  "Please, Lord Garig, arise. Come, sit down, have some wine. We have plenty of time to discuss matters."

  The man took a seat at the end of the table while servants rushed in to provide him with wine. Alric noticed that the maid, Lerna, was serving; the Royal Family had trusted her for years. She would remain during the discussion to look after them, and her excellent memory could be counted on for an accurate account of the dealings.

  "Now, Lord, tell us what has brought you to our court," encouraged Lord Weldridge.

  The Mercerian took a small sip of wine. "Thank you, Lord. I have the esteemed pleasure to offer you the chance to deal with a... let's say, problem, that has been plaguing your border for years." The man looked at the faces around him as he spoke, trying to draw them into his speech.

  "What problem might that be?" asked Alric.

  "Yes, please," said the king, "do explain, my youngest son is not familiar with the politics of Merceria."

  Lord Garig smiled and nodded at Alric. To Alric's mind, the man looked like a serpent preparing to strike, but he sat still and listened, heeding his father's earlier words.

  "There has oft been trouble between Merceria and Westland," the man started.

  "Westland?" asked Alric.

  Alstan leaned close to him and whispered, "That's what they call Weldwyn."

  "Why Westland?" asked Alric, still confused.

  "Think about it for a moment, Alric. Honestly, sometimes you can be as thick as a post."

  The king's glare quieted the elder brother. Alric, finally understanding the name, nodded to himself, pleased with his conclusion.

  Lord Garig, who had waited while the two brothers were whispering, now continued, "As I was saying, there has oft been trouble between our two kingdoms and it is known that the court of... Weldwyn would prefer to have a friendly neighbour. The Earl of Eastwood is proposing just such an arrangement."

  "I see," contemplated the king, "and what would the earl want in return for this friendship?"

  The man took a sip of his wine. Alric watched him closely, realizing he was trying to build courage for his next statement.

  "His Lordship would wish you to support his claim to the throne."

  There was silence at the table as the words sank in.

  "I was not aware," said the king at last, "that the position of King of Merceria was available."

  "Strictly speaking, it is not," agreed Lord Garig, "but King Andred is unpopular, and the people demand someone more... reasonable."

  King Leofric nodded in understanding, "I see. Please tell me Lord Garig, what sort of support would the earl require?"

  "Troops, Your Majesty, to ensure a... smooth transition of power."

  Alric observed the neck muscles tightening on his father's throat; this suddenly had become very interesting.

  "Let me get this straight," King Leofric clarified, "you would like us to send soldiers into Merceria to support the earl's bid for power. Is that correct?"

  Lord Garig sat back, and Alric recognized an obvious look of triumph on the man's face. Little did he know what was about to happen.

  "Precisely," the visitor agreed.

  King Leofric looked to Lord Weldridge and raised his eyebrows. Uncle Edwin looked back, and as their eyes met, the king simply nodded, ever so slightly.

  "Tell me," said Lord Weldridge, "what do you think would happen if a foreign army invaded Merceria?"

  "Why, the people would flock to their side, my lord," said the Mercerian.

  "I doubt it. Instead, they would unite in defense against a foreign inv
asion, and then both Merceria and Weldwyn would be embroiled in a war."

  Alric watched his father as he stood, looking squarely at the man.

  "I will not support this endeavour," he stated. "Weldwyn and Merceria have never been friends, but to act against your lawful king is treason, and I will have no part of it. You will leave our kingdom immediately."

  The man opened his mouth to speak, but Lord Weldridge stood alongside King Leofric, "I think it's time you left. Alstan? Alric? Perhaps you would escort his lordship from the chambers?"

  Alric sprang from his seat at the unexpected mention of his name. So taken by surprise was he that he banged his knee on the table as he stood. He tried to be stoic and ignore the pain, following his brother, only to limp as he went.

  Lord Garig, for his part, kept calm, leaving the chamber to meet his own retinue outside.

  Alric and Alstan watched the man depart; no doubt he would cause trouble elsewhere, but his time in Weldwyn was done.

  Two

  News from Court

  Spring 960 MC

  The brisk wind blowing in from the east cooled the day as Alric joined his uncle Edwin in the Royal Box. Below, the sight of the men armouring up was quite riveting.

  "I hope I haven't missed anything, Uncle," said Alric, peering down at the contestants.