The King, page 26
part #4 of The Jester King Series
Ergyfel turned near the front of the dais when he saw Billy was down and lunged for the kill. Billy scrambled to get to his feet and was caught in the legs of the throne. Ergyfel swung, but his blade struck the dais floor, far short of its mark. It was at this point that the combatants realized Deordrif was conscious and holding Ergyfel’s foot.
Ergyfel struck at Drif with his sword as Billy stumbled to his feet. Ergyfel’s sword clanged against the elf’s armor, and he hopped out of her grip, his momentum carrying him back towards his throne.
Billy was about to attack Ergyfel when Drif yelled, “Duck!”
Billy did as instructed and felt something whoosh over his head. Still squatting, he looked over his shoulder. Snegaddrick stood whirling a large saddlebag. The weight of the heavy bag dragged the ambassador around, twisting his feet and throwing off his balance.
Splash! Gold coins exploded into the air as the heavily laden saddlebag walloped Ergyfel’s back. Ergyfel dropped his sword with a grunt and sailed face first into his throne while Snegaddrick stumbled towards the front of the dais. Drif caught the stout Gwythian’s legs, and he fell off the platform onto his head before Drif finally passed out.
Billy rushed Ergyfel. Before the usurper could push up on the throne arms, Billy booted him in the rear, forcing him back against the seat. Ergyfel spun around on the floor with his back to the chair and made a grab for his sword. Billy kicked him in the face and stepped on his sword hand. He then put his knee into Ergyfel’s chest, pinning him to the throne.
Ergyfel took a swipe at Billy with his troghoul claws, and Billy raised Lura Zahn to block. The enchanted blade severed Ergyfel’s claws and he yowled in pain. He howled in the manner of troghouls and whined as he cradled his wounded hand.
Billy took Lura Zahn and stabbed the seat cushion next to Ergyfel’s neck. Without hesitation, he brought the blade across Ergyfel’s throat and applied pressure.
“Don’t kill me! Please, don’t kill me!”
Billy glared at him. “Don’t kill you?” He applied more pressure.
“Please, please!” A tear ran down his cheek. “Please. I beg you.”
“Give me one good reason I should spare you.”
“Because—because I’m your cousin!”
“That didn’t stop you.” Billy leaned forward to push on his sword.
“Stop, stop, stop! I’m sorry I killed your mother!”
The mention of his mother caught Billy off guard. In the past, when he thought of Ergyfel killing her, all he wanted was revenge. Now that he had revenge in his grasp, it felt insufficient. The emptiness her absence instilled, and the pain since he’d discovered her murder, were together far greater than any single act of violence could undo.
Billy remembered that Hugh had warned him long ago that if Ergyfel ever apologized, it was only because he was up to no good.
“You’re lying.” Billy pushed a little harder.
“She—she never trusted me. She kept after me, keeping me from the king, relentlessly. I had to do it. But even then, I couldn’t do it myself. So I used your father.”
Billy recalled the overwhelming heartbreak when he discovered that his mother had died at his father’s hands. His hatred thrust up through his chest into his throat. The man responsible for so much agony was at his mercy. He adjusted his grip on Lura Zahn, and blood appeared on the eager blade.
“And—and your father.” Ergyfel tried to stall. “I poisoned him, even though he had been kind to me and took me in. I was blinded by ambition. I’m sorry.”
“You put your ambition before Lyonesse! Before your king! Before Kathryn and Gaelyn’s lives!”
“Yes.” Ergyfel attempted to arch away from Billy’s blade. “I had them killed, and I framed you. I see now that was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“Gaelyn wasn’t supposed to die.”
“But with every ounce of your black heart, you ordered Kathryn’s murder, didn’t you?”
“Yes. She had the throne given to her for nothing but her pretty smile. I’m here for years, scraping and bowing, and she walks in, and he hands her the throne? William passed me over without a thought. Made me hate him even more.”
“So you drank your hatred for courage and poisoned your own cousin, the king.”
Ergyfel nodded.
“And Wyte, and all the other innocents you’ve trampled into the dust? The people of Lyonesse! How many thousands has your war pushed into the grave so that you could sit on your throne? How many lives destroyed to build your dais?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m sorry for it all! What more do you want of me?”
“Sorry. Sorry just doesn’t cut it.”
Ergyfel’s eyes grew large and stared at the gallery side of the hall. Billy glanced over but saw nothing there save shadows.
“Caenne,” Ergyfel whispered.
Billy looked to his right again. After a moment, he turned back to Ergyfel. “You killed Caenne, didn’t you? I saw her face in that demon you sent to destroy me.”
“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.
