The Lion's Crown (The Emberlyn Chronicles Book 1), page 4
“Damaged his mind, Your Majesty?”
“He is simple. An idiot.”
“I am to take an idiot with me?”
“Morien thinks it best.”
“I only relay what my divinations tell me,” Morien said humbly.
“So two of the five are settled,” the king said. “Morien will decide upon the other three. He will work from a list of knights here at my court. He said that you, the expedition leader, are the most important, after all, and that any number of knights might be suitable enough to round out the party.”
“This man from the Bleaklander village… he has already agreed to go?”
“He has not,” said the king, “but you will take a royal order with you. No subject of mine can deny my will.”
William frowned at this but remained silent. He didn’t know the exact condition of the man who’d gone into the Hobswood, but what if he didn’t have the capacity to understand such a thing as a royal order? He might not know who his sovereign was or even understand the very concept of a king. Worse, if he wasn’t at all clever, he could be a liability on the expedition. William looked up into the bright, excited eyes of the king. He knew any argument was pointless; the king’s mind was settled, and William’s fate had been decided. The best thing to do now would be to embrace it. To do otherwise would only make his mission that much more difficult.
Chapter Five
The House of Emberlyn
After his visit to the observatory, Sir William learned from Quentin that he was to attend the king’s feast. Nothing about a feast had been mentioned to him before, and so far all his meals had been taken alone in his room. He got the impression the king liked to keep the people at his court unbalanced.
William spent the afternoon in the garden, hoping for another encounter with Ivy, but she never appeared. When he was led to the great hall for the feast, however, he spotted her immediately. The king, Morien and a few other men sat at the head table. At the table to the king’s left sat Ivy and seven other stunning women—the king’s concubines. King Edward had yet to take a wife, and William now saw why he wasn’t in any hurry. The lack of a male heir was an issue of great concern for everyone else in the court, he knew, but at least the king did have a younger brother. The House of Emberlyn would continue if Edward died before siring a legitimate son.
William found himself at the long table to the king’s right, directly opposite Ivy. She smiled at him as he sat, and he returned the smile, but briefly. He wasn’t familiar with court etiquette. Was flirting with the king’s concubines permitted? The king seemed like a generous, affable man, but when it came to things such as this, there was no telling how he might respond.
William forced himself to pull his gaze away from Ivy. The low-cut dress she was wearing gave him a generous view of her breasts, and the moment she’d seen him, she’d leaned forward over the table, teasingly. Any respectable lady would not have been able to wear that dress in public, but the concubines lived by different rules. They were there for the pleasure of the king, not for propriety.
Every other time William had passed through the great hall, it had been cold and empty. Now blazes roared in the cavernous fireplaces behind the king’s table, on either side of the door to the throne room, and embroidered orange tablecloths had been laid out. A row of silver candlesticks ran along the length of each table. Dozens of candles had been lit in the candelabra hanging in the center of the room, and the large candles in the wall sconces were likewise aflame. William had never been in such a brightly lit room at night. One could almost believe the sun was still shining, sending shafts of light in through the tall windows on either side of the main entrance.
He looked up and discovered why he had this impression: in each corner of the great hall, enormous silver-colored bowls had been polished to a mirror finish. Torch-bearing sconces hung in front of each of these bowls, and the light was reflected and cast toward the center of the room. The feasting hall in his own home was like a dungeon in comparison to the splendor of Granisle Castle.
When everyone was seated, the king stood, and all eyes turned toward him. “This feast,” he said, “is held in honor of Sir William Carlyle.” The king turned to William.
William stood and bowed.
“Tomorrow, Sir William is to lead an expedition into the great Hobswood Forest!”
A murmur rose up from the tables, and William furrowed his brow. He hadn’t been told he was to leave in the morning; he supposed Morien had decided that was the most auspicious time for it. That would also mean the rest of his companions had been selected.
Sure enough, the king began introducing the three men seated to William’s right: Sir Harold Swift, Sir Stephen Laurenge and Sir Alfred Pierce. William had but a moment to greet the men before the king continued speaking.
“I know this task will be difficult and dangerous. But know, knights of Emberlyn, that the good will of your king goes will you. The good will of all of Emberlyn goes with you!” The king raised his wineglass. Everyone in the hall raised theirs as well and joined the king as he drank to the health of the knights.
After the speech, William was relieved when the focus shifted away from him. Great platters piled high with breads, cheeses and fresh fruits were brought out and laid on the tables. William spoke lightly with Harold Swift, the man directly beside him, but before he could learn much about the knight, the rattle of a tambourine silenced the room. From a side door entered a dozen slender women dressed in sheer silks. They were clothed in the style of the nomadic people far to the west, beyond the borders of Gronstave, but the fabric they wore revealed much more than would have been acceptable for everyday wear. Sir William could see every intimate detail of their bodies, and he had to force himself not to stare too blatantly. One of the women looked as though she might be of those nomadic tribes, and he let his eyes graze across her dusky flesh again and again as the women danced. A band of four men had begun playing from the balcony on one side of the hall. They played the dancing women through three songs, each faster and more exhilarating than the last, and when they had finished, the women were breathing heavily and glistening with sweat.
The crowd roared their approval as the women bowed to the king and departed the way they had come. William looked back across the room after watching the women go and saw that Ivy’s eyes were on him. A knowing smile played across her lips, and he knew it might be his fevered imagination, but it seemed like her dress was now pulled even lower across her breasts.
A few minutes after the dancing girls departed, the next course of food was brought in. As William helped himself to a bowl of steaming vegetables and an entire goose leg, a man carrying a lute stepped into the center of the room. He strummed his lute and began to sing in a high, haunting countertenor. It was a song William knew well—a song he imagined nearly everyone in the kingdom knew well. It was the tale of the Ember Lion.
It told the story of Edward the First, who was able to unite the warring Eastern Kingdoms into the great Kingdom of Emberlyn. It was said that his bravery came from an encounter he had the night before the Second Battle of Granisle, the battle during which Edward’s forces finally defeated the army of Charles the Bastard, Edward’s last adversary. Charles, an illegitimate claimant to one of the thrones of the Eastern Kingdoms, had raised an army of peasants and mercenaries, hoping to recover his now-dead father’s lands. The two forces met at Granisle.
King Edward stole away from his camp at night and made his way to a small wood that once stood by the banks of the Deerford River. There, he went to his knees and prayed to the Fire Star, which blazed directly overhead. As he prayed, a sound startled him, and he turned his gaze from the sky to see an enormous lion watching him. Its fur was the color dark ash, and under the fur, the creature was aglow, as though embers burned beneath its skin. Its eyes likewise burned with an orange fire.
Certain he was about to be attacked by this creature, Edward sprang to his feet and drew his sword. But the lion only bowed its head, turned and disappeared back into the woods.
In the morning, Edward led the victorious cavalry charge against Charles’s forces, scattering them and capturing Charles. From that point onward, Edward took the name of Emberlyn for his family and his kingdom, and the Ember Lion was said to watch over the land from its home on the Fire Star, ready at any moment to aid Edward’s descendants.
The court applauded the singer as he finished the ballad. William looked toward the high table and saw a tear run down the king’s cheek. Whatever forgotten poet had composed the song, his opus still had the power to move a king to tears.
The bard sang one more song, an upbeat, raunchy ballad about a farmer and his twelve libidinous daughters. They all knew this one as well, and the crowd joined in on the verses. After he took his bow, the band in the balcony began playing light, pleasant music and continued to do so through the next three courses. William talked a bit more with the knights who were to accompany him. They were all from Granisle and had grown up in the king’s court. Sir Harold was openly friendly and welcoming of William; he was a knight but seemed simple in his ways, from what William could tell from their conversation. Sir Stephen was handsome and dressed in clothes fine enough to rival the king’s. Almost immediately he began boasting of his sexual exploits, pointing out various women of the court he’d seduced as he drank cup after cup of wine. And Sir Alfred Pierce was quiet and thoughtful, with a thick black beard and a somber gloom about him. Despite their differences, William decided they seemed like good, brave men. The real test, however, would come when they stepped foot inside the forest.
When the meal was finished, everyone stood and faced the high table as the king rose and departed. To avoid a jam, he and the others seated farther in waited for the people at the tables nearer the doors to leave. Before William could move from his spot, however, Quentin was by his side. “If you’ll follow me, Sir William.”
William glanced over at Ivy. She was watching him again. He bowed slightly to her then went off after Quentin, who was already passing through a doorway at the side of the great hall. After a moment William knew Quentin was leading him back to the tower where Morien’s observatory was located. As before, he was let in, and the door was shut behind him. The large doors in the ceiling were open. Now, next to the ladder, were two long poles with hooks on them. Looking up, William saw that the doors could be pushed back into position with the hooks while another man on the ladder pushed the crossbar back into place.
The telescope had been moved to the center of the room, and King Edward was standing next to Morien as he looked into it, turning the wheels of the device. “Here, Your Majesty,” Morien said, stepping aside.
The king waved William forward then looked into the eyepiece of the telescope. He let out a breath. “It never ceases to amaze me. Come look, Sir William.”
William stepped up to the telescope and looked through it. The Fire Star was sitting to one side, slowly moving out of view. Through the telescope, he could see details that weren’t visible to the naked eye. The Fire Star, he saw, had features like that of the moon: mountains and valleys. No wonder it was said the Ember Lion lived on the Fire Star; like the Moon and like the Earth, it was a true land, not a point of light like all the other stars.
“It’s gone,” William said.
“Allow me,” said Morien. He looked through the telescope and slowly turned one wheel, then another. The shaft of the telescope shifted almost imperceptibly. “Look now,” he said.
William looked back through. The Fire Star was now centered in the lens but still steadily moving to one side. He watched it until it disappeared once again then took his eye away and looked at King Edward. “It’s remarkable.”
Edward smiled. “I thought you might appreciate seeing it this way. And I wanted you to see it so you would know that the Fire Star is a real place. There must be seas and continents and forests. Maybe even men and kingdoms. I wanted you to know that so you would understand what Morien said: look to the Fire Star for guidance. You are going into the Hobswood at your king’s command, and the Ember Lion will watch over you.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I saw you speaking with the knights who are to accompany you.”
“Yes. They seem to be good men.”
“Morien chose well.”
“I did not choose,” Morien said, his eye back at the telescope. “I merely read the signs.”
The king reached into a pocket of his coat and withdrew a few folded pieces of parchment and a small pouch. “Here is some money to pay for the care of your horses after you reach… what was the place called, Morien?”
“Fenhold Village.”
“Yes, Fenhold Village. That is where you will find the boy who went into the wood. There is enough to also pay the boy’s family to take him away.” He held out one of the parchments and unfolded it. At the bottom was a wax seal bearing the impression of the king’s signet ring: a rampant lion surrounded by flames. “This is the order permitting you to take him.” He held out the other parchment. “And this is an order for any and all persons you meet to obey your commands. Any who do not will be charged with treason against their king.”
William nodded and took the pouch and the papers.
“You will leave in the morning. Quentin will wake you at the appropriate time. This, Sir William, is the last I will see of you until you return.” King Edward held out his hand, and William kissed the signet ring.
“Good bye, Sir William,” said Morien without looking up from his telescope.
“Good bye, Morien. Good bye, Your Majesty.”
William bowed, took one last curious look around the observatory and then departed. Quentin was there to lead him back to his room, and after the servant left, he began to undress.
A giggle wafted toward him from a screen in the corner. He reached for his sword but paused as Ivy emerged from behind the screen dressed in an airy nightgown.
“My lady?” he said, but no further words were needed as she swiftly crossed the chamber and wrapped her arms around him.
“Remember what I told you? That no man should go into the Hobswood without a kiss?”
“Yes?”
“He shouldn’t go without this either.” She reached down for his hand and brought it up to her breasts. His lips found hers, and they fell back together onto the bed. They kissed for a long minute as he ran his hands over her body.
“Have you a wife?” she asked as their lips parted.
He shook his head.
“Have you been with a woman?”
“Yes. But none as lovely as you.”
She grinned as she ran her hand across his stomach, slipped it beneath his shirt and brought it back up toward his chest. “Tell me about them.”
William fixed her gaze. “The other women I’ve been with? Why?”
“Because I asked.” Her grin widened. “Why, Sir William! Were they… prostitutes?”
He arched his back and let out a breath as her nails scraped across his chest and back down toward his abdomen. “No,” he sighed as her hand delved beneath his belt. “Not prostitutes. One was a sweetheart when I was sixteen. And the other….”
“Yes?”
“I am ashamed to say.”
“Why?”
“She… she was a servant in my household. Older than me by a few years but pretty. I… I feel I took advantage of her.”
“Did she enjoy it?”
“I think so.”
Ivy’s hand moved deeper into his trousers. “Then I see nothing wrong.” She leaned back down and kissed him again. Her lips moved down his chin and to his neck. “And is that all?” she mumbled. “Only two?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She withdrew her hand from his trousers and lifted up his shirt. When his chest was exposed, she began kissing her way down to his stomach.
“Will you be punished if we’re found out?” he asked, fumbling to completely remove his shirt as she sat back up, straddling him.
“We won’t be found out.”
He hesitated as he thought about what might happen, but when she lifted her nightgown over her head, exposing her smooth white body, he lost the will to argue any further. She dropped down beside him with one leg bent and her hands at her breasts, cupping them as he scrambled to his feet. He stripped away the rest of his clothes, climbed back onto the bed and pressed himself against her. She parted her legs and arms to welcome him, and within moments, all his fears had been forgotten.
Chapter Six
Night Watch
The watch from the night before hadn’t reported anything unusual. Still, the next evening, almost everyone in Fenhold Village gathered at the meeting-house. They wanted the comfort of community. Many had brought peat from their own homes, and before long they had a cheerful fire blazing in the pit in the middle of the building. Penny sat with Owen; everyone else gave them a wide berth. The men on the night watch occasionally reported back that nothing had yet been seen, and as people began to relax, Mary Briar clapped her hands. Everyone turned to her. Mary was one of the oldest women in the village and the keeper of the village’s stories. Beside her, her daughter Jane also turned to look at her mother. Every time Mary told a story, Jane was there, listening, remembering, preparing for the time when she would take over as the storyteller.
“In the days before the rise of the House of Emberlyn,” Mary began, “the creatures of the Hobswood walked freely amongst men. Hobs were the most common. They’d come out from the wood and, if you were kind to them and left them a bit of food and ale, they would mend things while you slept. If you treated them cruelly, they would break whatever they could lay their tiny hands upon.
“One day, a man from the village went out onto the bog to dig peat. He saw a hob there, buried to its neck in the mire and unable to move. The hob cried and cried for help, but the man hated the hobs, and he stood and watched it sink deeper and deeper into the mire. He laughed when finally its nose sank beneath the water and it drowned.
