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    David McLeod
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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In The Prince's Secret Service - 13. The Baron of Agium

The sun was low in the western sky when the companions reached Agium. High stone walls prevented them from seeing much of the city except one spire and a large dome silhouetted against the setting sun. The town was heavily fortified. Guards in overwhelming numbers, accompanied by robed and cowled men, had established a checkpoint. They challenged each traveler who approached the bridge that led across the river to the city gates. There was a line of wagons, horsemen, and people on foot waiting to enter the city. The process was fast, however, and the wait was short.

As was their custom, Alan took the lead and would use his father’s position in the prince’s court as the cover for their mission. “Dismount,” cried a soldier as the party reached the head of the line. They had heard this command echo several times as they waited, and were prepared.

“State your names, place of origin, and business in Agium,” a robed man ordered, and gestured. Kenneth saw the magic fly from his fingers, and identified the pattern as a spell to detect lies.

“Alan of Arcadia, son of Sir Aaron, Lord Silvanus, Privy Counselor to Prince Auric. I bear a letter for Baron Centis. My companion Patrick, late of Arcadia; our Ward and sworn companion, Thomas of Fortmain; our sworn companions James of Bowling Green and Kenneth of Carter, apprenticed to James.”

The Sembler nodded to the guards, who waved the party toward a staging area closer to the bridge. There, a harried guard told them what he must have said a thousand times already that day, “Walk your horses across the bridge and through the city. Curfew is from compline to prime; don’t be on the street during curfew. If you stay more than a ten-day, register with the Secretary of the City at Government Center. Next…” The guard was already turning to the next party in line, a farm family.

The streets of the city were quiet compared to the hubbub at the gate. The few people they saw hurried on their way, seeming to avoid eye contact. Anxious to find an inn before it grew dark, Alan accosted one man, “Please, would you direct us to an inn?” The man gestured, pointing down the street in the direction they were going, and hurried on without saying a word.

“Right unpleasant,” Alan muttered to James, who was closest to him. “Let’s try this one.”

“Good e’en to you; would you direct us to an inn?”

The man broke stride, pointed in the same direction as the previous man, and said, “There,” before hurrying on.

“Well, I guess all we can do is walk,” James said.

As abrupt and brief as the men’s directions had been, they were accurate. After two blocks, the boys came to a corner on which were four inns. In the growing darkness, links or lamps had been raised to illuminate the signs: an ancient knight’s shield bearing a crown; a rose on a stem with one prominent thorn; a teapot and a gold coin; and a broadsword enwreathed with a ruffled band. Alan turned unerringly to the first. As the party approached, a boy dressed in livery and wearing polished black boots sprang from the shadows beside the door. “Welcome to the Crown-in-Shield. Will you stay the night?”

At Alan’s nod, the boy put a silver whistle to his lips and blew a trill. Two other boys, also in livery, ran from the alley, offering to take the companions horses’ reins. Thom shrugged away the boy who reached for the reins of Nimrod, expecting to accompany the boys to the stable to bed down the horses, as was his custom. Patrick caught Thom’s eye. “Come with me, Thom,” the Elf said, holding out his hand. A bit puzzled, Thom gave the reins of his horse to the boy, and took Patrick’s hand.

Alan gave instructions to the uniformed boys regarding delivery of saddlebags. While he did so, Patrick whispered to Thom, “We’re traveling as young gentlemen. Here, we are not expected to take the horses to the stable ourselves. We will visit Nimrod tomorrow morning, and you can tell the stable boys how to curry him, but you mustn’t dirty your own hands.”

Thom nodded. So, this was why Alan bought all those new clothes for us before we left. We’re playing a role…no, not we, just me. The others really are young gentlemen…I’m the one who’ll be in disguise.

The first boy opened the door to the inn and bowed as the companions walked in. A tween, dressed in a similar uniform, but with flashes of gold at his collar, greeted them. “Welcome to the Crown-in-Shield. Will you take refreshment, or would you like to be shown rooms, first?”

“A single room, large enough for five, if you please,” Alan said pleasantly. “We’ll be down to supper after bathing.”

“Of course. Please, follow me,” the boy said, taking a candelabra from a table and walking toward the stairs.

The room was large and elegantly simple. Carefully crafted furniture included a table with six chairs, a writing desk, and two large and comfortable looking beds. The boy who showed them to the room lit not oil lamps, but candles in polished silver reflectors on the walls, and left on the table the candelabra with which he’d shown the way. Within moments, two more uniformed boys arrived with packs and saddlebags, which they carefully hung from hooks behind a carved wooden screen.

When all the staff had left, with silver coins from Alan’s purse, Patrick asked, “How much is this costing us?”

Alan put his arm around Patrick’s shoulder and pulled his companion into a hug. “Always the practical one, you are. Oh, several crowns, perhaps as much as a guinea a night. Don’t worry, though, I fully expect someone else will pay the bill.”

“You’re not going to have the bill sent to your father, are you?” Patrick asked, remembering their first night on the road…was it not so long ago? he thought to himself.

“Hmmm…not a bad idea, at that. He owes me a solstice gift…No, I’m just kidding. In any case, we are young gentlemen, are we not?”

Some of us are, anyway,” Thom muttered, unheard.

James and Kenneth wasted no time in stripping and putting on the soft robes that were on hooks near their packs. The others were not far behind, and the five padded from their room down the hallway to the bath. Rather than having wooden floors, the shower room was covered with decorated tiles. There was a selection of soaps and shampoos. Kenneth sneezed as he opened one that was particularly strongly scented. The boys enjoyed cleaning off the dust of the road.

When they returned to their room, Thom looked askance at the clothes he pulled from his pack. He’d not paid attention when Alan bought them, and looked at them closely for the first time. The tights were silken, dark green; the tunic was a lighter green; a brown suede vest with bone buttons, a belt, and short boots of soft leather completed the outfit.

“I shouldn’t wear this,” Thom said. “I’m not a young gentleman. You leave me here. I’ll find supper in the kitchen where I belong.”

James was the first to reach the boy. Sitting on the bench beside Thom, James put his arm around Thom’s shoulder and pulled him close. “I’m not a young gentleman, either, Thom. And Patrick’s not. And Alan and Kenneth have left the homes where they were young gentlemen and the five of us have joined as companions.”

Alan had walked over and stood in front of Thom, “You don’t belong in the kitchen, Thom. You belong with us, your friends and companions.”

Thom stared at Alan. The tween was wearing an outfit identical to what he’d bought for Thom. They would appear to be brothers, Best Friends, lovers, certainly close companions to anyone who saw them together. Alan would have known that…he must have selected the clothes deliberately. Thom smiled.

“Thank you…thank you all, again,” he said. “Someday, maybe, I’ll get my head on straight. Until then, thank you for helping me keep it on, at all.”

*****

“What do you think of this,” Alan asked Patrick the next morning, handing him the letter that he’d written.

Patrick read, To His Excellency, Baron Centis of Agium from Alan, Son of Sir Aaron, Lord Silvanus, Huntsman

If it please Your Excellency, I hope that you remember your hunting trip to Arcadia two years ago during which you killed a magnificent wild boar and were gracious enough to include this young tween as a companion on the hunt.

I have been entrusted with a letter for you, which must be delivered into your hand, alone. I stay with my companions at the Crown-in-Shield, awaiting your pleasure.

“Nicely put,” Patrick said. It should get a response…now, how should we get it to him?”

“We could to the Temple, identify ourselves, and ask the Senior to get it to him. Certainly the Senior has access to the baron,” James offered.

“There’s a simpler way, and one that will surely work,” Alan said, pulling the bell rope by the door.

Within seconds it seemed, a uniformed tween appeared at the door. Alan handed him the sealed letter, on the outside of which he’d written Baron Centis, and a half-crown. “Please deliver this, and wait for a reply. A crown for you if the reply comes before sext.” The boy seemed to fly down the hall.

“He’ll see that it reaches the baron faster than a cleric could. You see, he certainly knows who among the baron’s pages to bribe and exactly how much to give him to make sure the letter reaches the baron.” Alan chuckled at his companions’ stunned looks. “Well, we young gentlemen do know some things!” Thom dissolved in laughter, which turned into gasping giggles as Kenneth tackled him and began tickling him unmercifully.

*****

The bells had finished tolling sext when the knock came on the door. The tween to whom Alan had entrusted the letter stood, his chest heaving and his face flushed, holding a letter in his hand. Alan handed the boy a gold crown. “Thank you. Well earned. What is your name, please?”

“Michael, an it please you, and thank you, kindly, for I was late.”

“Not late by my reckoning,” Alan answered.

When the boy had left, Alan tore open the letter. Patrick and Kenneth hovered behind him as he read:

Centis, Baron of Agium, to Alan of Arcadia, boon companion and son of my friend,

Welcome to Agium. I was pleased to receive your letter, and look forward to seeing you and your companions tomorrow morning.

A different hand, likely that of a secretary, had added at the bottom, Audience begins at tierce. Show this letter at the gate any time after the second hour.

“We’re in!” Alan crowed. “And, we have the rest of the day to explore Agium and expand our reputation as young gentlemen!”

“Why,” Patrick asked, “does that frighten me, so?”

“Because you know it involves spending money!” Alan replied. “Come on, Thom…try on that second outfit I got you…You too, Kenneth…you’ve got some new clothes you haven’t tried on…James, Patrick, if you don’t hurry, you’re going to be left!”

*****

Dressed as befitted young gentlemen, the companions presented themselves at the gate of the baron’s castle the next morning. The letter from the baron to Alan ensured that they were not only admitted, but also whisked to the front of the line. Apparently the baron did not address everyone who desired to see him as “boon companion.”

When the baron entered the great hall, the usher stamped his staff on the floor and called loudly, “Centis, in Service to the Light, Baron of the Southern Marches and Governor of Agium for Prince Auric.” The few people who were seated rose, and the entire assembly bowed slightly or more deeply depending on their station.

A line of guards filed in to range behind the baron, augmenting those that already stood along the walls and beside each door. The baron seated himself in a plain chair behind a large table at one end of the room. From a side door, two older men in robes entered and stood on either side of the baron.

The usher stamped his staff again and announced, “Alan of Arcadia, and his sworn companions: Patrick of the Elven Kingdom; James of Bowling Green; Kenneth of Carter; and Thomas of Fortmain.”

Having been instructed by the usher, the five companions stepped forward, and stood in front of the table.

“Well, lad, you’re looking very fit. How is your father?” the baron asked.

“Quite well, my lord, when I heard from him last month, thank you,” Alan replied.

“Please give him my regards when next you see him,” said the baron. “You have a letter? From him?”

“No, sir, from another,” Alan said, holding out the letter. One of the two old men gestured quickly, then nodded to the usher, who moved to take the letter. “Wait,” interrupted the baron, “You said into my hand, alone, did you not?”

“I did, sir,” replied Alan.

“Please…” said the baron, extending his hand. Alan stepped forward and handed the baron the letter, who examined it briefly.

After opening the letter, he spread it on the table and read. His face underwent a gamut of expressions. Surprise? Yes, that was there, thought Alan. Shock? Disbelief? Relief? What is in that letter?

The baron carefully folded the letter. “Thank you, Alan, for this letter. Will you and your friends join me for lunch?”

“With thanks, my lord,” Alan said.

The audience was ended, at least for the companions; the usher led them to the back of the room where they stood while the baron dealt—rather peremptorily it seemed—with the other petitioners.

When the last petitioner was dismissed, the baron beckoned to the usher, who then came for the companions. “Follow me, please,” he said, leading them out a side door and down a hallway.

*****

The companions followed the usher to an austere study. A table, similar to the one in the great hall, was at one end of the room. Several comfortable chairs faced it. One rather plain chair stood behind it. Shelves filled with books and scrolls lined the walls. The baron was seated behind the table. “Seal the room, please,” he said, addressing one of the two men in robes. Turning to the companions, he indicated that they should be seated.

“Have you read this letter,” he began, when the spell to seal the room was complete. “No, of course not…it was sealed. Perhaps you should hear what it says.”

The baron read,

From Prince Auric of Arcadia, to Baron Centis of Agium, Greetings.

This letter will introduce five young worthies who have my confidence. Alan, son of Sir Aaron, Lord Silvanus, we both know; Patrick, the leader of this band of adventurers, was apprenticed to William of Dunbar and is personally known to me; Patrick has vouchsafed his companions, Thom, James, and Kenneth (who is the son of His Grace, the Duke of Carter, also known to us both).

On my behalf, these companions have been gathering information about activities of Dark Forces in the South. Most recently, they were tasked to investigate reports of attacks on caravans and farms on the road to Agium, and to deal with the situation as they see fit. You see, my friend, I have not ignored your letter. On the contrary, I have sent the very best that I have. Do not let their apparent youth deceive you.

While they travel under their own names, know that they have a commission from our mutual friend the Pelican and that they are known to consort with certain caravaneers and merchants on matters of trade and commerce.

The baron paused and looked up. “Now you know why the letter was to be given into my hands, alone. Oh, (indicating the two robed men) know you now Baldwin, Senior of the Temple at Agium, and Johan, Provost of the College of Magic. They are my most trusted friends and advisors. You needn’t worry…” He returned to the letter.

I am convinced that Darkness once again is trying to rise in the South where Agium stands as a beacon to the Light. Please take these companions into your complete confidence, and provide them whatever information and aid that they might require.

My best regards to… the baron broke off. “The rest is personal.”

He continued, “You and this letter could not have come at a better time. Yesterday I received word that a caravan from Fortmain was overdue. It’s not the first one that’s been overdue, but it is the first one that included my son, who was traveling home from Arcadia.” The baron’s voice nearly broke as he continued, “He’s but a boy, you see…”

The companions sat silently while the baron composed his features. “I would have honored my prince’s request that I confide in and support you, in any case. What do you know…What are your plans…What do you need? Refreshments, first. A working lunch.”

The baron reached for a bell pull. Johan quickly unsealed the room before a side door opened and a page entered. “Lunch,” the baron ordered, “For eight…wait.” Turning to the companions he asked, “Any requests?”

“Might you have coffee, my lord?” Patrick asked.

“Of course,” answered the baron. “And coffee,” he said to the page.

Between sips of coffee, Patrick described the map he’d copied from Farmer Stoltz. “If we start with the most recent attacks, and track back in time, it’s like an arrow, pointing to the swamp,” he explained the discovery Stoltz had made. “Moreover, the earliest attacks were by Trolls; then Humans and Trolls; then Lizoids, Humans, and Trolls.”

“But Trolls don’t get along with Humans,” interjected Johan. “And Lizoids aren’t aggressive.”

“No, Master Johan, Trolls don’t and Lizards aren’t. At first we thought we had a band of Trolls who recruited Humans and then Lizoids, but my thinking now is that the Trolls, the Humans, and the Lizoids are in thrall to a powerful, Dark mage. It is he who forces this unnatural alliance, and the unnatural aggression of the Lizoids. We encountered some aggressive Lizoids north of Nut Grove, where the Royal Road crosses a lake on a causeway; however, James’ experience in Cross Creek may have more bearing.”

James spoke confidently, “In Cross Creek, within three days of Arcadia, I encountered a Human-Lizoid creature armed with an ancient and Evil magical sword. He had recruited two Human men of low character and was operating a school for fighters, using the school to recruit tweens to his cause. Under the command of a Sea Captain, grandfather of one of the students, a band of local men raided the school. The students were freed, and the Man-Lizard and his aides killed. The sword was taken to the Temple in Arcadia where it was destroyed by Senior Alten and others. Earlier, one of the students had smuggled several talismans from the school; they were examined and found to be permeated with Darkness, as if they’d been used by Evil Mages for some time.”

Baldwin harrumphed. “That was succinctly told, but it is not entirely true.” To the baron’s stunned look, Baldwin continued. “It was James, himself who deduced that the Evil in Cross Creek was centered on the school. He was the instigator of the investigation of the school. It was he who encouraged the rescue first of the grandson of the Sea Captain and then of the other students. And it was James and Kenneth, among others, who aided Alten in the destruction of the Black sword. James, himself, killed the Man-Lizard in fair combat. He was grievously wounded by that Black sword during the final battle at the school. He would have died had Kenneth not been such a skilled and gifted healer.” Turning to the baron, Baldwin added, “I have this information from Alten, himself. When the prince said he was sending you the best he had, he meant it.”

*****

“Here are the locations and dates of attacks that were not on your map. It appears that when added to the map, they will only substantiate the ideas that your secret source developed,” the baron said, sliding a sheet of paper across the table to Patrick. Patrick had not named Stoltz, but had credited another with the original discovery.

“What are these?” Patrick asked, pointing to a sheaf of papers at Baldwin’s elbow.

“Manifests,” Baldwin said. “The list of what was to have been received from the most recently-raided caravan—” He stopped at the look of anguish on the baron’s face.

“Please go on,” the baron said. “There is no way to know what bit of information might be useful…”

*****

The working lunch was a memory and Patrick’s stomach was rebelling at the thought of more coffee, when the conference concluded.

“Where are you staying?” the baron began. “Oh, yes,” he answered his own question, “the Crown-in-Shield. I’ll send a message…to tell them to hold your rooms when you take to the field…and to send the accounting to me. All of it. For as long as you stay.”

Alan glanced at Patrick as if to say I told you so, and then thanked the baron.

“No, I thank you. I have been unable to stop these creatures, but now it seems that there is hope. Not just for the merchants and farmers who are supposed to be under my protection, but perhaps also for my son…”

 

 

Translators’ Notes


The cartouches, and corresponding names of the inns in the city of Agium are: an ancient knight’s shield bearing a crown (the Crown-in-Shield); a rose on a stem with one prominent thorn (Rose and Thorn); a teapot and a gold coin (Pot of Gold); and a broadsword enwreathed with a ruffled band (Sword and Garter).

Copyright © 2011 David McLeod; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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They are fast becoming a force of Light to be reckoned with, and the Baron and his advisors are clever enough to know it.

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Agium itself might be safe for now, but it is surrounded by the forces of Darkness. Hopefully our heroes can save the Baron's son.

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