This tale has graphic scenes of violence and executions.
The Geography is also mythical.
*
King Marican the Mighty came from a long line of stout men. Great, but very fat warriors.
He fell dead at the Battle of Reunification, without a mark on his body. The songs would marvel about the men he killed that day, only to die from the movement of plaque in his bloodstream. It may not have been the blood sausages that he ate with his dozen eggs and leg of lamb for breakfast, but it did not help.
His eldest son officially became King Corican before the week was done.
His Father and the High Dukes had plans in place for the strengthening of the Kingdom, and they involved both of the Royal sons marrying the two daughters of King Filimond of the Northern Reaches thus bringing the two great families together.
Prince Jerican was two years junior to his brother, but neither had been allowed to marry, while their father schemed for greater power.
I am Sir Corzian of DeVille, though I was not born a Knight, I was certainly destined to be one. I am taller than many horses and broader in the chest than any blacksmith, and I have known many smithys, as they call for my strength when the heaviest of loads need lifting or the hammer strokes have to be harder.
My thick mane of blonde hair makes me look like a Highlander, especially with the red, that only shows in the summer's noon light. I was far from a Highlander though, having been born to a Catana maid that Prince Jerican took to his bed.
Of course I require the biggest of horses, and my armor has to be of the highest quality steel since weight is always an issue with the cast iron that most Squires have to wear. Being the senior concubine son brought my father's wealth to bear, so I am well trained and well armed.
At present time my father, Prince Jerican is first in line to the throne.
If King Corican comes up with a male heir then father would drop to second, and Queen Isabel is large with her fourth child.
The court was alive with rumors and whispers, but no one could know until God decided that it was time.
Since my mother is not of Royal blood, I could never be a Prince, and I had to fight my way to my Knighthood.
"Will there be an Heir born today Coz," the Horseman asked his Master.
"Probably not, Gimpy. Those two sisters from the north can't make a single boy between them," I answered.
"Father and the King have 7 fine Princesses to parlay with other nations for favor, but no Princes that could rule in this one," I trailed off sadly.
"I still say that you are next in line after your Father, Coz. You are the senior man among the Concubine's offspring," Gimpy insisted.
"Don't start on that again, Featherby. You're going to get yourself in trouble, if the wrong ear hears that talk," I cautioned my fellow rider.
I am known by Coz, only to my family and closest friends. Gimpy, my Horseman got his nickname Featherby from me, after he purchased the outrageous ostrich feather and started displaying it in his cap.
"Where are we off to today Coz? You usually tell Pinkee or Robin, who tells me so I'll know whether to pack for a field trip or an estate trip, or a drinking trip..." Gimpy trailed off as he often does.
"We're slipping into Catanaland tonight, old friend," I replied. "My mother sent word and I didn't get it until this morning.
"So it's two nights in the field, or can we stop at the Forest Inn for a night?" Gimpy asked me, hoping for the soft bed in the hotel and maybe the warm body he might parlay. His feather hat had enticed quite a few bar wenches over the years.
"Neither, I'm afraid her message said come right away, but there was also a secret mark that means - hurry. So we will have to do it in one night, my Horseman," I instructed my childhood friend.
I heeled my steed into a gallop to emphasize the need for haste, but we would not be able to keep up a-trot for two days.
"Let's get two more horses from the River Armory so we don't overly stress our friends," I commanded my Horseman.
"Yes Sire," Gimpy mumbled, no doubt thinking about the austere conditions at the Catanaland monastery where my mother, Lady Syrma lives. No one drinks or fucks there.
I used my father's stamp to commandeer the extra horses while Gimpy picked out the best two from the stable.
This bridge is the border point to my mother's land, and though we are at peace, there will always be a small force here.
"Oh No!" the Holder of the Gate cried out when he saw the horses.
"Must you take both of my Captain's horses?" His face suggested that he would be blamed even though I had rank over any Captain.
I flipped him a coin.
"Either pass that along with my thanks, or keep it and take the beating," I instructed the man.
He bit it, as most men do to make sure it's not wooden, then slipped it in his pocket with a smile and a tip of the hat.
There are no barracks or gates on the east side of the river. People and trade cross this bridge freely.
We kept a steady pace, with my skilled Horseman in the lead. That gave me the opportunity to think about what lay ahead, while my horse just followed.
Mother's note also contained a symbol of danger, but I could not know if it was for me or her.
It was dark for hours but I recognized the barn that Gimpy picked out for our escape from the rain.
The farmer came out and offered his home, but I assured him that the barn would be best, so we could keep the dirt of the trail from his abode. This was not a simple farmer, though he did till the soil, his real job included loyalty to my father and his Royal family.
"Doesn't this farmer have daughters?" Gimpy grumbled as he made my bed in the loft.
"You know he has four, but they are all children," I told my hot blooded friend.
"Well, he takes enough money from your father that he should honor you with his wife or a sister!" he grumbled.
"If we have the time on the ride home, we'll stay a night at the Forest Inn," I offered, then I pulled my cover over my head and slept.
The farmer woke me, but Featherby already had the horses ready.
"The misses made you some breakfast that you can eat a-horse, but you are most welcome at our table if you have the time my Lord," the farmer gave a sack to my finely feathered servant.
"Thank you, Kilrad, but we must decline your offer and hurry to our duty," I responded. "Please thank your wife for us."
This day would be a long one, with the wind starting in our faces.
After 4 hours of quiet riding, Gimpy indicated that we needed to stop.
"One of the Captain's mares has gas from eating while we ride," Gimpy explained. "He didn't train them for that, is my guess."
"You are the horse expert," I said, acknowledging the need for a delay.
I marvel at how well a Horseman knows his craft. How to dress them with armor is hard enough, but their health is another matter altogether.
My Horseman massaged the flanks of the large beast with broad firm strokes, while I had to dismount myself. Of course I could have traveled with my entire crew; Harold the Herald, the twins Pinkee and Robin, and Jon my Page but that would have involved at least a dozen horses and then a wagon would probably be smart... Not very fast, and certainly not quiet.
"I am going to have a word with that Captain when we return Sir," Gimpy grumbled. "They're not even shod correctly for the season," he complained.
We again mounted and continued at a slightly slower pace. Featherby would assume that riding them into the ground was not in the plan, and I was not going to order that, in case the danger warning from mother was for me. We would need our horses fit if we came upon a trap, or a large group.
Even without armor, the two of us would be hard to take down, unless you had longbows, and skilled archers.
In the forest, archers did not have the edge, so we kept to paths in the woods and skirted the sides of meadows and pastures.
"We will be taking the quiet approach, Featherby," I shouted to my path finder.
"You mean the one your Father uses when he comes for a secret fuck?" Gimpy boldly responded.
"You are referring to the Prince and Lady Syrma?" I challenged my impudent friend.
"Yes sire," he continued with his improper reference to my royal lineage.
"You must give me my due respect, Horseman, though you may have saved my life a time or two, I wouldn't want someone to slice your throat before I could stay their hand," I instructed my wayward friend. A child could call his father sire, but a citizen would never call a person of Nobility by the title of Sire, which is always reserved for Royal Lineage.
"Yes my Lord," he sang and mumbled some more that I easily ignored.
When we got to the farmer's house we headed straight to the stable. I thought the horses were making odd noises, but Gimpy was ahead of me so I let him think on it.
"Let me go silently to the house Coz, something doesn't feel right," Gimpy whispered, then without an answer he hustled around the stable.
I loosely wrapped the reins around the rail so the horses could drink, but none of them drank when they heard the hiss of my sword being drawn from the scabbard. The Captain's horses were trained a little better than Gimpy suggested, as they stood ready for a command, nostrils flaring as they drew in breath, but mostly silent.
There were no screams from the farmer's house, but I watched my Horseman wipe blood from one of his knives before he pushed them into their sheaths. He came towards me fast from the back door of the house.
I could not detect any other threats, and the horses only showed alertness to their Horseman, so I carefully pulled the stable doors open, in case there was a threat hidden inside.
