KindredChapter2

Chapter Two

The corridors of the castle lay under a heavy blanket of silence. For days the Kings temper had
been increasingly uncertain, and several servants and more than one guard bore the scars of his
displeasure. A page, not yet 8 years old, had been whipped for spilling a cup of wine as he handed it
to the king. A guard's body hung from the gate, headless; He had addressed the king by his fathers
name when surprised on guard-duty.

In his chambers, the king sat brooding by the fire. Reports had come to him, telling of peasants
disappearing, packing their belongings and stealing away. He knew they were going to his brother's
colony, and he pondered how to stop them and bring the colony back under his control. It had been
a bad winter and there had been late rains in the spring, drowning much of the wheat crop. Famine
was a real possibility and the people were on the edge of rebellion. The news from the colony did
not help. Their reserves from the year before (a bumper crop) had brought them through the winter
easily, and the irrigation system had protected this year's crops.

How dare his pathetic brother be credited for this prosperity! The king KNEW that the Elves had
used their evil magic to protect the crops and probably blighted his own to spread discontent and
revolution. His advisers and priests had advised and prayed to no avail, starvation seemed a real
possibility by fall, and the winter looked to be a disaster coming at the kingdom with the force of an
avalanche. The King was a tall broadshouldered man, with hands of iron grip. He KNEW that if he
could only get a grip on the people who followed his brother he could control them as easily as he did
his horse. He forgot, for the moment, that he wore out horses at a rapid rate with his hard handed
riding.

A knock sounded against the heavy oaken doors.

“What is it!” The king yelled.

The doors slowly opened and his chief advisor, Lord Gardel, peered fearfully into the room.

“Well?” The troubled monarch shouted.

“What disaster has struck now fool?"

“My King, It is not bad news” the Lord seemed to be trying to be cheerful but a shadow of fear was
on his face.

“If it is good news why do you look like a scared child who has broken his fathers best drinking horn?”

“Your brother, the Lord Mithel, has sent word that a train of 60 wagons loaded with wheat are on
their way to us in our time of need. He writes that he is proud to say that he has such a surplus of
grain that he sends us ample to see us to the new planting with enough to spare that all may have full
bellies for the winter. He also writes that They are sending 1/4 of their income from trading grain to
the neighbor kingdoms as a gift in recognition of the legacy of their “parent” kingdom. The courtier
shied as though the king’s fierce gaze was a blow.

The King sat silently, seeming to grow larger as the blood flushed his face and his hands began to
tremble.

Gardel was sure he was about to be ordered hanged, whipped or worse.

“Well “ the king said softly “we must show our appreciation to my dear brother.”

Gardel Shuddered, worse than the king in a rage was the king speaking softly.

“Get out!” Said the king “I have to decide just how to show our gratitude.”

Gardel fled quickly, glad to have escaped for now.

So my dear little brother is prospering, the king thought, I must see if I can influence him to form a
closer tie between our kingdoms. The king laughed and began to read the latest reports from his
spies in the colony. Riding in the forest alone? He mused. My, I hope that nothing should happen to
them! With his cruelest smile still on his lips the king began to draft a letter to his chief agent in place.

The dawn came early, waking the sleeping group of traders, guards and drovers. The train of grain
and craft goods had been traveling for two days, another should see it over the border of the
kingdom. Taren watched the sky lighten and listened to the birds singing in the trees. He had been
awake for several hours, nervous and exited about seeing the kingdom about which he had heard so
much. Lord Mithel, looking out of his tent, saw the boy sitting beside the banked cook-fire.

“Father, Will I really meet the court and King?” Taren asked anxiously.

“Yes, Son.” Mithel said. “You will surely see the King and I think he will have much to say to you.”
Mithel seemed to be saddened by this but Taren never noticed and rushed on with many questions
about the palace and Mithel’s life within it’s walls.

The company formed up after a light breakfast and as the sun rose over the hills, started on the final
leg of their journey to the old kingdom. As the last wagon passed out of sight, two dark figures
emerged from the forest to confer. Then one followed the train at a distance while the other ran to
where his horse was hidden to gallop by hidden paths to the ambush ahead.

Copyright 2005 by Guy R. Whitney All Rights Reserved