Chapter Seven
They were all lined up with their stick horses and leaf banners.
King Alfie was delivering commands.
Markus stood at the gate leading into the kitchen yard, grinning at the sight.
While his father was over near the gatehouse speaking with Anson and Damien, Markus was wandering the grounds, looking for any sign of insurrection.
He saw Hermes and Shand over near the stables, and young Kieran was with them, which gave him confidence that Shand was being contained for the moment.
Markus could wander, unhindered.
He’d heard a child shouting when he’d neared the kitchen yard, peeking inside the gate to find Alfie and his guard.
They weren’t hard to miss. The children had crowns of vines on their heads.
In one case, one of the boys was wearing an old bucket with part of it pulled away so he could see, and they all had weapons or shields they’d fashioned out of scraps they’d come across.
The horse guard in all its regalia.
As Markus watched, Alfie drilled his guard – first they went one way in a line and then they’d turn about and go the other way, all in a line.
One of the boys tripped, and the two children following him fell over him.
It ended up a pile of children in the dirt as Alfie stood over them, hands clasped behind his back, and told them to be more careful.
He had a big stick in his hand that he waved around, but he made no attempt to strike anyone.
And then there was the goose.
As the children marched in a line, a fat, white goose followed.
When the children moved faster, the goose moved faster.
When the children turned around and headed towards the goose, the bird would honk and rush out of the way only to continue honking at the children as it once again attached to the rear of their guard.
The best part came when Alfie would yell at the goose and shake his stick at it, only to have the goose chase Alfie.
Poor King Alfie ended up running a lap around the kitchen yard with the nasty goose chasing him.
He would finally take a stand and shake his stick at the goose again, who would waddle away and pretend it had business elsewhere.
It was some of the best entertainment Markus had seen in a long while.
He stood there and laughed as Alfie and the goose fought for control of the horse guard. The lap around the yard happened twice and at the end of the second go-around, Alfie caught sight of Markus standing in the open kitchen gate. He came to a halt.
“Sir Knight!” he yelled. “You will join my horse guard!”
Grinning, Markus entered the yard, heading towards Alfie and the gang of children who had come to a halt as the massive knight approached. They cowered somewhat, unused to seeing strange knights.
But Alfie was brave. He pointed to the children behind him.
“You will have a place of honor in my horse guard,” Alfie said. “You will be my champion.”
Markus’ eyes twinkled at him. “You are a king,” he said. “Don’t you already have a champion?”
Alfie looked at a servant boy, perhaps eight or nine years of age, wearing the old bucket on his head. “Just Aldwin,” he said. “You will fight him and the winner will be my champion.”
Markus looked at Aldwin, whose eyes widened to enormous proportions. The terror in the child’s face was evident at the prospect of a fight against a real knight and Markus fought off a smile.
“Sir Aldwin,” he said formally, dipping his head to the boy. “I surrender to you. You may continue to be King Alfie’s champion, for I am certain that you are far greater than I.”
The declaration did nothing to allay the terror on Aldwin’s face. “But I dunna even have a real sword!” he cried.
Markus put his hand over his mouth so the children wouldn’t see him grin. “You will need one as King Alfie’s champion,” he said. “Mayhap I will see about having one made for you. But there should be more than one knight. A king needs many knights.”
Aldwin looked at two other boys near his age, skinny and blond. “Bartram and Manley are knights,” he said, pointing to the pair. “We have taken an oath.”
“Is that so?” Markus said. “What oath is this?”
“All hail King Alfie the Bold. We say those words and we are knights.”
Markus nodded; an oath was an oath, even among servant children, no matter what the words were.
“Alfie the Bold, indeed,” he said. “Make sure you serve him well.”
The three boys nodded eagerly, looking over the enormous knight and a little more comfortable with him now that they had engaged in conversation.
They began to study him, looking at the massive broadsword strapped to his leg, the assortment of daggers on his waist, the mail coat he wore that went to his knees, and the leather boots that covered up his feet and calves.
It was fascinating.
“The sword,” Aldwin said, pointing. “It has a dog’s head.”
Markus looked at the sword that was longer than some of the children were tall. He put his gloved hand on the hilt.
“Not a dog,” he said. “A wolf’s head. My family name is de Wolfe.”
The boys were brave enough to come a little closer. Even Alfie came closer, all of them looking at the exquisite wolf’s head with the ruby eyes. Then, he looked at Markus’ tunic and pointed.
“The wolf head is on your tunic,” he said. “Is it everywhere, then?”
Markus nodded. “Everywhere,” he said. “I even have it on my body, a mark of the House of de Wolfe.”
That brought great interest from Alfie and his knights. “What kind of mark?” Alfie asked. “Is it burned on you?”
Markus shook his head. “It is drawn on,” he said.
“In ancient times past, it was called a stigmata. It is a mark, a picture of something, that is made with something sharp upon the skin. Then, an ink is put in the little wounds that make the mark permanent. When I take off my mail, I will show you. It is the de Wolfe’s head, the mark of the grandsons of William de Wolfe of Castle Questing. ”
Alfie was fascinated by the suggestion of a permanent mark upon the skin, but something else in Markus’ conversation caught his attention. “Castle Questing,” he said. “That is where Atlas lives.”
Markus nodded. “He serves at Castle Questing, the heart of the de Wolfe empire,” he said. “But there are other castles, too. Berwick is one and that is my father’s castle. It is by the sea.”
Alfie’s eyes lit up. “I want to go there,” he said. “I want to take my horse guard and go to the castle by the sea. Is that where you live?”
Markus nodded. “I do,” he said. “I live there with my mother and father and brothers and sisters. But I am not going to be there much longer.”
Alfie looked at him with concern. “But why?”
“Because I am going to London to protect King Edward.”
That brought expressions of awe from the children.
Even the little girls, who were wrapped up in vines and dried flower garlands, seemed impressed.
But the goose suddenly appeared and tried to nip Alfie, who howled and lifted his stick to the goose.
It was a standoff because the goose wouldn’t run away until Alfie told his horse guard to go vanquish the evil dragon.
But it was really a goose.
The horse guard proceeded cautiously, and for good reason.
“Ow!”
Aldwin was on the receiving end of a goosey pinch as Markus stood there and snorted.
He was, however, wise enough to back away because even he didn’t want to tangle with the big goose.
He had a feeling slaying it in front of the children might not be well-met.
He watched four boys try to fend off the aggressive fowl, turning his head away so they wouldn’t see him laugh.
As he did, he caught sight of his brother, Cassius, over at the yard gate.
“Cass,” he called, waving an arm. “Come over here.”
Cassius de Wolfe was eighteen months younger than Markus.
He had his mother’s blue eyes, quite the handsome lad, but he had curly hair when no one else in the family did.
Everyone else had straight hair, or hair with a slight wave to it, but Cassius’ hair was silky and kinky, in ringlets that a woman would envy.
He came over to his brother, eyeing the gaggle of children and the naughty goose.
“What are you doing?” he asked his brother.
A smile played on Markus’ lips. “Watching a mighty battle,” he said. “St. George fought the dragon. King Alfie fights the goose.”
Cassius had no idea what he was talking about. “King Alfie?”
Markus nodded, waving the children over when the goose seemed to tire of the fight and waddle off.
“Meet King Alfie and his horse guard,” he said to his brother. “King Alfie is the younger brother of the new Lord of Trastamara.”
Cassius lifted a dark eyebrow. “And just what is Alfie king of?”
“King of the kitchen yard, of course.”
Cassius nodded in understanding. “Charming,” he said drolly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, King Alfie.”
Alfie inspected Cassius with the same naked curiosity he had inspected Markus. “What’s your name?”
“Cassius de Wolfe, my lord.”
Alfie looked between Markus and Cassius. “You are brothers?”
“Indeed, we are,” Cassius said.
“I have a brother.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to be in my horse guard?”
Cassius lifted his eyebrows as he looked at Markus. “Do I?”
“Of course you do,” Markus said. “It is a great honor.”
Cassius merely shrugged. “I am sure it is,” he said. “But mayhap later. I hate to take you away from this royal duty, but Papa is looking for you. He says you are to go immediately to the lord’s solar inside the keep.”
Markus frowned. “I just saw the man at the gatehouse.”
Cassius nodded. “I know, but Atlas has emerged from the keep and Papa took it as a sign, evidently,” he said. “He is heading for the keep. Then, Hermes took Shand by the arm and they, too, are heading to the keep. What’s going on?”
Markus was acutely aware that Alfie was watching them. “Did you not hear anything at all?”
“About what?”