Chapter 2
Sir Horland kept his gaze on the hills ahead of him.
The grassy plains surrounding him would soon disappear when he neared the hills.
He began passing tall green-topped trees, few at first as he neared the town of Frother, but then the trees multiplied and nettle bushes appeared, sometimes filling the space with so much foliage, even his horse couldn’t get through.
But that was no matter because Horland stayed on the rutty road.
The sun was shining high in the sky, but the road was wet with puddles from recent rain.
Passing through a clearing, he spotted a farmhouse in the distance to his right. The farmer tilled the land behind a large draught horse. He waved, but when the farmer made no returning gesture, he realized he was too far away to be seen properly.
He spied the towers of Pradwick Castle rising above the sparsely treed hills, and he sat straighter in the saddle and smiled at the sight he’d been looking forward to since he set out at dawn that morning. Home.
The boggy, dirt road took him up a rise and further into the sparsely treed woods.
He chuckled as he imagined stretching out on his great bed in his rooms at the castle. How he loved that bed. Especially after two years of small rooms in inns or sleeping on the hard ground, practically wrapped around a fire to keep warm.
He nudged his horse into a canter as he forged his way around and up the low hills. Coming out from a wide bend, the smell of sea water filled his nose. He breathed in the clean fresh air and slowed his horse to a walk. The outer walls of the town sprang up before him and he smiled. Home.
Patting his steed, he sighed. “It’s been a long journey, Phareo.”
Phareo threw his head up and down as if to agree.
Horland approached. The outer stone wall surrounding Frother was high with guard towers every fifty paces.
He pushed his horse forward across the raised stone encased bridge. The open gates made him feel as if they were welcoming his return. Would anything have changed within? He hoped not. He loved the town, the people, his friends, and the king and his family.
“Hail, Sir Horland,” a town guard called from above.
Horland lifted his hand in greeting. “Hail, Roget.”
He rode along the main road through town smiling and waving at everyone he passed.
As he neared the center, aromas of bread, fresh meat, burning steel, and leather assailed his senses.
The store owners were busy showing their wares as he made his way to the castle.
Men, women, and children filled the grounds around the well in the town heart.
Some collecting buckets of water, some conversing in groups of twos and threes or more, some hurrying to somewhere or other.
It was good to see that nothing had changed in the two years he was gone.
Hailing all as he rode past, Horland approached the stone inner walls of the baily. The large round towers to both sides of the wooden gate and at each corner of the baily housed the king’s guards. The castle’s spires rose to the clouds.
Horland stopped in front of the heavy grilled portcullis and gazed up at the drum tower.
“Who goes there?” a guard shouted from the drum tower gatehouse.
“’Tis I, Sir Horland, knight of the kingdom of Prater.”
The guard, whom Horland recognized as Michal, peered down at Horland.
After several moments of being studied, Horland threw up a hand and said, “’Tis I, Michal, raise the gate.”
“Ah, aye, it is you.”
“That is what I said, and now are you going to open the gates.”
“Aye, aye, Sir Horland.” He circled his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Open the portcullises. Allow Sir Horland through.”
The sound of chains rattling told Horland the first of the portcullises was about to open. The heavy metal and wood gate creaked and rattled as it rose, following the vertical grooves in the sides of the stone wall and into the stone wall spanning the road.
The second portcullis was raised in the same way, and Horland rode through and made his way to the castle steps.
He dismounted and the reins were immediately taken from his hands by the stable mate.
“Take good care of him,” Horland said. “He has toiled long.”
“Aye, Sir Horland. We will give him our utmost care.”
Horland had enjoyed his years touring the kingdom, meeting the people, and helping defuse any dissent that had arisen before his arrival.
However, he was looking forward to seeing his friends and family.
But first he had to report to King Pradwick.
He made his way up the stairs to be greeted at the open doors by the king's man, a gray-haired, broad-shouldered man of indeterminate age. As far as Horland remembered, the man had always attended the castle. He couldn’t remember a time before Carson.
“Sir Horland, so good to see you back,” Carson said, bending his head in a bow.
“Thank you. Is the king available?”
“Yes, sir, this way.”
Horland followed Carson through the reception area and into the great hall. Horland took in the high ceilings filled with murals of clouds, sky, and birds. His gaze spanned the walls of framed paintings of kings, queens, princes and princesses, all ancestors of King Pradwick.
The usual long tables and chairs had made way for rows of chairs either side of a walkway forming an aisle.
A large red and blue carpet filled the aisle between the door and the thrones.
King Pradwick sat on his throne listening to his people’s problems, while his eldest daughter, Princess Leeta, her long blonde hair in braids, stood to the side of the throne beckoning the next citizen forward with a smile when warranted.
Her gaze found Horland, but she didn’t smile as he expected she would.
Instead, she averted her eyes and waved at a citizen, her hand movements quick and succinct, her brows drawn together in impatience.
Horland surmised she must have been tired, and that once the hall was empty and she could relax, she would be more her friendly self. It was getting late and the king would not close the meetings until the last citizen had been heard.
Horland thought it must be Wednesday because that was the day the king greeted his people. He had forgotten what day it was until that moment.
He waited until the last of the people left the great hall.
The king looked up and Horland caught a frown appear on his brow for a second before he smiled. “Sir Horland, it is good to see you. How does my kingdom fare?”
Horland strode to stand before the throne and bowed low. “Your Majesty, it is good to be back, and you will be happy to hear that all fares well in the kingdom.”
“Good. I will peruse your reports but right now, I am in need of some comfort. Leeta? Is the afternoon repast prepared?”
Princess Leeta stepped back until she was almost out of the side door, and Horland had the distinct impression she was again trying to avoid his eyes.
“Yes, Father.” She clapped her hands twice and immediately, four servants appeared carrying platters and placed them on the long table nearest to the dais.
“Will you join us?” the king asked Horland.
“Thank you, yes.”
Once they were seated and filled their plates, Leeta turned to withdraw from the hall.
“Join us, Leeta,” King Pradwick said.
Her shoulders slumped and Horland frowned. He decided as soon as he was able, he would talk to her and find out what was amiss.
King Pradwick ate noisily for a moment then turned to Leeta. “Where are your sisters?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
He tore a hunk of bread off the large loaf and dunked it into the gravy on his plate. “Go and find them.”
Leeta leapt to her feet and almost tumbled her chair over in her hurry to do her father’s wish.
Horland could never remember Leeta being so subservient, especially when it came to obeying her father.
She used to have a mind of her own and Horland would have expected her to say something like, that’s what servants are for.
Horland frowned at her fast retreating back. “Is something amiss?”
“No.” The king bit off some bread and spoke around chewing. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was just thinking about Leeta.”
“She’s going through a stage. I’m sure she’ll be back to her normal disobedient self soon enough.”
Horland laughed. “You know your daughter well.”
“I do. Now eat.”
They ate in silence for several minutes until Horland could not keep quiet any longer. “Are Sir Garlain and Lady Patricia about?”
The king’s eyes darkened in what Horland could only conceive as sadness. He stood up and slung his napkin on the table. “I have an appointment. Please, have more food and wine. I will speak with you this evening.”
Horland frowned. What could King Pradwick have remembered that was so urgent that he had to leave at that moment?
Horland had had enough to eat, so he left the table in search of Leeta.
He found Princess Tilly wheeling her chair down the hall.
She was a dark-haired thirteen-year-old who had the misfortune to fall from her first horse when she was but a child.
The physicians saved her but could not save her legs.
The king’s clever friends, Mark and Dianne, invented the chair on wheels especially for her.
“Princess Tilly, greetings. I see you have new wheels.”
Tilly beamed. “Hello, Sir Horland. Mark brought these from the blacksmith just this morning. Are they not the best?”
“They are. Where is Mark now, and is Dianne with him?”
“She was, but they are gone to I know not where.” She threw her arms over her head in a wave.
“One minute they’re here and the next they are gone.
” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a near whisper so that Horland had to bend low to hear her.
“Father will not speak of it, but I am certain they are witches from deep within the Forest of Uther. I think they have secluded themselves in the old castle ruins there.”