Battle for Elt: The Taking of the Wizard Bearer Read online

  Bahlinger laughed. “I can be mean when I have to be, but never to such a pretty thing as you.”

  She looked around the hall, chewing her lip, before returning her gaze to the king. “A servant girl could be attracted to a mighty king. She could want him.”

  Bahlinger couldn't believe his ears. What's she trying to say? Is she offering herself to me? He leaned forward, his manhood hardening in his trousers. “What do you mean, child?”

  “I'm a maiden. You could make me a woman.”

  His breathing quickened. But then he sensed a trap. Has Rose put her up to this? Jealous Rose trying to catch me out.

  “And why would I do that?” he said, resting back in his chair. His manhood paused its swelling.

  Amy leaned towards the king. Her breasts hung low inside her dress. She rested a hand on his shoulder and placed her lips gently on his. He tasted her for a moment before pushing her away.

  “Are you insane, child,” he said. “If Rose had seen you do that, she'd have put you to death.”

  “Sorry.” She looked to the floor, appearing embarrassed.

  “Or did Rose put you up to this?”

  “The Queen? No.” Amy sounded shocked. Her blue eyes grew wide, her brow furrowed into an expression of hurt.

  “Then what do you want? I'm not so naïve as to think that a pretty young girl like you could fall for an old man like me, king or no king. Is it money you want? Is that it?”

  She licked her lips and picked at her fingernails. “You can take my maidenhood, but in exchange I ask you to help my family.”

  “In what way?”

  “I am the eldest of six children. My mother is a cripple and my father was blinded on the battlefield. I spend every day trying to make ends meet along with caring for my younger brothers and sisters, not to mention my incapable parents. We live in the cheap side of the city. It’s horrible. We are crammed into the smallest of dwellings and the streets are full of undesirables. I fear for my brothers and sisters each and every day.”

  The king scratched the roots of his beard. “What would you like me to do for them?”

  “I’d like a new house for my family. I know you have larger dwellings near the castle for some of your senior staff. I’d also like an increase in my wage to enable me to buy food and clothes for them.”

  Bahlinger thought for a moment. In truth, all he could really think about was taking the servant girl's maidenhood. It had been a long time since he had done that to anyone. He reached out and took Amy's hand. It was cold and coarse. He thought about how it would feel having that hand on his manhood. “There’s to be a celebration, here at the castle, this evening. No doubt you’ll be working. I’ll be in my chambers. I’ll send the chamberlain to the kitchen to order me some food and wine. See that you’re the one who brings it to me. In return for . . . your services, I’ll move your family to the royal quarters. You’ll receive an extra coin in your wages too, from the morrow.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She was all smiles. She curtsied, bent and kissed him again, and then left in the direction of the kitchens.

  Quite extraordinary, he thought. This will be a good day, after all.

  The king stood and walked to the door. I’ll need a bath. I must look and smell my best for such a pretty girl.

  As he stepped out of the Great Hall he was surprised to find Rose loitering in the doorway. How much did she hear?

  “Rose,” Bahlinger said while trying not to sound too surprised. “I thought you’d gone for a lie down.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She seemed to study him. “Are you all right, Bahlinger? You look a little red. Perhaps you’re sickening for something.”

  He put two fingers between his fat neck and his collar. “Just a bit warm, dear. The fire in the hall is throwing out some heat. Perhaps I should go lie in the snow for a bit, to cool off.”

  “I think maybe you should. We can’t have you getting too hot and bothered now, can we?”

  She walked into the Great Hall, leaving him standing there, bewildered. She knows, he thought. She must have heard everything. But by the time he reached his chambers he’d convinced himself that he was just being paranoid. If she’d really heard, she’d have been more upset, he hoped.

  As the morning sun shone through the east-facing windows, warming the castle after the cold night past, he prepared himself for the day ahead. There was a lot to do: interview the staff, question Gaillart about his whereabouts on the night of the wizard bearer’s taking, prepare for the party, and of course, his illicit meeting with Amy Hasbrook.

  CHAPTER 15

  Amy Hasbrook made her way through the snow-covered streets. The sun was a hazy glow in the midday sky, hanging above the rooftops as if it were struggling to gain height. The streets were teeming with people going about their daily business, each one wrapped in wool or fur. “Cassandra Delamare has been rescued,” said one woman to another. “She's on her way back to Kingstown, right now,” said a man in sheepskin coat. “There's to be a party at the castle this evening,” said a child, excitedly. “But we can't go,” her mother said. “It's only for those rich folk who think they're better than us.” “But we can gather outside,” suggested a passing man. “The wizard bearer will be paraded on the balcony. She'll wave to us all. You know how friendly she is.”

  Amy had but a few hours spare before she must return to the castle to start preparations for the evening's celebrations. The people were going to be sorely disappointed, she knew. She'd listened to the King's council and learned that Cassandra Delamare was still missing.

  She had her own problems, though. And they were multiplying by the day. But everything will be fine, she thought. When I do the deed with the king later, my problems will be swept away like the tide cleansing a beach. The thought of letting the king take her maidenhood made her sick. But it's what I must do.

  She rounded a corner and disappeared into the gloom of a dark alley. Houses hung over the narrow street, blocking out the sunlight. The smell of urine was strong. She covered her nose and walked quickly. In the shadows, she saw something move. It was not unusual to see rats in this part of the city, but what moved appeared larger. She approached with caution and heard a groan. She realised it was a man, sitting with his back against a wall. A drunk, she thought. He cursed at her as she passed, slurring the word as if his tongue was swollen.

  She hurried on her way and arrived at her house moments later.

  “I'm home,” she shouted, stepping inside.

  The house had one room downstairs and one room upstairs. The downstairs room in which she stood doubled as a kitchen and her parents' bedchamber. Her father, void of sight, was feeling his way around the kitchen area. Her mother was in bed.

  “Hello, dear,” her mother, Florence Hasbrook, croaked. She pushed herself into a sitting position, the pain from doing so evident on her deeply lined face.

  “Hello, Mother,” Amy said while making her way across the small room to aid her father. She took his hands in hers and asked him what he was looking for.

  “I'm making the children some lunch,” her father, Harold Hasbrook, said.

  “I'll do it,” she said. “Go back to bed, Father, it's safer for you there.”

  She wished she could look into her father's eyes and be seen. It was a pleasure she hadn't had since the age of twelve, but she could still remember how they looked before they turned white. Deep-brown and warm, she thought. And kindly. Across his eyes was an ugly, red scar, courtesy of a blade on the battlefield. When they had brought him home on that day six years past he had worn a bloodied bandage around his head. It was days until she had seen the full extent of his injuries, after which her mother cried openly. It was the first time Amy had ever seen her mother cry, but it wasn't the last. The six years that followed were hard. They all worked, even the children, in order to put food on the table. When Florence became ill two years later, some sort of disease that starved her body of strength and twisted her bones, the responsibility of
being the prime earner fell upon Amy's slender shoulders. That was when things started to go wrong.

  She began to slice bread.

  “Where are the children?” Amy asked.

  “Upstairs, dear,” her mother said. “Playing nicely. Such good children.”

  “We need more bread,” Amy said, as much to herself as anyone. “I'll have to go and get some. I'm working this evening. There's to be a party.”

  “Have they got Cassandra back? Please tell me they've got Cassandra back.”

  “They've not found her yet, Mother. But keep that to yourself. I overheard it.”

  “It's not like we see anyone,” her father said. “Especially not me.” He laughed heartily. Florence laughed too, but it soon descended into a guttural cough that forced her to lie back until it ceased. Amy didn't want to laugh, she hated that her father's sight had been taken from him – from us all.

  “I'll take the bread up to the children.”

  Sheena, the youngest of the brood, was waiting for Amy at the top of the stairs. She was born a year after her father had come home from battle, the only one of his children Harold had not been able to look upon. Florence had cursed herself for becoming pregnant with such an already large family. Amy had cursed too. But these days, she didn't mind; Sheena was a delight.

  “Where have you been?” Sheena said. She shared Amy's auburn hair and freckled nose.

  Amy took Sheena's cheeks between her thumbs and forefingers and said: “Working. To keep you in the life you're accustomed to.”

  “What's ak-crust-tumed?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. Have you been playing in the snow?”

  “Yes. But James hit Thomas in the face with a snowball and he cried.”

  “That's very naughty of him.”

  “I told him you wouldn't be happy.”

  James, the eldest of her brothers and sisters at thirteen, was sitting on his bed swiping a wooden sword through the air. It was the type squires practiced with.

  “You be careful with that, James,” Amy said, walking to his bedside.

  “I will,” James said.

  Using her connections at the castle, Amy had found James a job at the royal swordsmiths. “How was work today?”

  “Good,” James said with enthusiasm. Unlike Amy, James had dark-brown hair which fell to just above his shoulders. “Mr Thackston said that if I work really hard and finish all my work then I might be able to forge a real blade for myself.”

  Amy was less than pleased at the thought of James having a sharp, steel blade to swipe about the room, but she smiled nevertheless.

  Millicent was sitting on her bed mending a dress. At eleven years old, she was blossoming into a beautiful girl. It wouldn't be long before boys took notice, Amy knew.

  “Whose dress are you mending?” Amy said.

  Millicent, Milly for short, pushed her long, brown hair over her shoulders and said: “Mrs Jonah. She's paying me per garment. She said she's never met a girl so gifted with needle and thread.”

  “That's good, Milly. That's really good.”

  “But I still want to work at the castle, like you.”

  It was a life Amy didn't want for her younger sibling. Men had wandering hands, she had found. Since starting work at the castle, she'd had to get used to men groping her on an almost daily basis. Most guessed she was a maiden and were surprised she hadn't lost it years ago, either freely or by force.

  “We'll see, Milly.”

  Rowan was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Milly's bed. He looked up and beamed.

  “I'm helping,” he said.

  “He threads the needle,” Milly said. “He has better eyes than I.”

  Rowan was seven. His hair was brown, like his elder brother and sister, but he had Amy's freckles.

  “I can thread the needle, too,” Thomas said. “But Milly won’t let me.”

  Thomas was nine and worked feeding the livestock at the livery. During his first week of employment he had stolen a piglet to save it from the butcher's chop. Since that day, and to Amy's relief, Thomas had grown accustomed to the slaughtering of animals.

  “How are the livestock coping with the snow?” she asked him.

  “Fine. A goat died last night, though. I asked if I could bring it home for our tea, but then some street dogs found it. There was nothing left but bones by the end of the day.”

  A goat would have been perfect, Amy thought. Real meat instead of pigeon. “Never mind, Thomas.” At least death isn't upsetting him anymore. “It was good of you to think of us, though. Maybe next time.”

  Thomas nodded and then put his arms around Sheena, who had seated herself in his lap.

  “I have to work this evening,” Amy said, looking at them all in turn. “I might be back late.”

  “How late?” James said, somewhat accusingly.

  “I don't know.” She imagined the king without his clothes on and then quickly pushed the thought from her mind before it could turn her stomach. “It might be very late. There's a big celebration at the castle this evening.”

  “We know,” Rowan said.

  “Can't we come too?” Milly said. “I've heard that people are going to gather outside the castle and that the king and queen and the wizard bearer will come out on the balcony and wave to the crowds.” Take a breath, child.

  “You must stay away from the castle. I've a feeling there’ll be trouble there this evening.”

  “Why would there be trouble?” James asked.

  “Because the wizard bearer isn’t on her way back. She's still missing.”

  “Really?” Milly said. “Is that true? Poor girl.”

  “Will Volk make babies with her?” Thomas said.

  “Shut up, stupid,” James scolded.

  “That's what he'll do,” Thomas snapped back. “He'll make a wizard of his own with her.”

  “Thomas,” Amy said gently but firmly, “we'll have none of that talk. Especially with young ears in the room. The wizard bearer's return is nothing for you to worry about, but I want you to stay well away from the castle. Besides, you have your mother and father to look after. And that goes for all of you.”

  “All right,” Milly said, despondently. “We'll stay away.”

  “I have to go out now, to get some bread.”

  “Shall I come too?” James said.

  “No, it's fine.” The chances of getting an extra loaf would be greater if she turned up alone, she knew.

  On her way to the bakery, walking through the busy streets, she listened again to the excited voices of the city's people arranging their evenings around the royal celebrations. She hoped that come the end of the evening she would be celebrating too.

  Amy arrived at the bakery to find a queue of people snaking out of the door. She hoped that by the time she reached the front there would be some bread left. Standing in line, she glanced through the doorway. In the light of the fire from the oven, she was relieved to see the owner's son Justin – a tall, thin boy of about sixteen years.

  By the time she reached the front of the queue, clouds had begun to snub out the weak winter sunshine. Inside the bakery, tall shadows stretched out on the walls dancing in the glow of the fire. It was also very hot. She wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead.

  “Can I help you?” Justin, the baker's son, asked.

  “Two loaves, please,” Amy said, placing only enough coin for one loaf in the boy's palm.

  “My father's here,” Justin said in a hushed voice.

  “Take me through to the back room, then,” Amy whispered. “Like you did that time before.”

  Justin glanced towards his father who was serving customers.

  “Quickly, then,” he said, pulling on her arm and then pushing her in the direction of a darkened room.

  Amy slipped into the darkness, hoping not to be seen. Justin followed.

  “I can't keep giving you free loaves,” the boy said. She could see the whites of his eyes and the occasional flash of his
teeth, but nothing more. “My father will beat me if he finds out how many I've given you these past few months.”

  “He won't find out, though, will he.”

  “I want more from you this time.” His breath was hot on her face. She thought he must be mere inches from her mouth.

  “Isn't feeling my breasts enough?”

  His breath was quickening, as was hers.

  “I'm hard for you, Amy. Will you take me in your mouth?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My . . . cock. Will you put it in your mouth? That's what girls do.”

  Certainly not. “With your father outside and a room full of people? No!” Even if we were alone I wouldn't entertain the thought.

  She could no longer feel his hot breath on her face and knew he had stepped away.

  “You're nothing but a tease,” came his voice from the darkness. “You can have one loaf, like everybody else. Perhaps I'll give you the smallest one, too.”

  “Justin!” came a voice from the other room. It was his father, loud and stern.

  “I'll be out in a moment, Father,” Justin shouted back. “I'm just getting more flour.”

  Amy was fearful of not getting what she wanted; what she needed.

  “Take it out,” she said.

  “Take what out?”

  “Your . . . thing.”

  “You mean my cock?” He sounded amused.

  “Yes. But I'm not putting it in my mouth. You can have my hand and be happy with that.”

  He was quiet, but she could hear him fumbling with the string around his trousers. Then his hot breath was on her face again.

  Aside from when her younger brothers were babies, she had never seen a man’s member. She reached out towards Justin’s groin and was shocked to find his manhood so hard – and so big. Wrapping her hand around it, she was glad she had listened to her fellow servant girls describing what they did to their men. She moved her hand up and down in a quickening motion, hoping it wouldn't take long.

  “Don't grip it so tightly,” Justin said. “What are you trying to do, block the blood supply?”

  “Sorry,” she said, loosening her grip.

  “Faster,” he moaned.