Baron Fitzwilliam halted his horse and waited while the other riders caught up, Sir James being the first to join him.
"Do you see them, Lord, to the northwest?"
"I do," the baron replied, "but it doesn't look like a normal raiding party."
"How so?" asked the knight. "They are armed and in our territory, are they not?"
"They are," Fitz agreed, "but they have people out in front looking for tracks, not the normal actions of raiders, I'd wager."
"They are still in Mercerian territory, Lord," said Sir James, "and as such must be punished. We can't afford to look weak, sir."
"Normally, I'd agree with you," said Fitz, "but there's something very odd about this."
"How do you wish to proceed?"
"We outnumber them," said the baron, "so I think we'll try a more direct approach. Keep the men in close formation, and we'll go and talk. Perhaps a show of force is all that will be necessary."
"Very well, Lord," said Sir James. He barked out orders, and the Bodden Horse spread out to either side to form a disciplined line.
Baron Fitzwilliam waited until all were in their places, then advanced at the trot, directly towards the Norlanders.
Their presence was soon noted, and the enemy troops formed into a rough line. Two men, however, rode forward, under a sign of truce.
Fitz held up his hand, signalling for the line to halt. "An interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed, my lord," said Sir James. ”Your orders?"
"You're with me," he said to the knight, then yelled out, "Sergeant Blackwood?"
"Sir!" came the reply.
"Sir James and I are going forward to parley. You command the horse."
"Yes, sir," the warrior responded.
Fitz edged his horse forward, and Sir James fell in beside him. The enemy commander had halted halfway between the two lines, but there were no signs of an impending fight, for the Norlanders had no weapons in hand.
As they drew closer, Fitz could make out more details about the Norland commander. He was young, far younger than the baron would have expected, perhaps only in his early twenties. His dark brown hair framed a dusky complexion, topped off by a neatly trimmed beard.
"Greetings," the young warrior called out as they approached. "I am Captain Aden, in service to His Grace, the Earl of Beaconsgate."
"And my name is Lord Richard Fitzwilliam, Baron of Bodden. What brings you to my domain, Captain?"
"I can assure you we mean no harm," the Norlander soothed. "We are merely chasing down some criminals that have managed to evade capture."
"Criminals, you say," said Fitz. "What is their crime?"
"It does not concern you," said the captain. "It is an internal matter."
"I beg to differ," said the baron. "As soon as you crossed the border, it became my concern. Your very presence here is an act of war."
"Come, now," the captain continued, "you and I both know that there is no lasting peace between our two kingdoms."
"True," responded Fitz, "but there is an uneasy truce. Would you have us break into open warfare?"
"I mean you no harm," the captain persisted. "Permit us to retrieve our prisoners, and we shall be on our way."
"That I cannot do. You have violated our borders. You will remove your men to the north of the river, or we shall give battle. Which is it to be?"
"Are you sure there is no way we can reach an agreement?"
"Positive," said Fitz. "I have fought with your people for many years, I see no reason to begin trusting you now."
"Very well," acquiesced the captain, "we shall return to Norland territory, but I warn you, these people we seek are dangerous."
"I shall be the judge of that," remarked Fitz. He looked past the Norland captain to see the men that stood waiting beyond. They represented very little in the way of a threat, but still, the baron didn't trust them. "We shall escort you to the river," said Fitz at last.
"That won't be necessary," offered the captain, "we know the way."
"Not at all," said Fitz. "In fact, I rather insist."
"Very well," the captain agreed reluctantly.
Fitz wheeled about, Sir James following. They soon reached their own lines where Sergeant Blackwood sat, waiting.
"You have news, Lord?"
"We will escort the Norlanders back to the river," commanded Fitz. "Make sure you keep an eye on the beggars."
"Will do, sir," replied Blackwood.
"What about the men they were looking for?" asked Sir James.
"We'll follow up on them soon enough," said Fitz. "How much daylight do you think we have left?"
"Plenty of time to return to the Keep if that's what you're thinking," replied the knight. "Why? What did you have in mind?"
"We'll split off a small group to follow the trail afterwards if we can. The rest will return to Bodden once they've seen this lot off our land. I'd like you to take the bulk of the horsemen back to Bodden, while I take Blackwood and some men with me to track down these fugitives."
"Is that wise, my lord?" said Sir James. "We really don't know what to expect from them."
“If they're wanted by our Norland Earl, that means they may be of use to us. I'd like to find them alive, if possible, but if they resist, we'll use the sword on them."
"Very well," said Sir James.
Baron Fitzwilliam watched as his sergeant deployed the men. There were two groups, each following the Norlanders, one on the right, the other on the left, ready to react should trouble threaten.
The Norlanders, true to their word, returned to the river, and by late afternoon, they had all crossed the ford. They marched off, heading eastward, upriver, and Fitz waited until they were out of sight before issuing his commands. Blackwood, the baron, and twenty men picked up the trail while Sir James took the rest back to the relative safety of the Keep.
It was getting dark, and their progress slowed.
"We're losing the trail, sir," said Blackwood.
"Then we shall halt," Fitz replied.
"Are we going to return to the Keep?"
"No, not yet," he answered. "Once it's dark, we should be able to see their campfires. You think we're close?"
"Yes, Lord," said the sergeant. "I'm surprised we haven't seen them already."
"Very well," Fitz continued, turning in the saddle. "You men water the horses, but be ready to ride when it turns dark."
The Bodden Horse was used to patrolling the frontier, and it wasn't unheard of to camp out of doors, but it was still early spring, and the darkness brought a bitterness with it. The baron dismounted, stretching his legs. He had spent a lifetime of soldiering in the saddle, but now he felt his age. All he wanted was to be back in his comfortable bed, tucked in with a nice book, but it was not to be.
He looked westward, seeing the sun beginning to sink over the horizon. It lit the sky with a reddish hue, promising clear weather for the morning.
It was Sergeant Blackwood that was the first to notice the campfires that sprang up to the southwest, illuminating a group of trees.
"Lord," he pointed.
"I see it," said Fitz. "Mount up, men. Prepare to ride out."
His men, all disciplined warriors, prepared themselves.
"Weapons sheathed, gentlemen," ordered Fitz, "we're trying to be friendly."
"Is that wise, sir?" asked Blackwood. "After all, we don't know how many there are."
"I think we can safely assume there's not too many."
"How can you say so with any certainty?" asked the sergeant.
"You saw the size of the Norland troop," said Fitz. "That was only enough to capture a small group, perhaps a dozen or so. Any more, and they would have needed extra men."
"Sound reasoning," said Blackwood.
"We'll move forward in columns of two," said Fitz, "but we'll take it slowly, I don't want anyone's horse breaking a leg in the dark."
"Very well, sir," said Blackwood, turning to relay the orders.
They were soon trotting forward, the jangle of harnesses echoing across the fields.
As they drew closer, Fitz began to make out figures. There were, perhaps, ten or so individuals and he was surprised to see that at least two of them were children. He pulled his horse up short, yelling out the command to halt.
"What's this?" he asked aloud. "Can that be children?"
"It looks like it, sir," said Blackwood. "Shall I ride forward and check?"
"We'll both go," said Fitz, "but there's no point in taking the entire patrol.
Blackwood barked out the command to wait, and then rode forward, following the baron a tail's length behind.
It was impossible to be quiet on his horse, his armour alone made enough noise as he rode, and so Baron Fitzwilliam elected to ride directly towards the closest fire. People were scrambling about the camp in a mad effort to arm themselves, but Fitz pulled up short, calling out instead.
"My name," he shouted, "is Lord Richard Fitzwilliam, Baron of Bodden. Who is in charge here?"
In answer, a man stepped forward, brandishing a crude pitchfork.
"I am," he said in a timid voice.
"Put down your weapons," ordered Fitz, "I mean you no harm."
The Norlander lowered his pitchfork.
Fitz dismounted, then advanced, leaving his sword scabbarded. "Who are you?" he asked.
"My name's Oakes," the man responded, "and I'm a farmer, or at least I was."
"And why have you entered this land?" said Fitz.
"We mean no harm," Oakes responded, "but we have been driven from our homes."
"Driven, you say? By who?"
"Poverty," said the Norlander. "The earl takes everything we produce, leaving us ill-equipped to last until the next harvest."
"So you're fleeing your rightful liege?" pressed Fitz.
"We are," Oakes replied, "but we beg you not to send us back across the river. The earl won't take kindly to us being returned, it will mean death for us."
"You say you're a farmer?"
"I am," the man agreed, "as is the rest of my group."
"And are you willing to work hard?" Fitz asked.
"Yes, Lord. As long as we are treated fairly."
"Then I give you a choice," called out the baron. "You can return with me to Bodden and become farmers once more, or I can escort you back to the border. Which will it be?"
"We would welcome the opportunity to till the land again, Lord."
"Good," said Fitz, "then you'll come with us. If you work hard, you'll be rewarded, but cross me and I'll see you back across the river once more."
"Aye, my lord," Oakes responded, "and thank you, my lord."
"Don't thank me yet," said Fitz, "there's plenty of planting to be done in the next few weeks. Now, let's be on our way, Bodden is still some distance off."
Early the next morning found the baron in his favourite map room. He was gazing out the window when Sir Gareth entered.
"Ah, there you are, Gareth," said Fitz, eating a piece of cheese. "What do you make of the newcomers?”
"An interesting development, Lord," said the knight. "Are you sure we can trust them?"
"Only time will tell us for sure," said Fitz, "but I think so. Why, do you not agree?"
"I find myself hard-pressed to trust Norlanders, Lord. They've been so problematic in the past."
"A good point," said Fitz, "but this seems very different, somehow."
"Could they be spies?" asked the knight.
"I suppose it's possible," said Fitz, "but we'll take precautions. They'll only be allowed in the village, for now, not the Keep itself."
"A wise precaution, Lord."
"I had a chat with their leader late last night," said Fitz. "He had some interesting news to impart."
"Do tell," said Sir Gareth.
"What do you know of the Earl of Beaconsgate?" asked Fitz.
"He's the southernmost Earl of Norland?, is he not?” said the knight.
"He is," agreed Fitz, "and he's the one behind most of the attacks on Bodden, at least all the ones in my lifetime. Rumour has it that he wants to be King of Norland."
"How would he accomplish that?" asked Sir Gareth. "Surely, there's an heir?"
"Apparently not," answered Fitz. "It appears that the current Norland King's son passed many years ago, leaving no suitable heir to inherit the crown upon his death."
"I take it that's bad news for us," mused the knight.
"Indeed it is," said Fitz, "for you see, this earl's line claims kingship over all of Merceria."
"He's a Royal Heir?" asked the knight.
"If you count a Royal Line that dates back centuries, then yes, I suppose he's an heir, though I doubt that would give him the support he'd require to defeat us."
"I see," said Sir Gareth, "but if he were to take the throne of Norland..."
"Yes," said Fitz, "that would give him all the troops he'd require, especially now, when we are at our weakest."
"What shall we do, Lord?" asked Sir Gareth.
"I shall dispatch word to Wincaster," said Fitz, "though I doubt it will have any effect. Until such time as they cross the border, what else can we do?"
"We could reinforce the border," suggested the knight.
"Already been done," said Fitz, "and Sir Heward is on the lookout for trouble near Wickfield. All we can do now is pray and hope that the King of Norland lives on."
"Strange to think we should wish long life to a Norlander," said Sir Gareth.
"Indeed," said Fitz, "but these are strange times."
Prince Alric made his way through the halls of the Palace in Wincaster. The guards, used to his presence, allowed him entry to the princess's offices, where Anna sat, pouring over notes.
"I see you're busy, as usual," he offered.
She looked up from her work, a smile lighting up her face. "Alric, so good to see you again. It feels like ages since we last spoke."
"It has been some time," he confessed, "but you said it was important to give you some distance."
"And I appreciate that," she replied, "though I've missed you terribly. Have you heard anything from Weldwyn?"
"I have," said the young prince, "and my parents both send their regards. I mentioned the cutbacks in the army, and my father has agreed to send some more troops, if you wish?"
"I do wish," she replied, "though I can't really deploy them here, in the capital. That would give too much ammunition to Shrewesdale and his supporters."
"He sounds like a dangerous man," commented Alric. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do about him?"
"I wish I could," lamented the princess, "but I want laws that are equal for everyone. I can't very well do that and then start making exceptions for myself, now can I?"
"Perhaps you can charge him with something?” he suggested. “A man like that's bound to have a few bodies he's hiding."
"We're looking into something," she said, "but so far, we have no solid proof, at least nothing that would stand up in a court of law."
Alric looked around the room, taking in the extensive collection of books. "I see some things haven't changed," he said, picking a book at random.
She smiled, "Yes, I still manage to find a little time to read if that's what you mean."
"Where's Gerald, I haven't seen him of late?"
Anna set down the paper she was examining, "I'm afraid I haven't seen much of him either."
"Why not?" he asked. "He never used to leave your side."
"He's a duke now," she said, "and he deserves to be able to take things easy. I don't want to burden him with all of my issues."
"Nonsense," said Alric, “he's like a father to you. Surely you've visited him?"
She blushed, betraying her error, "I'm afraid I've been too busy."
"Too busy for Gerald?" he asked.
"I have a coronation to plan, not to mention approving all these appointments." She indicated the mass of papers on her desk.
"I see," he said cooly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You once told me about how you surrounded yourself with friends," he said, "and now, here you are, isolating yourself from their support."
"I suppose you're right," Anna said, "but it's all so overwhelming."
"You need to share the burden," he said, "surely you can delegate things."
"I can't," she said, "or they won't get done properly."
"Won't they?" he countered. "You appointed Gerald as marshal, do you now think he can't lead the army?"
"Of course I don't think that," she defended, "but this is different."
"Is it?" Alric said. "You've lost what it means to be you, Anna. Where's the young visionary that wanted to change the world?"
"Buried beneath paperwork," she confessed. "Oh, Alric, what have I become? How did I get to this point?"
"Better you ask how you get out of this situation you find yourself in," he suggested.
"But how?" she asked.
"The first thing you need to do is get Gerald back."
"I can't," she said. "I can't take away all the rewards I’ve given him, the manor, the title..."
"Do you think so little of him that you think he would value a manor house over your company?"
"I suppose not," she confessed.
"You know he's miserable," said Alric.
"He is? How do you know?"
"It's reflected in his work. He used to take a great interest in the troops, but now I hear he's too busy to even mount an inspection."
The look of shock on her face told him all he needed to know.
"You need to bring him back to the Palace, Anna," he continued. "Tell him you need his counsel, now more than ever. Tell him to take up residence in the Palace, where he'll always be on call. He'll like that."
"He will?" she asked. "Won't he just think I'm ordering him about?"
"He wants to feel needed, Anna, you've lost sight of that."
"I do miss him terribly," she admitted.
"As you should," he said. "Now, write out an order for him, and I'll deliver it myself."
"I will, Alric," she said, her energy restored, "and tell him I expect him by dinner.
He bowed gracefully, "Your wish is my command, Highness."
A knock summoned Winston. He opened the front door to see a young man, preparing to knock once more. Behind him stood another, wearing expensive-looking clothing.
"Yes?" said the servant.
"I am Lord Jack Marlowe," the visitor said, "representing His Highness, Prince Alric of Weldwyn. We're here to see the duke."
The servant, eyes wild, appeared startled by this revelation. "The Weldwyn Ambassador? Here?"
"Indeed," said Jack. "Now go and get him, fellow, or there'll be trouble."
"Of course, sir," the servant said, closing the door, his footsteps receding.
"That's a strange one," mused Jack.
"Strange indeed," added Alric. "I would have thought he'd at least invite us in."
"Perhaps not as strange as we might think," mused Jack. "Where did Gerald's servants come from?"
"From the previous duke, I suppose," offered Alric. "Why?"
"It seems to me they might have their own agenda."
"You think they're plotting against the crown? That's a leap, isn't it?"
"The last Duke of Wincaster was King Henry, wasn't it?" asked Jack.
"It was," agreed Alric, "and I think I see where you're going with this. Those nobles arrayed against the princess likely have contacts here."
"It would make sense," said Jack. "You know how easy it is to get information when you talk to the servants, especially for one with my charm and grace."
"I suppose it is," the young prince agreed.
The door opened, interrupting their discussion. A surprised Gerald looked out.
"Your Highness," he said, "is something wrong?"
"I have a letter for you, Gerald, from the princess." Alric pulled forth the letter, handing it to the old man.
"For me?" said Gerald. "How strange.”
The marshal opened it immediately. Alric had been too polite to read the letter, but its message was clear. Gerald's face lit up, and Alric watched a tear form in the corner of the man's eye.
The duke left the mansion without a backward glance. "I'm ready," was all he said.
"Excellent," said Alric. "Now come along, my good man, we've work to do."
Jack led them back to the Palace while Gerald and Alric made small talk. Through the entrance they went, the guards snapping to attention as they passed. They soon arrived at the dining hall, where another servant opened the doors for them.
Inside sat Anna, at the head of the table. Her eyes lit up, and she rose, running across the room.
"Gerald," she said, giving him a hug, "I'm so glad to see you."
"You are?" he asked. "I thought you wanted me out of the way."
"No," said Anna, "never, but I'm afraid I let my position get the better of me. I'm sorry Gerald, I want you here, at my side."
"I'm here," he said. "You know, all you had to do was ask."
"No, you don't understand," she continued, "I want you here, at the Palace, all the time. I'd like you to move in, there's a room just down the hall from mine. It's yours if you want it."
A tear came to Gerald's eye. "I'd like that, very much," he admitted.
"Good," added Alric. "Now that's settled, let's get on with other matters, shall we?"
"What about all my stuff?" asked Gerald.
"Stuff?" said Jack.
"Yes, you know, clothes, armour and such?"
"Don't worry about that, Gerald," said Anna. "I'll have it all brought back here, to the Palace."
"But what about the manor? Is it just going to remain empty?"
"I have a better idea," said Anna, "we'll turn it into the Weldwyn Embassy. Alric can move in with his own people."
"A capital idea!" added Jack. "Now we can host parties."
Alric turned to the cavalier with a surprised look. "I should have known," the prince said, "only Jack would think of such things first."
"Good," said Anna, "then it's all settled. Now, we need to plan my coronation."
"And then?" asked Gerald.
"Once I'm queen, I'll amend the succession laws and marry Alric."
"That's the old Anna I fell in love with," said the prince.