A Play for the Castle

A Play for the Castle

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Zelah Meyer

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Arthur and his friends are noblemen disguised as traveling players. Raising an army in secret, while dodging mercenaries and cabbages alike, isn’t easy. Neither is keeping secrets from the curious young woman he happens to be falling in love with. She thinks he’s just an actor with a shady past, and if he’s to have any hope of a future, he can’t put her right. Between sword fights and scene changes, life is about to get interesting.

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A Play for the Castle

Copyright Zelah Meyer 2014

Interior and Cover Design by Zelah Meyer at Beresford Brown

Cover Image Credits: Background castle image from Nicolas Raymond http://freestock.ca/europe_g97-mont_saintmichel_castle__hdr_p2175.html (photo cropped, models, gradient, and text added), female model by NejroN Photo at Bigstock, male model by Fred Goldstein at Dreamstime.

Published by Beresford Brown at Smashwords: http://beresfordbrown.com

All rights reserved. This book may not be sold or reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without permission from the rights holder.

This work is fictional. Any similarity of names, places, or events to any that exist, or have existed, in reality, is purely coincidental.

Any product names, brands, and other trademarks that may be referred to within this book are the property of their respective trademark holders. Unless otherwise specified, no association between the author and any trademark holder is expressed or implied. Use of a term in this book should not be regarded as affecting the validity of any trademark, registered trademark, or service mark.

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Chapter 1

Up in the guard captain’s office at Charlesford Castle, Arthur was finishing off a small platter of slightly dry beef. It was somewhat improved by its accompaniment of crusty bread, liberally spread with butter from the castle dairy.

As a gentleman by birth, he could have eaten breakfast in the dining hall. However, he was already a day late in starting work on the guard roster. Estate matters with his bailiff had kept him away from the castle for longer than he had intended, and he knew his men well enough to know that they would be relaxing on duty while he was busy here. Definitely not what he wanted on market day.

The earl was an easy master, easier than Arthur anyway, and without their unofficial captain there in person to remind them of the need for alertness, they would take their lead from the castle’s owner.

I don’t want the people made uncomfortable, the earl had said when Arthur had tried to persuade him to take on more men. They’ll feel that I’m spying on them if I fill the castle with soldiers, or send guardsmen out to the villages. No, I won’t hear of it. Oliver is gone. My brother will not return …. Unless, perhaps, he sees an opportunity …. If it makes you feel better, if I take to my deathbed, then I give you leave to hire another half-dozen guards.

It hadn’t made Arthur feel better. The earl was not on his deathbed, and Arthur had every intention of keeping it that way. He and his friends had long since given up any real hope of getting the earl to listen to reason where Lord Oliver was concerned.

Taking the first rough sheet of paper in his hand, Arthur consulted the list beside it.

The door to the room burst open and Parthew, his second-in-command, ran into the room. Sir, I thought you should know. There’s a large number of armed men in the market, and more coming in all the time.

Arthur tossed the paper back on the table and ran to the window that overlooked the courtyard. As usual, it was full of carts, stalls, and familiar villagers. However, scattered among them were several men he did not recognize, and their numbers appeared to be growing. Their battered leather armor in varying degrees of disrepair, they walked in groups, looking out of place and out of alcohol. The locals eyed them warily and stood aside to let them pass.

Swearing under his breath, Arthur moved quickly to grab his armor from the back of his chair. Turn out the guard room, he instructed as he fastened the leather laces.

Already done.

That bad eh? Arthur asked grimly, reaching for his sword.

That bad, Parthew replied, and they hurried out of the room.

Screams sounded from the courtyard down below and Arthur picked up the pace. They ran out of the nearest door. Everything was in chaos. Villagers were running for the exit and taking refuge under carts. A few were helping the guards fight the visitors, but it was clear that the castle forces were vastly outnumbered.

I told him we needed more men, Arthur said, gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles went white.

We have to get to the earl, Parthew said. A few of the mercenaries started running in their direction. Correction, you have to get to him, sir. Go, I’ll hold them off as best I can.

Good luck, Arthur said as he ducked inside again. It went against every instinct in his body to leave the fight and leave his men, but his duty was to the earl. He ran back to the stairs and ran full tilt along the corridor toward the main part of the castle. He hoped to God that his men could defend the entrances long enough for them to somehow get the earl to safety.

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The Earl of Charlesford was also engaged in paperwork, sitting in his library with his son, Frederick. The pair of them were working their way through the castle accounts, which were strewn across the large table that spanned the middle of the room. They had no idea that mercenaries had invaded the castle, or that Arthur was racing through the castle toward them.

The earl was considerably older than his years. He had married late for love and lost his wife not long after gaining his son. That, a hunting accident, and the stresses of appearing cheerful while dealing with his brother’s antics, had been enough to swiftly sap away the last of his youth.

Frederick, on the other hand, was young. He was the same age as his friend Arthur, but there the similarity ended. Where Arthur was sturdy and resolute, a soldier at heart who had begged his godfather, the earl, to let him manage the guard, Frederick was more like the earl, affable and easygoing to the point of weakness at times. Frederick wore his hair on the longer side, with a floppy fringe. Arthur let his wavy hair do what it would as long as it kept out of his eyes and didn’t impede him.

The noise from the courtyard continued to grow.

The earl looked up from his paperwork. It seems that whatever is happening in the market is more than just a momentary incident. Usually, calm would have been restored by now. Come, let us move into the corridor and check what is happening. It’s possible that some of our tenants may have brought their family feud into the castle grounds. If that is the case, I may need to speak to them to help resolve matters.

The earl got up and walked toward the door of the library with Frederick behind him. They moved straight to the window opposite the library door, unaware that the danger had spread into the castle itself.

Neither of them noticed the mercenary down the far end of the long corridor, or heard him take the crossbow off his back as they stood there, staring out of the window. The mercenary readied the bow and raised it, taking aim ….

The wall behind him sprang open and a small, wiry figure dressed in the clothes of a court jester flung himself onto the mercenary. He was too late to stop the man pulling the trigger, though a dagger to the heart spoiled his aim slightly.

The earl gave a cry and slumped. Frederick caught him and looked quickly to where the jester was wiping his dagger clean on the mercenary’s clothing.

Edmund! he called. What on earth is happening?

Your uncle has taken the castle.

No! the earl protested weakly, clutching the bolt in his stomach with his fingers.

Edmund jogged toward them. My lord, I am so sorry. Please, forgive me. I was arranging our escape. I thought the guards could hold them for long enough for me to get to you—

They heard footsteps approaching from the opposite direction and spun around quickly, relaxing a little when they saw it was Arthur.

Castle … overpowered, Arthur gasped as he reached them. He kept a tight grip on his sword and rested his free hand against the wall to recover his breath. He noticed the earl’s posture and his eyes went to the crossbow bolt. My lord! he said, as he noticed the mercenary lying dead on the floor beyond them. I wasn’t … in time.

Neither of us was, Edmund remarked.

We have to get him out of here, Arthur said to Edmund. If anyone knew a way out of this mess, it would be Edmund. Friend he might be, but Edmund’s first loyalty was to his employer—as he had made clear in their youth, when he had refused to tell of the secret passages the castle was riddled with. He wouldn’t even share them with Frederick. Only the earl and his secret staff knew of them. That meant Edmund, and others unknown to Arthur, though he often suspected that Hugh was one of them. Thank God that Hugh was away from the castle today. His estates were somewhere they could run to if they could get out of the grounds. For a short while, anyway.

We’ll take the tunnels, Edmund said. With your permission, my lord. It’s somewhat of an emergency, all things considered.

Granted, the earl said, and Arthur helped Frederick to support the injured man into the darkened gap beyond the door in the wall. Edmund grabbed the lantern he had left on a shelf just inside the entrance and unshuttered it. He held it up to show the way ahead and pulled the door shut behind them.

It seemed to Arthur that they descended more than enough stairs to take them twice the depth of the castle. He cursed, silently, with every step that jarred the wounded earl. If only. If only he’d been allowed more men. If only he’d made better use of the ones he had. If they’d noticed their approach and barred the gate—market day or no market day—it might have held them off. Edmund might have used these tunnels to capture one and discover where Lord Oliver was holed up.

This was cleverly done, Edmund said bitterly from up ahead as a set of steps led into a longer tunnel. My men had no idea that this was being planned.

Clearly, Arthur wasn’t the only one blaming himself for this. Are we going to Hugh’s?

Yes, Edmund answered from up ahead. We must gamble that Lord Oliver has put all his force into taking the castle. They will look for us, but hopefully not until they have secured things here.

They continued down the long tunnel. Arthur’s thoughts divided between his men in the castle and the man he was supporting.

After a long length of cobwebbed stone tunnel, they reached the point where it narrowed up to the surface in a series of steps. Edmund gestured for silence and listened carefully for a minute or two before walking up the steps and pushing the hatch open a crack. After looking all around him, he pushed it open a little wider and crept through the narrow gap. The others waited tensely in the tunnel until Edmund returned and opened the hatch fully, letting in the sunlight and making them all blink. It’s clear, he said softly.

Once they were through, the hatch was closed and re-covered with the thick undergrowth that grew in this part of the wood. The trees were too thick for Arthur to see the castle through them. If it weren’t for Edmund, he wouldn’t have known which direction to walk in, but Edmund pointed the way and followed behind them to hide the signs of their passage from any but the most dedicated tracker.

As the trees started to thin, Arthur heard horses and nodded to Frederick to stop moving.

Edmund caught up with them and slunk ahead before returning. It’s all right. It’s one of my men, he said. He stepped out into the clearing and nodded in approval as the man spun around with a dagger in his hand. Thank you. You made it out all right then?

Just before it all kicked off, sir. I sent the other men back on foot to see if they could do anything, but I doubt it. Judging by their numbers I’d say we’re more than outnumbered. He noticed the earl. My lord! You are injured. Do you wish me to see if I can procure a cart?

Too … risky, the earl replied. Horses give … greater flexibility for the terrain.

Very true, my lord, but you’ll ride with me, Arthur said.

Arthur selected the strongest looking horse and vaulted up into the saddle. He hooked his arms under the earl’s shoulders and, with some help from Frederick, got the earl into position in front of him.

Good work, Jenkins, Edmund said to the man. Now, I want you to ride on ahead and warn Hugh that we’re on our way.

Already done, sir.

Excellent man. Very well. I want you to stay out of sight for a few days until things settle down. Then see if you can get work there. I want at least one good man in the castle. I don’t know what our plans are yet, but we’ll think of something, and when we do, I’ll send word.

We should get moving, Arthur said, painfully conscious of how much this journey would hurt the earl. We’re going to have to take it slowly, and I’d like to get some distance on them.

Wise words, Edmund agreed. His eyes fell on the spare horse that the earl would not be riding. Jenkins, you have a horse.

* * *

The Earl of Charlesford lay on a four-poster bed in one of Hugh’s guest rooms. At Arthur’s request, Hugh had put them in a room that looked over the entrance to the house. The bolt had been removed from the earl’s stomach, and his wound bound, but the bandages were bloodstained and he lay with one hand across them. A glass and a decanter, somewhat emptier than it had been, stood beside the bed along with some bandages and medical instruments. Frederick sat at the bedside, the others had positioned themselves haphazardly around the room, facing the bed, on chairs dragged in from the dining room.

Arthur’s attention was half on his godfather, and half devoted to thoughts of his men back at the castle. The country had not seen true war in his lifetime, but he’d seen enough men injured in fights and land squabbles to know that the earl was mortally wounded. All that the efforts of the local nurse could buy him was time, and not much of that. Then there was Parthew and the rest of the guard. How many were dead or dying? The