"He has been poisoned," he said. "Take care of him."
Phinneas Blackwell stumped back to the two scouts.
"Go at once and find the woman," he said. "My son will have your heads if you do not find her." The two scouts left at once. Blackwell the Elder waved the generals forward.
"My son has been poisoned. The poison was hidden in a letter sent from King Geoffrey, carried by those two scouts who just rode off to warn Dagon against opening any missives from Geoffrey. We will attack at once.” He thrust his arm toward the sky. “Long live Prince Blackwell!"
The generals ordered the trumpets to sound the charge as the army of Henge surged forward at a gallop.
Chapter 38
Village of Helsop
Dagon watched as Fernland’s archers advanced, relieved that the remainder of Geoffrey’s army hung back. Dagon's militia was less than a tenth the size of Geoffrey's army and many were old men and teen-aged boys. They would fight to protect their homes and families but without Blackwell's aid there was little hope of victory. Their best armaments had long since been traded for food.
At Dagon’s order the soldiers had stripped some of their houses of boards to use as shields. These boards had been given to the soldiers on horseback. They formed into a long line, each pair of horsed soldiers carrying a board between them to use as a sweeping ram. From a distance their scraps of boards looked like a broken wooden barricade.
The first volley of arrows came up short. The few that found their marks had slowed enough to do little damage. Dagon gave the order to those on horseback to stand ready. At his signal, all along the front line, the soldiers hoisted their boards and moved down the knoll as a solid wall gaining speed as they overtook the line of Geoffrey's archers. The archers were bowled over; many knocked unconscious or worse. Most of their bows were too damaged to be of use. Those archers who were able quickly retreated.
Dagon's men rode back up the knoll cheering wildly. They circled and readied for another charge.
"No," Dagon yelled. He rode in front of the line standing tall on his stirrups, shouting orders.
"All those on horseback, follow me. Leave your boards for those on foot. All you on foot kneel behind your boards. You are Helsop’s last line of defense."
The very young and the very old moved in as the cavalry rode off. Grandfathers and young boys began to arrange their boards in front of them.
Dagon turned east toward the trees and signaled his cavalry to follow. They raced to the cover of the forest on the eastern edge of Fernland’s army. Hidden from view, the cavalry rode to a thicket of trees and retrieved the torches Dagon had stashed there that morning. As soon as the torches were lit they rode to the edge of the plain, setting the grass afire. The grass was too damp to burn readily and the result was a smoky battlefield that left both sides chocking and straining to see. Fernland’s conscripts were sent out with blankets to smother the fire while Dagon watched anxiously for Blackwell’s army to arrive.
As the smoke began to clear Dagon glanced toward Helsop and saw his soldiers pointing south towards Geoffrey’s command tent. He looked back and realized a parley flag had been raised, calling for a temporary truce to negotiate demands. Then he heard the trumpets off to the west. Either Blackwell didn’t see the parley flag or chose to disregard it. Henge’s army never slowed their charge as they plowed into the unprotected western flank of Geoffrey’s army.
Chapter 39
Village of Helsop
Blackwell regained consciousness. He sat up too quickly and a dizzy, throbbing pain in his head almost overwhelmed him. He steadied his head with his hands and opened his eyes carefully.
There she sat, staring and smiling at him, the beautiful woman who had deceived him.
"Are you feeling better M'Lord?"
"Guards!" he called in a weak voice.
"I am afraid they will not hear you. They are all with your father," Serafina said.
"My father. Is he alive?"
"Very much so. He is meeting with your officers, laying plans for Fernland's demise."
"He's alive?" Blackwell reaffirmed as he lay back down on his cot. He gingerly touched the bump on his head. "I remember looking for his wound. He said he would kill himself but there was no blood." Blackwell's eyes opened wide. "Did my father do this to me?"
"Your father said you had been poisoned by Geoffrey. Your army attacked with a vengeance. They hold you in high esteem."
"Oh, no!" Blackwell moaned. "And our casualties?"
"Not many," Serafina said, "It was over quickly. Geoffrey's army is on the run."
"Thank the fates for that," Blackwell said, sitting up slowly. "But do not imagine I have forgotten your treachery. What did you hope to achieve with that fantasy of a captured Princess Electra?"
"In truth, M'Lord, the parley flag was up when your army attacked."
Blackwell struggled to his feet. "I will not be deceived a second time. You will come with me to this meeting you say my father has called, and I will discover the truth. You will learn I do not make idle threats."
Blackwell stared at the opening of the medical tent and tried to will his head to stop spinning. He grabbed Serafina's arm, intending to pull her along with him and found instead he needed her help to stay standing.
"Where is this meeting?" he demanded.
"Not far, M'Lord. I think you can make it."
"Of course I can make it," he snarled. He took a tentative step, then another with Serafina's support.
"This smells of treason," Blackwell said, "to leave an injured commander without guards."
"They rushed off quite suddenly," Serafina said. "Perhaps they thought it was enough that I was with you now that the battle is won."
Blackwell looked at her suspiciously but said nothing.
As they neared the command tent a shout went up and guards came rushing out to meet them.
"Prince Blackwell, you are recovered? We feared the worst," a tall soldier said, taking Blackwell's arm.
Blackwell shook him off. "What is happening here?" he demanded.
"A strategy meeting among the officers" the guard said.
"Without me?" Blackwell asked.
"But the poison, Excellency—it is a miracle that you…" the guard’s words trailed off.
"Is my father in there?"
"Yes, of course. Shall I interrupt with these good tidings?"
"Do not bother. I'll give him the good tidings myself."
Blackwell pushed away from Serafina and walked carefully into the command tent. A hush fell over the meeting, quickly turning to cheers as Prince Blackwell entered.
His father looked up in surprise, then smiled broadly. "We've done it Son; we've defeated Geoffrey. I wish you'd been awake to see it."
A deep anger surged through Blackwell, giving him the strength to walk with more assurance. His father shrank back from his son's cold stare. Blackwell addressed his officers.
"Congratulations are in order. I understand you have fought valiantly on my behalf. And what exactly was it that brought me down?"
"You were poisoned by a missive from Geoffrey," one of his generals said.
"Ah, I see. And the medics have retained this poisoned letter?"
The officers looked at one another, and one went to the opening of the tent to speak to a guard.
"We will find out if the missive is retained, Sire."
"And what brave man gave the order to attack in my stead?" Blackwell asked.
The officers all turned toward Blackwell's father.
"What difference does it make?" his father said. "We all had no choice but to attack that scoundrel."
"And is it true there was a parley flag in evidence when the attack began?"
Several of the officers looked down at their feet and shuffled uncomfortably.
"I saw no parley flag," his father said, "and if there was one, it called for a parley with Helsop, not with Henge, where they'd decided to win by lopping off the head so to speak, by getting
rid of you."
The officers brightened at this and made nods of approval.
A medic appeared at the tent's flap and was ushered in.
"Yes?" Blackwell asked, waving the medic forward.
"We could not find the poison missive your father spoke of," the medic said. "We did look for it to try to determine what poison it might have been, but it must have been flung out and ground into the earth by the hooves of our horses."
"And did I exhibit signs of a particular poison?"
"No, Sire, you were unconscious as you had also sustained an injury to your head as you fell."
"Thank you," Blackwell said, "I am sure your efforts must have saved my life."
The medic said nothing, hoping for a chance to slip away quietly.
Blackwell stared at his father until the old man's eyes turned away. "Father you have exhausted yourself in the performance of my duties. Go and rest, and I will speak to you later."
His father began to protest, then changed his expression to one of indifference, and gave up his place at the command table. Serafina followed him out.
"Congratulations on your victory," Serafina said, as she caught up with the elder Blackwell.
"I'm glad someone appreciates it," he grumbled.
"Oh, I appreciate it more than you can imagine," she said.
"You're the one who got us here, aren't you?" the old king asked.
"A mere quirk of fate," she said as she walked with him back to his tent.
Chapter 40
Village of Helsop
The village of Helsop bustled with activity. King Geoffrey’s army had fled, leaving most of its supplies on the battlefield. The residents picked up the discarded items with exclamations of joy. All of Helsop feasted on food left behind. King Geoffrey’s hasty retreat had left many of his men stranded on the battlefield. These were the men without horses, mostly recruits, who had been sent to put out the grass fire. Dagon’s soldiers rounded them up and dubbed them the ‘blanket brigade’.
The prisoner stockade was soon full to overflowing. Dagon ordered a prisoner exchange as the first order of business. Helsop’s populace wanted their relatives freed from Geoffrey’s dungeon and they didn’t want to feed their new prisoners any longer than necessary.
Take the Thief had kept to the shaded side of the stockade as the new prisoners were led in. Just as he feared, his old sergeant was among them. The new men looked around apprehensively. One group seemed to be trying to shield a young conscript with yellow hair. Their suspicious maneuvers called the guard's attention to the youth. The guard motioned him over. He noticed the dark roots of his yellow hair.
"You look familiar, Boy. Ain't you that crystal ball-readin' fella got away from us before? Lost yer crystal ball an' the King demoted ya ta a conscript, did he? Why the yellow hair?" Avor peered past the guard as though he didn't understand the language.
"Bet ya wouldn't of seen things turnin' out like this even with yer future-tellin’ball would ya?" The guard laughed at his own joke while the prisoners kept silent. He called out loudly enough for all the prisoners to hear. "Don't count on a fancy dinner lads. We've a bit ‘a catchin’ up ta’ do in the matter of eating ‘ere in Helsop, thanks ta yer King Geoffrey." The guard closed the thick wooden door and sat outside on a stool.
"That there's Prince Avor ain't it?" Tom whispered in the thief's ear.
Excited whispers swept the dark cell.
Take studied the young recruit. "You’re right, it’s him for sure, but his hair’s gone yellow."
"Should we pay our respects, ya’ think?" Tom asked.
"I think we should stay in the background as much as we can, not that there’s much chance penned up like this. Did you notice our old sergeant over there?" Take lifted his chin in the direction of the stockade’s entrance.
"Oh, Blimey!" Tom said, "Ya’ think ‘e took note we was gone?"
"It’s likely," Take said. "There’s roll call, unless they skipped it."
"Ya think we should ‘fess up, Take?"
"Never," Take said. "But we'd best get our story straight. How about we heard a noise and went to check it out and Dagon's men were there waiting for us?"
"Oh, that there’s foolproof is what that is," Tom said enthusiastically.
An officer came through the door of their enclosure.
"Those I point to, step over to the gate," he said. "You, you, you." He seemed to point at random until ten men were selected, one of them, Take the Thief. "This is your lucky day," he said to the men as they assembled by the door of the stockade. “We need ten men for a prisoner exchange."
The thief glanced back at Tom who waved to him as Take was led away.
"I need to speak to Headman Dagon," the thief whispered to the officer. "If I go back to Fernland I'll be thrown in the dungeon. I have some important information to bargain with." What a break that Prince Avor is among the captured prisoners, Take thought to himself.
The officer whispered something to his commander, Deimos.
As the prisoners neared the command post, Deimos pulled Take the Thief aside.
"What information?" Deimos demanded.
"The whereabouts of King Geoffrey's son," the thief answered.
"Why are you afraid to go back?"
"I escaped from Geoffrey’s dungeon with the help of the Sorceress Serafina. I saw her here in camp, though her face is changed for the better. I'm guessing she's sided with Helsop against Geoffrey."
"Serafina?"
"Yes, I saw her speaking to Dagon when I was last interrogated."
"Come with me," Deimos said. He nodded to a guard at the entrance of the command post and stepped inside with the thief.
Dagon looked up from his paperwork, smiling. "First fruits of our victory," he said, "a prisoner exchange. It will be good to get some of our friends back from Geoffrey's dungeon."
"It seems we already have an escapee from Geoffrey's dungeon with us," Deimos said, pushing the thief forward.
Dagon recognized the prisoner as one of the likely deserters from Fernland’s army.
"You did not mention your escape from Fernland’s dungeon when last we spoke," Dagon said.
The thief looked around cautiously as he was brought to stand before Dagon. He was relieved to see that Serafina was not present.
"It’s hardly something to boast about," Take said.
"It is most unusual for a prisoner to turn down an offer of freedom," Dagon said.
"I find myself in an unusual situation," Take countered.
"Explain," Dagon said.
The thief decided to give only as much information as was needed. He feared he had made a mistake in mentioning Serafina’s name.
"I escaped from Geoffrey’s dungeon with the aid of a friend and was on my way out of Fernland when I was conscripted into the army. Then, when I tried to desert, I was caught by your soldiers. If I am part of the prisoner exchange, King Geoffrey may recognize me and return me to the dungeon or worse."
"I see," Dagon said. "What is this information you have concerning King Geoffrey’s son?"
"I know the whereabouts of King Geoffrey’s son, Prince Avor. You could easily take him prisoner and have the advantage in future negotiations."
"Where is his son?" Dagon asked.
The thief raised his eyes to look directly at Dagon. "I had hoped the information might gain me some advantage," the thief said.
"I will decide that. Do not test my patience." Dagon leaned forward, frowning.
The thief lowered his eyes. He knew he would be beaten if he tried to bargain. "Prince Avor is in your stockade."
"What? That is ridiculous. Geoffrey would never allow his son to be captured."
"Nevertheless, he is there, disguised as a conscript."
"I understand you are desperate, but this story is nonsense. Which one do you fancy is Geoffrey’s son?"
"The guard seemed already to know him. He called him ‘the crystal ball gazin’ fellow."
"Amoral?
" Dagon glanced at Deimos, who shrugged his shoulders in reply. "Take this prisoner out," Dagon told the guard. "Keep him apart from the other prisoners."
The guard moved Take the Thief to an empty tent close to the command post.
Take sat down in the small tent and wrapped his arms around his knees. He went over the conversation with Dagon in his mind. He took Dagon for an honorable sort who would reward him for his information as soon as he verified it. He began to think of what he might ask for in the way of a reward. Freedom, of course, perhaps safe passage back through Fernland and beyond. Money, perhaps, though he doubted Helsop had any. He could always get the money he needed with a quick stop in Fernland to sell more tickets. Perhaps he could ask for freedom for his friend Tom as well. He lay down and closed his eyes. Was his luck finally changing for the better?
Chapter 41
Village of Helsop
As soon as Take was out the door, Dagon beckoned Deimos to a seat. "Do you think it is possible?" Dagon asked.
"I don’t know," Deimos said. "The age is about right, but what would the king’s son have been doing out in the forest with a young girl? They were crossing into Fernland, not out. The thief let slip a name, Serafina. I believe he was speaking of the sorceress. He said he saw her here in camp with a changed face."
"Bring this Amorel in for questioning," Dagon said, "but do not let on that we suspect anything. If he is the king’s son, we could have a riot on our hands. Say we’re taking five more prisoners for the exchange and make sure he is one of them."
As Dagon waited for his prisoner to arrive, he tried to imagine why the king’s son and a young girl would be alone in the forest. The boy seemed too young for any romantic tryst. He stood at the door of his command post and watched as the guards separated Amorel from the other four prisoners. They did indeed seem fearful and protective of the young man.
Dagon sat behind his desk as Amorel was led in. He glanced up from his paperwork and said casually, "We know who you are." The boy tensed, but recovered quickly and stared off into space as though he didn’t understand. Too late. Dagon had seen the flash of understanding and dread in the boy’s eyes.
"We know you are Prince Avor, and we will hold both you and your so-called assistant for ransom," Dagon continued.
The color drained from the boy’s face, but he reverted to his far-off gaze as quickly as he could compose himself.