Two days passed. Sir Brian sat up with a jolt. Someone pounded on his door in the middle of the night. “Brian! Sir Brian!” He recognized Sir Rothbur’s voice and sprang to the door to unlock it.


    “Arm yourself, the enemy cometh!” his friend said before he rushed down the corridor and turned a corner.


    More than a little alarmed, Sir Brian turned back to his room and grabbed his sword; about all his armament that wasn’t in the armory. He then left the room and followed the path Sir Rothbur took.


    Presently he came to the armory and found it in a frenzy with more men arriving continuously. Knights shouted to their squires and each other and breastplates crashed together more than usual in the extreme haste. An incredible noise shook the room.


    Sir Brian tried to piece together the news from the knights and men-at-arms near him. The prevailing word from around the clamorous room said that distant scouts arrived breathless with news of the Shalmen army marching to Rohalot.


    Sir Brian threw on a linen and wool harberk, a shirt of chainmail, and a tunic overtop. He looked up with surprise to see Boniface in front of him. He started talking without drawing a breath. “We’ve got to get the king out of here; Cajetan is bringing him to the stables- meet us there and bring Sir Rothbur if you can.” Without another word he disappeared into the crowd.


    “Where’s Semias?” Sir Brian shouted after him but the din drowned out his words.


    Sir Brian soon ran up to the stables from the armory and found it fraught with similar chaos. What would likely begin as a siege wouldn’t need many horses but the stableboys readied some anyway at Boniface’s orders before he gathered the knights.


    The glare from the torches cast an unsteady light on the scores of men running about and he couldn’t distinguish any but his closest friends beneath their armor.


    It took Sir Brian a while to notice that Boniface sat on a horse with a dozen knights already with him. Sir Rothbur’s squire Olin helped both men into their saddles and handed them weapons.


    “Godspeed,” he managed to say to Sir Brian before another soldier stepped between them in his own hasty preparations.


    Squire Joseph maneuvered between the armored men and out the far side of the room. He ran up several flights of stone stairs after a knight stopped him and asked him to find and bring his greaves. As he ran along he heard the words, “Don’t do anything stupid; you’re far too useful to me to try anything now.”


    He rounded the corner and almost ran into two men. He dodged around them without looking and kept running along the passageway. “Pardon me, sirs; looking for Sir White’s greaves,” he called as he immediately rounded another corner.


    As he continued running he faintly heard in the same savage voice, “Idiot squire. And to them…”


    *****


    The same moment as Squire Joseph left, Sir Brian noticed what he recognized as the king’s party entering from the close side of the room. The king wore armor similar to the rest of the knights and not his gold-inlaid gauntlets or other such ornaments. Those with him almost carried him into a saddle in their haste. A few more knights joined the group, and the party set off to the gate to the west.


    A great commotion overtook the town as everyone, though already within the town’s wall, wanted to move closer to the keep. The group kept the king in the center and pushed down a street lined with high houses and frightened citizens.


    Nearing the gate they could finally ride at more than a walk and once through kicked their mounts to a gallop. Moving faster, the distance between members increased out of necessity but still they kept the king in the center. Boniface looked back shortly after passing under the gate and saw a group of men riding at breakneck speed to the north. Four heavily armored soldiers rode around the central figure, who looked like a child next to his enormous escort.


    ‘I hope some archers are keeping a good lookout for deserters,’ he thought, assuming Semias Norworth’s escape.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    The group charged down the main road and traveled perhaps two miles away from the city when the leader tensed up and shouted to give the others the warning of that which all silently dreaded; an ambush. A body of horsemen emerged from a thicket fifty yards perpendicular to the road and bolted across the short stretch of plain to intercept the entourage. The moon shone enough to allow the group to travel rapidly. Now its light shone as if an impartial ally for both parties as the malefactors drew near.


    The leader and a few companions at the front veered off with hearty cries to meet the assault. If the likelihood of death crossed their mind, it didn’t show with a single moment’s hesitation; a king’s escort hadn’t that luxury. They met the onset with a crash, ready to sell their lives dearly to buy as much time as possible.


    The king acted as if he wished to repel his enemies himself, but the men on his sides continued on and left him no chance to risk his life.


    The remainder of the bodyguard continued on with even greater haste several miles farther along. Rounding a bend they spied a mass of people many miles distant, quite close to the castle now, with a great many torches among them. Standing still in the silent night while listening for hoofbeats and breathing their horses, the group realized the full import of the report of the scouts that woke the castle.


    Boniface spoke to the others. “That was a close call; thank Eshua for our friend’s courage. Hopefully they were victorious.”


    Wanting to make an impression to the others, he continued, “I think I saw Semias fleeing just behind us as we left the castle and head north. He must have defected.”


    Some stirred in their saddles and mumbled to each other, but none appeared greatly affected; the soldiery held Semias Norworth in derision. Only the king acted concerned. He turned his horse around and made as if to go and talk to Boniface, but never did.


    Upon nearing Boniface he urged his horse forward and tried to break out through the others back the way they had come. A knight near him lunged for his horse’s mane and caught two fistfuls of it as he passed by. The king beat at his hands and eventually drew his sword but the others surrounded him by that time.


    They wrestled his sword from his possession and held him still. They stood there in the dark night with the enemy host advancing toward Rohalot Castle. Preventing the king from returning to his people felt strange. He muttered a few threats then ceased to resist.


    Boniface spoke to reassure him, “The sooner we can get to Echo Slope, the quicker we can send aid, mylord, but it is folly to go back.”


    Everyone stared for a few moments at the king whose armor rose and fell about his chest. He reached up to unbuckle his helmet and lifted it off. Everyone gasped and Boniface, who wore no helmet, lost all color.


    *****


    Boniface’s color drained to deathly white and he looked like a ghost standing dumb in the moonlight. His mind raced to fit the pieces of treachery together. A deception caused them to escort another man out in place of King Nigel.


    Boniface involuntarily glanced back at the mass of torches miles away and realized with a great pain in his heart that they dared not return. He now felt the urgency of getting to Echo Slope to request aid more than ever.


    “Bind him,” he said as he returned to his horse.


    “Haah!” the man croaked, turning halfway around to see Sir Brian as one of his captors, “I didn’t get you but killing a king is better.”


    Sir Brian spun the bound prisoner around and looked him in the face. “So it’s you who tried to cut my throat in my sleep! You traitor- you’ll pay for killing our king,” he said.


    “His blood isn’t on my knife, but giving myself up to you means your precious king is safe with us. Haah! My life for a king’s.” He fell into a quiet muse while they set him atop a horse again.


    They eagerly wished to start again as they knew Echo Slope was the closest significant castle able to send assistance.


    “Wait! Wait!” Sir Brian called to Boniface who had already turned and started to ride. “There’s no king to protect in our company now and as long as some arrive to ask for assistance the rest of us should stay here and help defend.”


    Sir Rothbur caught his meaning and continued, “Lord Marillac will assuredly send aid but it will be 10 days before a relief force can arrive. Semias knows this and will make sure they’re too late. If we don’t have King Nigel safe before reinforcements arrive, their arrival will kill him.”


    All the men in the group murmured agreement and Boniface turned his horse to face them. “How will you help in the defense?”


    “Get back inside if we can and remove Semias from his position immediately with whatever means available,” Sir Rothbur said. “Otherwise I don’t know.”


    “Stay out of sight as best we can and frustrate their plans.” Sir Brian said.


    “If you enter, do so without notice lest your arrival have the same effect as reinforcements; Semias has some fifty in his bodyguard,” Boniface said. “Godspeed. Now,” turning to the group in general, “five with me to guard our prisoner and request aid from Echo Slope.”


    None desired to be thought of as cowardly and Sir Brian and Sir Rothbur immediately galloped their horses over the ground they just traversed, followed by most of the others. The last five remaining turned their horses west and rode with Boniface while making sure their prisoner stayed between them.