The comrades from Rohalot arrived at Echo Slope thoroughly exhausted, but the fresh adrenaline of arriving with a mission gave them renewed energy for the time ahead. They met with the usual occurrences and challenges from guards when riding up the winding labyrinth to the main fortress and soon arrived.
Hearing that a group of knights arrived from Rohalot Castle, Lord Marillac didn’t even need to be told they desired to talk with him; verily, he desired to hear news as much as they wished to give it. He didn’t need the prompting of Boniface’s presence to seek information.
“Boniface, it is good to see you,” he said, recognizing the king’s advisor.
“I’m glad to see you as well mylord.”
“My steward informed me you arrived in haste from Rohalot,” said Lord Marillac, prompting right to the heart of the conversation.
“It could not be more urgent,” Boniface replied.
“Follow me then,” Lord Marillac said.
Boniface turned to some of the knights still by him. “Take care of the prisoner.” Then turning to a knight with Boniface, Sir Grimmore, said, “You come as well.”
Lord Marillac led the two men to the same consultation room as he dispatched the knights from twelve days before and closed the door.
He began the conversation with a question. “You brought a prisoner from the capitol?”
The most obvious assumption begged an explanation and elicited a lengthy one from Boniface.
Once completed, Lord Marillac sighed and laid his face in his hands. After a space he raised his head and spoke. “Semias planned all this just as you said. I don’t believe he would come with an inferior force as he knows all the defenses at Rohalot Castle.”
He stood and walked to the window according to his custom. The weather changed significantly the last few days. An icy wind blew from the east and brought a slight rain that muddied up the courtyard and darkened the earth.
Lord Marillac continued his train of thought, “And, as we have seen, Semias has enemy soldiers in his bodyguard inside the castle. I pray Cajetan or those who turned around get the defending captain to arrest Semias’ entire bodyguard immediately before they can sabotage anything.”
He fell into another reverie pondering his next move. He didn’t covet the title of first-in-command in the kingdom and still didn’t hold it, but it appeared only he could provide relief.
He turned and addressed his friend, “Of course I want to send aid, but you may know, Boniface, that I recently sent two hundred men to Lord Cyprius’ aid at his request and promised more; I didn’t know of this force marching on Rohalot.”
“The siege has surely begun by now,” Sir Grimmore said. “I only hope that a siege is their intent; which I doubt.”
“So do I,” said Lord Marillac. “Semias is too clever to drag things out waiting for a surrender.”
He looked to Boniface, “You said you sent Cajetan to bring the king to meet you at the stables; were there any with him?”
“A few men-at-arms, sir.”
Lord Marillac didn’t berate his friend for only sending a few men on such an important task; indeed, his friend likely did little else on the entire journey. Holding his tongue in this moment of agitation showed his depth of character and part of what made him a great leader.
“So Semias uses him as a bargaining-piece. I can see little other intention as he had every opportunity to kill the king,“ he answered immediately, not leaving a space of silence for the words to sting. “But all that is useless speculation and cannot change a thing except paralyze us into doing nothing; I’ll send aid as soon as possible. I have every hope the king is still living.
“But in the meantime we need to know what is happening there; whether it is a full siege or if the Shalmen have help from inside. I imagine it is both.”
“Likely Semias’ guards conveniently patrolled as the Shalmen advanced toward the castle the way the force reached so close before the garrison was roused,” Sir Grimmore said with scorn.
“Certainly; a host could not reach so close to a city undetected even if there were no Rohian scouts,” answered Boniface.
“Did you see particulars of the Shalmen force?” Lord Marillac asked.
The two shook their heads in the negative and repeated that they left in great haste.
“But you must have had a reason to attempt to evacuate the king,” Lord Marillac said while looking straight at Boniface. “Did you think the city would fall?”
Boniface paused and appeared to question his decision then said, “Separating King Nigel from Semias had been a prominent goal for so long I now see I acted without thinking. My first thought upon awakening went to protecting the king. For weeks, evacuating him to Echo Slope meant protection.”
“Perhaps Semias didn’t know of the plan to evacuate the king and stole him out anyway,” Sir Grimmore offered.
“There would not have been a replacement had there been no deception,” Boniface said.
“True,” said Lord Marillac. “Realize I don’t ask in order to blame you in my frustration. I simply want every possible detail before I make a decision.”
“Sir Amis is still there,” Boniface volunteered.
While he spoke Sir Rowlin and another knight, Sir Chesterfield, entered. “Knights,” Lord Marillac said, “Boniface brings news from Rohalot Castle. Have you heard it from anyone?”
“We’ve heard nothing, sir, except a murmur of gossip about their arriving company.”
“Rohalot is under attack; perhaps a siege, and we have every reason to believe King Nigel is already in the hands of the Shalmen,” said Lord Marillac quietly.
Sir Chesterfield’s face went white at the words and his mouth hung open slightly. Sir Rowlin knit his brow and mumbled, “I didn’t expect anything so large to happen so suddenly.”
“We’d been talking before you entered,” Lord Marillac said, “and agree that since Semias could have killed the king many times but hasn’t, King Nigel’s death is not the goal. We think he is alive.”
“If he’s keeping King Nigel as a bargaining piece that could mean he doesn’t have a force strong enough to take Rohia and is holding him for ransom,” Sir Rowlin said. “The Shalmen hold a grudge against his ancestors and want more than a tortured king. If Semias is as pervasive as we’ve been told and turned the king into the puppet I’ve heard, he certainly had opportunities to not only kill him but steal him as well. But he did neither of those things and I know he’s playing a deeper game.”
“A deeper game, yes,” Lord Marillac said. “The grudge isn’t just towards the king’s ancestors but all people in the kingdom. The king led us in comfort previously but we’ll follow his torment if we cannot save him. We’ve all heard the horrors of Sensian’s rebellion.”
“Do you think this is a new resurgence of Sensian’s brand of Shalmen?” Sir Chesterfield asked.
“I do,” Lord Marillac answered. “It’s an almost impossible coincidence for the Shalmen to land around Bronlum right when the king buckles under pressure. Wouldn’t you agree, Boniface?”
Boniface shifted in his chair. “Anyone close to the king,” he began, “noticed a change in him a month or two before the Shalmen were first reported on our shores. It took me a while to notice it- I thought it was him grieving- but Cajetan asked me about it and I certainly saw the change from then forward. Even before they landed.”
“Semias cannot work alone,” Lord Marillac continued. “He is crafty and cunning but doesn’t have the power to sway the kingdom without outside help.”
“That’s where his bodyguard comes in,” Boniface said. “He keeps a large bodyguard I’m now convinced is his inside help.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The conversation continued a while after this until Sir Rowlin and Boniface needed to attend other matters.
Sir Grimmore moved the conversation to another vein after the two departed and Lord Marillac began to follow that. He told about how a man attacked Sir Brian in the middle of the night.
“Sir Rothbur helped defend him and though the man escaped they say they saw a brand mark on his arm. As if he is a member of a secret society. While evacuating the ‘king’ from Rohalot Castle you already know how it turned out to be a traitor. He all but admitted it was he who tried to kill Sir Brian that night.”
Lord Marillac and Sir Chesterfield pondered this in silence.
Finally Lord Marillac spoke. “Well, about this secret society in Rohalot. It’s now apparent it’s affiliated with the Shalmen and Semias, but did either of you see the brand clearly?”
“Neither of us did.”
“I wish to see it and question this man,” he said. “Won’t you join me?”
The three went to the courtyard and questioned a soldier standing there if the prisoner already occupied the dungeon and found out he did. They went down a passageway lit by torches and continued down to the farther reaches, passing by many empty cells and several guards who let them pass unchallenged at seeing the lord of the castle.
Arriving at the cell, the three entered to find a man not raging as a recent prisoner, but one already resigned to his fate. He had the air of one who bears his suffering in the knowledge he brings about a greater good; he contented himself knowing he held a large part in the kingdom’s weakening.
Lord Marillac walked up to him and asked, “Who sent you in King Nigel’s place?”
The prisoner smirked and turned part way around, saying, “You don’t need me to tell you.”
“Did he also have you try to kill Sir Brian?” asked Lord Marillac.
The man glared back and said, “I’ll do it, too. Someday.”
“Did he also have you branded?”
At that, the prisoner turned away and would not speak.
“Let us see it.”
He stayed motionless, facing away with his arms folded. Lord Marillac took a step forward and so did the prisoner.
“Guards!” Lord Marillac said, raising his voice.
Two guards instantly stepped into the cell and Lord Marillac spoke to them. “Restrain him; we need to see a brand on his arm.”
The two grabbed the man by each arm and turned him around. He struggled for an instant then realized the futility and complied without looking anyone in the face.
The three looked at the man’s arm and saw, sure enough, a brand mark upon the muscular sword arm. Lord Marillac silently delighted in the shape; a diamond beset with a circle. The brand looked fairly new, certainly within the last few years.
“When did you enter Semias’ bodyguard?” Lord Marillac asked.
The man stared straight ahead proudly and didn’t acknowledge the question. Lord Marillac stood staring at the prisoner for another moment and let a smile slowly spread across his face. The prisoner remained mute but reddened slightly.
“That’s all. For now,” Lord Marillac said as he motioned to the guards to leave the prisoner alone and turned on his heel and walked out smiling menacingly.
The two knights followed him stalking away. Before they turned the corner they heard the gate close again and the guards resume their posts.
Once the three traversed several corners and couldn’t be overheard, Sir Grimmore asked, “Why did you smile when he didn’t answer your question?”
“Just to try a mind game with him. We’ll see if he is more eager to talk after worrying over it for a few days,” he answered, but then continued, “I have seen that shape before.”
“Where?” he asked, surprised.
“In the infirmary; Anthanasius mentioned it to me before he left. He has also seen it on the Shalmen armor.
Lord Marillac led to the infirmary and entered. They saw a few monks there, but not Oblate Joseph or Brother Walter. Lord Marillac inquired into their whereabouts and decided to wait for one to arrive, meanwhile visiting with the monks he knew, but mostly with the infirm.
Brother Walter arrived first and greeted them, supposing the reason for their visit. Lord Marillac noticed he looked the same as when he followed him days before down the same passage. Together they walked down the passage and soon came to his cell.
Lord Marillac noticed no change in the room either, and sat in the same chair as before; across from the man while the two knights looked on. Brother Walter reached to the side and picked up the old and tattered book. He opened it to where a piece of parchment stuck out and gave it to Lord Marillac, saying, “This is the translation I came up with. Rohian hands did not write these words.”
Lord Marillac knit his brow and read aloud:
“Whence the miserable traitors have been rightfully banished, now shall come a swift crushing of their pathetic host. Camp before our gates, horrid wretches, watching for a weakness. We won’t show one as we haven’t any. I look forward with eager expectation for your mad march up the hill; the second rank will be slipping on blood and make you foolish peasants even easier targets.
“Banishment was never enough and we should have known better. No matter; we won’t make this same mistake again. This will be the final battle between the all-powerful Shalmen and the serf rabble huddling at the foot of our mighty fortress.”
He looked up and said, “Why, this must have been written at least 400 years ago. Could it be pages from Luthar Sensian’s journal? That or one of his nobility?”
“I believe so.”
Lord Marillac looked back down to the parchment and the book and then back up. “This is wonderful history and I thank you for your work, but do you know what the ancient parts of this castle were originally used for?” he said, disappointed to learn only a few trivial bits of information.
“Open to the second parchment,” the older man said.
Lord Marillac noticed for the first time another place marked by a sheet. He opened it to the same illumination he noticed on his first visit, pulled out the parchment, and proceeded to read:
“The gods be praised for Eusebius’ sacrifice. They hurled him from the walls and pierced him with arrows as he tumbled to the rocks. Who knows what would have happened to our struggle had he not courageously sabotaged the Shalmen. He saved a score of people a thousand fold from a life of slow death under their lash.”
“Ah,” he exclaimed, “I never knew the name of the man who did it- only that a hero weakened the defenses enough for the assault to break in upon this mighty fortress.”
He continued reading:
“We packed over the secret entrance from whence we gained access lest a traitor to our cause remains in our midst in this mighty city.”
“A different scribe wrote the rest,” Brother Walter interrupted.
Lord Marillac looked and noticed, crammed at the bottom of the page, the scratchy writing of a different hand and the accompanying translation.
“In expanding the fortress to better withstand an assault, we modified the passage and tunnel to make it less impregnable should we Rohians ever require it again. Perchance a generation forgot about it until I discovered this tome.“
“So the passage is in the original section of the castle,” Sir Grimmore exclaimed.
“It would appear so,” answered Lord Marillac, excited, but more calm at the secondary discovery. “You see at least one generation has forgotten about it since the second writing. The newer part of the castle is about 300 years old.”
He looked to the translator as he finished speaking, who volunteered, “I didn’t know about the passage either.”
“Have you found it, then, since translating this?”
“I’ve not looked for it,” he responded. “We only finished the translation this morning.”
Sir Grimmore interjected again with that boyish enthusiasm the words ‘secret passageway’ always inspire. “The book says ‘tunnel and passage’, see!” he said, “right there.” and he pointed to the words written by the second hand. “That means our ancestors hollowed out a space in the stone below us.”
Unable to share the same excitement of the knight, Lord Marillac still couldn’t move his mind from the insignia. He said, “The Shalmen once used the original section of the castle as a base for their military reign. If half the legends are real then great butchery took place here. How strange that our infirmary once housed those atrocities.”
“Praise Eshua it has become a place of healing- ‘abusus non tollit usum’, abuse is no argument against proper use,” Brother Walter said.
“Is the insignia that of the Shalmen, then, and nothing more?” Lord Marillac mused. “That doesn’t seem enough…” He trailed off in thought, tapping his finger on the edge of the Brother’s table and stroking his brown rounded beard.
Their host shifted in his chair and reached across the table for the book but pushed the parchment translation aside. He flipped carefully through a large chunk of pages and then back a few after reorienting.
As he looked, he spoke, “I don’t remember what the Shalmen’s insignia is supposed to be even five years ago, but there is a drawing Joseph and I discovered here with a description from the same hand as wrote about expanding the tunnel.”
He found the page with the drawing he desired and pushed the book over to Lord Marillac who eagerly looked down but saw no translation.
Sir Chesterfield bent over his shoulder and asked, “So this is the ensign of the Shalmen after their defeat at the ancient Echo Slope? That doesn’t seem to line up. Why would the defeated change the symbol of their unity after a crushing defeat?”
“I suppose we should have written out that translation as well, but it was unclear. Something along the lines of it being the new scourge of the Rohians; a band of disconcerted rebels from near Rohalot which nearly brought the budding city to the ground.” explained Brother Walter, chuckling.
All four smiled broadly as everyone knew that section of history; a Shalmen remnant fled to the southeast of the country and laid siege to the new young capitol, trying to undermine its walls. The western part of the kingdom mustered a massive relief force to drive out the Shalmen once and for all, but they overdid the caution; the defenders fought with the strength of desperation, vaguely remembering the terrors of the previous reign and mostly drove them back.
The relief army pushed the rebels to the coast but could not follow over the sea. Some returned home immediately to reinforce the weakened western half of the kingdom should anything befall while others helped rebuild the port town Rondyr, which the Shalmen torched as they fled, or the reconstruction of Rohalot.
“This must have been written by the lord of Echo Slope while restlessly waiting for word. It appears we have to deal with a new form of the original Shalmen,” said Lord Marillac gravely once the mirth resided, “one seeking to reintroduce savage inhumanity.”
“I’d sooner die in battle a dozen times than be taken by those monsters,” said Sir Chesterfield.
“Most would. Even without knowing this,” responded Lord Marillac, “and thank Eshua for that.”
The anxiety to discover the long-lost passage still visibly affected Sir Grimmore. Lord Marillac looked to him and said, “As there is no more to the text I see no reason to delay; let us look for the entrance at once.”