Friends of the Crown - Book 1 of Heroes of the Realm

Friends of the Crown -

  Book 1 of Heroes of the Realm

  By Scott Van der Haeghen

  Copyright 2012 © Scott Van der Haeghen

 

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1-Family Matters

  Chapter 2-Old Barlow

  Chapter3-Fletcher the Fierce

  Chapter 4-Newellen

  Chapter 5-The Plot

  Chapter 6-Radan

  Chapter 7-In the Queen’s Regiment

  Chapter 8-Groden

  Chapter 9-The Great Western Ocean

  Chapter 10-Marooned

  Chapter 11-Stealing the Braydon

  Chapter 12-Back to Saladin

  Chapter 13-Home Again

  Epilogue

 

  Chapter 1 – Family Matters

  Two ordinary looking young men were working outside a small house next to a ten-acre field, plowed and ready for the spring planting. Though the days were getting warmer with each that passes, they were splitting wood nonetheless. "Warm it may be," Aubrey’s mother, Ellen Cousins, always said, "but the cooking fire still needs to be fed and we will not be fed without it." So Aubrey and Neville are splitting logs into kindling for the stove. The door of the little house opened.

  "Aubrey!" called Brey's mother from the porch of her little house. "Finish your chores and come inside. It's nearly time for dinner." Shifting her gaze to the other young man by the pile of logs she added, "I should think your mother would be looking for you as well, Neville. You should run along now so she'll not worry after you."

  "All right, mother." Brey turned his golden brown eyes to his companion, Neville Morton. "As if your mother would think you were anywhere but here or in the village working. Really!" Turning back to the shrinking woodpile, he grabbed another log and placed it on the big, flat stump. With a single practiced swing, the log split neatly in two.

  Though only fourteen years of age, Brey Cousins was already showing his adult potential in his wiry but strong frame. Another sign of impending manhood was the feathery growth of sandy brown whiskers to match his hair, beginning to grow on his strong jaw line.

  Ellen often tells him that he takes after his father. Though he has been gone for many years, Brey can still vaguely recall the sound of his father's voice and can almost remember his face. Mother tells him from time to time to merely look in a mirror to see him, as he is the spitting image of her departed love. Burt Cousins was a gentle, hard-working man who was as friendly a soul as anyone in Carsby had ever met. He was the kind of man to help anyone in need and still see that his own chores were daily met. When he died nearly five years ago in a logging accident the whole village mourned his loss. Ellen Cousins mourned long for her dear husband, but in time found she could once again smile and laugh and even love.

  Neville Morton was nearly a full hand shorter than his friend, but was stockier of build. His hair was fair and his eyes a deep brown, bordering on black. Despite their difference in appearance, they were two of a kind in their thoughts.

  Nev shifted his position on the log he had been resting upon and turned his gaze toward the plowed field a short distance away. "I doubt my mum even remembers my name these days. She's gone so far to the cups she can't think beyond the next jug of wine." He reflected and plucked another shoot of spring grass from the patch of ground near the fence post and placed it between his teeth. "Think your mum might let me stay for supper again?" he asked hopefully.

  "You know she will; you'd never get a decent meal if it weren't for my mum. Help me finish up and we'll go in for dinner." The boys, as they had done in all things since they were very young, took up the task together and finished quickly. As predicted, Mrs. Cousins saw that Nev got a proper meal and sent a bit home with him to see that Mrs. Morton got some nourishment as well.

  Abigail Morton was once a fine lady of the village. Though not wealthy, she always had a nice home, managed to have clean, well-kept clothing and made sure her son and daughter were always presentable and polite. Jacob Morton, Nev's father, was once thought of as the next elder of the village of Carsby, even though he was not technically old enough to be considered 'elderly'. He was wise, intelligent, and well respected…once. All that changed two years ago.

  Two summers past, Jacob and his daughter, Millicent, were traveling to the city of Newellen; they were making a regular trip to obtain supplies for the farm and some fabric and ribbon for Milli and her mother. It is believed, along the road, they met a highwayman who demanded their money and their wagon. Being a man of honor and strong convictions, Jacob Morton would have refused and demanded the robber leave them alone; the robber and Jacob must have fought, the highwayman certainly being a more practiced swordsman slew him and took the money, the wagon - and Milli. It was more than two days before the crime was discovered. Though the men of Carsby immediately went in search of Milli and her captor, the trail was long cold and they were never found.

  Abigail's grief was great and her spirit was crushed; though she still had one child left to her, the taking of the man she loved above all others and her precious daughter were more than she could bear and she took to wine to dull the pain. In time, she was too inebriated even to help Nev run the farm. Eventually, the property fell into disrepair, as the thirteen-year-old Nev wasn’t able to maintain it on his own, even with the help of his friend, Brey.

  The village elders took pity on the Mortons and offered to help farm the land for only a small fee, allowing Nev and his mother to keep their home and food on the table. In time, they were forced to sell their land piece by piece until only a small garden and the house remained to the Morton family. Now Abigail lived mostly on the few pennies Nev was able to earn selling vegetables from his small garden and odd jobs performed in the village. The Mortons were on hard times and only the kindness of the Cousins’ and the pity of the village folk helped to sustain them.

  For his own part, Nev had been able to deal with the loss and grief through his strong friendship with Brey, his best friend and closest companion. Though at first it was not easy, in time the tears came less often and he found he could even smile from time to time. Now, two years later, he had reconciled himself with the terrible loss. The youth loved his mother dearly and did all he could to help, but her inability to function at all because of the wine made it difficult for him to be around her for long periods. He spent most of his time with Brey and only returned home to sleep and tend to his garden.

  The following day was planting day at the Cousins' farm. Early that morning Brey got up and broke his fast; soon after, Carl Janssen arrived with a wagonload of seed. It was a perfect day for planting, the sky above was clear blue and not a cloud marred the horizon. The field was to be planted with corn and wheat, and the garden with beans; it would make for a well-rounded crop and hopefully a rewarding one as well. Though times had not been terribly difficult for the Cousins' they had not been very profitable either. Now that mother had the help of Carl, the family farm could be more ambitious.

  Carl was not only the local smith, but also a suitor for the hand of the widow Cousins. Brey very much approved of this; he liked the idea of his mother being properly cared for by a man of good character, he also noted that his mother seemed to be very fond of him.

  "Good morning to you, Brey!" Carl said with the same broad smile he usually wore. As the village blacksmith, he was a large, powerfully built man with a barrel chest and arms as strong and hard as oak. His chiseled jaw was clean-shaven and his black hair cropped short and neat. He wore the same homespun shirt, brown trousers, and sturdy brown boots he alway
s did.

  "Good morning, Carl! How are you?" Brey returned, also smiling. Carl's smiles were infectious, even at dawn.

  Mrs. Cousins stepped out to the porch, smoothing the front of the apron she wore over her plain green dress. "Good morning, Carl. Have you eaten breakfast? I would be happy to prepare something if you wish."

  Carl's smile widened even further. "Thank you, Miss Ellen. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

  "It is no trouble at all, I have only just finished with my own and Aubrey's, one more would only take a moment." she replied, her cheeks rosy with a blush. "I will have something for you by the time you two have finished unloading the sacks." With that, she turned and hastened back inside.

  Carl stared after her a few moments before shaking himself from his reverie.

  "Carl, are you in love with my mother?" Brey asked as he moved to the rear of the wagon.

  Carl grinned momentarily then tried to look disapproving. "A proper gent doesn't ask such things you know." However, the scowl failed and he grinned all the more broadly. "Ah Brey, your mother could bring the sunshine through the pouring rain just by smiling. How could a man not love such a woman?"

  Brey and Carl began unloading the sacks from the wagon and stacked them near the fence. Carl had looked thoughtful while completing the chore and then turned to Brey. "Lad, could we talk man to man?" Brey nodded. "I know it's not exactly as things should be, but –" just then, the door opened and Ellen called Carl to his breakfast. He excused himself and went inside to eat and returned in fifteen minutes.

  Brey had been sitting on the sacks wondering what Carl wanted to talk about. He had an idea but didn't want to hex it by giving it too much wishing. Brey hefted a sack of wheat seed on his shoulder while Carl lifted one sack each of corn and wheat. As they walked across the broken earth of the field, Brey was waiting for Carl to get back to his earlier conversation, but he seemed lost in thought again.

  "So…what did you want to talk to me about, Carl?" Brey asked finally.

  Carl paused from opening the sack of seed corn, looking back toward the house. He took a deep breath and said, "You asked me earlier if I was in love with your mother; the fact is, lad, I am indeed." He turned toward Brey and looked him in the eye. "I know it's not exactly proper, you not being her father, but you are the man of the house after all. I'd like to ask for your mum's hand."

  Carl spoke quickly and nervously as he began to pace back and forth over the uneven brown soil. "As you know we’ve been courting for a while now and I've made my mind up to ask her to be my wife- if you don't object, that is. I know your father has been gone some time now, but if you say its not right then I will speak no more of it." When he finished he looked down at the sack he had been opening earlier and tugged at the burlap idly.

  Brey smiled and then whooped and laughed loudly. "Carl, that’s wonderful! Truth to tell I was hoping that was what you were going to say." He reached over and grabbed the big smith's hand and pumped it up and down several times. Carl's smile was so big it seemed to stretch from ear to ear. He too was laughing.

  Suddenly Carl's smiled disappeared. "What if she doesn't want to marry me, Brey? I'd not thought of whether she feels the same." The thought of that struck home and he looked positively grim.

  "Refuse?" asked Brey with a grin. "As I am standing here, I would wager this whole farm she has been waiting for you to ask. Why don't you just go back there and ask her? Elsewise, you'll mope about this field planting crooked rows just thinking about it."

  "Now I don't know if that would be right, would it? Just walk right up and ask her - just like that?"

  "Why not?" replied Brey. The fact was he was as excited to find out as Carl was. He gave the big man a shove in the direction of the house. "Go! Off with you! I can handle the planting while you tend to more important business. You can come back once you've done your deed!"

  Carl stood for only a moment and began walking toward the house, a look of determination on his face. Brey watched him walk to the house and knock. Once he went inside, Brey turned back toward the sacks.

  "Good morning!" said Nev from right beside him. Brey yelped and nearly jumped from his skin; Nev stood by and laughed at the effect of his prank.

  "You just took ten years from my life you sneak!" Brey took at half-hearted swing at him, missing by at least a foot. "Have you come to help plant or just to scare me half to death?"

  "To help plant, of course, scaring you was just a happy addition to my plan." replied Nev with another chuckle. "Where has Carl gone to?"

  Brey told Nev about his conversation with Carl and the errand he was on. "That's great!" exclaimed Nev happily. He too approved of Carl. "Do you think your mum will say yes?"

  Brey laughed and nodded. "Of course she will. Carl has been courting her for almost a year now. Every time she sees him she turns pink in the face and he starts talking like a ninny. They will be married all right, you just watch." The two young men began planting the seed. No more than ten minutes later, Carl came bounding out of the house whooping and laughing just as Brey had done when he said he would like to ask for his mum's hand.

  Carl came running recklessly across the uneven ground of the plowed field like a boy who had just been let go of his chores for the day. "Brey! Good morning, Nev! And a good morning it is indeed!"

  Nev grinned and chuckled. "I take it you are soon to be married, eh Carl?"

  Carl smiled from ear to ear for the second time that morning. "That I am, lads; that I am!" Carl grabbed each young man's hand in turn and shook it so hard their teeth fairly rattled in their heads. "It took a while for her to answer at first, for some reason she saw fit to cry right then; but in the end it was 'yes' she was saying!"

  "Blessings to you both." The boys said at the same time.

  "Thank you, kind sirs." Carl responded with a mock bow. Then with a spring in his step he filled his waist pouch with seed and said. "Let's to the planting boys; it's a sorry husband I would be if I let the planting fall behind now." So, Carl and the boys set to planting the corn under the bright morning sun.

  At lunchtime, they all walked back across the field for a meal. Carl was still giddy as a schoolboy as they went to the well for water to clean themselves. In a short while they were gathered around the table and enjoying a hearty meal. The boys set to the meal with the gusto, but all Carl and Ellen could do was hold hands and stare at each other.

  By the end of the day, all of the corn and much of the wheat had been planted. Ellen had also begun planting the staple vegetables and beans in the garden behind the house; it was a good day for all. That evening, Ellen prepared a feast to celebrate the planting as well as the happy occasion of her engagement to Carl Janssen. As usual, Nev stayed for the meal. After dinner, Ellen spoke with Carl privately for a few minutes then asked Nev to speak with her outside while Brey and Carl saw to the fire and clearing the dishes from the table.

  Ellen sat on the bench on the porch of the house. "Neville, how is your mother?" she asked.

  "She is well, thank you." he answered, as any polite young man would do.

  Ellen laughed softly. "Neville Morton, don't you be coy with me. I have fed you far too many dinners to accept such blathering from you. How is she really? I worry for her so often." Nev could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

  He stared at the rough planks of the porch and kicked at an unseen pebble. "She doesn't get out of bed anymore except to fetch a jug of wine. I don't know what to do anymore. I think she might die soon if she doesn't stop." A tear rolled down his cheek as he continued. "Mrs. Cousins, I am worried that she'll die and I'll be left alone and I don't know what to do to stop it." He threw his hands in the air in frustration. "What can I do?"

  Ellen reached over and gently lifted his chin. Her soft blue eyes looked into his brown eyes and she saw his fear and his pain. "Neville, since your father was taken, you have been as much my s
on as your own mother's. I can't bear any longer to see you shoulder such heavy burdens. Once I am married to Carl our lots together will make us comfortable enough; perhaps even with room for one or two more. Your mother and I were once friends as close as you and Brey. Up to now, I have been unable to do much to help aside from ensuring you were fed, and your mother when I could. Now, if Carl is willing, I may be able to help you and your mother. Would you like me to try?"

  Nev felt relief surge through him and his emotions took over. He nodded and turned his head so Ellen could not see him cry, and she stood and took him into her arms. Nev cried and held tightly to her, as any boy might do when holding his mother. Once he had cried himself out, Ellen told him to be strong just a little while longer.

  The next day dawned clear and for the first time in two long years, Neville Morton felt truly happy. He got up from the pallet on which he slept, went to his mother's room, and knocked on her door. There was no response. After a few moments, he knocked again. "What do you want?" came the surly reply.

  "May I come in?" asked Nev.

  "I don't care." she rasped.

  He lifted the latch on the door and opened it; the stench of the room came upon him. He was used to it by now, but that didn't make it any more pleasant. The woman who was once a true lady of the village was huddled on her bed in a nest of old blankets and clothing. Several empty wine jugs littered the floor in the corner under the window. A cup and a crust of the bread Nev had brought to her the night before lay on the table beside the bed.

  Her dull blond hair hadn't been touched by a brush in weeks and was a tangled mess. Her sunken, bloodshot eyes and sallow skin gave her the appearance of a ghost. Her thin limbs were bony and appeared gnarled. The huddled wretch on the bed looked at him expectantly. "Do you have any money today?" she asked.

  "No, Mother." he replied.

  "Then what do you want with me?" Nev couldn’t form his reply.

  Mrs. Cousins had told him to ask his mother if she would be willing to live with them until she was well again. Now he hesitated; not because he was afraid to ask her, but because he was ashamed of what his beautiful mother had become. How could he bring this wretch to Mrs. Cousins looking as she did? Surely she hadn't seen his mother in quite some time and would be repulsed by the creature she had become.

  "Well? Spit it out or leave!" Abigail Morton was in a foul mood because she had no more wine.

  Nev decided to try anyway; if Mrs. Cousins was kind enough to ask, he had to try. "I was over at Brey's place yesterday." he began.

  "So what? You're there every day. Too ashamed to stay around me I am sure!" she spat.

  "Mrs. Cousins is to marry Carl Janssen. He asked her yesterday."

  "Good for her." croaked Abigail bitterly.

  "Um…she asked me to ask you something."

  "For what? To be her standing matron? Hah! I am little past those days."

  "No, umm - ” he opted for rushing through it. “She asked me to ask you if you would want us to live with her and Carl and Brey until you are feeling better. You know, ‘til you don’t need so much wine." There. He finally got it out.

  She sat up in her bed and glared at Nev with eyes wide with fury. Fear welled up inside him. "How dare she!! You tell that - that woman - that I would not live with anyone who would forsake her husband's memory to bed with another man! I’ll not have her shame taint either of us!" She was getting more upset by the moment. "The gall of that woman!! She’s sat back for two years and done nothing for us and suddenly wants to be helpful? Just so she can strut her newfound ‘relationship’ in my face?! Never! I don't want you anywhere near that family ever again! DO YOU HEAR ME!!" she shrieked, her bloodshot eyes blazing.

  Nev couldn't believe his ears. Mrs. Cousins had told him that she and his mother were once very close, but his mother was acting as though Brey's mum was evil for being able to live with her husband's death and love again. He became outraged that she could speak that way after everything Mrs. Cousins had done for him. For both of them! Well-mannered son or no, Nev couldn't hold his tongue any longer. He moved to the side of the bed in two quick strides.

  "That woman has been a mother to me for the last two years while you were too drunk to notice if I was even here! It’s been her who’s seen to it that I was fed, that YOU were fed, when she was able to! That woman was once your best friend and now wants to help you even though you have thrown your own life to the bottom of a wine jug! That woman is the only person in this village that does things for us because of your friendship and not out of pity, like everyone else!"

  Nev, fists clenched tightly at his side, bored into her. "Father and Milli are gone, mother! They have been gone for more than two years! There is nothing we can do about it but try to live with it. I cried my tears and prayed my prayers and asked the Creator over and over why he let it happen, and then I learned to live with it. It's about time you did too!" Nev was shaking uncontrollably when he finished his speech; hot tears streaming down his cheeks. Never in his life had he spoken back to his mother, but now he felt - liberated. Liberated for having let out the frustrations, pain and anger he had been holding in for so long.

  Abigail sat stunned. Her eyes were wide with shock, one hand raised to her mouth. She was barely breathing. She realized in that moment that he was right. About everything. She had been so immersed in her own pain that she hadn't realized just how much she had missed. Nev looked at her with an intensity she had never seen before. For the first time in a year, Abigail Morton felt a hot tear slide down her cheek, and then another. She felt a lump in her throat that seemed to grow and grow until she couldn't breathe. She threw back her head and a scream burst from her throat, raw and painful. She accepted it - and the next and the next; each painful outburst a confirmation that she was still alive even if Jacob and Milli were not. She finally broke down and began to sob. She didn't cry due to any physical pain but because she finally realized how much she had hurt the one person she should have been protecting all along. The one person she had left to her.

  She didn't know how long she had cried but when she came back to herself, she saw that Nev was still there, sitting by the side of the bed. She could see that is eyes were red and swollen as well.

  "What have I done to you, my child?" she sobbed, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "Neville, I am so sorry."

  Nev drew a deep, shaky breath. "You haven't been well, mother. You don't have to apologize for that." he replied, reaching out to hold her hand. He hadn't held her hand since shortly after his father's death; it felt good to hold his mother's hand again.

  By lunchtime of that day, Nev was able to get his mother out of bed and sitting by the hearth where he had started a small fire. Abigail was feeling both worse and better. Her head felt stuffed and heavy from crying as well as the lack of alcohol. But her mind felt clearer than it had in a very long time.

  She looked around and saw how very dirty and run down her house had become. She once had a beautiful and well-cared-for home with whitewashed walls and cleanly scrubbed floors. The fine woodwork that had once adorned the doorways and shelves was cracked and broken from lack of care and the floor and walls had faded to a sickly gray. She felt ashamed.

  Nev made a cup of tea and brought it to her. "Here, mother, have this." He handed her the warm drink and she wrapped her hands around the teacup. The fine china with the green leafy pattern had been a wedding gift from her parents. The reminder of her loss brought another tear to her eye. She would not break down again though; her days of all-consuming grief were over. She knew in her heart it was time to heal. Heal her heart and her life.

  "Thank you, Neville." She said as she wiped away the single tear and stared into her cup. "I have made something of a mess for us, haven't I? I never intended to let things go so far, son, I just couldn't stop the pain without the wine. I know now the wine replaced the grief with something much wors
e." She looked over at her son. "Can you ever forgive me for what I have done – what I have become?"

  "Of course, mother. As I was once told, 'Love is the bridge over the river of strife.'" He smiled as he reminded her of her own gentle words to him when he was a young boy.

  Abigail Morton smiled too. A true and happy smile at hearing those words. She had not lost her son after all, and in the end that can be enough to help her get over the loss of her husband and daughter. She took a sip of the tea and let its warmth spread through her.

  They heard a wagon pull up outside the house and a knock at the door a few moments after. "Who could that be?" Nev wondered aloud. He went to the door and opened it.

  "Good afternoon, you slug-a-bed." said Brey with a grin on his face. "When you didn't come to help finish the planting I thought perhaps you had decided on the life of leisure." Seeing Nev's mother seated by the fire, Brey removed his hat and said, "Good day, Mrs. Morton. How are you?"

  "Hello Aubrey," Abigail said with a slight smile, "I feel better than I have in quite a while, thank you for asking. I am sorry to have kept Nev with me this morning but he and I had some things to discuss."

  Brey was stunned. He turned his wide-eyed gaze to Nev and was about to ask what was going on when Ellen and Carl came to the door.

  Ellen beamed at seeing Abigail out of bed and looking sober, though very tired. "I am sorry to intrude Abby, but we were worried when Neville didn't come this morning and thought a visit might be in order. May we come in?"

  Abigail had not seen much of Ellen in the past two years and was suddenly very aware of her appearance and the state of her house. She self-consciously pulled her blanket up around her shoulders. She said with a flush of embarrassment, "I'm afraid I look something of a fright and the house isn't quite in order. You are, of course, welcome nonetheless. Please, come in."

  Seeing Abby's discomfort, Ellen said, "Now boys, why don't you go into the village with Carl, Abby and I have some catching up to do and you would just be bored with our prattle. Off with you now." She said shooing them out the door; and with that Nev, Brey, and Carl bid them goodbye and got into Carl's wagon. Once she closed the door, Ellen put down the sack she had brought with her, went immediately to Abby's side, and wrapped her arms around her frail shoulders.

  "Oh Abby, my dear Abby, I have missed you so!" Abby put her arms around Ellen's neck and held tightly to her friend. Once again, tears flowed from her eyes, but these tears were not shed for grief, but rather the joy of having once again found her friend.

  After some minutes, they parted and Abby looked at her friend. "Oh, I have missed you too. Thank you so much for watching after Nev. I feel so ashamed -" Ellen placed a finger on Abby's lips, stopping her from saying the rest of her words.

  "Abigail Morton, you would have done the same for me had our lots been switched. I'll have no tears and no shame from you. You have been away from us and yourself for too long; now it looks very much as though you are back." Ellen smiled and hugged Abby once more. For the next few hours, Ellen sat with Abby and drank tea and ate some of the bread and cheese she had brought. Abby heard news of the village and folk that she had missed over the past year or more.

  For her part, Abby told Ellen everything she had been unable to say since Jacob and Milli were taken from her. There was much crying and some smiles and laughter as the old friends reconnected and healed the breach that had grown between them over the years.

  As they spoke, Abby felt a burning inside that spoke not of hunger but of need. She knew the need for wine was coming upon her. She had promised herself she would drink no more; the cost to herself and, more importantly, her son was far too high.

  "Ellen," she began, "I understand you bid Neville ask me a question." She licked her lips nervously unsure how to continue.

  Knowing what must be on her friend's mind, Ellen answered, "Yes, Abby I did. I have given it much thought over the past year. If you will let me, I want to help you." She reached over and took Abby's hands in hers. "As I have told you, Carl and I are to wed soon and we would be able to take you and Neville in until you are well again." She paused a moment before telling Abby the rest. "I am sorry for having done this, but I have already spoken to old Barlow about how to bring someone back from the drink. He tells me it can be difficult but it surely can be done."

  "There is no need to apologize. Love is the bridge o'er the river of strife." Abby smiled, feeling she would now have the strength with a true friend by her side.

  In the late afternoon, the two young men returned alone, while Carl stayed at his blacksmith shop. No sooner had they opened the door than they were put to work. Under Mrs. Cousins' direction, Nev and Brey set to building up the fire and fetching the large pot to heat water. In a short time, bath water was heated and poured into the old tub in Abby's bedroom that Jacob had gotten for her many years before. Ellen helped Abby to wash away the accumulated filth of self-neglect and to wash her hair. In the end, a few inches needed to be cut off because the matted mass could not be combed out completely. Once she was dried off and wearing a clean dress, Abby felt years younger and stronger. Strangely, she also felt the urge for a drink of wine was easier to resist. It was a good feeling.