Stephen Lawhead - In the Hall of the Dragon King

“I will obey in all details,” said Quentin. He sat down on the bench and began tearing the bread to pieces and stirring the pieces into the steaming porridge. “Now may I ask something that I have been wondering?”

“Ask away; there shall be no secrets between us.”

“Why is it men call you the Hawk?”

“It comes from my family’s blazon-the hunting falcon. I am known to the woodsmen and others hereabouts as the Hawk-they make me out an outlaw like themselves.” He shrugged. “It suits them, and allows me freedom to go where another name might hinder.” He paused and then added in a lighter tone, “My friends, as always, know me as Theido.”

“And them that know the name never want a truer friend.” The voice was the Queen’s, now standing directly behind Quentin. She had awakened to the sound of their voices and had come silently to the table. Durwin, appearing somewhat flustered, hurried to offer her the best seat at the table, his own.

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing from the waist, “I am honored to have you in this humble house.”

“Your kindness is appreciated,” she said, sliding into the offered chair. “But from now on I am only Alinea-I have put off my crown and am no queen until my King returns to claim his throne and so redeems my own. So please, good hermit, make no fuss for my sake.”

“As you wish, Alinea,” replied Durwin smoothly. He had a gift for meeting people high or low and making them feel honored and welcome in his presence. Quentin had felt it from the first. “Now, no more talking until we have all broken fast together.”

Prince Jaspin stormed red-eyed through the corridors of the ancient castle. He had not slept the night and had just been informed that the Queen was abed with an illness and would see no one, nor receive messages. His opportunity to question her was foiled. The foul Prince was furious.

During the night he had sent word to as many of his nobles as were within reach to meet at midday to hear a plan he had been contemplating for some time. His anger at losing his prisoner had caused him to implement this new scheme without further delay.

He strode into the council chambers, his sharp face flushed with anger and exhaustion. Various knights and nobles, more than a score altogether, stood beneath their banners and standards awaiting his arrival. Many showed signs of having ridden hard and long to get there at the appointed time.

“My esteemed lords, please be seated. We have much to discuss.” All bowed to him as he waved them to chairs at a long table. He indicated a chair at his right hand for Sir Bran, and one at his left for the brawny Sir Grenett. Nearby sat a noble with sly, narrow eyes and a puckered, pouting mouth, a man of vast holdings and extraordinary wealth who was determined to be the new king’s chief minister. His name was Ontescue, a name not well liked by the helots who worked his lands and bore the brunt of his expensive ambitions.

“My Lord, you are looking ill-possessed this morning. Your sleep was not troubled, I hope.” He had guessed the Prince was looking for an opportunity to launch into a retelling of his latest agitation. He wanted to provide a ready ear.

“It is true; I have had no sleep this night past. But that is a matter for another time.” The Prince dismissed his chance to confide his troubles, pressing on to a subject of more immediate import. “Gentlemen all,” he called, “your presence gratifies me. As we all know too well our kingdom has been for some time without a king, being governed in his absence by the Council of Regents. I have uncovered evidence that certain nobles of that body have been aiding the outlaws in their campaign of robbery and defiance throughout the forests of this land.”

“Only yesterday my men arrested the prince of these outlaws-I had him secured within these walls until he should speak out against those of his band, and other outlaw leaders which he is intimately acquainted with.”

“My aim is to rid the woods and hills of these preying wolves, and so give back the roads to the people and to commerce. However, before I could myself set eyes upon this bandit leader he was sprung to freedom by companions high in rank and title. I have not apprehended the men who loosed this villain but I know now who put them up to it.” He paused and all eyes and ears were his. “Lord Weldon and Lord Larcott!”

At once a cry rang out. “It cannot be!” Lord Larcott, slamming his fist upon the table, was on his feet protesting his innocence. Lord Weldon sat stunned in his chair. The other knights and nobles drowned Larcott’s cries with their own demands for justice.

Prince Jaspin held up a hand and ordered silence. “You, as noble lords of this kingdom, will have your chance to answer the charges brought against you. For now, and until such time as your crimes shall be heard, you will deliver yourselves to the tower to be there confined.” With a nod of his head Prince Jaspin signaled four armed guards to escort the Lords Weldon and Larcott to the dungeon. The furor continued along the meeting table as the two unlucky men were seized where they sat and marched out under the rough handling of the guards.

Lord Larcott could be heard screaming, “By Zoar, you’ll pay for this outrage! I’ll see your head black on the spike!” Lord Weldon went quietly with a look of deepest grief and unrelenting sorrow upon his gray face. Those who saw his look quickly glanced away; his eyes seemed to burn into the soul of any who accused him.

When they had gone and order was restored, Prince Jaspin rushed to the heart of his plan: filling the two newly vacant chairs on the Council of Regents. “Noble men, as you are aware, the people grow daily more dependent upon strong leadership to maintain order in the land. I propose we now elect two new members to the Council, and do so without delay.”

“Hear! Hear!” the nobles in Jaspin’s sway shouted, delighted with such a display of efficient and farsighted leadership. When once more the din had died, a figure stood at his place at the table. “I cannot accede to such a move,” said Lord Holben, a knight of no small renown. He was Larcott’s friend, and one who had been chosen by King Eskevar to sit at council. “For to elect new members to this council would be to declare the guilt of the previous members. There have been no writs of justice presented, and no decrees posted. As it involves nobility, this is a high matter and as such can only be judged by the King himself upon his return.” With that Lord Holben sat down.

“He is right,” said some. Others objected, “It cannot wait!” The chamber once again rang with the shouts of contending voices until Ontescue held up his hands and succeeded in reducing the tumult to silence.

“Surely the Prince does only have the best interests of the realm at heart. Therefore, I will abide by Prince Jaspin’s decision in this matter,” said Ontescue. He nodded with a sly smile toward the Prince.

“I defer as well,” said Sir Bran. He was aided in his opinion by Sir Grenett who then scowled down the length of the table daring any to defy him. Most, willingly or with reluctance, came at length to their side, opposed only by Lord Holben and several of his neighbors who cared not for Jaspin.

“I maintain the King’s justice in this matter. No further moves may be taken against those charged with this crime,” Holben declared. “Here it rests until the King shall return.”

“Very well,” snapped Jaspin irritably. “The matter shall go no further for the present. However, it is equally a breach of the King’s law to leave an empty chair at the regent’s council. Two members must fill those vacancies. Since we are all assembled here and now I see no reason why we should not proceed to elect new regents.”