Jonathan Dunn - The Forgotten King

“Heave away there, old timer!” cried a man from the deck of The King’s Arm. Meredith looked up and saw Captain Koon, shooing him away. “You are headed to friends, perhaps, but to the wrong ones. Turn back at once, for you are rowing in the wrong direction!”

“Indeed, and you are rowing me wrongly, as well. You called me here a moment ago, so cut to the hunt and slice your rigmarole like so much buttered venison.”

“Venison, venison, venison – first a meal and then a sun!” cried a wanton sailor.

“Fool!” Meredith was angry, feigned or not, “It is impolite to keep a man in suspense, even if he is of holy persuasion.”

“They have returned, sir!” Koon tossed his lips aside and a rolling, unending laugh strolled from his tongue.

“Who?”

“The Fardy brothers!” and Koon’s laugh continued.

Meredith dropped the oars.

“And with them, their Marins!” and he still laughed in pleasure.

Meredith crossed himself feverishly, grabbed the oars, and spun the boat around like a Floatings merchant. His arms rampaged, the little boat shot forward, the trees on either side running beside him. In a moment, he reached the end of the channel.

“Oh, my devil!” he cried, piously refraining from blasphemy, “Oh, my devil – Beelzebub, Baal, and all princes and powers of the air! What the heaven is this?”

Unsatisfied with merely reaching the shoreline, he pushed the boat forward at a tremendous speed. He was a man of the forest before a man of the water, and began to kick his heels into the floor as if he were riding a horse.

“Faster, girl, faster!” he cried, and his feet pounded the floor with an unconscious fury.

He sped like lightning that fearfully flees its own thunder. In another moment he reached the first Timber, behind which a Marin was towed. He passed the first and stopped at the second. As he came against the Marin’s docking platform, his boat was beginning to sink from the holes he had driven into the floor. Water covered the lower portion of the craft. Meredith grabbed his sword and dashed onto the Marin, his eyebrows bobbing around him in pure monastic action. He turned to examine his sinking boat. As he did, the door creaked open behind him. He spun to face it and stretched his arms out to embrace the newcomer, assuming it to be one of his dear friends, the Fardy brothers.

“I see how seriously monks regard their orders, here in Atilta,” a foggy, feminine voice said, “That they throw open their arms at the first sign of a woman.”

“My devil, my devil! Oh, my bloody devil!” Meredith cried, and he fell back until he teetered on the edge of the deck.

There – standing before him with a lion’s face – was Cybele, the queen of Saxony.

“Treachery!” he cried, looking in horror at the fair lady, whom he knew was not so fair within. Her hair made the clouds gray, and her gray eyes made the misty dawn a desert.

“Treachery!” he cried, and took a step backwards, forgetting that he already stood on the very precipice of the waters. He stumbled and fell into his boat, which was sinking steadily beneath the waters. Meredith grabbed the oars and began rowing away from the Marin, imbued with the same vigor he had while approaching it. But within ten feet he found himself floating on the oars, as the boat deserted to Neptune.

“You may have me!” he cried with great determination, “But though you take my life, you cannot take my secrets!”

“A bottle of Atiltian Scotch will do that easily enough,” a jolly voice called out. “But come, old friend, you are getting wet!”

Meredith turned and saw the blond Fardy exiting the same passage as Cybele. Behind him were his two brothers.

“You know us to be patient,” the brown brother called out, “But still, I am eager to know why you should swim, when there is so much to be done?”

“Indeed,” the blond Fardy added, “And though I do not mean to sink your ship, we must hurry. As for swimming, you can do it within the walls of our Marin.”

“We must be patient, brothers,” the black Fardy said, squinting his crooked nose and opening wide his oyster eyes as if to display absolute seriousness. “We may be men of action, but Meredith has served well enough to do whatever floats his boat.”

“He is a great man, without a doubt,” the brown brother added in the tone of a eulogy. “For even when our cause seemed dark and without hope, he never abandoned ship.”

“Shut up or shove off, there!” Meredith cried, half angry and three-quarters joyful. He paddled with his arms a moment; then, when he reached the Marin’s dock, the Fardy brothers pulled him up. By this time, the current and the Timber had taken them closer to the hidden harbor.

“What is this?” Meredith asked as he looked over the queen.

“A prisoner of war,” the blond Fardy boasted.

“Ah! But?” Meredith did not finish, though the others knew his meaning.

“She is here,” the queen said silently, all breath and no voice.

“Ah! But?” they knew what he meant this time, as well.

“She came to me and I imprisoned her, as the strong must do to the weak. Then I was made weak by these – men. I am no fool; still, I will not be tamed.”

“No one blamed, no one tamed.”

“Spare me! My ears have cavorted with your impious tongue long enough,” and yet she smiled vaguely. If her heart was corrupted by power, she no longer had any. Yet there are worse things for a person than mere authority.

“Your tone betrays the good which you cannot cover,” Celestine said, coming onto the deck. “Or you do not even wish to cover it?” She placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder.

Silence, then, “You were not lax in preparing a greeting, Meredith,” the blond Fardy said, pointing to the channel, where the fleet was coming onto the ocean single file.

“I did not order it,” Meredith said, “And there is barely enough men to sail them. Captain Koon is a presumptuous man.”

“Yet the sea is calm: men are not so necessary.”

“Perhaps, but I will still rebuke Koon for moving without my orders. A true navy would not be run in such a manner.”

“Is it a false navy?” Celestine asked. “And is not a true man worth a dozen veteran sailors?”

“You rebuke me!” Meredith said. “But look, we will see their purposes soon enough, for they come at a speed which this wind would not seem to sanction. I misjudged their seamanship.”

They stood in silence, waiting as the grand vessels drew near. The figures on the deck were obscured by the sun and sails and could not be identified. The foremost ship – The King’s Arm – purposely sped past the Timber, then came about in a tight circle and stopped directly alongside the deck.

“Ho! You are not a petty officer, Captain Koon,” Meredith called out.

“Nor am I,” returned a gruff, old voice.

“Demons and devils!” the monk stepped backwards, “Admiral Stuart!”

“Whom did you expect? The devil has come, as you say, and my demons with me. But come aboard, for Gylain is on the move and we must join him in that.”

As he spoke, Cybele closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

“Do not fear him,” Celestine whispered, “For he is father.”

“Yet as he says, he is also the devil!”

Chapter 73

“Meredith!” called the Admiral as he stuck his head over the rail to see and be seen. “Meredith, why does the commander leave his post?”

“To see the Fardy brothers returning gallantly on their water castles!”

“That is well in times of peace,” the Admiral spoke slowly, “But in war it is weakness, and weakness is rewarded only with defeat. Remember this.”

“I had not forgotten.”