BECKY DIXON: WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION

CHAPTER ONE

Assassination

 

The king was a fool.  He ruled a kingdom rich with mineral wealth but he wouldn’t allow anyone to mine for it.  All he allowed in his realm was farmers and merchants.  Therefore, his kingdom was not as rich as it could be.  He was not as rich as he could be.  He said he didn’t care about wealth.  In fact, his palace showed his lack of wealth.  It was really just a large, three story stone house with a slate roof, a few outbuildings and a low stone wall surrounding it.  It wasn’t even as large as the cathedral in the town.

 

But the king didn’t worry about such things.  He only wanted a peaceful and quiet kingdom where his subjects could live simply but free from the worry of other kingdoms trying to steal their wealth.  His army was almost nonexistent, just a few palace guards, some archers and a handful of professional soldiers. 

 

Yes the king was a fool.  At least that’s what his Lord Chancellor thought.  ‘If I ruled this kingdom,’ he thought, ‘there would be riches enough for all.’  He tried to convince the king that gold brought power.  If he had gold, he could hire all the soldiers he needed to protect the kingdom.  The king, however, didn’t agree.

 

Over the years, Lord Chancellor Fengold became more and more frustrated.  He saw opportunity after opportunity pass by.  Power and riches were slipping through his fingers.  His only consolation was that the king was childless.  He reasoned to himself that if the king should die childless, he could easily become ruler and then he could rape the land of all its wealth.  Who needed farmers and merchants when there was gold and silver to be had?  He began to plot. 

 

Then came the announcement he had feared; the queen would soon have a child.  He hoped it was a girl.  If it was, then his plans would not have to be changed.  He would simply wait and marry the princess.  He would be old, true, but he could make sure there were no other suitable candidates available.  If only he could be patient enough to wait.

 

Ruin of all ruins, the child was a boy!  That meant that his plans were ruined.  He would have to think of something else.  There was a silver lining, though, it was a difficult delivery and the queen could not have any more children.  At least that was something, he thought, maybe he could arrange for the new prince to have an accident.

 

When the time of the child’s christening arrived, the king declared a holiday and a celebration.  Nearly the entire kingdom was coming to the celebration.  Almost all the inns were full and most of the people of the capital had opened their doors to their fellow citizens.  The surrounding kingdoms had sent envoys to honor the new prince.  Some of the envoys were royalty, or counselors to their kings.  These important people were housed in the palace.  There wasn’t a single room that didn’t have at least two envoys sleeping in the room.  Most of the palace staff had been moved out into the barn and other outbuildings but Fengold had been spared.  But, when word came that the kingdom to their north was sending an envoy, it was decided he would share Fengold’s room.  One more insult added to an unending list of insults.

 

The kingdom to the north sent their king’s counselor.  He was an old man who dressed in black.  He arrived late one night and Fengold was assigned to meet him.  It was just past midnight when the envoy arrived in the courtyard.  Once the groom had taken his carriage to the stables, they went inside.  Fengold escorted him to his rooms.  Tired from the long journey, Fengold offered his guest a glass of his finest wine.  As they sat and drank the wine, the stranger looked deeply into Fengold’s eyes.  As he mockingly toasted the new prince, he said, “I can tell you do not share your master’s joy, my friend, perhaps you can tell me why.”

 

Fengold hesitated.  He looked back into the man’s eyes.  There was something about him that made him uneasy.  At first, he had no intentions of opening his heart to this stranger, but something made him change his mind.  Before he knew it, he was telling him everything.  When he had finished, the strange old man smiled.  “So, what are you going to do about all this?  Are you just going to let it eat at you or do you have a plan?”

 

“I’m not sure.  Perhaps the prince will have an accident, or maybe he’ll die in his sleep.  But, causing the demise of the prince may be difficult.  The child’s nurse sleeps in the same room so killing him in his sleep is probably out of the question.  And then there’s the question of a possible inquiry.  That could be problematic.”

 

“My dear Fengold, don’t be a fool.  Why kill just the prince when you can kill the whole family?  Tell me, do the king and queen ever leave the palace?”

 

“Yes, all the time.  The fool of a king rides throughout the kingdom hobnobbing with the peasants.  Sometimes the queen travels to visit her father and brothers in the east kingdom.  But I doubt that will happen anytime soon now that there is a new baby.”

 

“Is that the only times they leave?  Isn’t there any carnivals or festivals they go to?  Come now man, think!’

 

Suddenly, Fengold remembered.  Of course!  “Every spring, on the first Saturday in May, depending on the weather, the king and queen travel to a mountain meadow for a picnic and festival.  Sometimes, it’s only them and other times it seems the whole kingdom is there.  There is food, music, dancing and other stupid festivities, but, I don’t see how that helps.  There are so many people there, I don’t see how anything tragic could happen.”

 

“Perhaps, in a few years, there may come a time when only the royal family will make the trip.  Perhaps, if and when that happens, they could meet some people who would not be inclined to dance and sing.  If that should ever happen, it may well be that they will not come back from the meadow alive.  Perhaps.”

 

Fengold was silent for a minute.  He was in shock.  What was the man suggesting?  Assassination?  He wasn’t sure he wanted any part of it.

 

“Let’s think about this for a moment.  If the royal family were dead, who would be left to rule the kingdom?  Who would be available to steer the kingdom in a new direction, make new alliances, take advantage of the kingdom’s assets and, of course, share those assets with his helpers?  Who would be able to calm the distraught subjects and persuade them that the new course is the right course for the future?  Can you think of anyone who could fulfill these requirements?” the old man paused for a second before he continued, “Perhaps you could fill these proverbial shoes.  And, perhaps I and my king could help guide you and your subjects in the right direction.”

 

A sinister smile spread over the old man’s face.  Fengold felt a shiver spreading up his spine, but he didn’t look away.  He couldn’t look away.  “Why are you willing to help me?  What’s in it for you and your king?” he asked.

 

“That, my friend, is simple.  Mining in our kingdom has come to an end so our smelters are sitting unused.  If your kingdom begins to mine, we can help.  We can send you engineers to show you where you should begin and our smelters will be standing by to process your ore.  The result is wealth for your kingdom and ours.  Everybody’s happy and prosperous.”

 

 

Seven years later, fate smiled on Fengold and his new friends.

 

It had been a wet and cold winter and spring was late that year.  The farmers were scrambling to get their crops in so the festival was cancelled.  The prince was, of course, disappointed but the queen assured him that they would still go and have a good time.  The next morning was Saturday.  The sun was shining and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful, warm spring day.  The prince was excited and couldn’t wait to go.  His mother was supervising the preparation of the picnic lunch and the king was attending to last minute business.  The prince was beginning to believe that they would never leave, but soon all was ready and loaded on the carriage. 

 

As the royal family entered the courtyard, Fengold was waiting by the carriage.   After exchanging a few words, they climbed into the seats and were finally on their way.  Fengold smiled to himself as he watched them leave.  As he entered his apartment, he saw the old man standing near the window.  “Has everything been prepared?”

 

The old man, still looking out the window at the carriage, just nodded.

 

The meadow was bathed in sunshine.  There were flowers growing throughout the clearing.  Even before the carriage came to a stop, the prince jumped out and began to pick them.  By the time his mother had gotten down, he presented her with a large bouquet and an even bigger smile.  With a slightly mocking curtsey, she accepted the flowers.  Prince Stephen then grabbed his father’s hand and began pulling him into the field.  Laughing, the king allowed himself to be dragged away from his wife.  After going a few yards, Prince Stephen tackled his father and began a furious tickling battle.  The queen laughed at her two men and began unpacking their picnic lunch. 

 

After a few minutes, she called them for lunch.  The king had just extracted himself from his son when the attack began.  He watched as a man, dressed entirely in green, came running toward the queen.  Before she could react the man had run the spear in his hand through her chest.  She opened her mouth to scream, but instead of the sound, only blood came out of her mouth.  She crumpled onto the blanket that had been spread for the picnic.  At almost the same time, arrows flew through the air, killing the royal guards and footmen.  The king gripped Stephen’s shoulders.  He looked into his terror-filled eyes and whispered, “Run!  Run into the woods!  Don’t look back and don’t stop!”  Then he turned the prince and pushed him towards the forest.  The meadow was filling with men; men with swords; men with crossbows.  All of them seemed to be coming toward the king and the prince.  The king paid them no mind.  He screamed out the queen’s name and drawing his dagger, which was the only weapon he had, began running toward the queen.  He never made it.  Almost every crossbow sang out, sending arrows at him.  They struck him in the face, the chest, and the legs.  It seemed as if he were a man possessed, even with arrows sticking from virtually every part of his body, he continued to move.  Finally his legs gave way and he fell forward.  He tried to get back on his feet, but he only fell back down.  In a last ditch effort to reach her, he began to crawl towards the queen. 

 

There was one man dressed in black among the countless men in green.  He walked slowly out of the trees, drawing his sword.  He looked down at the king, struggling to reach the queen.  The man raised his sword over his head.  The sun gleamed off the sword as he swung down.  The sword passed through the king’s neck as if it was made of butter.  Even headless, the king’s body continued forward a few feet before it collapsed to the ground.  The man looked up and bellowed, “Get that brat!”  Three men began running towards the young prince.

 

When his father pushed him towards the forest, Stephen stumbled.  Gaining his footing, he began to run.  While he was running, he looked back.  He saw his mother lying on the ground with a long spear sticking out of her chest.  His heart felt as if it had stopped.  Still running, he glanced back at his father in time to see the sword decapitate him.  Stephen’s body wanted to freeze.  He wanted to run to his mother and father and find a way to make them better.  He didn’t understand why someone would kill his parents.  Without realizing it, he had slowed down.  Then he heard the man yell for the other men to ‘get that brat.’  They were going to kill him too!  Part of him wanted to die so he could be with his parents but another part, the logical, sensible part of him, began to run.  He ran faster than he ever had before in his life.  As he reached the edge of the forest, he heard arrows striking the trees around him.  He ducked his head and continued to run, dodging through the trees like a deer.  With tears in his eyes, he did not see the cliff.  One moment he was running all out and the next moment he was falling head over heels.  While rolling down the steep incline, Stephen’s head struck a large rock and unconsciousness was immediate.  Even so, he continued to roll down the hill, hitting trees and boulders along the way.  At last, he came to rest beside a thick tree trunk.

 

The men chasing him had to slow down when they entered the woods.  Unlike a seven year old boy, who was small and thin, these men were large with broad shoulders and barrel chests.  Tree limbs slapped their faces and tree roots seemed to reach out to trip them.  Also, unlike the prince, they were not crying so they saw the cliff before they barreled over it.  The first one to reach the cliff peered down to the base where he saw the small boy lying at the foot of a great oak.  He saw that the prince’s head lay in a small but growing pool of blood.  As he was weighing his options and catching his breath the other two men caught up to him.  They too looked down at their prey.  One of them looked at the first man and asked, “Is he alive?”

 

“How should I know?  Do you want to go down and check?”

 

Both men, still gasping for air shook their heads.  Straining his eyes, the first man said, “I can’t see him breathing.  Can either of you see his breathing?  Do you see his chest rising or falling?” 

 

Again, they both shook their heads.  After a few moments of staring, the first man said, “Alright, here’s what were going to do.  We’ll go back and tell Wilhelm that the brat broke his neck when he fell.” 

 

“Yeah, but what if he’s not dead?  What do we do then?”  This was the youngest man asking.

 

“Well, there’s one way of making sure,” said the first man. And then he pushed him down the cliff.  When the man reached the bottom, it was obvious he was dead.  His head was bent in such a way that it was clear his neck was broken.  The first man looked at his remaining companion and asked, “Any more questions?”  There weren’t any.

 

As the men turned to walk away, a figure dressed in gray seemed to just appear in the trees.  He wasn’t old and he wasn’t young.  He wasn’t tall but he wasn’t short either.  He just was.  He saw the soldier lying near where the prince was but, seeing he was dead, paid him no mind.  He silently walked over to the unconscious prince.  He looked up to the edge of the cliff and saw no one.  Slowly, carefully, he picked up the prince and, looking back at the cliff’s edge, seemed to melt back into the forest.  

 

When the soldiers got back to the clearing they approached the leader.  “Well?  Where is he?”

 

“He went over a cliff and died.  Rothberg fell over the edge too.  He’s dead.  His neck is broken.”

 

The leader eyed the other man for a long time.  Finally, he said, “Very well.  Gather the other men.  I want the bodies put into the carriage.” 

 

As the other man turned to carry out his orders, the leader grabbed his arm.  “Place the king’s head on top of the pile.  Tell the men not to take anything.  If they do, their life will be forfeited, and so will yours.”  The man nodded and went off to complete his task.

 

 

The king and queen were late.  They should have been back hours ago.  Even though Fengold knew they were dead, he had to play the concerned minion.  He looked at the Captain of the Guards and said, “Take a contingent of soldiers and search for them.  Don’t come back until you find them.”

 

Three hours after sundown, the captain and his small troop escorted the carriage back to the palace.  As they entered the courtyard, Fengold moved forward to meet them.  When he saw the dead king and queen, he feigned sadness, but deep down inside he was ecstatic.  The bodies were taken out of the carriage and respectfully placed on the ground.  But there was one body missing.  “Where is the prince?” he asked. 

 

The captain replied, “When we arrived at the meadow, the bodies were already in the carriage.  We searched the nearby woods but we didn’t see anyone.  There were a few tracks in the forest and we followed them as far as we could.  We lost them near a rocky cliff.  When we got back to the carriage, we didn’t count the bodies; we just assumed all of them were there.  I’m sorry, my lord, I’ll go back and search for the prince.”

 

“No, it wouldn’t do any good now.  It’s too dark.  At first light send some men to search the surrounding forest.  For now, see to the king and queen’s bodies.  Have them laid out in the throne room.”  Fengold turned and walked back into the palace.

 

When he returned to his room, the old man was still there.  Fengold was seething, “What have your men done?  Where is the prince’s body?  If he turns up alive, he could ruin everything!  Then, where would your king be?  Where would I be?  I could be hung as a traitor!”

 

“Calm yourself, man.  The leader of the raiding party assures me the prince is dead.  He fell over a cliff and is lying dead at its base.  He sent a man to check, but he too was killed in the fall.  Relax, everything is going according to plan.  This is just a minor complication.” 

 

Still fuming, Fengold said, “It had better be.  I’ve told the Captain of the Guards to search for the prince’s body at first light so you had better get hold of your men and tell them to remove their dead comrade from the base of that cliff before he’s discovered.”  With that, he turned and left.

 

It was a long night at the palace.