Prince of the Icemark by Stuart Hill Read Free Book Online Page B

young boy-King who, nonetheless, could still sink into a quagmire of ineptitude and embarrassment in certain circumstances.
    Kahin could only hope that when battle was joined, it wouldn’t be the tongue-tied boy who held sway over Redrought’s mind, but the majestic and confident monarch who seemed above the limits of an ordinary human being.
    A few days later and Redrought Athelstan Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield felt just about as human as it was possible to feel. He’d spent the previous day training hard with the remnants of the old army and the new contingents that had come in from the free cities of the south, as well as the new cavalry. His stallion was proving to be a brilliant war horse and he’d re-named him Hengist after the shadowy hero from deep in his country’s past who had first established the kingdom. He was fierce and wild in the training lists, and gentle at all othertimes. What more could Redrought ask?
    He’d trained and practised until both he and Hengist were in a lather of sweat. And after that Redrought had a wild night of drinking and eating in the Great Hall as he feasted his officers and as many of the other ranks as possible in a “morale-boosting and bonding” exercise. He sat now in the great throne of his ancestors and groaned as he remembered just how much beer he’d drunk. His head thumped every time he moved it, and, if any memory of food entered his brain, his stomach heaved and rolled like a storm in the treacherous seas that pounded the coast of his small country.
    “My Lord is well, I trust?”
    Redrought jumped, then held the top of his head. He hadn’t heard Kahin arrive.
    “Oh, it’s you. Feeling a bit delicate, I’m afraid.”
    She looked over the broad frame and strong features of the young King and thought that there was nothing the least bit “delicate” about him. He had all the finesse of a battering ram and, given a few more years, he’d look as though he was carved out of rock. Just what a besieged and benighted country required in time of war.
    “What you need is one of my cure-alls ,” Kahin finally said.
    “Cure-alls?” Redrought asked warily.
    “Yes, they’re known in my community as a sovereign remedy for those times when the body takes revenge for what we inflict on it.”
    Redrought’s stomach suddenly sent an eruption of gas northwards and it exploded into the Great Hall in the form of a cavernous burp that echoed back from the rafters. “Excuse me,” said the boy in an exhausted voice. “I thought I was going to pass out then.” He rallied slightly. “Grimswald’salready given me something to settle my stomach, so I shouldn’t need anything else.”
    Kahin waved aside the warm fug of stale beer that had enveloped her and beckoned a chamberlain who stood nearby. “Yes, well it obviously hasn’t worked. My cure-all will set you up.” Quickly she gave a list of ingredients and instructions to the chamberlain and sent him off. Then, while she waited for him to come back, she delivered a long and tedious report on supplies while Redrought politely tried not to fall off the throne.
    “Great, Kahin, great. But I don’t really think I can take in all the details right now. Could we perhaps talk about it later?”
    “But My Lord must be apprised of all the facts, otherwise how can he make his wise decisions?”
    Redrought looked at his adviser through the one eye he could open with any ease, but saw not the least trace of sarcasm. He was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Cadwalader, who had spent the morning hunting the enormous rats that lived in the citadel’s undercroft. One or two had actually put up a fight, but even the fear of imminent death hadn’t been enough to save them, and they’d been ripped apart in an act of pure savagery.
    “Hello, Caddy,” Redrought said companionably, then let out a winded gasp as the animal leapt onto his lap with no regard for anatomy. Kahin eyed the creature, deeply unsure of its levels