Within the Hollow Crown by Daniel Antoniazzi Read Free Book Online

others, extraordinary accomplishments.”
    At that moment, a servant entered the King’s chamber and approached the throne.
    “Yes?” the King said.
    “Your Majesty, Sir Elliot says his toe still hurts.”
    Sir Elliot had been, at the time, the King’s Champion at the Jousts. It was coming up on the final joust of the season, and to date, Elliot had won only once, and that was because his opponent had faulted on the final run.
    In a great night of partying that had followed, Sir Elliot had imbibed a considerable amount of ale, and since he had never had anything to drink before, it had a profound effect on him. While stumbling back to his tent, he stubbed his toe on a pebble. Since that date, he had failed to practice any jousting, and had complained, daily, about his inability to appear in the season-closing joust.
    “Well, tell him,” King Vincent had said, “That if he can’t joust tomorrow, I will have to find a replacement. And if I find a replacement, it will be permanent.”
    “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” the servant said, “But Sir Elliot anticipated your response, and said that he had decided to quit jousting anyway, and was going to further explore the art of drinking ale.”
    “Very well,” the King said, waving his hand, “You’re dismissed.”
    The servant scurried out while the King rose from his throne and paced to and fro on his pedestal.
    “Damn! Where am I going to find a new Jousting Champion at this late hour?”
    “Your Majesty?” David Noble said, timidly holding up his hand.
    “Oh, you’re still here. What do you want?”
    “Your Majesty, I could be your new Jousting Champion.”
    “But you’re not even a knight.”
    And so it went. David Noble became Sir David Noble, and won the season closer by the splinter of a lance, as the saying went. He had trained vigorously during the off-season, and was gearing up for the big opener. King Vincent was giddy with excitement.
    So when he heard about the wedding, he could think of only one solution.
    “Bring in Nathaniel,” Vincent said. “And bring me my scribe.”
    Prince Nathaniel was the King’s oldest son. Nathaniel had failed to develop an interest in jousting, and was much more interested in fencing. He wouldn’t mind missing the tournament.
    The King also had a personal scribe, Eric. Eric was a very timid little man who had started working for the King about five years ago. He had a nervous quality, and often mumbled, but his calligraphy was perfect, and so he had earned a place in the King’s vast ranks of servants.
    “Yes, Your Majesty,” Eric said, shuffling into the throne room.
    “Eric, brilliant. Take this message, ‘Michael, congratulations. Will be sending Prince Nathaniel to oversee the union between you and Lady Sarah. I do hope to see you at future jousts. Yours, King Vincent Rone.’”
    “Got it,” Eric said. “Would you like me to read it back to you?”
    “No, I can never hear you when you speak, anyway. Dismissed.”
    Eric scurried away. He needed to find an empty room. He needed to send a message. But not in the traditional sense, as a Royal Scribe might. Because Eric was secretly a Turin. With the right makeup and enough practice on the accent, he had infiltrated the King’s staff five years ago. But he was once a member of the Turin-Sen, and he had to get a message to his true Master, Argos.
     

Chapter 10: Alumnus
     
    Landos found Michael in the Dining Hall, going over wedding preparations with the stewards. The Castle had been a nonstop bustle of activity since Michael had announced the upcoming nuptials. Sure, they had just gotten through the Rutherford wedding, but this was a Count, and the Crown Prince was coming. Things had to look awesome.
    “Excuse me,” Landos called to Michael, “There’s someone here to see you. A young man named Jareld.”
    “Well, I’m sure you can handle whatever it is they want.”
    “He said he would only speak to you.” Landos said.
    “Are you