Days of the Forbidden

Chapter 1

"Melvin? Melvin! If I have to call for you one last time, I swear it'll be the end of you, you hear me?"

It was Clyde. His stern voice bounced off of the marble walls of the beautiful castle I had the honor of calling my home. I immediately dropped what I was doing and raced towards the sound of his articulation.

"I'm sorry your royalty, what is it I can do for you?"

"Have you seen the mess within the area below? Father would have your head if he found out you were the one who neglected to clean it, although it is your duty."

"It would be a shame, I apologize. I will attend to it at once," I bowed my head as I excused myself silently.

I hopped down each step of the carpeted staircase until I reached the bottom. How could I have been so clumsy as to have forgotten to complete the cleaning of the downstair mess? I quickly did so in the nick of time. The king arrived home from some meeting unknown to us servants. I bowed my head as he passed by and then went on my way to my next duty.

"Clyde Gregory, get down here this instance!" I heard the king shout furiously with his words sharp and venomous.

I hurried up the stairs as if the words were never said; and as I was doing so, I saw as the prince himself came cautiously out of his room, a worried look struck across his now pale face. I tried to look away to show that I was paying no attention to his business, but he caught my eye. He motioned for me to come over. So, of course, I did so. He didn't speak but instead handed me a letter. After doing so, he hurried downstairs.

I looked down at the rolled up parchment wrapped in gold lace, and I knew the letter to be very important. I thought for a moment what I was supposed to do with it, and then it hit me. I looked cautiously over the railing and saw Clyde standing there ever so bashful and ashamed. His father screamed at him profusely. I knew I would not be able to escape that way.

I quickly entered Clyde's room and shut the door behind me. Then, rushing towards the window, I opened it and began my descent to the ground. Thankfully it wasn't very up high, and I didn't have to risk an injury on the way down from the rooftops. I recollected myself once I reached land and stuffed the letter into one of the pockets of my baggy ripped work pants. I headed towards the colossal gates to the entrance of the castle and easily passed the guards on duty.

I always ran errands for Clyde; therefore, the knights oftentimes wouldn't question me leaving the castle grounds. I stuck my hands into my pockets, careful not to crush the letter, and quickened my pace as I headed towards a nearby shoppe.

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air and became stronger the closer I got. I could see Peter, a friend of mine, as I neared the shoppe. I nodded a 'hello' to him as I approached.

"Aye, sonny. Come to buy yerself some bread today?" he asked as he traded with a shopper.

"I'm afraid not; but I've got a question for you," I said as discretely as possible.

"And that would be?"

"Has Fletcher come by these parts of late?"

"Why, I believe so. Just a while ago too actually. Why'd you need a guy like him?"

"Just an errand I'm on. Thank you ever so much, Peter."

He waved me away as I headed North. I now knew just where Fletcher was. When I reached the village tavern, I vigilantly entered. Immediately I spotted him amongst the crowd of early drinkers. He sat with his usual bottle of whiskey, which he had barely drunk from. Pleased, I walked over the sober man. I sat across from him, looking deeply and sternly into his eyes.

"What do you want, kid?" the man slurred as if he were drunk.

"I possess a very important letter. One which I assume you were to get earlier this week?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," I said as I pulled it out and rolled it over to him.

Fletcher's eyes widened as he noticed the symbolic gold lace. He snatched the letter up and stuffed it into his inner breast pocket. He looked around before leaning towards me, breathing his putrid breath scented with heavy alcohol my way.

"Tell his majesty he has my deepest apologies," he rasped in a barely audible tone.

"Of my understanding, it is quite too late for apologies now."

He gave me a certain accused look of shock.

"What do you mean by that, boy?"

"The king," I whispered, "will have his head if he isn't soon excused."

Fletcher looked around nervously.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"This is your fault, so fess up to it," I said with ease as I sat back in my chair.

"Like it's that easy," he said.

"It is."

"The king will have my head, posted for all to see!"

"Better yours than Clyde's," I said as I realized I had greatly raised my voice. I looked around, and when I was sure no one had noticed my slip of the prince's name, I proceeded. "You're replaceable; he isn't."

"I see," Fletcher said as he raised his bottle of whiskey to his lips once more.

"Besides, the king has been lenient of late. He may let the beheading get its rest for awhile," I said, trying my hardest to persuade Fletcher to help out.

"I'll make a deal with you," Fletcher said as he swung his whiskey bottle a little in his hand, causing some of its contents to splash out.

"And what may that be?"

"If you go over yonder," he gestured towards an area of the tavern where the bigger men would oftentimes fight for fun, "and you convince that old mogul to give me back my bottle opener, I may consider helping you."

"Are you bargaining with the prince's life?" I asked.

"Well, no. Of course not," he stammered.

"It sure does seem so," I said, "since he is being threatened by the king as of this very moment. That is if the king hasn't already-" I cut off as I gestured a slicing motion across my neck.

"I get your point. Another time perhaps?"

"I do hope you mean the bargaining situation?"

"Of course."

"Because I don't see you trying to help the prince out."

Fletcher set his bottle of whiskey down and reached into his mailbag. He pulled out fancy parchment and began writing in his most legible print. Once finished, he handed me the paper. I looked down and slowly read it to the best of my ability, for I was never taught to read, but I still tried.

From what I could tell, the letter was an apology to the king saying that the shipment of mail to the outskirts of our land was postponed due to some sort of issue on the other end.

"I'll get the letter out there on my next route," Fletcher said with sincerity. "Again, inform the prince of my apologies."

"It won't be necessary, I'm sure you'll be fired after this mishap, no matter what is said."

Fletcher's eyes widened as I stood from the table with the important note in hand. I quickly walked out of the tavern and headed back south towards the castle.