The Debutante (Season Series #2)

Chapter 18 (part 1): Castlerock

"Why did everyone seem to hate that fat old man?" I asked as we walked our horses down the road towards Castlerock. The day had grown warm, the sun throwing dappled golden shadows over the road as we crossed through the forest towards the town at the edge of the river.

"Fat old man?" Andrew laughed, "You mean the local magistrate appointed by Lord Pulham?"

"Well he was a fat old man," I shrugged, "And no one seemed to like him."

Andrew regarded me pensively, a half-smile pulling up the corner of his mouth.

"Why do you say that?" he asked. With the way he was watching me, I couldn't help but feel like he was quizzing me.

"Well he kept pushing that bland looking treacle tart when clearly the bakers were proud of their berry pies," I said, "And everyone was wary around him, as if he were about to do something they weren't going to like."

Andrew's smile grew now as he turned towards the road ahead of us.

"Boughton's in a bit of a battle at the moment," Andrew said, "On the one side are the villagers, mostly millers and farmers, who very desperately want to invest in more technology for the town. On the other is Lord Pulham, with said 'fat old man' being his representative. They want things to continue as they are, unchanged, because of the investment required."

"Well that's no good. They'll get mired in the dark ages and everyone will move away," I replied.

"Except they won't, since most of them have their lives invested in their properties. The bakers could go wherever they please, so long as they have an oven and a supplier, but their son and his berry farm would be stuck. If Boughton doesn't begin to modernize itself, no one will want to live there and the land will lose its value," Andrew explained.

"Then why won't Lord Pulham do anything about it?" I asked.

"Because his magistrate is terribly biased. He's more preoccupied with pleasing the Lord than helping the people," Andrew replied, "I've brought it up with Lord Pulham, but he's adamant that his magistrate knows the true will of the people."

"But you're the crown prince!" I protested, already annoyed with this Lord Pulham character.

"I am, which is why some say that I shouldn't trouble myself with such petty issues," Andrew said.

"But if you don't, who will? If an appointed magistrate isn't doing his job and his lord won't replace him, then you're the only one listening to them," I said, "It's not right."

"While I agree, you may not want to go shouting that about at the palace," Andrew said, as we crested a hill and the riverside town of Castlerock came into view, "The king's council don't enjoy having their power or decisions called into question."

"You say that like you've come up against them before," I said, watching as Andrew's jaw muscle pulsed.

"I have, which is why I'm trying to go around them for this. The people of Boughton aren't asking for much, but if I'm the one who gives it to them, I'll be overstepping my bounds when it comes to Lord Pulham. I can't afford to ruffle his feathers, but I can't let the town suffer either," Andrew said, shooting me a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "It's a quandary."

"A quandary for which I'm certain you're already working out a plan and a backup plan," I teased, leaning Juniper over to nudge his stallion again. His eyes crinkled and he reached across the gap between us, tucking a piece of my windswept hair behind my ear.

"How well you know me already," he said, holding my gaze for a heart-stopping moment before turning back forwards.

The town of Castlerock was filled with squat, stone buildings, plumes of smoke from the multiple smithies rising through the crisp autumn air. Much as they had in Boughton, the locals hovered on doorsteps and in windows, watching our arrival. I couldn't help but look around and thankfully this time I didn't scare any children. The people of Castlerock seemed far more jovial, waving and shouting their greetings to Andrew as we passed. He waved in return, that polite, kingly half-smile on his face.

When we stopped our horses outside a particularly large smithy, Andrew slid out of his saddle and a swarthy, bearded man in a stained apron bowing to him before they clasped hands. He looked to be about my father's age, with wiry dark hair shot through with grey and stocky build. As they exchanged greetings, he thumped Andrew on the back with a grin and the prince laughed. I couldn't help but smile myself as I dismounted, the jovial man turning his attention to me.

"I see his Highness has brought a guest today," he said, shooting the prince a look as he wiped his hands once again on his apron before extending one to me.

"Libby, this is Graeme Findlay, master blacksmith and head of the Castlerock smith's guild," Andrew said, as Graeme's calloused fingers closed around my riding glove, "Graeme, this is Lady Elizabeth Marks-Whelan."

"The pleasure's all mine, I'm sure," Graeme said, kissing the back of my hand. I had to keep from gaping at the disheveled blacksmith's impeccable manners. Miss Halpern would approve.

"Very lovely to meet you," I said, shooting a questioning look at Andrew. He was simply grinning at me, before he inclined his head towards the smithy.

"Let's see what Graeme has cooking today," Andrew said, reaching for my hand. Graeme all too eagerly led us inside.

I blinked at the heat from the fires, the rhythmic clanging of hammers on an anvils echoing over the crackling flames from the forges.

"You caught me in the middle of your new ceremonial blade, Highness," Graeme said, gesturing to where a gleaming sword was still red as it cooled on an anvil. Andrew picked it up, giving it a few experimental thrusts.

"It still needs balancing, she's a bit crooked at the moment," Graeme said, studying the way Andrew moved with it.

"It's light and whippy, I like that," Andrew said, looking down the length of it before putting it back, "How are the shoes coming along?"

"The apprentices have been working on them ever since your last visit," Graeme said, gesturing for us to follow him, "Though the order is almost filled, you'll be pleased to know."

"Excellent," Andrew said, once again reaching for my hand as Graeme led us deeper into the smithy. The heat grew as we drew nearer to the forges, nearly a dozen apprentices hammering and shaping metal into swords, horseshoes, axes, and assorted other household items.

"Are those nails?" I asked, stopping in my tracks to watch a younger apprentice hammering out a thin piece of metal. He must have been no older than twelve, but his face was screwed up in concentration as he worked. Beside him, a basket was filled with damp nails, all of them identical in size and length. The apprentice pushed his sweaty hair out of his face, his eyes widening when he noticed me standing there before him.

"It's one of the first things I teach 'em," Graeme said, giving the apprentice a nod to continue working, "A bit dull and boring, but it's a good exercise in uniformity. Billy here's almost an expert now."

I watched as he hammered the piece of metal, checking it in a gauge every few strikes. Once it was to his satisfaction, he propped the hot metal against a heavy wedge-shaped accessory, hammering off the end he'd been working on. Grasping the thin piece of metal, he hammered it a few more times before jamming it into the gauge and pounding the top flat. With almost mechanical efficiency, he leaned over and doused the gauge in a bucket of water, flipping it over on the anvil so the newly formed nail fell out.

"May I try?" I asked as the apprentice set to heating the metal bar once again. When no one answered me, I looked over towards Andrew and Graeme. The blacksmith's bushy eyebrows had risen, his mouth popped open into an O as he looked towards Andrew for an answer. My prince didn't look nearly as shocked, but rather far more amused.

"Graeme?" Andrew asked, looking around at him. The smith ran a hand through his beard before spreading his arms.

"If the lady wishes," he said, watching in disbelief as I made my way over next to the apprentice. This time the boy was absolutely goggling as I came up beside him, making sure to keep my riding dress far from the open flames. He looked up at Graeme, who once again gave him an encouraging nod so he would hand me the hammer and the iron blank.