Heir

Chapter 2, Scene 4

Fayne stood on the outer wall of Rockisle Castle, peering over the parapet. The castle walls descended at least thirty feet to meet sheer rock, which sloped steeply down another forty feet to the ocean below. There, harsh waves crashed against the stone of the island. The castle occupied the entirety of the island, offering protection from seafaring marauders to the town which stood on the mainland behind it. Fayne listened to the voices of seabirds as they spoke of far away vistas.

Turning her attention inward, she gazed down into the garden contained within the castle’s walls. It was a favorite place for her husband, Prince Neirin, to entertain both visiting merchant lords and harlots. Today he sat on a bench conversing with Tildy, the mysterious peasant woman that had come to the castle under false pretense yesterday. The woman had spent the night in the castle, but not with the prince. Even now, there seemed to be no particular affection between the two of them, although Fayne noticed that her husband seemed to enjoy their conversation. Fayne wondered who Tildy really was, and what her reason was for visiting Neirin. She would have to collect some of the woman’s hair from her pillowcase before the servants changed the sheets in her guestroom.

As Fayne pondered, she saw the steward, Geraint, approaching the prince hurriedly with another man. The man bore the king’s crest on his tunic and seemed to be a messenger. After bowing to the prince, the man handed over a small scroll for the prince to read. Neirin’s expression grew serious. He spoke briefly with Geraint before crumpling the scroll up in his fist and dismissing the two men. Two messengers from Highcastle in as many days – it made Fayne curious. She began making her way towards the garden to see what this was about.

“I must leave at once.” Prince Neirin said to Tildy. “I wish I could stay and have you tell me more about Trent, but this matter is urgent.”

“I understand.” Tildy said. “When may I expect to hear from you about what you can do regarding our son?”

“I don’t know.” Neirin said honestly. “Depending on how this situation resolves it could change everything. I promise, though, that I will not forget about you and Trent. I will do what I can for the boy as soon as I am able. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here in the castle until I return.”

“I think I should return to our son in Darkmoor.”

“Very well.” Neirin thought. “The steward there is Leuther. Make yourself known to him at Darkmoor Castle. If I must contact you by post I will send my messages by care of him.”

“Thank you, Prince Neirin.”

“Thank you for braving the journey here to tell me of my son.” Neirin said as he clasped her hands firmly in his. “I must hurry off, but I will see to it that you are escorted safely back to Darkmoor.”

The prince left Tildy to go ready for the journey. As he threw a few essential items into his pack, Fayne entered his chambers. She stood with her arms crossed, watching him.

“My father’s illness grows worse.” Prince Neirin answered the unspoken question. “He has summoned my brothers and me to Highcastle. I suspect he intends to name his heir before he dies.”

“Do you suspect it will be you?” Fayne asked.

“I doubt it.” Neirin said dismissively. He continued to work until he suddenly stopped, covering his face with his hands to stifle a sob.

“You know, for all of his disapproval, I do love the man.” Neirin said. Fayne could see the pain in his eyes when he turned to her.

“Don’t look to me for sympathy.” Her words were cold. “I mourn for the king, but I have no pity for you. Turn to your harlots for comfort.”

Neirin paused and wiped a tear from his cheek. His face hardened and his eyes became as severe as hers.

“I won’t pretend I don’t deserve that.” He said. Shouldering his bag he roughly pushed past her as he left his chamber. “Don’t cause Geraint any trouble while I’m gone.”

The corner of Fayne’s mouth turned up in a mischievous smirk as she watched her husband leave. So the king was dying. Then Royaland was about to see all sorts of trouble.

*****