The Winter Queen of Havenshire

Chapter 8: A TIME OF REST

Lord Fonce's servant's separated the victors after the celebration with the crowd. An old servant with a hunch back led Corban to an open carriage. They boarded it and were taken to Lord Fonce's Castle an hour's ride away.

Corban relaxed, but kept an eye on all his surroundings. Escape never left his mind, but he needed his sword first. The ride was uneventful.

The stone curtain wall stood thirty feet high. Each turret stood an extra ten feet high. From its look, Corban guessed the thickness was around ten feet which was average for a castle. A large moat was dug around the castle wall though it was not filled to the brim. The drawbridge was down. To each side of the bridge stood the barbican, two stone, and half-cylinders, with a gatehouse in the center.

People entered and exited the city within the wall freely. One guard stood on each side of the gateway. They were for show. Corban looked up to see an iron portcullis, the spiked gate slammed down in case of an attack trapping the defenders inside and the attackers were kept outside the castle curtain.

The carriage made its way through the small city inside the stone curtain. Not many were out doing business due to their attendance at the games. The carriage stopped at the castle keep.

Corban looked up. The keep was twice the size of the stone curtain with multiple ramparts to defend it. In the center, a tower stood even taller.

"Follow me," the servant said.

"When do I get me sword back?" Corban asked.

"First you bathe. Then you eat. Than you sleep. Tomorrow you celebrate and then meet Lord Fonce. When you see him, he may grant your request."

Corban followed the servant into the keep. The servant lit a brass lamp to light their way. This tyrant at least did not waste torches to make a show of his wealth.

The made their way to a room. A large fire had been made. A long metal tub filled with water sat in front of the fireplace. Corban looked and saw steam still coming up from the water.

"Take a bath. Groom yourself. There's a mirror by the fresh clothes you will near the fire. When you are done, knock on the door. Food will be brought to you. Don't take too long. The sun sets within the next hour or two. Lord Fonce hates waste."

Corban watched the servant leave. He took his clothes off and eased himself into the water. The heat soothed his sore muscles.

For a moment, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy it. Who knew when the next time he would get a chance to bathe? Corban submerged his head into the water. All sound died or became muffled.

As his head rose from the water, he took a deep breath. He needed to see more of the castle. With the sun setting soon, his time was running short.

He cleaned himself with the bar of soap and a brush. Reluctantly, he pulled himself up from the water. He dried himself before putting on the fresh clothes. He looked in the mirror as he grabbed the shears and cut his hair close to his head. He had learned long ago that any long hair could be used against you in a battle. He rubbed his face. He still had not needed a shave. It was a benefit of being young.

He thought of carrying the shears as a weapon. He decided that now was not the time. He knocked on the door.

A female servant came in and handed him bread bowl filled with broth. Corban smelled the sweet smell of chicken. He grabbed the bowl and gulped the liquid down quickly. It was tasty and satisfying.

"Will there be any meat and cheeses served with the meal," Corban said. He broke apart the bowl made of bread and ate it.

"My apologies, my lord," the servant said. "I will have some cheese and dried beef sent to your room."

"I am no lord," Corban said. "Do not give me such honors."

"As you wish," the servant said. "You will find your room three doors to the right of this one. The general has given you permission to wander until the sun begins to set. Then you must go to your room or face dire consequences."

"Understood."

The servant handed Corban a brass lamp. He looked at the oil and saw there was not much oil left. He left the room and wandered.

For castle keeps, this place was standard but efficient. Not many wandered the hall. The guards were kept outside the keep and outside of trouble with the female servants. Escape would not be easy, but it was possible. An idea for an escape took form slowly.

Corban made his way back to his room. There was no window. He was too low in the keep. He tested the bed. After years of living on the battlefield, he found it too soft. He grabbed the blankets and wrapped himself as he laid on cold, hard stone.

He closed his eyes and dreamed. He dreamed of finding his sword. He dreamed of escape. He dreamed of killing Lord Fonce, but most of all he dreamed of her.