Marrok

Chapter 2

Saul was accustomed to a more leisurely pace and was not accustomed to long arduous rides, so it was now several days since they had left Botsmere. They rode onto a rocky plateau that overlooked the lush green pastures of the Forden Valley. From their vantage point, they could now see an orderly avenue of ancient elm trees that led South to White Haven. Marrok's spirit lifted as he caught his first sight of home in over two years.

As they neared the end of the avenue of elms, it started to rain heavily. They spurred their horses into a gallop, their hooves thundering along the gravel road. Villagers that had gathered under the awning of the blacksmiths, sheltering from the downpour looked on curiously as the two friends slowed the horses to a trot. Marrok revelled in the sights and smells of being home and raised his hand in greeting to those they passed. Many just stared without recognition of their master's son.

The village sprawled out and dwellings became sparse as the road steeply climbed. Vine trees now dominated, rising up in orderly steps, carved into the hillside that supported the cream stone walls of White Haven Manor at its peak. The grapes that grew here flourished in the chalky soil and temporal climate. The wine produced from them was renowned throughout the kingdom of Aurora. Saul's father was responsible for the vineyards and dealing with the merchants who traded the wine. That is how the two became friends. Motherless boys getting into mischief as their fathers worked tirelessly to create wealth and stature for the manor and villagers that occupied the surrounding farmland. Not many lords in Aurora looked upon their subjects favourably, but those within the boundaries of White Haven were treated with dignity.

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Lord Baine found it hard to contain his elation as his son, Marrok, entered the feasting hall, followed closely by Saul. As he tried to hold back his tears of joy, he struggled to see clearly the man his son had become, for all he could recall was the boy he had lost. With trembling hands, he held out his arms. Marrok returned his father's embrace and was surprised at the now nimble frame that clasped around his own broad, muscular shoulders. The once vibrant auburn hair and beard that he tugged at as a child was now wiry and white. Both men silently questioned how much time had passed.

"It is good to see you, my son. I prayed for your safe return and now I must honour that which has been answered with a feast," Lord Baine held his son at arm's length and kissed his temple.

"It's good to return to you, father."

Lord Baine instructed his servants to prepare a celebration feast and ushered his wayward son and Saul to sit with him as refreshments were prepared.

Marrok told his father of the battles he had fought and the countries he had journeyed through. He spoke of the strange customs he had witnessed and of the idols worshipped by the Taki people.

"They are a strong proud nation, but they are barbarians," Marrok declared. "They believe in the power of blood and slaughter their children as sacrifices to their gods before battle."

"I cannot see how our king hopes to tame those savages," commented Saul.

"They must and they will," Lord Baine bellowed. "Enough blood has been shed on both sides. I thank the gods that my son has returned and will pray for those that have not. The day after the morrow, we feast to celebrate and look to the future," Lord Baine raised his arms enthusiastically into the air and beamed with pride, whilst Marrok and Saul exchanged dubious glances.