The Treasure of Gwenlais, page 122
part #1 of The Rienfield Chronicles Series
“Changed your mind did she?” Aiden asked him with a broad smile.
“No, it was more like, she persuaded me,” Caleb answered back, grinning wryly.
“Well good for her. I am glad you will be joining us, son. We all needed a bit relaxation, after today. The wedding being less than three days away, it will become hectic enough once again,” King Fergus said as he slapped Caleb on the back. “Come along then, I am sure Wendell is in the Hall waiting for us,” King Fergus remarked cheerfully.
“I did not see him as I walked by the balcony. Hopefully he has not gotten lost,” Caleb remarked with a chuckle.
“He is in the last room on the west wing, it will take him several minutes just reach our corridor,” Aiden answered back.
When everyone reached the Hall, Wendell was still not there, much to everyone’s amusement.
“It will take the lad sometime to learn his way around the Lodge. If he does not show up in a few moments I will go and look for him,” Phineas volunteered.
“This sudden change of heart, what are you getting out of all this?” Aiden asked, Caleb with a smirk.
“Nothing. Just the satisfaction of knowing my sweet girl is contented,” Caleb answered, with a smug grin.
“Oh really? Excuse me if I am not fully convinced. You look much too happy with yourself,” Aiden replied back, with a sly smile.
Before Caleb could give an answer back, Wendell showed up at the top of the stairs, making his way down and smiling shyly at everyone. He was no longer in the Lesser Scribe robes, but a simple tunic of dark blue, with black britches and a heavy woolen grey jacket. He looked surprised when he glanced over at Caleb, not expecting him to be there. Caleb noticed this and smiled at him kindly, as he walked over and gave him a friendly pat on the back.
“Come on Wendell, we need to find you a horse. You cannot be expected to get around Heathwin without one,” Caleb said as he began to lead him out of the Hall, stopping to grab his long riding coat.
“I truly appreciate this Prince Caleb, but I am afraid to say I have never learned to ride,” Wendell replied sheepishly.
“Are you quite serious? How did you ever get around?” Caleb asked him incredulously.
“I just walked Sire,” Wendell answered sounding and looking embarrassed.
“Or he hitched rides in vegetable carts,” Aiden replied with a laugh.
“Well that will have to change. You cannot get around Heathwin without a horse. It would take you well over an hour just to walk to the House of Records from the Lodge. Father, we shall have to arrange riding lessons for the Scribe here,” Caleb said, as he looked over at his father.
“We shall see what we can do about that in the next few days, but for now let us just focus on a having a good time at the pub. I sent word and Marcus is expecting us. He should have a table in the back waiting. Ahh, I can almost smell the stew already. You are in for a real treat tonight Wendell,” the King said happily, as they entered the stables.
Two Sentinels, Murtagh and Aaron, were waiting as escorts. Smiling as they were happy to volunteer to join the group on the King’s visit to the pub. King Fergus went at least twice a month, the Queen accompanying him, on occasion. He enjoyed his talks with Marcus the Scribe and pub owner. They discussed events that were going on, or things that Marcus himself had either spoken to others about or overheard. It helped King Fergus to feel connected to the real things, as he would call it, which mattered to his subjects. This in turn made King Fergus the most respected and beloved King of Heathwin, not since very long ago. They got upon their horses quickly as they were ready for them, Wendell once again riding with Aiden. They talked in steady but relaxed conversation, not discussing the hectic nature of the day, as everyone was quite fatigued from it all. Rounding the bend and after riding past several fine homes, the soft warm glow of the lanterns inside, gave Wendell a sense of peace and he began to appreciate the rugged beauty of the city. It was not filled with as many merchants as Gwenlais, and the paths were not paved with cobble stones. Just the soft dirt of well-traveled paths of many seasons past. He noticed how two young men were lighting high hung lanterns along the pathway, and waved as they called out greetings to the group. Wendell was impressed that the King and his sons, answered and replied back in a friendly warm manner, not expecting any special fanfare. Just a wish for a good evening, as you would say to anyone you might happen to meet. Suddenly up ahead, Wendell could hear the sound of fiddles, and people laughing and talking. The pub itself was not overly large, it resembled more a sturdy built home. With a wide front porch, large windows and a heavy ornate door, with a bear standing upright carved into it. Many horses and a few carts were tethered to the front railings, two old men sat on the front porch facing each other, playing a game of Tablut. They both looked up and smiled as the group walked up the three wide steps to the porch.
“Good evening to you Sire. How be you and the young Princes this fine evening?” the oldest of the two asked.
“Quite well my old friend. Have you both had your stew tonight?” the King asked, as he put his hand on the old man’s shoulder.
“Aye, that we did Sire. Now we just been enjoying a pint and a bit of that lovely cheese and brown bread the missus makes so well. That Marcus has a very talented wife he does. She treats us right proper when we come for our weekly meal,” the second old man replied.
“I have no doubt. Which is why I tell my boys there is no finer pub in all of Heathwin, than the Standing Bear,” King Fergus said as he patted the old man’s back, and made his way into the crowded noisy pub.
Wendell was quite moved and impressed by how the King himself was so approachable to others, and how kind Caleb and Aiden were, as they walked past them and warmly patted the old men’s shoulders as well. Aiden paused for a moment leaned in and began to talk in old speak, as Caleb paused smirking at his brother, as he continued to talk to them for a moment. Their faces crinkled in amusement as Aiden continued to talk in a low tone. After he finished speaking, the old men hooted with laughter, one hitting his knee from laughing so hard. Aiden gave them a wink and then walked in with his brother who just shook his head and grinned at him.
“Master Phineas, what just happened?” Wendell asked quietly, as they both walked in the pub.
“Prince Aiden just told the old gentlemen a very foul joke. He does that each time he comes, if they happen to be here. They expect it now, and Aiden enjoys the rise he gets out of them,” Phineas explained with a wide grin.
“I must say I did really not expect this. I mean, all I have been told of Heathwin, is the people are very hardy but can be a bit harsh and well… barbaric at times. I admit Prince Caleb scared the life out me at the Council Chambers, but after what had taken place I do not blame him. I feel we of Gwenlais tend to misjudge our neighbors from the west,” Wendell, said thoughtfully.
“I feel we do as well my young friend. Before coming into the service of Queen Milna and Princess Laurel, I was the Royal Envoy to Heathwin. King Fergus had just acquired the throne. He was not the oldest son, that brother was killed in a horrific battle with the Rabkins. Had he been King, I dare say the reputation given the men of Heathwin, would not be unfounded. Thankfully King Fergus does not share the same feelings and attitudes of his brothers or father. I feel now with the union of Prince Caleb and Princess Laurel, those old prejudices will be put to rest,” Phineas explained with a warm smile, as they made their way to the back room, arranged specifically for the King.
When the King entered the wide and spacious dining room of the pub, everyone greeted him at once. Then in the midst of all the greetings came the burly Scribe Marcus. With his long, but neatly kept beard, twinkling sky blue eyes, and smile which lit up his entire face. Wearing an apron, his arms outstretched, as he greeted the King with a warm hug.
“Dea trathnona Sire! Welcome back to my humble pub. Your table waits for you in the back room. My dear Tess has just taken two large loaves from the oven, and my Clare will be serving you all, this evening. Would this be the young Scribe you spoke of?” Marcus asked, as he looked over at Wendell.
“Yes, Marcus. This is Wendell, the young Scribe from Gwenlais. He also happens to be a good friend of Princess Laurel,” King Fergus replied, as he beckoned Wendell to come closer.
“I must say lad, you are quite young to be a Scribe. You cannot be much older than my Clare, who is twenty seasons by week’s end,” Marcus said, as he clasped Wendell’s hand in a firm handshake.
“I am a Lesser Scribe, Master Marcus. I am but twenty-two seasons. I have the esteemed privilege of being able to record her Highness experience of her wedding day, with the good graces of Prince Caleb of course,” Wendell mentioned, as he glanced over at Caleb, who only smiled at his remark.
“No need for formalities with me my lad. We are a bit more relaxed here in Heathwin, in the Scribe Guild. Is it true that you as a Lesser Scribe do not receive payment, or any kind of compensation for your work in Gwenlais?” Marcus asked, with bemusement.
“We live solely on whatever donations or gifts we receive or if we are sponsored by our families, until we become Scribes. I was very fortunate to have her Highness herself, sponsor me last season,” Wendell answered humbly.
“What did you do before then?” Marcus asked, as he began to lead everyone once again, into the private dining area.
“Oh…I did not do very well I am afraid,” Wendell replied, with a shy chuckle.
“Well you have come to the right place my boy, we shall put some flesh on those frail bones of yours. Come and sit down, right here, and soon my Clare will be here serving everyone the first course. Make yourselves comfortable, I shall be back in from time to time,” Marcus said, with a broad smile as he turned and left the room.
A few moments later a tall, buxom, dark haired, attractive girl, walked into the room. She was carrying a tray of bread and cheese, and a tray of pints of ale. She placed the trays on the table and smiled brightly at everyone.
“Good evening Clare. You are looking particularly fetching this evening. Is that a new dress?” Aiden asked her, with a charming smile.
“Why thank you Sire, yes it is,” Clare answered back smiling coyly, revealing a slight gap between her front teeth.
She looked over at Wendell, whom she noticed was staring at her with wide eyes. The rest of the group also noticed Wendell’s rapt attention, which of course had Aiden and Caleb grinning wryly at each other.
“Wendell, I would like to introduce to you Marcus’ daughter, Clare,” Aiden said, in a low voice.
“Hello Wendell. I am most pleased to meet you,” Clare said, in a friendly bright voice.
“I…I am most pleased to meet you as well,” Wendell replied in a shy voice, but still unable to take his eyes from her.
“I will be back in a few moments with a potato and onion tart Mother has made especially for all of you. Will there be anything else you fine gentlemen would care for?” Clare asked, her lovely blue eyes resting on Wendell.
“No thank you my dear. You have taken care of us quite well,” King Fergus answered warmly, as he glanced over at Wendell’s smiling face.
“Very good Sire. I shall be only a moment,” Clare replied, as she turned and walked gracefully from the room.
“So Wendell, what do think of our Clare?” Aiden asked, as he hit Wendell lightly on the arm.
“She is a vision Sire. Truly the embodiment of all that is pure and lovely,” Wendell replied, in a faraway voice.
His comment elicited much surprised laughter from the group, as he looked away a bit embarrassed.
“Do not be ashamed of your eloquence Wendell. It is a very admirable quality. Many a man would be happy to speak half as graciously as you,” King Fergus said, patting Wendell on the back.
“You like the tall and voluptuous girls do you Wendell? I thought she might be a bit too much for you,” Aiden remarked, with a sly smirk.
“Most of the young ladies I have met, with the exception of her Highness, are taller than me. So I have grown quite accustomed to it. But no, it does not bother me. I cannot explain why, but I find the taller girls to be most attractive,” Wendell answered.
The men smiled or laughed lightly, and then began to enjoy the food and ale set before them. Wendell just stared at his tankard with slight trepidation.
“Come on Wendell, take a sip, it will not bite you. Marcus serves some of the best ale in Heathwin. King Garron himself would have a hard time deciding which was best, Marcus’ or that from his own cellars,” Caleb remarked, with a grin.
Wendell took a deep breath than picking up the tankard in both hands, took a sip. He licked his lips and then took a much longer drink, than another, until to everyone’s surprise and amusement he nearly half finished it. He put the tankard down with a loud clank and smiled at everyone with a silly crooked grin, eyes watery and sleepy looking.
“This is truly the best ale I have ever tasted, though it is my first, it is still the best. Does that make sense?” Wendell asked, with a bemused expression.
“Absolutely, Wendell! Take another sip,” Aiden said, laughing along with everyone else.
Clare then returned with the promised potato and onion tart, and began serving each one in turn, stopping lastly with Wendell. As she handed him his plate their hands touched for a moment.
“May I be so bold as to say my lady, that I would give my right arm, to be that plate you hold in your lovely hand,” Wendell said, with unabashed adoration.
Everyone looked at Wendell in complete surprise and laughed in a muffled way, so as not to cause Clare to blush any more than she already was.
“Why thank you Wendell. You are most certainly a man of poetry,” Clare said smiling prettily.
“Oh no Clare, I am only inspired by the beauty that stands before me,” Wendell continued, as he smiled warmly at her.
“You flatter me Wendell. I shall be back soon with the rest of your meal. Shall I bring anymore ale?” Clare asked the group.
“Thank you my dear. More ale all around please,” the King answered, smiling broadly.
Clare smiled and looked once more over at Wendell with a rosy blush and then left the room. Everyone then looked over at Wendell who was still smiling dreamily, looking on as Clare left.
“Wendell! You sly dog. Here you had us believing you were shy and awkward around women, and look at you! Spouting off words of endearment like a poet,” Aiden said, hitting Wendell’s arm and laughing.
“I usually am Sire. It must be I am just overwhelmed by her presence,” Wendell answered, with a one sided grin.
“I agree that Clare is a lovely girl, but in this case I would say it is the ale that has made you a bit embolden,” Caleb remarked laughing lightly.
“Oh really? Well perhaps I should have more,” Wendell replied, as he went to take another drink.
Caleb reached over from across the table and held down Wendell’s arm.
“Have a bit of cheese and bread first Wendell,” Caleb directed, as he smirked at him.
“Yes, my dear boy. Do have something to eat. You would not want Clare to think you do not enjoy her parents’ cooking now would you?” King Fergus asked, with a wry grin.
“Oh no Sire, not at all,” Wendell said with a worried tone, as he then began to eat with relish, the ample fare placed in front of him.
Just then Marcus walked back in with a wide grin, as he looked over at Wendell, who was devouring a large piece of bread, he slathered with copious amounts of butter.
“So my friends how are you all enjoying your first course? Did you all like the potato tart my dear Tess made?” Marcus asked the group.
His grin was even broader at the chorus of approval that was met by his questions.
“A culinary delight as always Marcus. Please thank Tess for making this delicious tart for us,” King Fergus said, before taking another bite.
“Would Tess be inclined to give the recipe Marcus? My mother is quite fond of potatoes. I feel she would enjoy this, if the family cook made it for her,” Murtagh requested.
“I have no doubt my young friend, that Tess would be more than happy to share the recipe, especially for your mother. How is your dear mother faring Murtagh? The weather has been a bit cooler of late,” Marcus asked, with kind concern.
“Yes, as you are all aware, the cool weather does make it difficult for her to get around. Since however, my betrothal to Shannon, with her moving into the family home, it has been a great source of help to my mother. My mother and young sisters love Shannon, and she them. The house has been much happier since her arrival,” Murtagh smiled warmly, at mentioning his recent betrothal.
“I have not yet had the chance to offer my congratulations on your betrothal to Shannon, Murtagh. I am happy for you both. She was a bit lost after her mother’s passing. I feel you helped her to find her way. Your family seems to have given her purpose,” Aiden said thoughtfully, with a caring smile.
“Thank you Sire. I feel it has been a mutual benefit. Shannon just needed to feel wanted and loved again. My mother and sisters are quite open with their affections. It has also eased my father’s worry as well, as he dotes on my mother quite a bit,” Murtagh replied, happy that Aiden himself, congratulated him.
“And what of you young Wendell? Are you enjoying your first visit to my pub?” Marcus asked, the young man enthusiastically.
“Oh yes very much sir. This is the finest ale I have ever had for the first time. May I also say your daughter is also the finest vision…I have ever beheld for the…first time,” Wendell answered, smiling crookedly as he finished his tankard.
Everyone in the room burst into laughter, including Marcus, who walked over and patted the young Scribe on the back.
“Very good my young friend. She will be rejoining you shortly, when she brings in your stew,” Marcus said with a laugh, as he left the room.
