Sauragia

Chapter 8

As it turned out, Astron was right, for as talk of the coming summer festival grew more, talk of him grew less. Within three days of the celebration, he had ceased to be the main subject of conversation. Yet, this did not happen before the rumours reached the ear slits of Alfred.

If there was one dinosaur all the Guard could agree was loathsome, it was Alfred Redding. He was, simply put, the perfect bully. He had not always been so, though few could remember a time when he was not. And he was really a very good soldier on the occasions he felt like being one. But those were rare indeed. Being Astron’s age, Alfred was slightly older than many other guards, and so liked to think he held some sort of advantage over them. He particularly enjoyed ribbing newer recruits, and antagonizing others when they were feeling down. Most backed down from his taunts not for fear of him, but of his father, Cornelius Redding, who was a very influential figure back in his home town of Allington. Captain Torilis had sought several times to remove him from the Guard, but had always been undermined by the king, who did not want any trouble. Only a few like Robert, who was a favourite target of Alfred due to his family’s modest social standing, actually got annoyed enough to give him a piece of their mind. No matter, he never shaped up, confident he could always get off easy—which he did.

He had seen and heard of this new Astron fellow since his arrival and watched him with interest. Everything about him gave Alfred an aversion to the newcomer. Having always been a bit diminutive in size, he instantly took a disliking to the bigger, taller Astron. And there was something about those eyes that gave him an uneasy feeling. With all these rumours going around boosting his reputation, he definitely had to be brought down a bit. Alfred intended to be the one to do it.

Thus, at this very moment he stood in one of the back corridors, down which he had seen Astron come many times. Leaning casually with his back against a column, he waited for his target to approach. Hearing steps, he grinned to himself maliciously, then checked to ensure nobody else was around. Seeing the coast was clear, he watched Astron come nearer, then stepped out in front of him. Astron stopped.

“Good morning, soldier!” greeted Astron cheerily.

“You’re the new guard around here, aren’t you?” spoke Alfred.

“Indeed I am. I’m not certain we’ve met before. My name’s…”

“Astron, yes. So I’ve heard. I’m Alfred. Alf, to some. Son of Cornelius Redding.” He paused to see if the name impressed Astron. It didn’t. “They say you’re a fine fighter with a lot of deeds under your belt.” He walked around Astron, inspecting him more closely as he spoke.

Astron’s eye followed him carefully, though he maintained a friendly air as he replied, “Stories can be misleading.”

“Indeed they can,” said Alfred, coming around in front again. “That’s a nice blade.” He nodded toward the sword at Astron’s side. “They say you’re quite skilled.”

“That may be true,” said Astron, clawing absent-mindedly at the hilt. “I’ve practised since I was strong enough to lift one.”

“Well, we’ll have to find out how good you really are. I take it you’ll be in the displays at the festival?”

Astron nodded.

“Well, so will I, and we’ll just see who’s better then, won’t we?”

“I imagine so,” said Astron, his competitive blood aroused.

“See you ‘round, lefty,” said Alfred. He smirked, then turned and walked away.

Astron watched until the other guard disappeared down the other end of the corridor, not certain what to make of him. Whatever the case, he would be sure to avoid him in the future. He was about to turn and go the other way when a fair feminine voice hailed him from behind.

“I say there, soldier!”

Astron whirled around to see Princess Alyssa standing in the doorway of a side corridor and beckoning him to come closer. He wondered briefly if she had witnessed the exchange between him and Alfred.

“Come here, if you would, sir,” she said. “I’ve a job for you.”

Astron followed the pretty little princess down the side corridor. He could not believe his luck. The princess was asking a favour of him! He hoped he didn’t look too unkempt.

As they walked along, Astron looked from side to side at the little niches along the walls, separated from each other by columns. In each of the niches there hung a portrait of some noble dinosaur, sometimes a pair, with small trinkets laid out on a stone shelf below it. Astron surmised that these were altars to long-dead Kings and Queens of Cardolin, and the items below had once belonged to those pictured above. Torches on either side of the columns illuminated both the altars and the corridor. Astron fleetingly wondered what sort of trinkets would adorn his altar if he were of royal lineage.

They eventually came to the end of the corridor, where there was a small chamber to the side. It had once been used as a storage closet, but had since been converted into Alyssa’s beauty room. This they entered. The little desk was there, lined with all kinds of oils, scents, and powders in jars. A large, circular looking glass leaned up against the wall in the corner, and to this Alyssa pointed.

“I wanted it put where this old one is,” she indicated the current rectangular one. “I’d do it myself, but you see, neither I nor my servant could lift it. I figured a strong fellow like yourself could. So, would you?”

“Certainly, my lady,” replied Astron, stepping up to the mirror. He tried to maintain a professional tone despite his excitement.

“Just take the old one down and put this one up in its place,” said Alyssa in a patronizing tone.

“I figured as much,” replied Astron, grasping both sides and giving an experimental tug.

“I don’t imagine you’ve seen many of these where you come from.”

“We see our share of looking glasses, madam,” retorted Astron, inspecting the back to see how it was hung.

“Well, that one was my great-grandmother’s,” Alyssa prattled on, convinced that everything she said was important enough for others to hear. “Very nice and all, but dreadfully heavy and old-fashioned.”

“They both look quite nice to me,” said Astron as he prepared to lift.

“I would imagine as much from one of your uncultured upbringing.”

Astron winced at the remark. He had never been one to take insults lightly, and might normally have responded. However, despite what Alyssa thought, Astron was quite well bred, and held his tongue in the presence of a lady—especially one so pretty.

“Best stand back,” he stated as he lifted the mirror up off its pegs and out away from the wall. Alyssa stepped back as advised, cautioning him needlessly to “Be careful now. Don’t drop it.”

“I have no intention of dropping it,” replied Astron curtly, though the mirror was turning out to be heavier than he had at first thought, and so he held it slightly lower than intended. He held it just high enough to clear the edge of the desk, but not so high that the corner did not catch the top of a little vial as he brought it down. The vial toppled over and hit the hard stone floor, splattering its contents all over. Alyssa gave a yelp of indignation as she rushed to collect the broken glass shards.

“Oh, you silly bumpkin. You absolute dolt, look what you’ve done!”

Setting the mirror down beside the other, Astron attempted to assuage her.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Your Highness. Perhaps I could get a replacement for you.” But Alyssa would not be consoled.

“Impossible!” said she impudently. “One of your means couldn’t possibly afford it if you worked for the rest of your life, even if it didn’t come from beyond the Sauragian Mountains. Why must your sort always be so oafish?”

Seething inwardly from the harsh words, Astron maintained his calm only due to his strong self-discipline and the fact that this was the king’s daughter—it would not do to insult her back. So, without saying anything more, he lifted the round mirror with hardly an effort and hung it sharply in place of the first.

“There,” he said to Alyssa. “Now you can admire yourself no end without any further intrusion by my sort. Good day, my lady!” He turned and hurried away, maintaining his proud upright stance in spite of the welling tears of indignation he fought hard to hold back. Evidently her outward beauty belied what she was like on the inside.

Alyssa watched him go and sighed, then looked down at the broken glass in her claws. Clumsy clod, knocking over her imported perfume like that! Not that he was a bad fellow. And she had to agree with Martha that he was handsome—if one was taking note of such things. Still, what was done was done, and she saw no point in thinking any more of it now. She would call Martha to dispose of the broken bottle later. But at the moment she set the little crystalline shards to one side of her desk and sat down on her chair to “admire herself,” as Astron put it. Somehow she seemed a little different from when she had looked before. Whether it was her snout, that short tail, or something else she didn’t know for sure, but she suddenly lost all interest in looking at herself.

Upstairs in the royal bedroom, King Henrik gazed out at the Palace grounds below as they began to lighten up for the day. The lawn was heavily laden with dew as the guard changed at the gate. He watched as the two soldiers from the previous shift walked across the lawn toward the Palace while two more walked past to replace them. One of the replacements waved to the others and they waved back, stopping to exchange words for a second. One of them spoke rapidly and jumped up around a bit, which the others found very amusing. After a few parting words, they carried on to their destinations: two off to guard the gate and two coming in for breakfast and bed.

King Henrik sighed. He remembered days when he had been like those young guards: so energetic and enthusiastic about life. He was still considered quite healthy and vigorous for a dinosaur his age, but not as much as before. In his prime, he had been a very handsome lad: bold, strong, and a skilled fighter like his father before him. Every now and then he found himself almost wishing that a war would come, just so that he could test his skill and might as he once had. But his older wisdom always nullified such thoughts before they got too far. He was, after all, termed Henrik the Wise by some dinosaurs, and he much preferred seeing his kingdom happy and prosperous at peace than at war.

Turning away from the window, the king called his personal servant, Bern, to him. The surly old dino came in with his usual sluggishness.

“Yes, sire?” he asked in an almost bored voice.

“Bern, I want you to go and fetch my sword belt, please,” spoke Henrik, ignoring Bern’s impudence. “This is too beautiful a day to be wasted entirely indoors, so I’m going to take some practice in the garden this morning before holding court.”

“Of course, sir,” replied Bern with a near sigh. “Anything else?”

“No, Bern, thank you,” replied Henrik. The servant half bowed and left the room as Henrik let out a deep breath to avoid losing his temper. That Bern was a real nuisance.

He had served the royal house of Cardolin since before Henrik had taken the throne, and had never seemed to like him that much. He had gotten along with his father well enough, but not Henrik. The king honestly did not know why he kept him around sometimes. He could be absolutely infuriating with his almost purposeful sluggishness and disrespect. Yet, Henrik’s softer side—ever more prevalent as he grew older—would not allow for his dismissal.

Though not as old as Henrik, Bern could not really start over at his age, and he did have a family to support. He wondered at times if a promotion would not make Bern happier, but also felt that the old servant had not really done anything to deserve it. So, he kept him around for his father’s sake in the hope of solving the problem someday. In the meantime, a bit of exercise would do him a world of good. Assuming Bern ever got around to bringing him his sword belt, of course.