Alain's Journey Ch. 02

"Erik this is Alain, potentially the new court minstrel." Endre said, after taking a small drink himself. He passed the flask to Alain, who reluctantly took a small, fiery gulp.

Erik stared at Alain, incredulously. "You aren't going before the King smelling like Endre are you?"

"Fuck." Alain said aloud. He hadn't thought twice of working in a stable right after bathing.

The other two laughed. Erik grabbed the flask from Alain and drank again. "Any man who smears himself in horse shit before an audience with a King is a man I respect."

"I didn't know you had such respect for me Erik," Endre said, dryly.

"That's just your job, it is the role of the master of horse to smell of horse the whole time is it not?"

Alain was still thinking about his stupidity. "Is there any chance of me finding another bath?"

Endre answered, while Erik laughed "The girls will have replaced the water in the tunnels."

"You knew damn well, yet you let my dear friend Alain here work in your stables." Erik roared.

Endre shrugged, nonplussed. "He offered to help."

Erik shook his head, and looked at Alain. "The thing about Endre is he's not a Man." Alain looked curiously at the horse master. "Once you breathe in enough horse shit, you become horse shit." He slapped Endre on the back and laughed. His face was red already from the alcohol. "He's pretty good for a pile of shit, but he cares more about stallions than men, and more about mares than women."

Alain liked the flamboyant Erik, and even the dry, composed Endre but he could see the sun starting to reach the hills on the other side of the valley. He bade the soldier and the horse master farewell. Endre nodded at him and Erik slapped him hard on the back. Moving back down to the courtyard, he caught a final sight of the two talking and emptying their flask.

As it happened, Laura or some other servant had just the refilled the bath. There was no sign of the blonde around, however. Steam rose invitingly from the clear water. Eagerly, Alain stripped and marvelled at the luxury of having two baths in a day. He eased himself in and quickly cleaned the filth of himself. Soon the water was a dirty brown. Fearful of being late, Alain dressed hurriedly and left the bathroom as it was. He barely remembered to fetch his instrument.

It was quite dark in the courtyard, the high inner wall blocked most of the sun as it set. A fiery, orange light filled the sky though, and the upper levels of the tower were bathed in light. The skeletal figure of Muir was standing at the base, hands skimming his silks nervously. He spotted Alain approaching.

"Come come, your sister is already inside, the King is about to eat you must hurry." The steward beckoned impatiently to Alain with two fingers. They trotted up several flights of stairs. The higher, safer levels had a few glass windows, Alain sneaked a gaze at the beautiful sunset over the town. Muir seemed uninterested and gently spoke orders to staff who passed them on the stairs.

At last they came to a landing that opened into a larger hall. Real fire burned here, no Warlock's tricks. The diameter of the tower was large, and this room spread across most of it. In one end, on a upraised stage, was the King's table. Alain noted that the large chair at the centre was vacant. Elsewhere, there were three smaller tables that stretched to the side of room where Alain stood. Servants flurried around, carrying food and drink to the tables. A few dozen nobles and officials stood behind their chairs, awaiting the King.

Muir ushered him to one side of the room, where Elizabeth stood glaring mildly at Alain. A man came to Muir and whispered in his ear, the steward set off without another word to the twins. Somehow, Lizzie had appropriated a tight, sky blue dress that clung to her bust tightly. It looked better fitted to one of the small serving girls who had taken her to her chambers earlier. Alain suspected Elizabeth had demanded it from one of them.

"What took you so long." She hissed at her brother. "And didn't you think to dress better?"

Alain was a little dumbfounded at seeing his sister dressed so finely if revealingly. "I was helping in the stables," he said simply.

Elizabeth stared at him with wide eyes, "For King Robert's sake," she began.

As if on cue, a man roared out "His majesty King Robert Oakenwood, son of Arthur and Mairwen Oakenwood, Protector of the Wold."

A man in a large fur coat, with jewels on every finger, strode into the room from a door opposite the one Alain had entered from. He did not look very regal to Alain. Not fat, but short and solid. In build, he was not that different from Alain's father Malcolm, and had a matching thick, brown beard. As he reached his chair, he nodded to his son Orin beside him. Orin towered over his father and his face was much fairer to gaze upon. Still, Alain could see some resemblance in the nose and set of their jaw. The king sat and took a sip from a golden cup in front of him. With that, the other diners sat and began to feast.

Alain glanced at Elizabeth, his sister seemed unsure of herself as well for once. Soon there was an abundance of laughter, shouts, slurping and chewing filling the hall. At last, his sister made a decision and told Alain to unpack his guitar. They began a merry peasant song that they often played at festivals after harvest. The two of them could barely hear themselves against the din around them. One woman at least, seated next to some merchant or guildsmen, turned to watch them for a moment. She looked on the verge of passing her prime, yet was wearing a dress as tightly-fitted as Elizabeth's. Elsewhere, little attention was paid. Alain's eyes scanned the room, they found mostly knights and their ladies, and a few townsfolk; probably members of the town council. The King's own household was small; besides the Prince the only others were Sir Lachlan and two girls who resembled that knight closely. Evidently, the King had no Queen and only one child.

Frustrated, Elizabeth tapped the neck of Alain's guitar; a signal to shift the key up a tone. This was their old trick for the final chorus of any tune. His sister looked stunning in her blue and her soaring high notes started to cut through the din. A few heads turned, mostly men admiring his sister's bust. They finished with a flourish on Alain's guitar that was mostly lost in the noise. The older woman near them applauded and gave Alain a smile. One of what had to be Sir Lachlan's sisters applauded out of politeness, but was unlikely to have heard much.

Alain was happy enough, he had expected little more but Elizabeth was quite incensed. "Arthur's Triumph," She hissed through her teeth, with a fake smile on her face. Alain looked at her sharply, but she had already begun to sing. He sighed, and began his accompaniment. Two nearby older knights heard and began to sing along poorly. Soon they were standing, arms wrapped around each other dancing sillily. It quickly caught on, and most of the diners began to clap along and lend their voices to the mix. Elizabeth was beaming. Alain glanced at the King, he was sitting quietly, focused on his meal. Robert tore a chunk of bread off and bit at his wolfishly. Elizabeth began the bridge, and came to the part in the story where King Arthur avenged the death of his eldest son Cal. Most of the hall was by now quite raucous.

"ENOUGH!" The King roared suddenly. At once, the noise broke off except for Elizabeth who started the final chorus. Soon after, she stopped and bowed her head. Alain held his guitar muted, not daring to make a sound. He probably should have bowed his head too, but his eyes were fixated on the King. Robert didn't seem to focus on the two siblings, but looked disdainfully over the entire hall. He took a long drink of wine, and then rose from his chair. "I have lost my appetite," he announced. "Orin, take my place." The King stalked out of the hall, gesturing at the crowd to remain seated.

Prince Orin seemed unsurprised by his father's outburst and moved to the vacant seat smoothly. "I propose a toast to those that have fallen to keep the Wold safe. I would humbly ask those who fought with my grandfather to stand." A dozen knights stood, Alain recognized one as the scarred Sir Weylin. The rest were either quite aged, or just past their prime. "We salute you." Orin called and sipped from his upraised cup. Following him, the seated members of the hall did the same.

Presently, talk resumed and the diners began to pick away at their food again. Sir Lachlan's sister, the girl who had applauded earlier, came near to Elizabeth and Alain. The siblings bowed politely. She spoke softly, "Perhaps a song like you played earlier would be proper."

"Yes, my lady." They began to play again, slowly regaining confidence. Many songs later, the meal had began to wind down and some of the diners had paid their respects to Prince Orin and left. Alain settled into a sad love song, giving Elizabeth a chance to rest her voice. It was a very old song, telling of a Nautis princess who fell in love with a Lord of the Hill-Folk. She moved to him, far from the sea, but missed it bitterly. Her loving husband vowed to bring the sea to her. He put all the resources of his kingdom into a canal, from the ocean to his mountain fortress. It was madly impossible, but he devoted himself utterly, even working with the common folk to shift rock and dirt. One day though, a terrible accident occurred and he was crushed beneath tonnes of silt. The lord's brother took over and, furious at the terrible waste of the foolish canal, imprisoned the grieving widow. She died alone, far from the sea, and her love.

When Alain finished, the only diners still in the hall were; the merchantmen and his wife who had fixed Alain with a predatory look, Sir Weylin, two other couples, and Prince Orin. They all applauded, except the merchantman, who was passed out on the table, and Sir Weylin, who was still eating. A few of the servants whistled in enjoyment too, their hands full of plates and dishes. Alain saw Laura carrying the remains of a pie, she paid him no mind and hardly seemed to notice the end of the song.

Muir appeared from somewhere, his usual polite smile on his face. "I will arrange for an allowance for each of you, The King approves of your position here."

Alain and Elizabeth, who had begun to be worried at the steward's reappearance, were surprised. "He does?"

Muir clasped and unclasped his hands, "I spoke to his Majesty, about other matters and he did not mention you, so there is no objection."

Alain found this unnerving but Elizabeth was pleased. "We thank you from the bottom of our hearts , Steward Muir, please allow us to apologise to his Majesty."

Muir was already moving elsewhere, he looked back at Elizabeth and smiled gently "I would not mention it again child, you are dismissed."

The two siblings looked at each other and embraced. Alain kissed his sister's cheek "You were wonderful Lizzie, you look wonderful too."

She smiled broadly, but it soon disappeared "You should have dressed a little more. Tomorrow we will find new clothes for you." Alain nodded, it was better not to argue. The two serving girls who had accompanied Elizabeth earlier rushed to her. All three of the girls spoke in an excited flurry. Alain learned that Elizabeth had indeed borrowed the dress from one of the girls, Trish, and that his sister was the greatest musician to ever grace Castle Oakenwood. Soon they wandered off to find supper, leaving Alain alone to pack his things away.

Around him, a few servants meandered about. The remnants of the dinner were scant, even Sir Weylin had finished by now. Three dogs skimmed the stone floor, eagerly snatching up any scraps. Weylin tossed one a bone and strode out with a nod to Prince Orin who returned it respectfully. Orin seemed uninterested in the conversation of the two remaining couples, or the antics of the servants attempting to upright the merchantman. He arose and bade his guests a good evening, brown ringlets of hair bounced as he stood. Alain, again feeling uncomfortable in his idleness, thought it was best to help with the drunken man. Setting his guitar case against the wall, he moved to support the man, who was by now semi-conscious.

"Anotherrrr drin..." He slurred.

His wife, in her vice of a gown, pursed her lips. "Take him outside, our men will see him home." She snapped, her voice was harsh and commanding.

Between Alain and a younger servant, her husband coughed "Wheree..zaa King? Need ta see Rob...Robert."

The woman made a disgusted noise. She seemed to tower over Alain, wearing heels of some kind. They made her buttocks stick out, giving her body a look of unnatural poise and power. Full breasts were barely contained in her bodice, pushed up desperately in defiance of ageing.

Quickly another servant ran over and took over from Alain, helping the King's quest down the tower steps. It was slow going, not only because of the drunken merchant but also his wife's struggle to retain dignity as her heels floundered on the steps. Alain instinctively reached out an arm to catch her as she stumbled a little. He soon found her breasts pressed hard against his upper chest. Trying to ignore them, he steadied her "Are you alright, m'lady?"

Her hands, kept soft by some powder, lingered on his body. "Thanks to your aid, yes, but I am no more a lady than my husband is a Lord I am afraid."

The manners Alain's parents had instilled in him took over instinctively "A Lady is so by the grace of her manner and beauty, not by birth." She had very bright, green eyes and they shone as her face went into a playful smirk.

"You were raised much finer than my beloved husband." The woman brushed a strand of thick, flowing brown hair from her face. Alain noted that the two servants carrying her beloved husband had no gotten quite far ahead of them.

He politely helped her down the stairs and tried to play it off. "I'm just a peasant farm boy." Alain gave what he hoped was a dumb, boyish smile and tried to ignore her as she took her arm in his.

She shifted her arm, pushing his hand into one of her breasts. They were as soft as her hands. "A peasant farm boy with some very impressive talents. You and your sister are destined for greater things."

At last they came to the base of the stairs, some men were loading the merchant into his carriage already. Alain turned to the predatory woman "Good night Lady..."

"Gwyneth." She offered a pale hand for Alain to kiss. Reluctantly, he pecked the hand. "It was a pleasure to hear you play tonight Alain, good night." She moved off to the carriage, before Alain could discover how she knew his name. Her hips swayed seductively, Alain soon found himself staring. Eventually, she climbed aboard and the carriage began to move off.

Alain let a loud breath out as the carriage moved through the inner gate. He noticed he had become quite erect. Mama Alyona had been quite accurate about the women of Oakenwood.