In Service Of The King (Book 2) Read Free Page A

grim-faced master mason directed his own apprentices in the laying down of large, gray paving stones. The new paving stretched in front of the cart all the way through the valley until it was cut from sight by a foothill of the huge mountain. The horses’ hooves made a steady clip-clop on the rock and the merchant admired the neat, precise fitting of the stones as he rode over them.
    The road turned to the right, heading towards the mountain; Stone Mountain seemed to rise higher as the cart drew nearer. The road rose with the land and thick trees spilled down from the sides of the mountain, enveloping the road with shadows. After climbing more than a half hour, the trees thinned and stopped as a splendid vineyard took over the slopes. The vines were wrapped against the cold and well-kept; they rose in many tiers along the steepening road.
    As the wagon climbed the incline, the tops of two towers came into view against the top of the mountain. The castle towers soared into the sky like huge, gray sentinels; a bright blue pennant flowed in the wind from each tower’s topmost pole. Between the towers spanned a thick wall over sixty feet in height, sporting a large, riveted gate. Outside the gate, a few uniformed young men could be seen busily trimming overgrown bushes and trees that lined the road.
    The climb leveled off before the gate. Slowing his horses, the merchant stopped his cart. Stepping down from his cart, the merchant looked up at the large, wooden edifice.
    “Hullo!” he called out. “Turner from Dorenvines... delivering chairs!”
    After a moment a smaller door--hidden in the gate--swung open and a wiry man with a graying beard stuck his head through.
    “Chairs! Excellent,” the man in the door called out. Releif colored his voice. “Lord Asher has been standing for meals since yesterday.”
    “Varnish just dried ’fore I loaded ‘em,” the merchant said. “Haven’t had such a rush order for ages.”
    “And you’ll be paid handsomly,” the man told him. “We’ll open the gate for you; drive on through.” As he got back upinto his cart, the merchant heard the grinding of metal. The gates shifted and then began slowly drawing back, towards the castle. Slapping the reins on the horses backs, the merchant directed his cart through the gate.
    Inside, the road formed a small circle--in a spacious courtyard--around a white, marble fountain. As he drove by the merchant beheld two men, standing in the fountain; one held a short pole; the other swung a heavy mallet onto the top of the pole. More hammering could be heard--echoing throughout the courtyard--from several men working on the roof. Some let down baskets of broken tile to workers on the ground, while others brought up stacksof newly-fired roof tiles to lay down.
    Other merchants’ carts were repsent, parked to one side of the courtyard. One cart sat, piled high with rugs; another belonged to the tinker, filled iwth hundreds of new, shining pots, fixtures and utensils. Six men struggled to unload a long table from another wagon.The chair turner recognized the local wine dealer, rolling a large barrel up the manor’s wide front stairs with his son.
    The manor house rose up three stories, its edifice was studded with many windows, all open. Compared to some of the vast estates around Dorenvines, the manor seemed small and out-dated to the newcomer. Only last month he’d delivered a hand-carved footstool to the Perrington Estate, with a house so large hegot lost in it. He’d not been paid, yet for that stool. Grimacing, the turner glanced back at the load of chairs, hoping this new lord would pay his bills quickly.
    Wedging his cart in where he could, the turner untied the top-most chair and carefully worked it out from its fellows. The older man--from the front gate--walked quickly toward his cart.
    “You can take those though the main doors,” he said, nodding at the chairs. “For now, put them along the ballroom wall, out of the way. I am