Siege (4)
“Akan yak tak!” *** Agraff marched quickly, his arms swaying to and fro, a determined look in his eyes, yet a face of worry for what could have happened to cause the screams... screams from his wife, he knew, his love, Sacha. George joined him, following his lead, the same look of anguish on his face. “Where have you been?” asked Agraff, not turning and not breaking his stride. “Considering.” “Considering what exactly?” “What is going to happen to us and what has already. I thought about your father and my own. How we grew up together. How it’s all going to end. I’ve been thinking of lots of things, all over the place.” George paused, lost for words for a moment. He wanted to apologize for what he said earlier, but he just couldn’t grasp the words. “Agraff.” Agraff stopped, turned and faced George. “I’m sorry for doubting you.” Agraff nodded and put one hand on George’s shoulder and then briskly continued, jogging up a set of steps to get to his room. “Wait here,” said Agraff as they approached the door and George did as he was told. The door was opened slowly and shut again as Agraff had entered. Sacha was unclothed, huddled in the corner of the room, her bare back against cold stone, her face a mass of tears, not knowing what was going on outside of the room. Agraff moved closer. “Are you alright, my dear?” “No I’m bloody not!” she sniffed, fresh tears dropping onto her knees as she burrowed her face between them. Agraff was slow in movement and carefully sat down next to her up against the wall, his right arm moving round her shoulders so that she could rest her head on his chest. His hand moved down to her side, his fingers lightly caressing the curves of her stomach as he kissed the back of her head. “Don’t worry, I’m here. You don’t have to worry, my love, I’ll get you out of here, I’ll make sure you’re safe.” “What about you?” “I must stay, I must stay.” “But where shall I go? Back to Lummux? Back to Archie’s Fun House? I can’t go back there, I mustn’t.” “No, you mustn’t go back there, and won’t. I’ll work out something, Sacha, I’ll work something out.” Their lips embraced, their tongues thrashing ferociously against each other in desperation, hating the thought of ever being alone. Agraff’s tongue moved onto her breasts as she sat, their arms fixing around their bodies, making sure neither could get away from the other. Eleven “Open up you bunch of buggered bastards!” Fug was mounted on a black haired steed, encased in layers of chain mail and steel plates, his helmet under one arm. His eyes looked upwards to the top of the curtain wall, hoping that his voice wasn’t being wasted. A head appeared and stared down at Fug, wondering what he wanted, eagerly anticipating the knight’s fall into the deep moat that he stood so daringly close to. “Well, are you going to open the drawbridge or not? Eh comrade?” “Wak taken fak, mak saken haken dak!” Fug sat on his horse open mouthed, not sure what he was being told. Bloody foreigners… A man with a large pointed hat appeared from behind and pushed the foreigner away. “Don’t mind him. What is it that you want? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something here?” “I am that something, comrade. And if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to follow out the negotiations inside the castle please, there are forms for the proprietor to sign and everything. Best thing you can do is to get this drawbridge down and go brew some tea, sound like a good idea?” “But who the hell are you? And forms? What forms?” “Comrade, I am Fug, the official emissary of Chief Lopps’ right hand man, his minister of war, Jeller Mokkas. On behalf of Jeller, I am here to offer you a chance to save your lives and your castle. Now open this bloody drawbridge or I’ll let Jeller lob his wrath at your brittle bones! Open up!” “Don’t be so hasty, Mr. Fug. First I’ll need some proof that you are who you say you are. Grant me that at least – you could be anybody, someone with ulterior motive an’ all.” “Proof of identification, eh comrade?” Fug waved his right arm in the air, signalling back to the grand army that was patiently watching, waiting. The same trebuchet as before, moved slowly at first and then quickly swung a great rock in the direction of the castle. It rose high and came tumbling down quickly, crashing straight into the western wall, crashing with debris into the bailey. A strong breeze of dust swept around the area, blowing straight into Fug’s face, closing his eyes and mouth in time. After dusting off his hat, the wizard came to his senses and rested both hands on the wall. “Lower the bridge,” he said to someone behind him, and soon enough, the drawbridge into the barbican chugged down to let Fug through. Twelve “Much appreciated, comrade,” said Fug, taking a cup of tea from the quivering hands of Blimey. He had been very close to the second trebuchet shot and was still attempting to get over the shock of the crash. “Yeah, you’ve got a nice place here, nice place indeed. Nice set up. Shame about the damage to the castle though – nothing a good builder can’t fix, eh? Always keep your hopes up like that. Homes can be destroyed and then rebuilt – people can’t. That’s why, comrade, we’re not the barbarians you consider us to be.” “You think we consider you barbarians?” queried Pukka, his bushy eyebrows slightly raised. He sat opposite, the others standing around in the large room, listening. “Almost certainly, comrade. King Copper’s last words were exactly of the sort, ‘Barbarians the lot of you, you’ll never hold what you take.’” “You watched Copper die?” “Watched? Chief Lopps gave me the opportunity to kill him myself. Lopps and I are good friends, see? We go way back. Never wanted too much responsibility though, that’s why I took this job – an easy affair. Nothing too taxing. So you’re Wizard Pukka are you, comrade? Good decision in the end to let me over the drawbridge eh? Good with magic?” “To the best of my ability,” he lied. “Good business to be in, good business; gold pieces a plenty I would expect.” “No, it’s not like that.” “Oh?” “No.” “No.” There was a silence. Fug did go on, he did have a gift of talking, but there wasn’t much conversing to be had. Boring people these were, he thought, looking them over. Really boring. “Where’s the proprietor, then? What was his name?” “Lord Agraff.” “Lord Agraff, where is he, eh? I don’t like to be kept waiting, nor does Jeller Mokkas, I can tell you. You, boy,” said Fug, pointing at Blimey, “how ‘bout fetching Agraff for us, eh? No time like the bleeding present.” Blimey scooted out of the room as quickly as he could – he knew where he’d find his lord and lady. “Tell me, what do you have in store for us?” “Please remember this is nothing personal, it’s not me, it’s Chief Lopps and Jeller Mokkas, and it’s not specifically about you lot either. It’s the castle, that’s all. Lopps’ army has marched across this land, destroying castle after castle, enemy after enemy, and now we’re pretty tired of it all, you must understand. We’ve grown tired of this invasion, you see comrade, and you’re lucky that the bureaucrats a few days ago published the order, under Lopps’ supervision, that the army is to kill no one senselessly any longer, unless attacked of course. This means that I must offer this Agraff a sum of money, buy the deeds for Castle Utter and then the trebuchet shall level the place so that it won’t be a threat any longer. Good for all of us, I think.” “What about the first two trebuchet shots? They could have wiped us all out.” “Nah, we had a couple of wizards help us direct those shots into areas that wouldn’t hurt any of you. They’re not the greatest at it, but you can’t really complain – it worked. Hey, you, my big comrade over there,” he said, pointing at Spicer, “how ‘bout another cup of tea, eh?” On having his empty cup taken away by the blacksmith, Fug watched as Agraff marched down the corridor and into the large room that he was sat in, closely followed by his now fully clothed wife, Sacha, the tears rubbed from her eyes, Blimey bustling last, trying to keep up. Fug stood up to create Lord Agraff, outstretching his hand. “Who are you?” asked Agraff, not returning the favour of shaking Fug’s hand. “My name is Fug, Lord Agraff. I am the official emissary of Jeller Mokkas, the right hand man to Chief Lopps himself.” “And what are you doing here? What do you want?” “I am here to negotiate your surrender, comrade Agraff. I carry forms for you to sign. Lopps shall buy the deeds of this castle from you, you and your friends here shall move out and the army shall make sure that Castle Utter is no longer a threat to this new world.” “You want me to sell Castle Utter to you so that you can destroy it?” “Well, I’m not the one buying the castle, exactly, but that’s the main gist of it, comrade. What is your decision?” “No.” “No?” “I shall not help you destroy the home that I have lived in all of my life! This castle, Castle Utter, has been in my family for hundreds of years! And you just expect me to hand it over for you to destroy? No!” “Lord Agraff, please reconsider this a little,” promoted Pukka, coming out of the corner of the room, trying to look straight into Agraff’s eyes. “Please reconsider, my lord. For our sake! This is an offer that you mustn’t refuse.” “You, Pukka, of all people, cannot agree with this ludicrous idea! Surely?!” “Lord Agraff!” bellowed Fug, “May I warn you that if you do not walk freely from this castle, we shall drive you out! Storm the place, the large hole in the western side of the curtain wall. We’ll shove you into barrels and roll each of you over the drawbridge. We shall not kill you; we are not here to destroy you. This is your chance to escape with a bit of gold in your hand as well as your possessions. Be sure that we won’t allow your wife to go and get some of her dresses before we’ve pulled her over the drawbridge.” “If only I had some dresses!” butted in Sacha. Ignoring, Agraff replied, “Never: I shall not be driven from my own home. You barbarians have come too far, and I shall not back down. I will fight you if I must, and my friends shall fight alongside me.” “So you shall stay, shall you?” “Yes.” “Then so be it, I shall return to Jeller and tell him your decision. I suggest you think about this a little more; I’ll make them give you twenty four hours. Otherwise, be prepared to be dragged away from this place.” The Keep Thirteen It was a strong procession; they marched one after the other as if to hide their numbers. However, it was the speed of the leader that had made the progress lengthen into a conga line of souls, all making sure that they were keeping up, but also attempting to talk to the person in front or the person behind just to make sure that they knew the full details of what was happening. Pompey just gave Sacha a puzzled look, not understanding one of the words that were coming out of her fully coloured lips. In conclusion to the ramblings, Pompey had turned to Bourbon who was behind, talked in his confusing language and got no reply. Sacha threw fists at her hips in annoyance – why couldn’t she just be told what was going on? Why did she have to be left in the dark and everyone else now the full details about what was swirling around Agraff’s head? As his wife she demanded to know! If only she could catch up with him. “He’s gone bonkers – that’s his problem,” said Pukka to anyone who was willing and able to listen. “What was that Pukka?” asked Sacha behind, her expression open, head thrust forward in case of not catching the precious information a second time. “I said ‘he’s gone bonkers’ m’lady. Absolutely nuts!” “What’s Agraff up to? Where are we going?” “He’s leading us up to the Keep. He refuses to leave Castle Utter in the hands of the savages outside the gates as they want to break it into small pieces.” “Surely they’ll just catapult us again?! We’ll all be killed!”
Copyright © 2004 Jack M Brown |