THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 3, CHARLES E.J. MOULTON [best desktop ebook reader TXT] 📗

all proven to be endlessly cooperative neighbours. The fact that Brittania had become so keen on trade had been a surprise. There was more trade with Londonium than before and Martin Darbersham had now been renamed Senator Primus. He had also changed wig … and mistress.
Everyone had a feeling that they wanted to become more “roman”, although “Rome” was just the biggest province now in Neapolitania next to its capital of Neapel. 1430 was the year that Prosperania realized its potential as, just like Zedrick had pointed out last April, “a new peaceful Rome”.
The end of the Roman Empire was a millennium back now, but Prosperania had always been seen as its successor. The Wandiffian Princes and their Christian cult had been a product of clearly Germanic influence and had soon grown to uphold the principles of the old Rome. Accordingly, infrastructure and hygiene and culture were upheld. The only thing that was taken from elsewhere was the natural medicine. Old traditions of natural healing herbs were used to form a rather officially set physician’s professional practice. When the first explorers returned from Asia they took with them the Mongolian and Zarathustrian traditions.
All this was icing on the cake to Alex.
He knew that the main point was that his empire had the chance of making a real difference in promoting spirituality to a Godly creation that had somehow forgotten what it felt like to be “holy”, forgotten what it felt like to smile.
Londonium as an old roman province had always followed suit and claimed to be inventors almost of their upheld infrastructure and hygienic culture. First now had the Senator Primus admitted to being a full member of the merger and even asked Alex for advice by way of messenger.
It was all very refreshing and wonderful for Alex to experience his own world blossoming.
It was as if he had travelled miles and miles for years and years completely alone and now in his old age finally saw that all of that hard work was paying off.
Fraytollah was still a problem. It was still unclear how deep the well was and how much underground piratry had actually been used to keep the harbour going. Nobody ever found out why Nocturania so completely fell apart after Adnicul’s surprising demise five years back. The pirates that had been working in the harbour were scattered and some of them could be caught and imprisoned. Some of them took a leap into unorganized crime and some of them gave up completely.
The old forest gypsies kept on being forest gypsies and basically being as female oriented as ever. Strangely enough, though, the tribes had stopped fighting and rumours had it that the queens now had joined forces. The only competition, so the legend had it, lay in how large they could make their male harems. The neighbours all protested to letting them stay within the new lands, the senators in Clurafar urged Belinda to do something or at least speak to her father about it.
Alexander answered what Mormidar had said as the only advocate for the cause in Medatlantia, that natural harems were “a relatively harmless way of expressing passion”. That was that, as Alex said again and again. The “old farts in Clurafar” were only frustrated Susanna-watchers.
Rigor Mortis was now a western outpost with bureaucrats checking records and regularly travelling the countryside to check on the citizens.
What the entire Clurafar Royalty and 36 original hell travellers found funny, in the light of their own past, was that the former Nocturanians now were more loyal to the Prosperanian crown that, well, the original Prosperanian themselves.
They even seemed to event national holidays no one had ever heard of over here, such as Alexander-Day on the 26th of August. Yes, here it was said that the guests in inns would toast to Alex on that day, but in means ways it a national holiday. Well, in Yambollah it was a holiday with banners all over the place.
It was still a poorer area than the rest, but it was safe and it was relatively crimeless, except for the occasional raid and the odd robbery that also occurred here..
Health was still a problem as physicians were rare in the “new lands”. Herbal treatment with natural medicine, an old roman tradition mixed with Moric healing, had always been a Prosperanian delight. Over there it was something that they seemed to reject, due to their own past.
The old Johnathans had all been witchdoctors.
The result was a present eastern plethora of aches, pains, limps, lisps and rotting teeth.
Alfred was now seven and a special tutor had been called in from the north kingdom of Olandus who spent more time with him than his parents. He had tutored the royal family in the capital Calmare in fencing, geography, art, customs, horseback riding, politics, languages, history and algebra. These were the topics that Alfred also was learning to master since the autumn of 1429.
The most amazing thing to everyone was that this handsome young tutor from Calmare only was 21 years old. Everyone wondered how this man could have so much knowledge at such an age. By his own accounts, Karl Knutsson Bonde had studied very hard, promoted by his father Knut Tordsson Bonde, and soon enough was given the possibility to tutor the royal family at Calmare Castle.
It was a complete coincidence that Theo, on a mission to ride to Calmare with a merger message, met the young man and brought him to Clurafar to help negotiate. Language was not a problem. Prosperanian was a language he had learned whilst studying for Ulfaas Nordhjiil at the Danish Court of Elsinore Palace in 1426, sent by his father to learn international customs.
Two years now, Karl had been married to a sweet and dainty woman named Birgitta Bielke. She lived with Karl at The Rose. Morgana had now moved out and was living up north with Richard. Patricia had moved into the palace. Karl and Birgitta would often invite Alfred to the Rose, where he would practice his skills in fencing and playing the lute.
Alfred’s favourite subjects were politics and geography.
It was almost scary to his mother how intelligent her son was.
He spoke like a true gentleman and he fenced like a young warrior.
Most of that was Karl’s influence and, of course, the elegance of his parents lifestyle.
Steven, on the other hand, was not at all surprised over this blossoming youngster.
He had seen his son’s intelligence on his mother’s lap the first time, indicating that Hansel and Gretel had found their way back home by following the “breadcrumms”.
Steven was still spending a lot of time at army camps and on horseback inspecting troops that had nothing else to do but train on puppets made out of hay and cotton, thank God. He held speeches for and against subjects at various occasions and was part of a team that tutored physicians in survival training for travels to the new lands.
Belinda had always been a beauty, her female forms more often than not a focus of male attention. Now in her thirtieth year, something else had arrived. Genuine maturity. She had gained a little bit of weight. Not too much, but just enough to make it attractive enough that she had a little more breast to show off and a little more flesh on her behind.
Some of the “dirty old men” in the senate would make small passes at her and all she would have to do was to look at them and they would take a step back. She often told Steven about this, who offered to help. He was rejected with the argument that she never ever would need a man to help her make a point.
It didn’t surprise Steven at all.
Belinda was still Belinda, but she had stopped being such a worrywart a long time ago.
No reason to be scared.
Belinda and her father were now walking down the staircase toward the main entrance.
Alexander was wearing his favourite blue cape and red vest.
Belinda wore a green dress and a small pointed hat with a veil looked “dainty” according to Steven.
Zelat had insisted on coming with and was standing by the coach outside waiting.
Father and daughter walked down the marble staircase until they reached the chequered floor. Alexander glanced at the painting of himself to the right and smiled.
“Shouldn’t we take that down?”
Belinda looked at him, surprised.
“What ever for?”
He shrugged. “I look so … vain.”
“You are vain.”
Alex eyed heavenward. “You know what I mean.”
Belinda smiled. “The bad old days?”
He chuckled. “I always had to prove myself.”
“You still do.” She corrected herself. “Think you have to.”
He looked at her with a mixture of admiration and irritation.
“I love you.”
”Why?” She laughed. “Because I answer back?”
”You never give me a chance to get away with anything.”
”I am just calling your bluff.”
”What bluff?”
“That you think I don’t know what you are speaking of.”
”What am I speaking of?”
”Your past, Father. Your past.”
He grew quiet. “Aye. You’re right. I am calmer.”
Belinda smiled, for she realized that her father had changed altogether the last five years.
She had as well.
Rolf came shooting out from the corridor to the back wing of the palace.
“Your majesty!”
Alex smiled at him. “Rolf!”
”How are we?”
Alex smiled. “I hope that we are fine.” A slight chuckle protruded from his lips.
Belinda answered for him. “Just fine, Rolf. You sent off Steven and my siblings?”
Rolf nodded. “They went off to the monument an hour ago to discuss something rather with Cretan, don’t know what.” Rolf turned to Alex. “Your majesty, Geena and I are preparing the peacock for this evening.”
“With Vindobonian Sauce this time?”
”We will surprise you. You have to be patient.”
Rolf opened the heavy door and smiled at his majesty as he walked out.
“I will try.”
Alexander’s closest servant was still agile, but walking slower now as two years his junior.
Belinda saw that as he walked down the steps to help his majesty down.
Alexander himself was 62 now and his knee was hurting him again, more than ever. He kept saying how happy he was for the pain that reality gave him, it meant he was alive. Belinda often just eyed heavenward and claimed that he could not be thankful forever for the pain, just because it had returned after the victory. Alexander without exception always answered that he preferred a physical ailment as a payment for his spiritual bliss and not the other way around.
Why was she so harsh, he asked her?
She was not harsh, only self confident.
She had spent years paying her dues, she was not willing to pay anymore.
“Good morning, Zelat!”
He twitched his large moustaches and smiled, displaying his buck teeth, his happy eyes glowing.
“You are dressed well this morning, Murani” Alex mused. “What is the occasion?”
Zelat laughed. “I gather the presenting off a triumphant monument to your accomplishments, Sire!”
Alexander looked at Belinda, play-acting seriousness. “My accomplishments? What’ve I ever accomplished?”
Belinda giggled. “Gas …”
”I beg your pardon?”
Belinda’s bubbly dance of a laugh had her cleavage bounce.
”Get in the coach!”
Alex did as he was told.
“That is no way to speak to me!” He made a dramatic gesture. “After all, I am the king.”
Belinda waved him off disarmingly and looked up to greet Theo, sitting on the driver’s seat ready to make the four young stallions ride off.
“Morning!”
Theo looked down