the haunted kingdom, Charles E.J. Moulton [chrome ebook reader TXT] 📗

The messenger took a long look at the drunken assembly of revellers before commencing his speech again. “Three thousand soldiers arrived there on Thursday morning, 7th June on this year of our Lord 1425. There are still smugglers raiding the area and when I left there were small battles here and there. Four hundred soldiers are still positioned at the location to keep it under control. It was a fierce battle, Your Majesty, but in the end the pirates had no chance but to forfeit their bay and give in to a stronger and more publicly authoritarian government.”
“And the fake ships that were being fabricated in the harbour dock?” Belinda asked.
The man turned to the princess and smiled. “All burned down. As far as I know the entire gathering of pirates were killed as well. There were always new pirates arriving, so I think it will be hard to put a complete end to it all soon. Manuel, the chief councillor of the bay, was killed. He was found dead in the forest with four arrows stuck in his body after the initial battle. No one knows who killed him. We don’t recognize the arrows. They were none of ours.”
“That is strange,” Alexander said to himself.
The Queen spoke. “The main thing is that we have beaten the pirates. Margetania can be free again. Free of smugglers and raiders, free of pirate oppression.”
Alexander looked up. “Yes, indeed. You were a soldier in the battle?”
“Aye, Sire,” he sang.
“Then sit down and have some peacock in orange and peach,” the king said. “By all means, get drunk and live well. You certainly deserve your pleasure.”
The man soon did as he was told and was found dancing on the tables within the hour.


Friday, July 13th, 1425 A.D.

Belinda and her father had again been wandering about the grounds that third day before Ides discussing politics and diplomacy. A small troop of Adnicul’s soldiers had attacked a coastal town. Father and daughter needed time to discuss the next political move. They walked for the greater part of the day, visiting Tall Hill, sitting for a moment by the statue of Poseidon, going to the poppy field, strolling among the sunflowers and resting under the oak. They rode to the waterfall lake and stopped by to pray next to the monument commemorating the victims from the mansion that burned down September 1392. It was late afternoon when they arrived back at the royal palace. Having brought food with them in two large baskets, they weren’t really hungry. Apples from the trees, carrots from the plantation and grapes from the vineyard had been their food along with wine and bread and meat and cake. They were tipsy and tired.
What met their eyes was not an expected sight. Just as they rode their stallions into the stables, giving Robert the care of the animals, a gilded coach came unannounced through the palace gates. It was a large coach and they had seen it before. Three years ago they had last seen this man. Out of the coach stepped a man with a waxed moustache and a red cape. The golden buttons shone against the red satin fabric like a golden moon against a blood red sky. The coachmen closed the carriage door behind Nomed, who had been gone almost three years now, kneeled before their majesties and claimed the absolute bliss of meeting the finest of royalty strolling their kingdom. Naturally, both of them greeted the entourage with great vigour at first and told Nomed he could stay and maybe assist them with a few minor diplomatic details. He was promised a dinner, entertainment, thermal bathing and female company. Nevertheless, King Alexander asked Nomed why he had been away for so long not even saying a word of goodbye to anyone. It was highly improper to treat a King and a Queen or a Prince and Princess in such a way. He excused himself and said that he had been called urgently to assist his King. There was no reason to disturb King Alexander with such a minor problem. Both King and Princess were won back and they heartily embraced him, albeit with caution.

Nomed was introduced to Alfred and loved the child right away. The boy even got to sit in his lap and hear a song. Belinda’s son could now talk reasonably well and was seen that evening chatting with him on the terrace at sundown. At night, before sleeping, Nomed said good night to him and sang him a pretty lullaby. He was found drinking wine with the King in the Alexander Room by torchlight later, whilst Belinda made passionate love to her Prince Regent in her nuptial abode.

Iuventus Sacrum, Friday, June 22nd, 1425

Educated in Rome and Milan in the fields of art and diplomacy, Nomed had taken a course in physic-herbal treatments in Moscow. He had worked at the Russian and Macedonian courts, as well as on the Arabian Peninsula as assistants to great leaders. He listed the languages he spoke on an occasion in the Alexander Room, when Patrick had the bravery to inquire if it was really true that he spoke so many tongues.
He gave a sample of every one of the idioms of these: Anglican, Hispanic, Neapolonian, Sanskrit, Prosperanian, Nocturanian, Vindobonian, Margetanian, Ancient Latin, Ancient Greek, Slavonic Russian, Gaelic, Mongolian, Hebrew, Olandian and now Arabian.
He witnessed the last months of the Ming Emperor Cheng Zu Zhu Di’s reign as official physician and advisor-translator. He met the possible next emperor, Ren Zong Zhu Gaozhi, and even was able to work with the legendary and admired mariner admiral Zheng He.
Nomed claimed to come from an old Macedonian family of blue-blooded Nomads, born on the 13th October 1392. The royal palace knew all of this, but it seemed that the man relished in recounting these proper details in excess. The 33-year old man looked like 25, acted like 50, thought like 17 and felt like 500. Those had been his own words. Nomed played his own songs while he told of his experiences at the Ming Dynasty court. He had spent time there as a translator and advisor and had met a medicine man that had taught him everything about the Mongolian treatments of curing sickness with herbs, juices and powders. No sickness exists that can't be cured, was the old Mongolian's words.
Nomed had arrived back in Medatlantia, after a year long trip, in October of 1424, and spent the last eight months living on odd jobs and working as a translator and musician and entertainer of sorts here and there. He was well versed in every custom.
He repeated everything over and over so many times and with such eloquent vocabularisation that, soon enough, everyone believed everything he said. He always wore the best clothes and knew every custom. It was even suspicious at times. His clothes rarely needed washing. They seemed to fit perfectly. He was mostly dressed in a red vest with golden buttons, a blue cape and green jacket, black pants and a white-feathered purple hat. These clothes were all satin, ermine, taffeta and silk. He had style, never sweated and had clear brown eyes. In short, he seemed to have no faults.
Again, he was making music with Bantrard and assisting the King as if he never had been away. No one suspected a thing, except maybe Belinda, who repeatedly tried to warn the King, but to no avail. Alexander just laughed at the prospect that he himself had warned the Queen on Thursday the 15th of October 1422, two days after the curse, that Nomed might be Lucinda.
There were the four horsemen of the apocalypse that were riding toward the country. These four horsemen were still a threat. The Fraytollah harbour was being guarded and wasn’t that much of a threat anymore. The enemy was still on the front lines. This had not changed. One thing that Belinda was worried about was the fact that there were two sets of names that seemed to mean something that could be sinister. There were two names that spelled another name backward and equalled the four horsemen that would initiate the cataclysm of the haunted kingdom.
There was Lucinda that spelled Adnicul and Nomed was Demon backward. Just as Belinda hadn’t reacted to the warnings of the Fraytollah harbour when she was eleven, Alexander was just as numb now by wizardry to realize what was happening and marched on to his own demise. The King just claimed that she was being silly and trotted off to another meeting with Nomed. Now Belinda knew that even though she could influence the King, he still held official power. The King had once been worried. Now he was not. Something has changed.
It was rumoured that Nomed was having affairs with close to five girls in the palace and Alexander didn’t do anything about it. Within no time at all Nomed had again won back the hearts of everyone except Belinda. No one seemed to ask why he had been gone for almost three years. Everyone was happy he was here. He was again criss-crossing the palace courtyards happily assisting everyone, making demands. Belinda detected in Nomed an almost foolish and sadistic love to be back in the castle as if it had been home for way longer than anyone could know.


Wednesday, June 27th, 1425 A.D.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Belinda?”
The King’s face was stern and cold. He sat on his gilded throne that morning, the sun shining in from the open window upon his face. Belinda stood in front of the throne like a tutored child charged and found guilty for stealing a sack of silver.
“Father, I cannot believe you are being so silly about this,” she argued aggressively. “You know what I wanted to talk to you about. I have been on you about this for over a week now.”
“I repeat that I have a different opinion now than I once had about the man.” Alexander said.
“You have put Fraytollah on hold.” Belinda said. “There are ships guarding the harbour and dismantling the area, but there are still smugglers coming in.”
Alexander leaned forward. “We can solve the problem, but what has this got to do with Nomed?”
“You have changed.” Belinda whispered. “You yourself told mother after the curse that you thought Nomed was Lucinda. Now you have no clue why you ever suspected anything. This is an impostor, father. This is a very suave man, a man who doesn’t care if you live or die. He just wants your power, your money, and your name. He wants your head on a plate. Does that sentence ring a bell?”
“Nomed is a silly artist,” the King spoke. “He is, however, an artist with profound knowledge of numerous medical and herbal, plus physical cures for ailments. We need that kind of knowledge. Henricus Balthazar knows a great deal, but not as much as Nomed.”
“Do we now?” Belinda provoked. “Have you thought about the fact that he might be the cause of the epidemic? Has that thought ever crossed your mind?”
Alexander sat back in his chair and lifted one finger to his mouth and looked to the side. He sighed and contemplated her words. “The epidemic started before Nomed arrived. We can handle it.”
His whisper fell on uninterested ears. “Does that make a difference to you? Half of the town is coughing. The rash is extensive and no physicians in the land can actually say what it is.”
The King gazed downwards and groaned. “Sweetheart, leave Nomed alone.”
“Now he suggested you negotiate peace with Adnicul,” she laughed. “Don’t you see where this is leading? Has Zedrick been notified?”
The King stood