Yuletide 2016 – A Pirate Yule part One

Seasons’ greetings, and welcome to December on the Princelings website. This year we have a two part story for you, involving the pirates who kidnapped King Fred a couple of years back, when he solved their immediate problem by getting them their own castle, Castle Roc [Fred’s Yuletide Escape]. Since that story, it seems they’ve become good neighbours, even if they are a whole day’s sail from each other, at least.

Each part of the story is just over 2000 words, and the second part is next Wednesday, 14th Dec. The following Wednesday is the winter solstice, of course!

A Pirate Yule

Part One – Castle Roc

December in the Sleeve, the long stretch of turbulent sea which separates the island of the Realms from the great continental mass to the south and east.  High winds rushed along the coast from the west, whipping the waves into a frenzy.  Equally strong winds from the north scoured the air above the eastern sea, sweeping it into whirlpools and crashing it into sandbanks.  And where the north and west winds met, off the southeasternmost point of the Realms, a choppy maelstrom tossed flotsam, jetsam, and ships caught in the storm from wave crest to trough, despite the still airs above them.

“Hold fast!” yelled the captain at his crew. “We’ll be through it yet, like a cork out of a bottle.  And then I’ll crack open the rum for ye!”

Forty soaking, freezing, salt-rimed sailors heard his words and tried to grin, but the salt stung their lips, and they shut them again rather than expose the painful cracks to the cold.  Their grip on the gunnels, ropes and whatever else they’d managed to secure themselves to was held only by the ice encrusted on their hands.  Darkness came again, a mere six hours from the previous dawn, and the sailors gritted their teeth and thought of the alternatives to their way of life.

There weren’t many options for lifelong pirates.

***

Forty miles along the coast, safely around the headland from the Sleeve, sixty ex-pirates huddled in sandy caves set into the hillside, protected from both wind and wave by the sturdy walls of Castle Roc, set thirty feet above the high water line, but with a sheltered cove to berth their ships.  If it had not been the ideal place when they had agreed to move there, it was now.  They made a decent enough living from the sea, traded honestly with inlanders and visitors from the continent, and were even growing strange things called vegetables in the good soil in the valleys beyond the cliffs.

“How many days now till Yule, Archie?” asked one gruff-voiced fellow with a scar over one eye and a rough woollen cap perched over his ears.

“Two days, Bodger, two days.  One less than yes’day, when it was three days.” Archimedes was used to explaining how numbers worked to his mates.  He learned to count as a kid, as did at least six of the others, and fully twenty of them could do so now.  Far from being despised as larnin’, it was now viewed as an asset, since counting meant you could tell whether the water was too shallow, or if all the seeds had sprung up, or how many more days it was till the Yuletide feast.

“Wot we gonna do this yar?” A scrawny chap who looked like a kid, but was at least as old as the rest, stretched on his pile of hay and yawned.

“Cap’n told ye, t’other day. Weren’t ye list’ning, Dafydd?”

“Oh, arr, we wos list’ning a’right.  Jus’ wanna hear it agin, Archie.”

“Well, I’ll tell ye again, then.  First up, we have the Solstice speech, and then the feast.”

“Why’s the cap’n speechifying?”  Popster asked

“‘cos it’s trad-ish-unal.”  Dafydd showed that he knew perfectly well what was happening.

Archie rolled his eyes.  “Then there’s the storytelling day.”

“Narrathon,” Dafydd corrected him.  “But we ain’t gettin’ any proper narr-ators.”

“No, we’re doing it ourselves.  And if we want to sing the shanties we can, because that’s even more traditional.”

“Hold up! Cap’n on board!” A dark chap at the edge of their cave called, and they all rolled to their feet, murmuring ‘Cap’n’ in greeting as a tall chap slid through the entrance into the light.

“Men,” he said, looking around at them.  “There’s a ship in trouble out on the banks.  Maybe it’s holed, maybe it’ll swim, but it’s dark and we have to decide whether to save those on board or not.

Now if we save them, we may have to share our food with a full crew, or maybe only a few survivors, but that feast will be least feasty, if you take my meaning.  Shall we save them?”

A small chorus of ‘aye’ rippled around the cave, but the captain could tell it wasn’t all the men, by any means.

“That’s what I thought.  We might, but we might not.  We could set ourselves against the perils of the deep in the dark of the night, or we could wait till morning.”

“It’s not that deep, cap’n.  Tide’s goin’ out so we can walk to the bank in two hours.”

“Shut yer gob, Sparky.”

“No, Sparky’s right,” said the captain.  “In two hours the moon’ll be up and there’ll be enough light to wade across.  If we don’t go to them, I reckon any survivors will come to us, and if we go, we’ll be in charge, won’t we?”

“Aye!” came a stronger response.

“Right then.  Two hours, assemble on the beach, everyone except red watch – they’ll stay here to make sure anyone that’s already come ashore gets looked after.  Archie, tell them when two hours is up, will you?”

“Aye, cap’n.” Archie said, and watched his captain swagger away to address the men the other caves.

 

The rescue party were halfway to the sandbanks when they heard the sound of oars and muffled grunts.

“Ahoy, there,” called the captain.  “Be you the ship that ran aground?”

“Aye, that we be,” came an answer to the captain’s left.

“Can ye see the light we left on our harbour wall?”

“Aye, we’re making for it, thank’ee.”

“Are ye all safe in the boats?”

“Aye, that we be.”

The captain shrugged and called his men to make their way back to shore.  It might be profitable to search the grounded ship, but not in the dark, and not when the captain and crew were making for his castle.  He had a strange feeling about the voice he’d heard echoing over the water, still disturbed, but now just a gentle sploshing, not the choppy waves of earlier.

He and his men made land about the same time as the boats.  The rest of his men directed the newcomers to the fire to dry off, and the rescue party hurriedly changed into dry clothes to support them.  The captain reckoned the newcomers outnumbered his shore party, but not when all his crew banded together.  Old habits died hard; he wasn’t about to lose all they’d worked for to another band of pirates, since he knew by the look of them that was what they were.

He knew even better when he saw their leader, a tall muscular chap, mostly black with a few white scars about his person, and tufts of ginger around his ears and neck.

“Well, Ludo, I’m surprised to meet you here.”

“And who might you be?”

“Captain Argus, at your service once upon a time, but now we make a fairly honest living here at this castle, as you see.”

“Given up your petty pilfering ways have ye, Argus?”

Argus smiled broadly at him, showing his teeth were still as strong as ever.  “Given up your pilfering ways and hoping not to get found in the Realms, are ye, Ludo?”

“I have an invitation.”

“Oh, yes?  And who might be inviting the most double-dealing pirate king ever known to the high seas, banished after the rout of the Battle of Dimerie, and told never to set foot in the Realms again?”

“Got any trouble with bandits?” asked Ludo.

Captain Argus wondered at the change of subject.  “Not around here, no.  Why?”

“You will have soon.  I’ve been kept up to date about all the goings-on in the Realms.  Double-dealing by lords of their castles, occupation by vampires who set plague loose in the southern lands, people kicked out of their homes seeking shelter in their beholden castle only to be enslaved… heard any of that?”

Argus shifted uncomfortably.  “Aye, we hear rumours.  Get a few people coming by, hoping to find safety here.  Families move on when they realise, but some of the loners stay.”

“Losers, you mean.”

“Young males without a job, seeking companionship and purpose.  Just like the old days, really.”

Ludo had been walking beside Argus as they talked, and now they were some way from the fire.  Ludo looked towards the fire, and then back along the seawall to where the next sentry was, and beyond him to the ships.  The first glimmer of dawn was on the horizon.  It would be light enough to see faces inside another hour.  He stopped and looked out to sea.

“I’m headed north, to meet some people I know from old.  I need a ship and mine’s breached.”

“We’re two days off the spring tides.  Is she reparable?”

“Maybe.  If I take one of your ships and my men, you can have her whatever state she’s in, with all the booty aboard as well, save for a chest in my cabin.  Will you give me your word you’ll return that to me?”

Argus thought for a moment.  Ludo was notoriously tricksy.  On the other hand, he had known him to deal fair with other captains; it was the way he brought so many of them to support him.

“Are you starting a new campaign?”

“Maybe.  Want to join?”

“Depends on your purpose.  Like I said, we have a good berth here.  How far north are these people you used to know?”  Argus had some good friends a day or two away, and he didn’t think they were friends of Ludo’s.  In fact, he had reason to believe they were his sworn enemies.

“Oh, three or four days’ sailing, then a short walk.  They’re rebels, nobody you’d know, now you’re so comfortable in your wee landlubbers’ castle.”

Argus refused to rise to the bait.  Ludo was trouble, and he’d decided his own course after the battle of Dimerie.  It had been a hard won struggle to get recognition, a home for his men and others of their former calling, and the security of a castle.  He wasn’t going to tell Ludo the other benefits he was negotiating with princes and kings.

“If anyone asks, you’ll have to say you stole my ship, but yes, you can have one, and we’ll raise yours.  Deal.”

“Good.  We’ll be on our way at the next high tide, then.  The wind should be in our favour by then.”

There was a fair bit of murmuring as the newcomers took over one of the ships and put up one sail to work their way out of the little harbour.  Once they were clear and under full sail, Argus turned to his band.

“Men! I’m sure most of you know who’s in that ship, and you may have guessed why I sent them on their way.  We want nothing to do with them, but if we can raise their ship we’ll have got a decent exchange.  Now today is Solstice eve, and I reckon we should celebrate today, then raise the ship tomorrow, since it’ll be a long job.  What say you?”

“Aye!” came a chorus.

“Right then, well, I’d better speechify about finding ourselves here, in a safe haven, with good fishing and ships and friends in high places, and the Realms gradually coming round to thinking we’re just regular people, although we know we’re a bit better than them.”

Everyone laughed and Argus continued.

“Now, I want to see our friends at Castle Marsh, and tell them about Ludo and his visit further north.  I want a small crew to come with me after the feast, straight after, so no drinking yourselves silly.  The rest of you can carouse as much as you like.  Sing shanties, play games, have a great day.  But raise that ship during the next three tidefalls, and you can have the pick of the contents.  Those that come with me will get a second feast at Castle Marsh!”

Cheers came from all quarters; it was a plan, and they liked plans.  Argus knew who he could trust to carry them out, too. While the feast was being readied he went to all the section leaders, picked his crew out, and saw that everything was shipshape while he was away.

They’d miss having stories and all the other goodies that went with Yuletide, but they’d surely make up for it when they met King Fred and told him the news.  Ludo, formerly the pirate king, and one-time king of Castle Marsh, was back.

Watch for Part two next week!

© J M Pett 2016

Yuletide Narrathon – The Solstice Ghosts (part 2)

We’re continuing our exclusive content on the Princelings website; this is the concluding part of the third of Willoughby’s tales in the Castle Marsh Narrathon.

The Solstice Ghosts (2)

Willoughby jumped back on the table, watched the scurrying of his audience as they resumed their places, and as a hush crept over his audience, he cleared his throat.

“The mean and miserly Drood has received his warning from the ghost of his former partner, Darley, but do you think he’s taken any notice? No, he has not!” he added, answering his own question as some of the audience who joined in with a smattering of “No” from the more alert members near the front. Willoughby gave a piercing glance to those still settling down, and continued where his story had left off before the break.

“Drood found it hard to get to sleep. He was cold, which he was used to, but had no guilty conscience, since he didn’t have a conscience at all. But the sight of his partner, Darley, and the huge chain he dragged around, that bothered him. How could his chain be longer? He did nothing wrong, he worked hard, he did nothing frivolous, he kept himself to himself and asked nothing of no-one. He tossed and turned, and might have drifted off, but he heard the castle clock striking the hour, and on the stroke of twelve, he heard a noise which chilled his heart. His door (which he had carefully locked after Darley’s departure) swung open and a presence entered the room.

“and then….

“very slowly…

“some… thing… pulled the blanket from his head.”

“’I am the Ghost of Solstice Past,” said the pale female who stood in front of him. “Come with me, Drood, and repent.”

“’I don’t want to repent, and I don’t want to come with you!’ Drood replied, but the apparition took hold of his arm and whisked him off through the wall, which was transparent once more, up into the cold night air, over marsh and moorland, till they landed in a castle far from home.

“’Why, this is where I grew up,’ Drood said, and he watched as the apparition showed him a youngster standing next to other youngsters at a Solstice celebration, standing at the edge and refusing to join in the games for fear of making a fool of himself. ‘Is that lonely boy me, spirit?’

“It is you. Before you turned away from friendship. Maybe it was the beginning of your lonely life.’ They waited, watching, until the games were ended and the castle speech was made, and the inhabitants had made their Solstice promise. And, through it all, young Drood said nothing, did nothing. ‘Why did you not join in?’

“’I was destined for other things. It would have been beneath me.’

“’Even the Solstice speech? The king joined in.’

“Drood just shrugged, and the spirit took his arm and they flew to another place, where an apprentice Organiser sat at a desk while all his colleagues enjoyed a Yuletide party organised by their boss.  Drood watched as a female sat by the younger Drood and talked to him about joining in the dancing, but he shook his head, and excused himself. Three more times, the spirit showed him Yuletides in the past, where a younger version of himself avoided the celebrations and immersed himself in his work, so as not to notice everyone else enjoying themselves. Then the apparition took him home.

“’So, you mean to show me the error of my ways, I suppose? Well, that is that, and what is done cannot be undone. Bah! Farewell, spirit, and if there is another one, as Darley said, I hope they can do a better job than you.’

“The Ghost of Solstice Past said nothing, but looked sadly at him, and shimmered into the wall and disappeared.

“Drood pulled his blanket back over his head, but hardly had time to close his eyes before he heard the clock strike twelve again. Curious, he thought, and then pulled the blanket off his head as a bright light and warmth filled the room. A huge person stood in front of him, wielding a fistful of herbs in one hand, and a bunch of fresh celery in the other.

“’Well, Drood,’ the stranger’s voice boomed, ‘time for a little fun! Let’s go and see what’s happening outside, shall we?’

“’Er, no,’ stammered Drood, pulling back from the stranger’s grasp, with no success whatsoever. ‘Who are you, anyway?’

“’I am the Ghost of Solstice Present, and I assure you we are going outside and I, at least, will be having fun!’ and he took a huge bite from his celery, tucked the rest into his other hand, and took Drood by the arm. They flew over marsh and moorland, seeing the formal dinner at Castle Buckmore, and the free-for-all celebrations at the Inn of the Seventh Happiness. All around the castles, people were busy, getting ready for the celebrations, putting up decorations, bringing in a Yule log, taking food out of storage and preparing delicious dishes. They found young people playing with carefully prepare gifts from their friends and family, and lovers, old and young, holding hands and exchanging tokens. It was the same all over the realms, even at far-off Castle Haunn, where the princelings of the north were dancing Strip the Green Willow and other dances with the blacksmith’s daughters at their ceilidh.

“At last they came back to Drood’s home, but not to his rooms. The spirit took Drood to his nephew’s room, where they stood behind him and his family and friends as they enjoyed a carefully prepared meal with all sorts of good things they’d dried or preserved from the summer. The nephew proposed a toast, and included his uncle Drood, which caused a great deal of argument about why they should drink to a miserly old meanie. Drood shifted on his feet, but nodded in agreement when his nephew explained that Drood was only doing what he thought best, working everyone to the bone so he could be successful, and not to worry, since when Drood went, hopefully the nephew would inherit the business. ‘Well, maybe,’ muttered Drood.

“Then the spirit took him down to the castle’s lower levels, and they found Bob and his family squashed round a table, and Mrs Bob bringing in the best food they had managed to grow, and even though it was very little for a feast, they helped the little weak one to a big share before everyone else tucked in. And Bob took the weak one to bed and told him a bedtime story, and the weak one said he thought Bob would make a wonderful Narrator. ‘But my job is with Mr Drood, my dear one, and it is him we thank for our good fortune in having food to eat and a place to live.’ Drood nodded as he heard this, but wondered how Bob could live on so little, and with so many mouths to feed.

“After this the clock started striking the hour. ‘I must leave you now,’ said the spirit, ‘but remember, the things you see here are only the Solstice Present, and many other Presents may exist, if you change your ways!’ And before Drood could argue the need to change his ways, the spirit vanished, leaving Drood alone in a cold, dark lane, a place he didn’t recognise, although he thought he knew the castle very well.

“The clock finished striking twelve, and a sinister hooded figure blocked out the remaining light at the end of the lane. Drood stepped forward, hesitating over whether this was the third Ghost that had been promised. Then the hooded figure turned and beckoned to him.

“’Are you the Ghost of Solstice Yet to Come?’ (Willoughby put a tremor in his voice). The hooded figure nodded to him. The apparition was huge, towering over him, menacing and mysterious. Drood squeezed his eyes shut and gulped. ‘Have you come to show me the future?’

“The apparition turned and swept his cloak around Drood. When Drood felt himself uncovered, he opened his eyes and found they were in a graveyard. It was dark, mist was dripping from the leafless tree in the corner, and some people stood around a freshly dug grave. ‘He was nothing but a slave driver,’ said one. ‘Good riddance’ said another. ‘At least we can all be free of him now,’ said a third. ‘Maybe his nephew will be a better master,’ said another, who looked uncommonly like Bob, ‘but it comes too late for my wee bairn.’ He turned away and walked to another part of the graveyard, where he comforted his wife and the rest of his family before they walked sadly back to their home.

“Drood said nothing, strangely moved by the sight of Bob’s child’s grave, and of the one on the other side. The spirit wafted him on, to other places in the castle, where he heard nothing but people pleased to hear that ‘the old miser’ had died. It gradually dawned on him that it was himself they were talking about, it was him that was dead in the first grave. And everyone was pleased. No-one had a good word to say about him. His life’s work was counted for nothing. He remembered what the previous ghost had said. Many other Presents may exist, if you change your ways. He asked his dour companion if that was the case, but the hooded apparition said nothing, just moved forward to envelope him, and Drood felt himself swooning, drowning, sinking into the dark folds of his cloak.”

Willoughby paused. If there were such a thing as a pin to drop, it would have been heard. Willoughby stayed still, imagining the hopeless descent into the depths of the blackness of the cloak, and whispered…

“The Spirit of Solstice Yet to Come faded into the night,” Willoughby raised his voice gradually up to a shout, “but Drood found himself fighting the cloak, fighting and fighting! He didn’t want to die! Not alone! Not like this!”

Stunned silence.

“The cock crowed. Dawn came. Drood unwrapped himself from the blanket that he had got so terribly tangled in during the night. It was all a dream, he said to himself. But as he got out of bed, he stepped on some celery leaves, and a few herbs, scattered by his door.”

Willoughby looked at his audience, half of whom had their mouths open in awe.

“I never did find out if Drood changed his ways,” he said. “But I bet he didn’t risk the fate he’d been shown by those three Ghosts of Solstice. Now let’s all join in a dance, yes, even you, hiding by the back door!”

And despite the crowd they were in, they all stood up and did one of those dances you know so well, where you stand on the spot and do strange moves with your hands and your hips and everyone laughs because it’s so hard to remember what comes next. Willoughby led them for the start, but then someone else jumped onto the table and carried on, and Willoughby slunk away to a nice mulled apple juice in a quiet part of the castle, to rest until his final turn of the Narrathon.

(c) J M Pett 2014 (and Charles Dickens)

Fred’s Yuletide Escape: 1 – One week till Solstice

Fred’s Yuletide Escape is a short story suitable for 10 years and up, serialised in 10 parts of approx 1000 words each.  It is set in the present time, so Princeling Fred is now King of Marsh, with Kira as his queen, they have a family already, and things are moving on in their world.

The serial will run till December 21st (Solstice day) on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, with an extra part on Friday 20th.  I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1: December 14th

Although he’d been down at the landing stage, seeing his brother off as he climbed into his flying machine, Fred still ran up to the window in the north-west tower to watch him fly into the distance.  He stayed gazing out well after the speck had disappeared from the keenest sight.

A noise behind him drew his attention back to the present.

“Oh, hi,” he said, and settled himself beside Kira, his wife and queen.

“You look a bit glum, dear heart.  He’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“I know,” Fred sighed, “I just wish I could go with him on these trips.  We never go off together like we used to.”

Kira smiled at him and picked up some embroidery she was working on.  She wanted to finish it in time for the Arts & Crafts event during the Yule Fest.

“Do you like being Queen, Kira?”

She paused, needle halfway through the material. “I like being with you, and I enjoy organising everything we do.  And I love looking after the children, and playing with them and teaching them.”

“You would do that even if I wasn’t king, though.  What about being Queen?”

“It’s who we are, Fred.  Maybe I wouldn’t organise these things if I wasn’t a queen.  Maybe someone else would organise them.”

“Who?”

“Jupiter, perhaps, she’s a good organiser.  Or whoever was queen.  Or maybe I’d join the Guild of Organisers and do it anyway.”

Fred nodded and leant against her.  She was right.  And he did lots of things he would do anyway, even if he wasn’t king.

“I think Lupin has the right idea, though,” he said.

“Hanging on to the illusion of being a prince, you mean?”

Fred nodded.  “Maybe I should take off and just go visiting people without worrying about what people want me to do.”

“Well, you do sometimes go with George when he goes on short trips.”

“Yes.”  He paused and looked towards the window again.  “Do you think anyone would miss me if I went away for a few days?”

“I’d miss you.”  Kira looked sideways at him.  “Are you getting stressed about the Yule festivities?”

“Maybe.  I hate all the fuss at Yule.”

“It’s only a couple of speeches, Fred.”

“It’s the Solstice Speech, and being the person who does all the easy bits of the birthday party, and being nice to people the whole time, and opening the Narrathon and the Arts Fest and the Games Day and doing the speeches at the feasts and the Green Willow Day….  Did I miss anything?”

Kira laughed.  “No, I don’t think so.  But the birthday party is designed to let everyone share in Jasmine’s celebration, you know.”

“I know.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I’m pleased she’s stopped that silly little cough.”

“Yes, she seems fine now.”

“Two already.  She’s getting to be a right scamp!”

“No more than she should be for her age.”  Kira smiled broadly as she thought of their daughter’s escapades.  Fred joined her in a proud smile, then sighed again.

“I think I should take a few days off and have an adventure all of my own.”

“Without me even?”

“Would you mind?”

“Of course not,” Kira said, hiding the excitement that had been rising inside her at the thought of a carefree holiday alone with him.

“Maybe I will then.  Just a couple of days.”

“You’ve got a week till Solstice.”

“If anyone needs anything, you’ll sort it out, won’t you?”

“Of course, although you said you’d find a new adviser and a new steward before the end of the year.”

“Maybe I need to get away and meet some new people and get inspired.”

Kira just nodded.  Maybe he needed to get away.  He probably did need an adventure.  It was a long time since he’d rescued her from the captivity of the Pirate King, even if she had been perfectly comfortable here at Castle Marsh at the time.  Life here was rather predictable, even his work with the mapping and Thinking had settled into a routine.   He and his brother George used to live on their wits.  These days they lived a comfortable life.  Lots of activity but not much action.

“Why not surprise Hunston with a visit tomorrow, and then take the next stage from Wash?” she said.

Fred’s smile broadened, then widened further as he imagined Crown Prince Hunston’s surprise if he turned up unexpectedly.  Hunston tended to have things fitting into neat boxes, schedules and plans.  He would allocate a few hours for ‘surprises’ if he thought they were worthwhile. Castle Wash was the obvious first step in his journey, unless he were to set off across country into the Forest. Now that would be an adventure, he thought.

“I’ll see what I think in the morning,” he said, and stretched.  “Is it time for dinner?”

He was answered by the sound of a gong echoing through the castle. They did communal dinners at Castle Marsh these days. Everybody welcome, don’t stand on ceremony.  They got up and went in search of food.

(c) J M Pett 2013