King, Traitor, Dragon-Slayer

Mildritha, all of three years old (three and three-quarters if you were to ask her), had only recently learned to walk, to run, and to talk. However, it wasn’t her inexperience with those new skills that had caused her to stumble and fall into a rough tree trunk. It was spotting a large creature in a nearby clearing with teeth like daggers tearing into a freshly killed cow that had disrupted her concentration. She knew she ought to stay still and quiet so the creature wouldn’t notice her, but the tree trunk had hurt her! I wish I was home she thought, reflexively starting to cry.

The creature stopped eating, rose to its full height. Mildritha saw now that it was around the size of the entire one-room house she lived in with her mother. Besides the sharp fangs it had two horns, yellow eyes like a snake, a long neck, big wings, and gray scales over most of its body. She saw its two eyes move independently of each other in a way no human eyes could, one swiveling around the right side of the creature, the other around the left side, as though searching for the source of the new sound. A forked tongue flicked in and out of the creature’s mouth, as though it were licking its lips. It took seconds for the left eye to lock onto her. The right eye immediately followed.

Finally getting control of her pain and fear, Mildritha awkwardly started getting to her feet. The creature, no, the monster, she thought with a shiver, seemed to forget the cow, and started to lumber in her direction. Mildritha wiped her tears with the sleeve of her purple gown, glancing around the forest. She had no idea which way was home, but any direction would probably be safer than staying to be eaten by the monster. Quickly looking back in the monster’s direction, she saw that it had increased its speed; in another moment she would be in range of its fangs. Preparing herself to run as fast as she could, Mildritha began turning away from the monster.

The monster, meanwhile, had stopped in front of Mildritha. It opened its jaw, pearly white fangs gleaming in the midday sunlight, at least those that weren’t dripping with the blood of its recent meal. It leaned toward her, a hungry look in its eyes…

The bright red sunset fell across the forest, its light slowly pooling from one end to the other of the valley the forest was nestled in. It also covered a small village with a few dozen hovels at the opposite end of the valley a couple of leagues away, starting with a lone small hut on the outskirts close to the forest.

A tall slender man who had been walking towards the lone hut paused to admire the sunset and the effect of the red light on the green forest nearby. Adjusting the full coin pouch along his waist, then checking the flowers in his hand, he resumed walking toward the door of the hut, his pace becoming faster, more determined, the closer he got to it.

Arriving at the door, he knocked once. Gently.

Several seconds passed with no sign of a response from within the hut. Scowling, the man knocked again, loudly, insistently, and repeatedly this time, before putting his ear to the door, his beady little eyes narrowed in concentration.

After another few seconds, the man’s ears perked up, and he stepped back from the door, an awkward grin on his face as he stood there expectantly, hands behind his back. A woman’s voice, getting louder and closer to the door, was now audible. “Just a moment! On my way!”

The door to the hut started to open, a tall dark-haired woman stepping out as it did. “Well who’s there? Are you finally back, Mildritha?” she asked boisterously, before continuing in a more subdued tone, “Oh… It’s you Aldfrid.”

Aldfrid’s grin faltered somewhat, but he kept it in place. “Good evening Angharad.”

“Good evening Aldfrid. What brings you to my home?” Angharad said, a neutral expression on her face.

Taking the flowers from behind his back with a flourish, Aldfrid said “To gift this to you of course, milady.”

Angharad accepted them with visible reluctance. “Thank you. Was that the only reason?”

“Not quite. I must also inquire, have you considered my offer from last week?”

A frown slowly replacing the neutral expression as she did so, Angharad responded “My answer hasn’t changed.”

“But…”

“Aldfrid, please stop. Gruffyd only died a few months ago. I appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me since then, but I need to focus on Mildritha.” Slowly backing into her home, and beginning to close the door as she did, Angharad continued “If I don’t, she might do something foolish like wander off into the Kingswood. Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”

One hand fumbling with the coin pouch at his waist, the other splayed in a pleading manner, Aldfrid stuttered, attempting to pierce Angharad’s resolve to complete her farewell.

“But… best merchant in village…largest bride-price in county history!”

“Farewell Aldfrid.” Angharad said, closing the door as she did so.

Aldfrid stood there a long moment, mouth open, jaw still working, hand still extended toward the door. After a while that hand seemed to clench of its own accord, turning into a fist. His jaw kept working, but if it had had any volume to it the entreaties would have been replaced with curses.

Eventually, Aldfrid shook his head violently and began walking back towards the heart of the village, pausing every so often to glare back towards Angharad’s hut, framed by the forest behind it. The third time he looked back he didn’t resume walking. He stood there, frozen, staring towards the forest. Watching, as a little girl with bleeding cuts on her arms and face ran out from among the trees, crying and screaming as she did. After a few yards she stopped abruptly, perhaps just realizing that she’d escaped the forest, before running towards Angharad’s hut. Aldfrid squinted, trying to make out more details in the last few rays of the red sunset. Was it her? Hard to tell from this distance. He started running back, this time towards the window on the side opposite the girl coming from the forest. He had a feeling Angharad would soon be reconsidering his marriage offer, whether she wanted to or not…

Angharad was just getting back to preparing dinner when she heard crying and screaming, quickly joined by a loud banging on the back door to her home. When she opened the door, her eyes widened in shock and she shouted “Mildritha! What happened?!” Pulling her daughter inside, Angharad set her down on one of their two straw mattresses before grabbing some herbs and honey to treat her wounds. “I thought you were with Catrin and her parents at the village fair?”

“I was!” the girl replied, struggling to talk past her tears. “They left me here. Then I played with the squirrels. I got lost in the forest. I fell and got hurt so I ran home.”

Pulling her daughter in close and hugging her tightly, Angharad said sternly “I’ve told you a hundred times Mildritha! You must never, ever, go into the Kingswood!”

Returning her mother’s embrace, Mildritha replied, “I’m sorry, Mum, I forgot.”

Angharad started pasting the herbs and honey on the cuts along Mildritha’s arms and face. “You must listen to me Mildritha. The woods near our home, like many others, is one of the royal forests. The king has ruled over these lands for almost a hundred years, after defeating the tyrant who reigned before him and let dragons run wild across the kingdom. Ever since then he has protected us from the surviving dragons, who sometimes steal our crops and cattle, and,” Angharad smiled slightly, “even the occasional little girl who doesn’t listen to her mother. Our king only asks of us in return that we respect his Forest Law, and never enter royal forests like the Kingswood near our home.”

Finished treating her daughter’s wounds, Angharad grasped Mildritha’s chin firmly with one hand before continuing. “If anyone were to have seen you enter or leave the Kingswood, especially Sheriff de Lech, at best you would now be locked in chains rotting away in the village gaol. At worst, the Sheriff would execute you on the spot like he did your father.”

“I’m sorry Mum. What do dragons look like?”

Angharad sighed. “I don’t know, my child, no one has seen one hereabouts in many years.” Her tone turning somber, she said “Your father had some wild ideas about them though. He thought that they were smart. Very smart. That they were able to not just fly and breathe fire, but to talk too.” She paused to look around, as though to make sure no one was listening. “He even thought that our king’s long life was not a sign of favor from heaven, but instead that the king was somehow stealing something, maybe magic, from the dragons he killed in order to extend his years.”

Mildritha’s eyelids, wide open when her mother had begun to answer, now started to droop. Noticing her daughter’s exhaustion and that she was starting to nod off, Angharad gently lay her down on the mattress. Looking at the dirtied purple gown Mildritha was wearing, she sighed. “I’m glad you’re alright, but it’s a shame the gown your father bought you was damaged; it was the last thing he ever gifted you after all.”

Mildritha nodded absentmindedly, already falling asleep. She had had a far busier day than usual, and her tiny head needed to recover from what she’d experienced and learned. There was one question though that she still didn’t know the answer to, even after talking to her mother: when the monster in the forest had stopped in front of her it had called out in a deep voice as she began to run: “Mildritha! Little squirrel girl! Please, don’t flee!” Mildritha’s last thought as she drifted off to sleep was that nothing her mother had told her would explain how the monster not only knew her name, but the nickname her father used to call her…

A few hours later, Mildritha abruptly woke from sleep. Trying to focus on the details of her dreams, to see if she could remember them this time, she kept her eyes closed. That focus was what helped her make out words from the low murmur of a conversation outside her home.

A low voice was saying, “Sorry… so late, Angha…, but I… ask you one last time.. changed your mind.”

Her mother tersely replied, “Why the devil… do that? And why… you… ungodly hour; you… woken Mildritha. She needs… sleep.”

The first voice returned, louder and more confident than before, “Yes, I’d imagine she would, after entering the Kingswood.”

“What?! How dare you accuse her - !”

“Oh I dare, my dear Angharad. I saw her leave the Kingswood with my own eyes, heard you and she talking with my own ears. So, for the last time, will you accept my incredibly generous offer of marriage and the protection it would include?” Mildritha heard a loud smack, not unlike the kind she’d heard when she’d seen her parents or other villagers hit their cattle to get them to move faster.

“You think I’d ever want to wed you, after you threaten my daughter this way?!”

“You don’t really have a choice anymore. But if that’s truly how you feel despite your situation, then I suppose we have nothing else to talk about.”

Mildritha heard one set of footsteps hastily retreating from her home. A second, more familiar set, came back to the door. She heard her mother quietly enter and lie down on her own bed. Mildritha tried to go back to sleep, but the sound of her heart beating much faster than usual along with her mother’s quiet sobs made that impossible…

BANG. BANG. BANG. For the second time Mildritha’s sleep was broken, this time by a heavy and insistent knocking at the front door. Her mother, still fully dressed, was already out of bed and heading towards the door. Turning toward Mildritha, she quickly said “Don’t worry, I won’t let them take you.” before continuing towards the door, when it was suddenly slammed open from the outside.

Framed by the early dawn light, a rough-looking man she didn’t know with a shiny helm that matched the tip of the spear he held at the ready entered her home. Walking in after him with an air of disdain, as though he’d rather be anywhere else, was a man she’d seen in the village before. He wore expensive-looking clothes; a heavy cloak over a dark tunic with a bright symbol at the breast and ruffles on the arms along with leather breeches and boots, all tailored to fit his unusually large height and girth. The gems of the several rings he had on his fingers, especially a sharply cut emerald, complemented his cold green eyes. It was unmistakably the Sheriff de Lech.

Wasting no time for pleasantries, the Sheriff announced, “Angharad of the Meden Vale Village, you have been accused by reliable witnesses of breaching the King’s Forest Law and entering the Kingswood for the purpose of poaching the deer or other game residing there. You are under arrest by the authority of the King, to be tried and punished immediately before the eyes of the people in the village square.”

Her mother seemed to be in denial of what was happening. “I did no such thing! How can this be? What witnesses? This is a farce! Aldfrid paid you to do this, didn’t he?”

Upon her last comment, the Sheriff casually backhanded her across the mouth before looking meaningfully at the man with the spear, who tied her hands and gagged her mouth before shoving her out of the home. They all started walking towards the heart of the village. Mildritha, still in her purple gown from the previous day, with no one else to go to and unable to think of anything to do, followed along silently at a distance.

The sun had reached the middle of the sky by the time Angharad’s trial began. After taking the woman to the village square, the sheriff had chained her to the only structure at the center of it, the village well, where all such communal announcements and justice took place. He’d left Aelle to guard the woman and her daughter; one spear was enough. It had taken a little longer to rouse his men then summon the villagers to the square, but he was finally ready.

Looking around the crowd of villagers surrounding the well, the Sheriff began. “I, High Sheriff Phillip de Lech of the Kingswoods and surrounding counties, by the authority of our King, proclaim this woman, Angharad of the Meden Vale Village, a criminal accused of entering the Kingswood in violation of the royal Forest Law for illegal poaching. Let the witnesses come forth!”

There were some angry murmurs among the crowd when the Sheriff mentioned “Forest Law” but they died out almost immediately and the Sheriff quelled holdouts with a cold stare.

A tall slender man with beady eyes and a boy of around ten with similar features stepped forward from the crowd. Angharad, still bound and gagged while chained to the well, glared at Aldfrid in helpless rage. Mildritha stood silently near her mother, unsure of what to do.

Aldfrid looked regretfully at Angharad before turning to the Sheriff and the crowd. “My son and I were on our way to Angharad’s home to drop off some food and other supplies I knew she needed after losing her husband, when we saw her walking out of the Kingswood behind her home carrying a sack, her arms bloodied as though she’d just butchered venison or other game. Naturally, we immediately reported what we saw to the Sheriff.”

There were gasps from the crowd, though many villagers, most of them women, shook their heads in disbelief. One man, wearing butcher’s clothes, snorted. “Bull-shite! No woman, not even Angharad, could slaughter and prepare game on her own. Besides, the few times Gruffyd bought meat from me, he mentioned that Angharad and Mildritha preferred the fruits and vegetables they raised in their backyard. Why don’t you remove that gag and let Angharad tell her side of the story? She and Gruffyd may have decided to live on the outskirts of the village, but they were always honest in their business dealings here.”

An anonymous female voice called from the crowd, “Let her speak!” A second voice shouted, “That snake Aldfrid just wants her land!” A different one yelled, “They’re all part of the Dragon-Slayer’s Yoke!”

“Silence!” shouted the Sheriff. “We have two reliable witnesses. I believe their testimony and am ready to give my judgment on this matter. You will all remain silent, or you will share Angharad’s punishment.”

The crowd quieted down. No one, not even those who had been insulting Aldfrid and denouncing the Dragon-Slayer’s Yoke (a way of referring to the harsh Forest Law and its oppressive effects, including executions and evictions at the whim of the King and his sheriffs), continued speaking.

The Sheriff glared at the crowd, one hand on his sword, as if daring anyone to interfere. “The Forest Law of our King, the Lord Dragon-Slayer John Nottingham the First, is clear in matters such as this. Anyone who enters the Kingswood may be imprisoned for a minimum of a year and subject to ten or more lashes at the discretion of the local sheriff. If that person is suspected of poaching, the law requires life in prison or, at the discretion of the local sheriff, death.”

Although they remained silent, the crowd had been gradually shifting forward, as those in the back pushed those in the front so they could get a better view. The Sheriff only had several men besides Aelle, and they stood in a loose circle around the well, too few to hold back the crowd. Mildritha began crying. The butcher who had spoken up earlier stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.

With a glance in Aldfrid’s direction, the Sheriff continued, “To spare Angharad and her daughter the prolonged suffering of life in gaol, by the authority given to me from the King, I sentence her to death. Aldfrid has graciously volunteered to take in Mildritha and manage her land until Mildritha is of age to be wed.”

The butcher turned Mildritha around so she was facing away from the scene at the well.

Sheriff de Lech turned to Aelle, handed him his sword. “Aelle, you will carry out the sentence immediately, before all assembled here today, as a reminder to those who would dare violate Forest Law.”

Mildritha started fighting the butcher, desperately trying to get to her mother. He knelt, hugging her as though consoling her, but whispered “Mildritha, child, you must run. I know not where, perhaps a different county where they won’t know you, but if even half the rumors you just heard about Aldfrid are true, you cannot stay with him.”

Aelle stepped towards Angharad, sword at the ready. The Sheriff held up a hand. “Hold, Aelle.” He removed the cloth that had been covering Angharad’s mouth. “Any last words?”

Angharad glared contemptuously at the Sheriff. “You clearly didn’t want to hear what I have to say about this matter, so I have nothing to say to you, dog, or,” she turned to Aldfrid, “the master holding your leash.”

“So be it.” Sheriff de Lech shrugged, and nodded at Aelle. As the sword swung down, Angharad screamed her last words, “RUN MILDRITHA!”

The butcher shoved Mildritha into the crowd, standing up as he did so his bulk would cover her from the view of the Sheriff and his men. Some members of the crowd had regained their courage; a few shouted curses at Aldfrid and the Sheriff, some even waved fists in their direction. An old woman on the periphery pulled Mildritha out from throng, pointed in the direction opposite from the Kingswood and Mildritha’s home, and said “Go that way, child, the next county is only a couple days run. Find shelter at the church there.” Wiping tears from her eyes, Mildritha nodded her thanks and started running.

Meanwhile, Aldfrid and his son had stepped forward to talk to the Sheriff, while the Sheriff’s men held back the crowd with their spears. “You let the girl escape! That wasn’t part of our deal.” he said in a low voice.

The Sheriff shrugged. “Like I told the villagers, she’s your responsibility now Aldfrid. Your gold only goes so far with me. If you want her, you can go get her yourself.”

Aldfrid glared at the Sheriff. “You know who my brother is. If you don’t help us get her back, how long do you think it’ll be before you’re out of a job?” Turning to his son, Aldfrid said “Aethelbert, return home, have one of the stableboys prepare a horse, then go and report all that’s happened here to your uncle in the capital.”

Sheriff de Lech grasped Aldfrid and his son by the shoulders. “Now, now, no need for that. I’ll help you get the girl, and I’ll even waive my usual fee.” Letting go of Aethelbert and beckoning over Aelle, he said to the boy, “Make sure your uncle knows how helpful I’m being.”

Looking to his father first for an approving nod, Aethelbert set off with Aelle escorting him. When the crowd finally dispersed, Aldfrid and the Sheriff began their hunt.

Mildritha stopped running for a second to catch her breath, leaning against one of the many trees surrounding her. She’d tried running in the direction the old woman had shown her, but had hid and doubled back to avoid the Sheriff’s men. They’d been on horses, and it looked like the route ahead was just open plains with nowhere to hide from them. It had been an easy decision, especially since she’d had a chance to sneak into her home one last time and grab anything she might need, such as clothes, tools, and food, and fit them into the tiny rucksack her mother had made for her. Despite everything she’d seen and heard, she’d been tempted to just stay there. It was the only home she’d known, after all, and she hadn’t understood a lot of what the grownups had said. One thing she did understand though, was that if she stayed she’d end up with Aldfrid, and like her mother, she had no desire to have anything to do with him. So she’d set out for the only place where she might find help.

Mildritha started running again. Soon, she reached her goal; the clearing where the talking monster had been eating the cow. Since her last visit the animal had been picked clean, reduced to a pile of foul-smelling bones and debris. Looking around the clearing and the dense trees surrounding it, she saw no sign of the monster. Having no idea where to go to find it, she sat down, and before she knew it she’d fallen asleep.

She woke up abruptly, the sword that had been tapping her now pointed at her face. Tracing the blade with her eyes, she looked past it to the man holding it. It was none other than Sheriff de Lech. Looking bored, the Sheriff sheathed his sword and turned towards the figure next to him.

“Well, it appears you were right, Aldfrid. The little poacher just couldn’t help herself, could she? Returned to the scene of the crime! Though it’s a little strange to see anything like a cow in the Kingswood. I’ve only seen venison and boars myself.”

Aldfrid ignored the Sheriff, instead kneeling to talk to Mildritha, giving her a friendly smile that came across as awkward and forced. “Mildritha, there was no need to run. You heard the Sheriff; I volunteered to take care of you. With me you’ll live a far better life than you did with your mother.”

Mildritha shook her head. “No! Mum didn’t like you. She didn’t want this. You two killed her! Were the villagers right? You just want to take my home?”

Aldfrid stood up, an ugly look replacing the smile. “Like mother like daughter. You could’ve had a great life with Aethelbert and I. Your mother could have too, if she’d been smarter. If you won’t stay with me willingly, then I suppose I’ll have to deal with you like I did both of your parents.”

“You?” Mildrith said questioningly, her eyes starting to well up with tears.

Aldrid smirked. “Who do you think reported your father for regularly sneaking into the Kingswood?” Turning to the Sheriff, he said, “New plan, bury her here, and take her parent’s home in the name of the crown.”

Sheriff de Lech shrugged, drew his sword. “It’ll cost you and your brother extra, but fine by me.” He started to swing the weapon towards Mildritha’s head. She closed her eyes, preparing for the pain. She heard a rushing sound, saw a wave of red through her eyelids…

But instead it was the Sheriff who started screaming in agony. Opening her eyes she saw that the monster had stepped into the clearing behind the two men, and was hosing the Sheriff with the flames shooting from its mouth.

It wasn’t long before the Sheriff’s screams went silent. Aldfrid just stood there, beady little eyes opened wide in horror as he stared at what was left of the Sheriff before slowly looking up at the monster. It glared down at him, then before he could even move it leaped forward and snapped him into its mouth. The monster spent a couple of minutes chewing, slowly, as though relishing the slowly fading screaming coming from its maw.

When it was done, the monster turned towards Mildritha.

“You’re a dragon, aren’t you?” She asked.

It nodded.

“How did you know my name?

The dragon seemed to sigh, and it settled down on its haunches, before speaking in its deep voice. “I hatched years ago, not far away from here, in this very forest. When I was still young, I got lost and ended up near your home. I saw you and your parents tending your garden. I’d never seen creatures such as yourselves, so I waited until you went into your home and watched and listed to you from the windows. I couldn’t understand your words, but I could tell that you cared for each other, and having only ever been alone I drew comfort from watching you. I returned often, and over time I learned your language. One day your father found me. I was afraid he’d hurt me, but instead he accepted me. He told me to never leave the forest again or come near you and your mother, but he took it upon himself to visit me in the forest. He helped me with your language and told me about the King and how your world works. Then one day, he stopped coming. I was wondering what happened to him. Now I have avenged him.”

Mildritha stared at the monster. “I don’t care. My mum and dad are dead. It sounds like it’s your fault.”

The dragon closed its eyes. “I’m sorry, little squirrel.”

“Don’t call me that!” Mildritha shouted. “Only my dad called me that!”

The dragon opened its eyes. “I can’t bring them back. But I can protect you. I think you know that. I think that’s why you came back here.”

Mildritha glared at the dragon, the monster who had taken her parents from her, who was now the only guardian she had in the whole world, and said, “I hate you.”

The dragon sighed again. “I know. Now, let’s get going before more humans arrive.”

Far away, a man wearing a crown lounged on an ornate throne, sipping a red drink from a gold goblet. An elderly man with fine robes entered the great hall the throne was in, currently unoccupied but for the two of them, and bowed at the foot of the throne. The man with the crown spoke first, swirling his goblet and eying the red liquid within it as he did. “High Councilor Celyn, I seem to be running out. We shall have to check on the hatchling near the Medan Vale.”

Celyn replied, “My nephew has just arrived from there, my Lord Dragon-Slayer, bearing tidings that may be relevant to that very topic.”

The King rose from his throne, set the goblet down on it, and then walked towards a side door hidden by a tapestry, followed by Celyn. Opening the door with a key hidden in his belt, the king stepped into a small chamber. “Good,” he said at last, giving an appraising look at the seventeen dragon eggs in every color of the rainbow lined on a shelf running along one wall. “I’d hate to have to hide another one and wait a decade for it to grow to adulthood.”

Celyn stepped into the room, turning toward the opposite wall, which had a rack of cloaks. Curiously, while individually they were in one color, collectively they came in every color of the rainbow, matching each egg on the shelf opposite them. “Here you are, sire.” He said, handing the King a solid purple cloak across from an empty space on the shelf with the eggs. “Thank you Celyn,” the King said. “With this, it’s only a matter of time before I have that dragon eating out of my hand. And then,” he added with a chuckle, “I’ll be eating him for a decade or two.”