Merlin's Gold

Merlin's Gold - Chapter 9 - A Good Meat Pie

Chapter 9 – A Good Meat Pie

Arthur had reached the fortified city of Exeter just after midday. He'd entered the city from the south, the massive red stone walls rearing up out of the hillside above him, and had kept his identity secret as he passed through the guardhouse on the old Roman bridge over the River Exe.

It had been a long journey and he was aware he had little time to sort out a situation which had been worsening for some time.

Stabling his horse at the White Hart Inn on the eastern side of the main gate, he approached the centre of the town. Arthur had always loved the hubbub of Exeter and the bigger cities, there was always so much to see and do. On this day however, he found things strangely quiet, and after asking an Innkeeper what was going on, he found himself regaled of an unusual and disturbing story over a mug of ale.

A young girl had been accused of witchcraft and was due to be hung that afternoon. Born mute, she had been unable to verbally defend herself from the charges, which consisted of the murder of her own father. The claim of witchcraft had been levelled by the Sheriff who had investigated the scene of the murder and had taken her to jail. The Innkeeper had leaned in close at this point and added the local interpretation of the story. She had jilted the drunken Sheriff, who had killed the father himself when he had tried to intervene.

"Of course, no-one will challenge the verdict," the man had said. "Our Sheriff is protected by the Red Knight after all."

Although already aware of the Sheriff's protector, Arthur had let the man carry on his story, hoping to learn a little more about the current situation.

"The Sheriff has employed a Knight to champion the Law in Exeter. He dresses in heavy chain mail, has a blood red surcoat, and matching red enamelled visor and equipment."

"He Champions the Law, meaning none will challenge the Sheriff's word?" asked Arthur.

The man nodded.

"And what of Duke Jaysen?" said Arthur referring to the local aristocracy.

"He is bedridden, and has handed over complete control to the Sheriff until the time his nephew Alden returns from the border wars to the north: if he returns of course."

Arthur finished his ale in silence, disturbed by the story, and shortly afterward, made his way to the Sheriff's building in the city centre where a new gibbet now stood, a noose swaying gently in the light breeze.

A hushed and sullen-looking crowd had gathered to see justice carried out, and minutes later the Sheriff appeared at the top of the steps leading down to the central square.

"Bring out the accused," he intoned solemnly.

Two guards emerged holding a petite dark-haired girl between them. She was battered and bruised, and a few cries of outrage at her condition rose from the crowd. A scuffle broke out, with two older men trying valiantly to hold back a similarly dark-haired young man.

Looking back at the steps, Arthur took in the scene before him. The Sheriff was reading aloud the Laws of the land, paying particular interest to those surrounding the uses of witchcraft. To his right, a massively built man in chainmail stood, his hands resting on the crimson pommel of a huge two handed sword, red surcoat blazing in the spring sunlight. To his left, the gibbet, where the girl now stood with her head bowed in defeat.

"This girl is accused of witchcraft and will now hang until dead," the Sheriff concluded, handing the scroll back to an assistant.

"What proof?" shouted an anonymous voice from the crowd.