Short Story: "The Lord's Game"

Here is a short story written by one of our members. Enjoy!

The Lord’s Game

By Tessa Lapointe

The drums sounded to the beat of Nicholas’s footsteps. He had dressed in his finest clothes for the occasion: a deep blue velvet coat over a snow white shirt, and black breeches made from deer skin. His boots shone in the harsh sunlight, though they were splattered with mud from the road he had marched along. Before leaving, Nicholas had made sure his hair was perfectly combed and his face clean shaven. He was determined to look his best, even now.

            Nicholas bowed his head respectfully to the women in the crowd as he passed them, flashing a smile practiced many times in the mirror. It had always been a façade, but now the mask of confidence was even more important to keep up. No one could know just how scared he really was.

            A guard prodded Nicholas in the back with his rapier and forced him up the stairs to the large wooden platform. A man dressed entirely in black was standing silently in one corner, while a heavy-set man with a graying beard was behind a podium, an official looking document in his hands. Nicholas gulped, but lifted his chin and kept his expression emotionless.

            “Lord Nicholas Edward Pearson the Second,” the graying man said with a stuffy voice, like he had a hay fever. “You are here today because you have been found guilty of treason against your kingdom. For this, you have been sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead.”

            Nicholas closed his eyes and did his best not to think about the rope in front of him. Tried not to think about how it would feel around his neck.

            The graying man kept talking. “The complete verdict runs thusly. For passing encoded messages to the enemies of this kingdom regarding the locations and strengths of our military forces: guilty. For stealing a ship from the royal navy and using said ship to attempt to flee from prosecution: guilty. For lying to the authorities upon your capture and committing perjury: guilty. For—”

            Nicholas cut him off. “I would appreciate brevity on your part, sir. I personally wish for this to be completed as quickly as possible.”

            There were a few sniggers from the crowd, most quickly disguised as coughs. The graying man shot daggers at Nicholas with his eyes, then adjusted his spectacles and looked back down at the document. “For robbing the Pearson household of twelve items of value: guilty. For refusing to pay for damages done to the Pearson household, as well as refusing to return said items of value: guilty.”

            “That isn’t necessarily something one can be found guilty of,” Nicholas said, trying to sound as bored as he could. “It is simply truth, and not really debatable.”

            The graying man’s face was beginning to flush with anger. “For the murder of Lord Nicholas Edward Pearson the First: guilty. This concludes the verdict. Is there anything you wish to say for yourself before your sentence is carried out?”

            Nicholas scanned the crowd, and his eyes landed on a pretty girl in the back. She had a bonnet tied tightly over ringlets of golden hair, and her green eyes glistened with tears. Her gloved hands fiddled with a lacy handkerchief. “Katrina,” he said softly, but loud enough that he knew she would hear. “It is at the beginning we find true meaning. Go to the beginning for me.”

            The girl looked bewildered, but he could see her nod slightly. Then the man in black grabbed Nicholas harshly by the shoulder and walked him over to the noose. His heart pounded in his chest and a shiver went down his spine as he stepped up on the ledge.

            The man in black placed the noose around Nicholas’s neck and tightened it so that the scratchy fibers bit into his skin.

            “I don’t suppose you would consider loosening this, would you?” he murmured to the executioner. The man just made it even tighter.

            Nicholas looked out at the girl with the golden hair again, and she met his eyes. He could read her lips as she mouthed to him, “I love you.” Nicholas bowed his head in response, then closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see her now. Better to go blind than in pain.

            Heavy footsteps crossed the platform, and Nicholas’s breaths quickened. The crowd was deathly quiet. He braced himself. And the floor fell out from underneath him.

 

Katrina stifled a sob and turned away. Her older sister Victoria wrapped her in an embrace, not offering words of condolences, just a comforting presence. It was one of the things Katrina loved about her sister.

            “We should be going home,” Victoria said quietly. “Mother and Father will be worrying.”

            “I can’t go home,” Katrina replied.

            Her sister pulled away and looked at her in concern. “What do you mean?”

            “They’ll disinherit me now, you know they will. Besides, I have to…” She choked on the words. She had to follow through with what Nicholas had asked her to do. He deserved that much from her.

            “You aren’t the one who killed Lord Pearson!” Victoria exclaimed. “You weren’t the one spying on your own kingdom!”

            “But I love the man who did. In their minds, it will be essentially the same.”

            “You don’t know that, Kat.”

            Katrina pushed her sister away and started to walk down the muddy road. Victoria ran up to her and put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to turn around. “I know this is hard for you, but please, just come home,” Victoria pleaded.

            “Let me go, Victoria! I need to do this for myself now. I need to.”

            She opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but then pursed her lips and released Katrina. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

            “As do I,” Katrina said. She kissed her sister on the cheek and walked off again, leaving Victoria standing alone in front of the gallows.

 

Katrina and Nicholas had just been kids when they first met under an old willow tree by the lake. She had been practicing a waltz by herself when he popped out from behind the tree. His tri-cornered hat had been too large for his head, and the silly grin on his face had told Katrina he had been watching her longer than she would have liked. She had crossed her arms and pouted until he had swept his hat from his head and bowed grandly. Then he introduced himself as Lord Nicholas and kissed her hand, but she had refused to give her own name.

            “Would you like a real dance partner?” Nicholas had said.

            Sitting under the willow tree now, Katrina could still hear his voice saying that. Would you like a real dance partner? Would you like to be my friend?

            By the time they had parted ways that summer day, she had finally told him her name.

            “Well, Lady Katrina,” he had told her, “I hope we can see each other again soon.”

            “I hope so, too,” she had replied shyly. Then he had kissed her hand again and replaced that big floppy hat, letting it fall to his eyebrows. She had laughed, and he had laughed, and she had never been so happy.

            The years had passed, and they had seen each other again, many times. They had grown up together, but it had been a while before Katrina realized she was truly in love with him. The two of them had rendezvoused under the willow tree on her eighteenth birthday. Nicholas placed a red rosebud behind her ear, then together they drank wine he had smuggled from his home. The next day he had gotten in a lot of trouble for it, but at the time neither had worried about the consequences.

            The sun set over the lake, turning the water scarlet and casting the hills with a golden glow. Nicholas placed his hand over Katrina’s. Katrina put her head on Nicholas’s shoulder. He had kissed her forehead, gently, hesitantly. Then she had kissed his lips, and in that moment she knew they would always be together, no matter what trials were thrown at them.

            Nicholas and Katrina had had a year of peaceful bliss together, continuing to meet in secret beneath the tree, stealing glances at each other when in public. Then the war had started with the kingdom across the sea. Nicholas was never sent to fight, but his younger brother had enlisted. He was killed.

            Katrina had done her best to be there for Nicholas during those dark days, but he withdrew into himself and not even she could coax him back out. The sweet summer afternoons were over. Thinking back, Katrina wondered if that was the moment when she had lost him. Except, now he was actually gone. Gone forever.

            Katrina tucked her knees up to her chest and let herself cry.

            She didn’t believe what they had all said he was guilty of. Her Nicholas could never have helped the people who had murdered his little brother. But apparently there was evidence. They had found incriminating letters, had found Nicholas’s dagger in his father’s heart. It wasn’t fair. Nicholas wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t a traitor. But he was still dead because everyone thought he was.

            Katrina leaned against the tree trunk and turned her head as a mark caught her eye. Carved into the trunk and still dripping with amber sap, five words were carved: Lady Katrina, one last dance? An arrow was carved beneath the words, pointing down to the ground.

            It was like Nicholas was still there, a ghost guiding her way. She stood quickly and brushed a hand over the lettering, even though her fingers came away sticky with the sap. Then she knelt on the damp ground and brushed away the layer of leaves that had collected on the grass. Beneath the detritus, the soil had been turned up. She dug through the loose dirt, not caring that it was staining her white gloves and getting all over her skirts.

            A few inches down, Katrina felt her fingers touch something hard. She cleared away more of the soil and pulled up a small chest. It was just a simple wooden box with a leather strap wrapped around its middle and a small lock with five numbers.

            She groaned. There was no way she could guess the combination. What was Nicholas playing at, leaving her a box she couldn’t open? Katrina stood and walked around the tree, looking for any other messages that could have been written in the bark. She jumped to look higher up the trunk, but she landed on a tree root and tumbled to the ground.

Wincing in pain, Katrina pushed herself up and saw a glint of silver in the grass beside her. It was the coin Nicholas had given her the day before he was caught. He told her it would bring her luck, and she had kept it in a pocket of her cloak near her heart. It must have slipped out when she fell.

            Katrina gently picked up the coin and brushed the dirt off of the surface. Luck, he had said. Was it luck, or a hint? Nicholas always liked games, and he had promised her one last dance. One last chance to prove herself.

            She removed her gloves and tossed them aside, then did her best to twist apart the top and bottom portions of the coin. At first it didn’t give, but after a second try, the tiny capsule opened. Inside the hollowed out coin was a thin slip of paper, upon which were written five numbers: 74952. Katrina smiled and lightly pressed the fake coin to her lips, then went back over to the chest.

            Sure enough, the combination opened the number lock and it dropped to the ground. Katrina loosened the leather strap, then flipped open the lid of the chest.

            Twelve quills sat inside. That was it. Twelve quills with black feathers and silver tips. Katrina sank back down against the tree. She had thought there might be something in the chest that could prove Nicholas’s innocence, or maybe just a message for her, explaining why he had done what he did, if he was indeed guilty. But there were only quills.

            She picked one up and rolled it between her thumb and index finger. They were pretty, at least, but worth secretly burying in a place only Katrina would think to look? What was the point?

She touched the tip of the pen, and her eyes widened. The coin had held a secret message inside, so maybe these pens did, as well. Carefully, she twisted the tip between her fingers, and it came off easily. A very thin piece of paper fell from the shaft of the quill into her lap.

            Katrina picked up the paper and squinted to read the tiny print. It was a list of the positions of troops around the kingdom, as well as the number of ships in their navy. Addressed to no one, it was signed with the initials NEP. Nicholas Edward Pearson.

            She looked at the other quills, and, sure enough, there were hidden messages in each of them as well. All were signed with Nicholas’s initials.

            It didn’t make sense. After all of this, why would Nicholas lead her to evidence that further incriminated him? The pens must have been about to be shipped to their enemies, but why would he bury them instead of sending them off as a last act of treason before he was caught?

            Then a sudden realization hit her, and her breath caught in her throat. Nicholas and NEP were not necessarily the same person. Nicholas’s father had shared the same name with his son. NEP the First, and NEP the Second. One had been murdered, one had been executed. But only one was a traitor.

            “You did kill your father,” Katrina breathed. “You killed him because you caught him committing treason. He was aiding the very same people who took your brother from you. It was an injustice. But you still had to take the fall for both crimes.”

            The Pearson family had claimed twelve items of value had been stolen by Nicholas. The twelve quills. He had refused to give up their location because he had needed Katrina to find them first.

            “I knew you would get there,” a voice sounded from behind the tree. Katrina scrambled to her feet.

            “Nicholas?” she gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. He peeked out, a grin on his lips.

            “What, you thought I didn’t have a plan?” Nicholas asked.

 

Benjamin tightened the rope around Nicholas’s neck, but the concealed blade in his palm rubbed through some of the fibers, weakening it. Nicholas turned back, and whispered, “I don’t suppose you would consider loosening this, would you?”

            Benjamin pulled the noose tighter, trying to keep up appearances, but slid the blade over the rope one more time. He saw Nicholas close his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Benjamin almost couldn’t help smiling himself.

            The lever was pulled. The trap door opened up beneath Nicholas, and he fell down. But Benjamin had made sure that the platform was high enough so that the boy would not be seen when the rope finally dropped. With a snap, the noose broke, but no one up above would see that. No one would know but Benjamin and Nicholas.

            When the crowd finally dispersed, he descended down to underneath the platform. Nicholas was huddled in a corner, and the broken rope was still dangling up above. Benjamin clasped Nicholas’s hand and helped his friend to his feet, then handed him the black cloak. He pulled it on and threw the hood up so his face was covered.

            “Thank you, Ben,” Nicholas said quietly as he adjusted the cloak.

            “You wouldn’t have to thank me had you been more careful,” he replied roughly.

            The boy gave a short laugh. “Where would be the fun in that?”

            Benjamin shook his head. “You realize that girl of yours was devastated about this whole affair? You almost lost her, Nicholas. I hope you’ve found a way to make it up to her.”

            “Of course I have. With luck she’s already discovered the gift I left for her.”

            “The quills?”

            Nicholas nodded, then he looked at his hands nervously. “Do you think she has found them? If she hasn’t—”

           Benjamin cut him off, saying, "Why don't you just go and find out for yourself?" Then he pushed his friend out the door, crossed his arms, and watched Lord Nicholas disappear down the road. He sighed. That boy was really going to get himself into trouble one of these days.