Wilkinshire

By Brenda Hasse

Though few in the medieval kingdom of Wilkinshire have seen the legendary dragon known as Bogotah, many fear him. Stories passed down for generations tell of his capability to breathe fire, spread deadly disease, and consume livestock and people to appease his insatiable appetite. Even so, Bogotah upholds his duty to guard the kingdom and his treasured secret.

After the assassination of their lord, the residents of Wilkinshire line the muddy street to meet their new rulers. Appointed to reconstruct the battered kingdom, Lord Philip and his wife, Lady Rachelle, are in disbelief at the magnitude of their undertaking as poverty-stricken citizens greet them with rotted teeth, filthy clothing, and pathetic living conditions. As the lord and lady settle into their new residence, Lord Philip is confronted with the peasants belief that Bogotah is to blame for Wilkinshires misfortunes. In order to put the citizens superstitions to rest, he must discover who is responsible for the kingdoms bad luck.

Meanwhile, Lord Thaddeus of Lancaster, an evil soul consumed by greed, waits for the opportune moment to claim Wilkinshire for himself. Spurred on by a voracious desire to obtain the legendary Treasure of Wilkinshire, he will stop at nothing to obtain it.

Only time will reveal the fate of the kingdom and of the spectacular treasure hidden somewhere within its walls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 11, 2010
• ISBN: 9780595635269

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Copyright © 2010 Brenda Hasse

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-0-595-53468-5 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-63628-0 (cloth)

ISBN: 978-0-595-63526-9 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 9/20/2010

To Charles, for his love and support

and to Matthew, Michael, and Rachel,

for teaching me more about love and life than any textbook.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the medieval kingdom of Wilkinshire!

To help you become familiar with the vocabulary of this time period, a glossary is provided at the back of this book.

Without further ado, let the adventure begin!

Brenda Hasse

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Medieval Glossary

Chapter 1

Marsden slithered silently from the shadows of the cave and attacked the wizard from behind.

Where is the treasure, old man? the apprentice growled through clenched teeth as he held Latimer tightly and pointed a sharp knife at the wizard’s throat.

It is somewhere within the Keep, but I do not know its exact location, Latimer replied, trying to pull back from the threatening weapon.

The Lords of Wilkinshire have entrusted you with their most personal secrets. Surely, they would have confided in you where it is, sneered Marsden.

Those who have discovered its whereabouts have chosen to keep it a secret.

My patience wears thin, Marsden warned as he pushed the tip of the knife into Latimer’s neck. A trickle of blood rolled down from the wound.

I do not know where it is, Latimer said, taking a defiant stand.

A noise at the mouth of the cave startled Marsden. The dragon was returning early from his nightly rounds.

You will tell me now or die, Marsden whispered angrily into Latimer’s ear.

Then …, Latimer replied, turning his gray bearded face toward the apprentice and looking him in the eye, I die.

Marsden realized his time had run out. The old wizard had served his purpose and was no longer needed, now that an alliance within the garrison was established. It was only a matter of time, very little he believed, before the treasure would be discovered. He delivered the fatal blow and let Latimer’s body drop to the floor with a thud that echoed throughout the vast cave. Marsden made his escape hastily into the tunnel. When he reached its end, Marsden pulled the sconce on the wall, opened the hidden door, and walked through the hallway that emerged into the Keep’s lowest level.

Did he talk? questioned a guard, who was waiting at the hallway entrance.

He said he didn’t know where it is hidden, Marsden replied in disgust as he walked into the dungeon.

Bring him to me. I’ll question him, the guard sneered while punching his fist into his palm.

I don’t think he’ll say much. He’s dead. The beast returned and I couldn’t leave him behind. I’m going to Lancaster. Lord Thaddeus needs to be informed, Marsden said as the guard nodded in acknowledgment. The apprentice’s purple cloak rippled behind him as he walked swiftly through the dungeon and ascended the spiral staircase.

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As gently as his clawed hands would allow, Bogotah lifted his friend from the stone floor of the cave. Latimer’s breathing was shallow and labored. The wound was severe and he was fading quickly. Bogotah knew that death was certain. He pulled the knife from Latimer’s body and could smell the apprentice’s scent on the handle. He dropped the weapon. It splashed into the pool of blood on the floor.

Why would Marsden do this? Bogotah asked, looking into the wizard’s eyes.

Latimer’s voice was only a whisper as he mouthed his final advice.

The treasure; guard your secret always, my friend.

Bogotah watched in silence as Latimer exhaled his final breath. The wizard’s body became still and lifeless. He was at peace.

Farewell, Bogotah said as a tear pooled in his eye. He blinked solemnly, causing the tear to roll gently down his face. It crystallized into a diamond and fell to the floor. Bogotah looked down at the diamond, exhaled, and picked it up. He walked to the cave entrance. With Latimer in one hand and the diamond in the other, he leapt into the air and extended his graceful wings.

The moon resembled a murky sphere in the foggy night. Bogotah flew upward to the cliff overlooking the sea and landed quietly. Locating a suitable spot, he used his razor sharp claws to dig through the rocky soil and scoop out a grave. He laid Latimer’s body tenderly in it. Closing his eyes, he offered a silent prayer, wishing his friend a safe passage to the other side. He covered the body with soil, made a border of rocks around the mound of dirt, and marked the resting place with a large boulder. He scanned the landscape that was blanketed with graves. The realization of how many friends he had lost in his lifetime became apparent once again.

Bogotah looked down at the diamond in his gnarled hand and then to the castle. He flew to the rooftop of the Keep and located the slate tile with the etched dragon upon it. Sliding the tile to the right, he released the diamond into the dark catacomb below.

A cat paused from lapping milk from a wooden bowl to cast its eyes skyward as a massive shadow passed overhead. The feline had grown quite accustomed to it and felt a bit comforted by the mighty creature’s presence.

Though few had seen the great dragon, many feared him. Stories passed down for generations blamed Bogotah for various mishaps and misfortunes.

Such stories told of Bogotah having the capability to breathe fire, paralyze his victims with his snakelike eyes, and consume a large number of livestock and people to satisfy his never-ending appetite. One story, in particular, emphasized how Bogotah spread sickness and disease by flying over the village, dripping poisonous saliva that infected animals, people, and drinking water. With much of the destruction occurring during the night, the peasants believed the dragon to be nocturnal. To help deter the beast from his nightly raids, many villagers put bowls of warm milk on their doorsteps with the hope that the dragon would drink the warm milk and be lulled back to sleep.

Those who claimed to have seen Bogotah described him as enormous. His body was covered with scales, much like a fish. One legend told of how he could disappear suddenly. He used his front legs like hands. Each hand had gnarled fingers with sharp claws that resembled sickles. He flew through the air using his gigantic batlike wings and his tail like a rudder. The legend portrayed him as a very intimidating sight that could cause a person to drop dead from fright.

Bogotah could hear the quacking of a frightened duck near the pond below. Flying closer, he witnessed a fox chasing a mallard from her nest. The fox caught the duck and ran away with it hanging limply in its mouth. Unfortunately, the mother duck lost her life trying to defend her young, but in turn, she would fulfill the need of the fox’s pups.

Bogotah landed next to the abandoned nest. He scooped the ducklings into his hand and walked toward the pond. He knew of another mallard that had lost many of her babies to snapping turtles. Perhaps she would accept and raise the orphans as her own. To increase their chance of acceptance, the removal of any fox scent from the ducklings was necessary.

He walked to the pond and dunked the ducklings into the water. They popped up like fishing bobbers and scattered in all directions. Bogotah plucked each wet duckling from the water and set it upon the shore.

The night air was cool, and the ducklings began to shiver. Bogotah gathered them into his hand and dried them with his gentle, warm breath. The end result made Bogotah chuckle. The ducklings resembled puffy, fluffy balls of down with very little of their beaks and feet showing.

Bogotah located the other mallard on a nearby nest hidden amongst the reeds. He lifted her gently and added the orphans to her other ducklings. He returned the mama to her nest and watched to see if she would notice the addition. She rotated in a circle, settled herself down upon the little ones, tucked her bill under her wing, and went to sleep. Bogotah smiled with pride at his small accomplishment.

With the skyline turning a pinkish orange hue, the great dragon flew toward his lair, located the cascading waterfall at the cave’s opening, and entered. He was in need of rest, for today was the beginning of a new era.

Chapter 2

The fog dissipated as the morning sunlight awoke the residents of Wilkinshire. They embraced the day with much hope, anticipating today’s arrival of the new Lord and Lady of Wilkinshire.

Under the reign of King Louis, Edmund of Dellshire, the wealthy baron, was entrusted to oversee many kingdoms; one of the largest was Wilkinshire. Baron Edmund, in turn, delegated the responsibility of running each estate to a loyal knight, who served him well.

To Baron Edmund’s disappointment, the previously chosen Lord of Wilkinshire was a disgrace. Once in power of the kingdom, greed devoured his soul. He selfishly used the peasants’ services for his own personal benefit. The castle was ill kept and allowed to deteriorate. Its people’s welfare was forgotten and of no concern to their lord. Eventually, the Lord of Wilkinshire met his demise when one of his knights organized the garrison and assassinated him. Of course, discretion made the incident look as if it was merely a hunting accident. Baron Edmund’s choice for the new Lord of Wilkinshire was an easy decision.

Philip began his training as a squire, at the age of seven. As he grew, he studied combat tactics and the knightly code of honor. With the completion of his training at the age of twenty-one, he swore to live his life through truth, loyalty, honor, and, above all, to defend the king. He was henceforth known as Sir Philip. His ability to command and dominate a battlefield drew the attention of the Baron of Dellshire.

Sir Philip gave an ominous first impression. He towered over most men and was exceedingly strong from years of training and combat. Scars upon his body were the ugly evidence of many battles in which he had been injured. His tanned skin and dark auburn hair seemed to contradict his friendly sky blue eyes and a smile that displayed perfect, pearl white teeth.

Baron Edmund arranged the betrothal of Sir Philip to Lady Rachelle, and they were married. As a gift of appreciation for his loyal service and a wedding present, the baron granted Sir Philip the lordship and responsibility of Wilkinshire.

Lord Philip and Lady Rachelle’s journey to Wilkinshire had thus far taken a fortnight. The spring season was excessively damp, which made the roads muddy and rutted.

Lord Philip sat astride his stallion, Chilton. The great gray destrier was well trained and a dependable ally in battle. His three knights, Sir Francis, Sir Robert, and Sir Charles, led the garrison that consisted of two hundred strong men. Mary and Rose, Lady Rachelle’s ladies in waiting, rode with the supply wagons. Lady Rachelle and Elizabeth traveled in the safety of the carriage.

Sitting across from her mistress, Elizabeth studied Lady Rachelle’s face and admired its beauty. Like a proud parent, Elizabeth smiled as she recalled the day Lady Rachelle was born. She was only fifteen years old when she first held her mistress in her arms and accepted the responsibility of her caregiver. She loved her mistress as if she were her own child. A jostle of the carriage brought her back to reality, and her smile faded.

This has been a long journey, Lady Rachelle complained as they hit yet another large rut in the road. Both women were tossed about in their seats.

By the time we arrive at Wilkinshire, both of our bottoms will be as flat as coins, Elizabeth said as she adjusted her stout body on the hard wooden seat. Lady Rachelle smiled at her sense of humor.

Wilkinshire’s castle was in sight. Lord Philip dropped his horse back to his wife’s carriage. He leaned down and looked into the window.

Rachelle, is all well with you? he asked with concern.

Yes, but can you tell me how much farther? I am afraid my bottom is becoming bruised, she replied.

We have been on our land for quite some time. Lord Philip reached for the carriage handle and opened the door. Come see the view, he invited as he offered his hand.

Elizabeth held her breath in fear for her mistress. She watched as Lady Rachelle gave her hand to her husband. He lifted her easily onto his horse and into his lap.

Lady Rachelle was a beauty indeed. Slightly built, she appeared almost childlike in her husband’s arms. Her hair fell in long golden ringlets, her eyes were of chestnut brown, and her complexion was as smooth as cream with pale, pink cheeks. Her radiant smile humbled many. The Baron of Dellshire had made an excellent choice in matching the couple. Their personalities complemented each other fully.

It looks lovely, she remarked.

Lord Philip looked into the distance toward the castle. He had been forewarned that it was a kingdom in need of direction. What would he find there? What could he do to improve a kingdom in decline?

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Word spread throughout the village that the new Lord and Lady of Wilkinshire were within sight. Many people lined the muddy street to get their first glimpse of their new rulers. Children picked wildflowers and waited as the procession approached.

Hidden behind a bramble bush, two men watched as the procession entered the village.

So they have arrived, one whispered with a sneer.

They have many soldiers, noted the other as they crept quietly back to their horses, mounted, and immediately set out for Lancaster to make their report.

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Lord Philip’s knights led the procession toward the castle, followed by Lord Philip and Lady Rachelle. Their eyes beheld a depressing sight. Wilkinshire’s citizens lined the main street of the peasant village. Many adults greeted the Lord and Lady of Wilkinshire with smiles of blackened, rotting teeth. Women wore garments that resembled grease-stained tablecloths. Many had open sores on their exposed skin. Shoeless children looked as if they had never bathed in their lives. Some scratched and itched from fleabites and head lice. Their houses were mere one-room shacks with thatched roofs in desperate need of repair. The village smelled of sewage. The despair of the village reflected in Lady Rachelle’s face, unlike her husband who appeared to be unaffected. A little girl approached Chilton. Lord Philip reined his horse, and the girl held up a bouquet of flowers to her mistress. Lady Rachelle smiled kindly, accepted the bouquet, and thanked the child. Many children followed the girl’s example, and before Lady Rachelle realized, she held a lap full of flowers.

Thank you, she said as the last child handed her the final bouquet. They are all very beautiful, she complimented as she looked down at her lapful of flowers.

Lord Philip urged Chilton forward and proceeded toward the castle.

They are all so pitiful, Lady Rachelle said with sadness in her voice.

But their hearts are pure, stated her husband as he glanced at her face and noted her tear-filled eyes.

A two-wheeled cart that hauled straw was stopped by a gateway guard in order to give his lord and lady and their party the right-of-way across the drawbridge. Lord Philip heard the creak and groan of the planks beneath them as they crossed over the moat. The drawbridge would have to be reinforced, he thought. He looked down into the murky water of the moat and turned his head away from the sight of floating animal carcasses. The gatehouse showed signs of past battles with crumbling holes punched into its stone walls. The portcullis appeared to be in good shape; whether it was functional was another matter.

The outer bailey seemed to