Serendipitous Fish

By Cormac P. Walsh

Serendipitous Fish brings you into realms of fantasy and intrigue, of war and love. Immerse yourself in a vividly realized world of swashbuckling romantic adventure. Cormac P. Walsh’s outstanding debut novel is a bona fide epic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665594431

Book preview

© 2021 Cormac P. Walsh. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/03/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9442-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9443-1 (e)

Contents

Part One

I    Yander Falls

II    Port Tavern

III    The Magnificent City

IV    The Magistrate and the Sorcerer

V    Carnivale

VI    Queen’s Castle

VII    A Midsummer Ball

VIII    The Necromancer’s Knife

IX    The Enchanted Voice

X    Separation

X    Flight from the North

XII    Birth of the Fools

Part Two

I    War and Croquet

II    Ambuscade!

III    Citadel and Capital

IV    The Curling Match

V    The Paradise Club

VI    The List.

VII    Inquiry

VII    Exile

IX    Flight to the North

X    Return to Cottage Lodge

XI    Death on the Seal Coast

XII    Port Haven

Chronology of the Realm of Queen’s Castle

Maps

Acknowledgements

Birth or Death? There was a Birth certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death

Journey of the Magi – T.S. Eliot

Come on and save me

If you could save me

From the ranks

Of the freaks

Who suspect

They could ever love anyone

Save Me - Aimee Mann

Over the weekend the vultures got into the presidential palace by

pecking through the screens on the balcony windows and the flapping

of their wings stirred up the stagnant time inside…and the rockets of

jubilation and the bells of glory that announced to the world the good

news that the uncountable time of eternity had come to an end.

The Autumn of the Patriarch –Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Part One

I    Yander Falls

Glowing soft, the nascent moon illuminated the forest by Cottage Lodge in ghostly light. The old Witch, Servant Mathilda, led the young Princess Beauteous Nymph through the green and yellow dappled night. The two paused to listen. A pair of foxes slipped through the undergrowth and an owl hooted to the echoing woods. Then they heard the soft cries of a baby tremble in the night.

I told you so, your majesty! declared the old Witch, quick this way, by the Yander Pond! she hurried along, oblivious to the discomfort of the stumbling Princess.

At the moonlit pond they saw a bundle of wicker and white cloth floating in the reeds. Nestled there was a baby, crying softly to the nocturnal Summer sky. When the babe beheld Servant Mathilda he smiled and fell silent. She took him from the wicker basket and gave him to the youthful Princess.

"Oooh he’s so cute, enthused Beauteous Nymph, when you said you heard baby cries in the Lodge, I really thought you’d gone full bonkers this time. It’s amazing - he’s so adorable. Hes’s like something out of one of the Phantasarie stories."

He isn’t a forest fairy flower from a story. He’s real – a real baby boy

Whatsoever. If his mamma doesn’t turn up, I rather fancy that I shall keep him.

She won’t declared the aged Witch, indicating a scrawled mark on the babe’s layette.

She won’t? What’s that? enquired the Princess.

’Mortus Mere. Pere Unnatum’ that’s the Old Fratharian language the father is unknown, and the mother is dead. The midwife wrote this and cast the babe adrift to the night.

Whatever for?

’Tis the custom for bastards.

So should we put it back?

As Your Majesty wishes. But I would caution that as it is a full moon rising and as the normal course of events has been disrupted perhaps we’d be wiser continuing.

Continuing?

Yes, Your Majesty.

How so, Servant Mathilda?

We should take the babe back to Cottage Lodge. It’ll catch cold.

Really? I would have thought it rather balmy this night.

Nonetheless, it would be better to shun the night; and most likely the babe needs caring.

What a cute baby. What a cute baby, said the Princess rubbing noses with the infant as she walked along behind Servant Mathilda on the path that led to Cottage Lodge.

For most of folk in the Realm of Klinden, Cottage Lodge would be considered a fine house. It had a reception room, dining room, playroom, study, an excellently appointed kitchen and several bedrooms as well as a Winter sauna. Nestled beside Little Yander Wood and Pond, Cottage Lodge was set amongst manicured lawns and a bountiful vegetable garden, and it had all that a person could need. However, it was but a minor aspect of the lands and buildings of the Royal Palace of Klinden. The chiming Yanderbrook - and the vast acreage of the Woods of Yander - measured a separation of two leagues from Cottage Lodge to the abode of King Casten IV.

The Princess, Beauteous Nymph, in this her thirteenth year, often repaired to Cottage Lodge with her aged servant; she feared her father and hated his shameless infidelities to her mother, Queen Silviana of Civete (who drank). Often, she dreamed of a different life, a life where she could play a part: a life other than that of unloved female heir to the throne. As she stepped across the threshold of the Cottage, holding the foundling tight, she helped perpetuate a chain of events that would, in time, unsettle all the world, well beyond the borders of the Realm of Klinden.

The young Princess cooed affectionately over the infant as Servant Mathilda filled a large brass cauldron with warm water scented with jasmine and honeysuckle. In this makeshift tub they bathed the child, who laughed and splashed about. The Princess declared that the babe could not be freshly born and show such agility and awareness. The old Witch sadly agreed and said, Aye, the mother’s gone three weeks, poor thing.

Her remark went unnoticed as the Princess was ever more strongly drawn to the child, saying, Look how he splashes like a fish. He is glad to be so fortunately found! she held him aloft, dripping golden in the warm firelight, and she declared, I dub thee Sir Fish, because you splash about and I’ll call you¼Serendipitous, as you are so fortunately found. Yes, most excellent! Servant Mathilda, allow me to introduce my foundling babe Serendipitous Fish! He’s mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.

She danced and laughed and sang a song of happiness that was totally out of tune. While the Royal Family of Klinden were noted for their love of music it was well known amongst musicians of the Realm that their patrons were hopeless at creating music. In her overweening singing the Princess was oblivious to the reason of Servant Mathilda’s protestations that Serendipitous Fish was a name that did not befit the child or any other child for that matter.

What about my stupid name? Beauteous Nymph! protested Princess Beauteous Nymph. If I must have one, any baby of mine must have one too she held Serendipitous Fish close and there was love in the eyes of the Princess Heir of Klinden.

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In the time that followed, Servant Mathilda moved permanently to Cottage Lodge to foster Serendipitous Fish. The Princess kept his presence there secret out of caution, aided by the of spells that Servant Mathilda wove about the walls and garden of Cottage Lodge. For years the existence of Serendipitous Fish went unmarked. The boy grew swift and bright, and exalted in learning of letters and the physical arts. Servant Mathilda bound him to Cottage Lodge and the Little Yander Woods with strong spells cast by her secret Magent wand and Corsor crystal. As the years passed, he would often venture to the periphery of his little domain and gaze down from high lime trees across the Yander Meadow at the far off Royal Palace. Although deeply curious, the Magick held him back and he satisfied his questions with great reading in the book-filled study.

During Serendipitous Fish’s early years Beauteous Nymph spent as much time as she could at Cottage Lodge, delighting in all the foundling had learned to say and do. However, as the years passed, she blossomed into a young woman of precocious wisdom and beauty. She was almost always away at court. Her visits, ever more infrequent, caused a longing in Serendipitous Fish that Servant Mathilda’s Magick barely assuaged, for the years were advancing on her and her powers were beginning to wane.

One day, Serendipitous Fish escaped the enchanted bind of the Yander Wood and made his way to the Royal Palace. Striding up the tree lined Avenue of Glorious Klinden, he approached the gilded gates that stood half a league from the Royal Palace. The Gatekeepers looked on in wry curiosity at the well dressed boy in his confident stride approached and he shocked them by declaring: Good day, soldiers of the Realm. My name is Serendipitous Fish and I wish to see the Princess Beauteous Nymph.

Once their surprise had turned to laughter they mockingly and then roughly dismissed the passionate youth who flew at them in rage when they blocked his path. Such was his spirit that it took a good hiding to see him off. One of the gatekeepers received a notable black eye, and he and his fellows decided it best to say nothing about this curious incident lest they be mocked for barely fending off the assault of a fiery child. Thus no word of this incident reached Beauteous Nymph and the distractions of court fully occupied her thought.

The love for his adoptive Princess burned an aching sore in the heart of Serendipitous Fish and he eagerly awaited his birthday. When the day finally arrived, Servant Mathilda produced a magnificent cake, but Serendipitous Fish bade her not to light the candles until Beauteous Nymph came. As the evening shadows lengthened, the youth was filled with tears but would not shed any. Crying inside, he reflected bitterly on the turmoil that love brings. For he loved the ancient Witch too, and it was heartbreaking for him to perceive that her body was failing, and her breath came in thin wisps that indicated the near ending of her time. No Princess; no presents; not even a note came that sultry summers night, and it past in agonising slowness in the boy’s heart.

On a cold and bright Spring morning, Serendipitous Fish thrust his spade in the mounded earth. He wiped his brow and opened the Book of Hours of Cottage Lodge. From the funerary pages, he read words of mourning over the fresh grave of Servant Mathilda. In her passing, the most potent aspects of the Magick of the old Witch faded and, in a cold gust, departed from the Cottage Lodge and its environs. Just then the Gardener Royal - Madame Senetia Cassall – chanced upon the curious sight of the boy with the book by the fresh dug grave and asked, who are you and what are you doing here?

I am Serendipitous Fish. My mother is dead, and my father is unknown. I am the foundling child of the Princess Beauteous Nymph.

Fully expecting to admonish the boy for digging on Royal ground without permission, Madame Senetia Cassall was rendered speechless. The notion that the Princess had a secret foundling child came as a massive shock to her. Her stunned silence was broken when the boy politely asked, who are you, and do you have a papa and a mamma?

The consternation that followed this exchange reverberated around the Royal Palace in great scandal. For that was the very week of the wedding of the Princess Beauteous Nymph to Duke Gary of Port Haven and the Northern Provinces. King Casten IV was beside himself as the pair met in the Royal Office.

What got into your stupid bloody head? he inquired, at the height of an excoriating quarrel with his daughter. Before the Princess could respond, he launched a tirade of bitter words. Have you no idea? No clue? Is your skull shrine to a vacuum? Do you not know the machinations that have brought you and the Duke to the cusp of the alter? Do you not know what will happen to us if we lose the support of the Northern Provinces? La Cezerro will gobble us up. Do you want to become a provincial Dame when you could be a regal Queen? Have you no sense?

Daddy, she replied.

Don’t you ‘Daddy’ me! he yelled.

Leave the child alone! She just wanted something to bloody love! shrieked Queen Silviana entering the Royal Office with a servant bearing a bottle of gin on a silver tray.

O, for Furies sake! roared the King.

You hate love. declared the Queen, who knocked back a glass of gin that was swiftly replenished by the servant.

"You only married me for the support of Civete and now you’re trading your daughter - your only legitimate child - out for the Northern Provinces. Let her have her foundling. Duke Gary will do her as you did me. Produce an heir and then be cast aside while you lust after everything in sight."

Shut your most useless orifice and get you and that stinking gin out of here, replied the King as he pushed the bemused servant toward the door: an action that sent the servant sprawling and the gin bottle smashing.

Enraged, the Queen screeched incomprehensible rebukes at the King as the servant tried to clean up the mess, while stanching a facial wound wrought by the broken glass. In this pandemonium the Princess sat behind the Kings desk and sulked, touching her emerald earrings.

When the Queen and servant departed, a semblance of calm entered the chamber. However, rage brooded and simmered. The King attempted to reengage the exchange but could not find coherent words. In the patchy silence the Princess enquired What happens if I do give up the foundling boy?

I’m told you haven’t seen him in years.

I could tell a different story, Daddy. Everybody’s curious about me at the mo. Daddy.

They looked at one another. It was clear they both equally understood the politics of the Realm of Klinden.

The realm is yours. In fifteen years, I shall abdicate and you shall be Queen. I know you are match for Duke Gary. Thankfully you seem to take after me, and not your lush Mother.

Don’t speak Ill of Mamma.

Since when did you care?

Abdicate in five.

Fifteen.

Five!

Fifteen.

Five!

Are you a virgin?

What?

Well, are you?

Yes daddy, I am a virgin. I am twenty bloody six and still a virgin – unlike all my fiends. You have taken much care in both of those facts, while you have your way with my friends, one by one - or two by two if it’s the anniversary of some stupid bloody battle that you weren’t even fighting in, let alone even born for. And while you were doing that, you wouldn’t let any man near me. You have made me wait this long, and for what? Tomorrow night when the nuptial is to be consummated am I to find that Sir Gary likes men? And not a woman’s passion? All these years at court - in touching distance of the finest specimens of the land – men like the dashing Captain Bressicaceae and I have had to wait. To wait and wait and wait and wait! Uuugh! I’ve had enough. On the morrrow am I to be virgin and sweet, all lollipops for the cameras? Yes, that is what I shall be. I shall be pure Princess Beauteous Nymph – what a daft name – it is so against my nature. How could you call me such a thing?

You know the story: your mother was in her cups and I was signing a peace treaty in Listia Del Ragados…

What’s done is done. I shall be your Beauteous Nymph, but for five years. For five years and for five years only.

Ten.

Five!

Ten.

So it came to pass that on the morning of the nuptial of Princess Beauteous Nymph of Klinden and Sir Gary of the Northern Provinces, King Casten IV announced that he would abdicate in favour of his daughter in the rather unrounded span of eight and a half years. A most excellent day was had by all at the ceremony held on the great palace lawn. The lawn was bordered by a magnificent canopy of fresh lilac and blooming spring spires santolia. This formed an exquisite backdrop as the Royal couple exchanged vows. At the ensuing banquet the Ambassadors of La Cezerro and Queen’s Castle pledged undying peace and friendship to Klinden. King Casten IV declared this to be a great success of his reign.

Keys rattled and the door of the stinking Palace dungeon was cast open. Serendipitous Fish was hauled to his feet and shoved down dark passageways that led through a series of gloomy courtyards. Chill night air pinched his tired face as the dungeon men hauled him to the edge of the Yander River Quay. The cold waters ran swift under the moonlight sky. It was a far cry from the gentle stream of the Yanderbrook that fed this burgeoning torrent. In horror Serendipitous Fish realised that the barrel that the dungeon men were opening was destined to hold him as its cargo. With scratching and biting fury, he gave them a difficult task of depositing him inside. Ultimately the harsh strength of grown men won, and the lid was slammed fast, enclosing the untidy heap of Serendipitous Fish inside the barrel. Before he could right himself, the barrel was flung into the turbulent charging waters which sped him away.

Blind in the darkness, the boy stayed still as the barrel found swift untroubled passage down the Yander River. It was strangely calm, riding the current to the noise of smooth sure waters through stout timber. Time passed without clear measure, all the while, the noises of the river subtly increased. Suddenly, the barrel hit some obstruction and Serendipitous Fish was flung about. In no time there was another thud, and another, and then a searing crunch; water gushed though the barrel’s bruised ribs. The noise of the torrent was increasing loudly, and the buffeting became constant. In deep fear, the boy wondered what obstruction would finally smash the damaged vessel to pieces. Suddenly, a swiftly moving shaft of moonlight pierced the darkness: the barrel was out of the water, but it was falling. Faster than diving eagles, it fell a distance as long as a score of trees, with no hope of a welcoming cock of hay to break the fall. The barrel plunged into deep water before surging like a bottle cork into the air only to fall back to violent waters that spun the barrel in sickening eddies under the dreadful roar of a thundering cascade.

Amid this terror, the half-drowned boy noticed that the barrel was negotiating calmer waters and he frantically tried to ply back the gashed timbers of the disheveled sinking vessel. Finally, he managed to squeeze through the tight gap, and he worked his way out of the barrel into the night. His eyes were dazzled to behold a vertical wall of torrential water, glowing majestic white under the full moon. Twice as high as this he beheld a plume of spray that seemed to reach for the sky, almost in emulation of a cloud. Through this spray he beheld two white doves in serene flight, gently circling the Great Yander Falls. Calm amid this riotous wonder of nature, the doves glided ever slower and eventually passed over his head.

Desperately clutching the barrel Serendipitous paddled as hard as he could and marked the doves passage as they flew into the darkness. As he lost sight of them, the barrel touched the shore. Wearier than he had ever been he collapsed, exhausted, upon a soft grassy bank. Under the bright moon he looked at the mighty falls over which he had plunged in the barrel. High up in the sky, like a jewel to the spray plume’s crown he saw the two white doves gliding slowly. Bruised and exhausted he fell into a deep sleep.

II    Port Tavern

Filthy dishes were piled high all around Serendipitous Fish as he toiled at the grimy sink. The Master roared for fresh tankards and the youth scurried to meet his command. Swiftly filling a tray, he pushed through the kitchen doors into the bedlam of the Tavern.

Faster, faster! bawled the Master as he watched the youth stack the tankards by the frothy pouring ale taps.

I’m going ever so fast, Master.

’Ever so fast’, ‘ever so fast!’ Will you ever tire of that poncy talk? You’s only a kitchen boy. A filthy dishwasher. No one in my employ speaks better than the Master of the Tavern of Port Tavern.

My apologies, Master.

’My apologies!’ Pwah! Get thee gone, before I give you a good hiding!

Back through the smoky chaos of swilling Fisherfolk, Stevedores, traders and a troupe of artists, Serendipitous Fish returned to his horrible labour. Every night he washed an endless steam of dinner plates, soup bowls, tankards and cutlery in a sink that stank by the night’s end. And the detritus of ale and food would cling to his damp clothes like a slimy fungus. Serendipitous Fish had a stoic soul and had endured this misery far longer than any other kitchen boy who worked in The Tavern. In the three years since his passage of the Great Yander Falls, this had been his toil.

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On the first morning after his torrential plummet he had awoke on a grassy bank by Great Falls Pool. Alone and without guidance in a strange world he followed the Lower Yander river to the sea, where he came upon the grim town of Port Tavern. In Klinden and its neighboring realms, it was known as an uncouth and violent place. At the centre of this ill repute was The Tavern. Weary and hungry, the young boy had pleaded with proprietors of other inns for food and shelter. Unavailing of this, he finally chanced upon The Tavern. There the Master set him to work and marked that the boy was dexterous and strong for his age. However, he disliked the accomplished mind of the youngster and kept him labouring at tasks that did not engage his prodigious intellect. In truth also, the Master had never encountered a boy with such a good appetite for hard graft. Servant Mathilda had instilled this in Serendipitous. In Cottage Lodge – when not at his studies - he was forever doing laborious chores around the house and in the gardens.

Serendipitous hated his confined life under the roof of The Tavern. At night he slept in an uncomfortable bunk in the corner of the storeroom. In Winter the cracked skylight displayed cold, far-off stars on freezing nights. In Summers, his skin burned as he cleaned the stable yard. He worked long hours almost every day, rarely finding respite from his harsh Master. The stable boys urged him to stop speaking like he was from the Royal Court for this clearly annoyed the Master.

An exception was when the Mayor would come for dinner in the Long Room. Then the Master had the youth wait on them as he and the Mayor discussed their various swindles and extortions that they perpetuated on the miserable citizenry of Port Tavern. However, Serendipitous Fish thought daily of the life he’d had before Servant Mathilda passed away. One day he saw a newspaper -the Port Haven Courant - in The Tavern and it contained a photograph of Princess Beauteous Nymph holding her newborn babe, Princess Justine Joan Jacqueline. His was sorely troubled by the news, for he knew then that the Beauteous Nymph had long since forgotten him. And anyway, any enquiry that she might have made would have cast him dead, broken on the Great Yander Falls.

So it was that this news found him shortly after his fifteenth birthday. It was at the forefront of his thoughts, and his fellows marked that he had become withdrawn. This, they felt, was a good thing: they believed that he had finally decided not to irritate the Master with his fine language. In his pain, he found it difficult to talk of anything other than the functional needs of work. However, his language remained unusual in that place. This was noted by one of the troupe of artists, a painter by the name of Guyroy Baptiste. Baptiste told Serendipitous Fish that his troupe was comprised of six painters, three actors, two musicians and a dealer in contraband of various sorts. They were known as the Peripheralists, and their paintings were marked by fine rendering of delicate, transparent fabrics and water scenes. Most commonly their paintings were dark in the centre with their key subjects subtly illuminated by the brighter periphery. They came from many countries and had been travelling together for six years, having formed their troupe in the magnificent city of Listia Del Ragados. The youth was intrigued by them and spent as much time as was allowed in their company.

Toward the end of the troupe’s sojourn, Serendipitous told Guyroy Baptiste of his history at Cottage Lodge and his subsequent adventure. Impressed by this story the painter and two of his fellows insisted on painting his portrait. The Master allowed them camp in the kitchen and paint the youngster at work. For this he charged a fee which the Peripheralists were happy to pay as Port Tavern was a lucrative place for selling contraband. However, not a penny of what they paid found its way to Serendipitous. The portraits were well-executed: all displayed a keen likeness. However, only Guyroy Baptiste caught the loneliness that beat in the troubled heart of Serendipitous Fish. Moved by this, he offered the youth a chance to join the troupe on their departure.

Excitedly packing his small quantity of clothes, money and food the youth was stopped and cruelly foiled by the Master.

You wanna pack up and get out, when I’ve no one to replace ya? said the Master before administering a cruel hiding. He bade the waiting Peripheralists be off and don’t come back! I’ll not welcome any as worries my staff. Seeing many Stevedores and Fisherfolk in The Tavern, Guyroy Baptiste realised that any attempt to bring Serendipitous Fish with them would lead to bloodshed. So, without adieu, the Peripheralists were forced to leave the youth in his misery.

In the harsh winter that followed, what little time Serendipitous Fish had for reflection was spent contemplating the bitter certainties of the loss in his life. Abandoned now for a second time, he began to wonder what life could offer. He resolved to remove to Port Haven in the Northern Provinces the following spring. It was a town that nestled in a safe harbour some fifty miles to the north. Traders who came from there were less violent, more prosperous and better spoken than the rough seafarers of Port Tavern. For the youth, the calm peace that Port Haven offered was far more alluring now than the promise of adventure in the great realms and cities of the south with the Peripheralists.

Spring came bright and clear, and it happened to pass that a mighty battleship dropped anchor in the bay. Onlookers identified it as the great Prince Tenilfore