Chapter 4:
Link's father roused him early. He wanted to get as much work done as possible before today's arrival. He noticed that his son seemed more tired than usual, but paid it no mind. Spending the whole night with his friends didn't excuse him from work.
The boy awoke to a whole new world of aching. For a brief drowsy moment he wondered what he'd done to deserve that but then remembered his nightly excursions. Minutes of holding a bow taut bow and then a sprint back through the forest… "Yeah... that!" thought Link as he tried to get his spiteful limbs to move.
From André's open smithy Link had a pretty good view over the north road, so he periodically checked for any sign of a royal entourage. He was currently busy grinding arrowheads to form for which he was thankful, because it meant relatively little movement apart from propelling the whetstone. As a village smith his father mostly forged nails, horseshoes and arrowheads for the hunters. High quality swords and armour were not in high demand. Right now he was however he was working on a piece. It was still in its very early stages of hammering the steel to length, but the steel was of the best quality. Link didn't know who had commissioned it, probably some rich traveller when André had been at the village centre.
Between grinding, manning the bellows, holding the steel for his father and hurting the morning passed slowly. Link tried not to show discomfort, but suspected his father noticed anyway.
At approximately half past eleven they both heard a brief fanfare of royal brass. Father and son looked at each other briefly. André grumbled something unintelligible and went to reheat he now considerably elongated piece of steel. Link was about to jump up pump the bellows again when his father said: "Well, what are you waiting for? Wash and go to gawk. You did well today."
Link's smile appeared like sun breaking through a cloudy sky. He cleaned his workplace and tools as quick as he could.
He was about to run outside when his father called after him: "But don't miss training with Sir Russel or there'll be hell to pay, understand?"
"Understood!" Link shouted over his shoulder. By now he could already see them in the distance. The heat haze made it difficult to discern many details, but it looked like at least 5 carriages or wagons and dozens of escort soldiers.
He ran to the back of their house to clean himself of grime and sweat in the washing trough, grabbed a better tunic and trousers and jogged towards the small cobbled road that connected the village with the north road.
It looked like at least half of Ord's population had gathered along the way. Link looked out for any sign of his friends but couldn't find any. So he waited alone. He surveyed the crowd. Most men looked mildly interested, most women looked excited, the children delighted.
The whole procession sounded like small landslide, heavy boots, hooves and wheels thundering over the street, occasionally interrupted by fanfares. Combined with the rhythmic clanking of the knight's armour it made for quite a racket.
The front of the retinue was comprised of mounted knights with their squires behind them. After that a few soldiers with the brass horns that endeavoured to murder Link's eardrums. He felt sorry for the men directly in front of them, their heads must ring as if they'd been kicked by a horse. After the marching band was undoubtedly the royal carriage, a large wooden structure, painted in red, adorned with intricate carvings and plated with gold. It was drawn by 4 white horses with yellow plumes on their heads. The whole thing was probably the size of a poor man's house. Link made a disapproving face. Pomp and gaudiness… He wondered if little miss princess would find her modest quarters at the Dinnery at all adequate.
Apparently the others were less sceptical. The women were waving brightly coloured cloths in the air, shouting "Hooray! Long live the princess!" or some nonsense like that. Of course no one could look inside, wouldn't want to spoil poor Zelda's ivory skin with sunlight.
Link had to force himself to take a mental step back. He didn't know why he was so hostile against royalty. That was just as stupid as the mindless adoration the others were showing. Let's first see how she acts.
After the carriage followed two more subdued ones, probably for the ladies in waiting or political advisors. They were flanked by common soldiers, most of them on foot. Something felt a little off. He looked at the men's faces. All of them looked grim, some of them even worried. The air of tension over the whole procession didn't fit with entering a small peaceful village. Then Link remembered the lone Bokoblin and his eyes widened. Could they have had a run in with a group of them and he happened to find a straggler?
His theory found confirmation when he saw the last wagon, drawn by a single horse. A simple wooden wagon filled a layer of straw and covered by a white sheet. On top of that lay a simple shield and a spear. The general hubbub slowly died down to shocked silence as more and more people noticed. The caravan moved past and people looked after them with an almost stunned silence.
Link started to move away when his gaze fell on Marten, standing a dozen metres off.
Just by looking at his expression he could see that his friend had come to the same conclusion.
He tapped on his shoulder. "You thinking Bokoblins too?"
Mart only nodded.
Now Link definitely wanted to know what had happened, but he doubted the men would be very enthusiastic talkers after they had lost one of their own. He had an idea. "Come! Let's go see Ric!"
They jogged to catch up to the procession and managed to reach the tavern before the first knights entered the plaza. The mayor in his finest threads was waiting, sweat dotting his forehead. Only a few other representatives were present, among them Ricco's father, the owner of the Dinnery. Link spotted his big friend lurking in the main guest hall, standing to attention and moseyed over. Ricco gave a start when Link tapped him on the shoulder from behind. "What on earth are you doing here? Don't get me and my family in trouble!" he hissed.
"Don't worry. We'll leave. But there's something we've gotta tell you!" and he and Marten told the big guy what they had seen and the connection they had established to last night's encounter. Ricco listened with an earnest expression. "Bloody hell."
"Pretty much. You're in the best position to find something out. Someone is bound to talk about it, if only to warn the village." Link whispered urgently.
"Aye. Will do. Now go!" Ric ordered.
"Gone!" Link said with an evil smirk. He dashed past his friend and half up the stairs.
"The hell do you think you're doing? Come back!" Ricco spluttered.
Link turned around briefly. "Well, we're leaving! For your room! It's a pretty good vantage point, wouldn't you agree?" and ran off, Marten right behind him.
"You bloody horse's arse, get back here or I'll…" But at that moment the first mounted knights entered the plaza and Ric had to swallow his rage.
Link and Marten entered Ric's chamber, barely more than a broom cabinet for the large boy, and looked through the closed window. If they didn't move too much they would probably be unseen while being able to see decently well themselves.
The knights rode onto the plaza, closely followed by the royal carriage and one of the simpler ones.
One of the knights, an older man on a dark brown horse bellowed with an impressive voice. "County-village of Ord! Hear! Her royal highness, Princess Zelda of the high house of Hyrule, has elected your esteemed home to be her host for this night!" Even the windows rattled when this guy shouted. No wonder he was the herald.
Mayor Boro, Ricco's uncle, stepped forward. He gave a pretty good show, considering he was hopelessly out-shouted.
"Our humble village of Ord offers its full hospitality to her royal highness and her company! Long may her name be sung in praise! We are her servants for as long as she commands!"
Link scowled at that debatable pleasantry. He noticed that by now many of the gawkers had followed and were standing on the various ways into the plaza, keeping their distance.
"Diiiis-MOUNT!" The herald barked. In near perfect unison the knightly guards got off their horses and moved out of the way. The carriage was led a little closer the tavern's entrance. Link could see the mayor having an animated discussion with the herald, probably about procedure, etiquette, expectations etc. He watched them for any signs in their body language of talking about more important matters. He couldn't watch long however because soon the carriage blocked their view.
A few knights formed a corridor from the coach to the Dinnery's entrance. Link spotted Ricco's father listening intently to a hastily gesticulating man in fine robes. Probably a steward tasked with making her royalness' sojourn bearable, thought Link.
The carriage door was opened and a wooden step was laid in front of it. Link shifted so he could better see inside. The carriage was close to the house, so he didn't learn much. A head of golden blonde hair appeared, framing a pale forehead. Two pointy ears jutted out of the golden flood. Unfortunately that was all he could see. The princess' face eluded him. He took note of her dress, however. White linen, fine stuff, but definitely not as ostentatious as he had expected.
He hopped down, all but ignoring the step and marched into the inn. Immediately there was a flock of ladies-in-waiting following her like chicks a mother hen.
"Not too bad of an entrance." Link said aloud.
Marten made affirmative face and nodded, but motioned for Link to be silent. He carefully lied down to press his ear against the floor.
Link followed his example. The voices from below were muffled, but audible.
"…can see, this… tavern will remain empty apart from your honoured self and your maids." The sycophantic voice of the steward, no doubt.
A high, clear voice answered him: "I do not wish to intrude upon this man's business. Allow him serve his customers down here at least!"
"Alas, my princess, that is not possible. It would pose too many risks for your security."
Now they could hear the sound of people ascending the steps. Link silently moved to press his ear against the door to the corridor.
The steward again. "My lady, would you not rather remain in the carriage. These may be good, honest people, true, but this is hardly a suitable accommodation for one such as you!"
Link would have loved nothing more than to kick this buffoon in the nethers. He made "good and honest" sound like an insult.
"I would not. I do not wish to speak of this to you again, Lord Gorridan. See to the funeral preparations." There was an almost dangerous undertone in her voice, which he could hear a little better now. Link rather liked it.
"Of course, your highness." The steward snivelled and stomped back the way he came. Shortly afterwards there was a bustle of activity in and around the princess' chambers. The Dinnery's guestrooms were all separated by doors that were usually locked, but could be opened if a higher class of customer came. Thanks to that clever bit of architecture the princess and her flock of hens had a whole floor at her disposal.
They could hear servants haul crate upon crate up onto the first floor.
"Well that was fun and all, but how will we get out now?" Marten asked. That question had crossed Link's mind. He thought about it for a second.
"Because I don't want to cause an uproar with a lot of grumpy knights around… or do you suggest dressing up as washer-women and sneaking out?" Marten added.
Link looked up, a grin forming on his face. Marten hated that face…
He looked under the door, checking that nobody was right in front and opened it ever so slightly. He could see the whole corridor plugged up with stuff that the ladies were distributing among the rooms. Bingo!
"Follow my lead!" Link whispered and to Marten's shock opened the door in one swift motion. He stepped outside grabbed Mart and none too gently shoved him over to a basket filled with clothes. "Bring that back down, boy! The laundry is done downstairs, of course. Come on, chop-chop!" Link ordered gruffly. When Marten only stared he said in a more menacing tone. "Take. The basket. Downstairs. Now."
Mart reacted, a little belatedly, and hoisted the large basket on his shoulder. Thankfully the nights had fled the upper floor so they wouldn't stand in the way. Or so they didn't have to work, Link thought. The few servants and maids barely looked up at them, they were so busy. He almost pushed Mart downstairs, where he led him through the laundry to the back door. When they were out of sight Marten put the basket down. "What now?"
"Now we bolt!"