THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 2 by Charles E.J. Moulton (amazing books to read .txt) 📖

the sun came they set out, but they found no crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in the woods and fields had picked them all up.”
At that moment Steven walked in.
He smiled at Alfred and sat down on the bed, ruffled his hair and kissed Belinda on the mouth.
"Kissy-Kissy!" Alfred said.
Steven smiled. "That is correct, my son! Kissy-Kissy!" He looked at the book. "What are you reading to entertain the young prince?" He raised his eyebrows. "A story about a witch eating children? Isn't he a little too young for that?"
Belinda shook her head. "I want him to be prepared."
The atmosphere had gone from jokey to serious. "For what?"
Alfred imitated: "For what?" But it sounded like Foh-whatt.
"If anything happens he knows evil can be crushed ..."
“He might have understood that already.” Steven looked at Belinda skeptically. "This is going to help him to combat the evil powers? You might try the good book. That did the trick for Jesus.”
Belinda nodded and looked down. “Let me make my own decisions, Steven. We’ve been through this before” She looked up and smiled at him tenderly. It was a soft, but hurt, smile.
Steven cocked his head, wonderingly.
"All right." He smiled at Alfie again. "You like this story, my boy?"
“Like ..." Alfred nodded.
"What do you like about it?"
"Bad woman dead in the end" Alfred smiled, displaying a grin of small teeth.
Belinda raised her eyebrows casually at Steven. "You see ..." Steven laughed.
"You win. As always." Belinda laughed her hiccupping goat laugh again. "Want to go for a walk later in the sun?" He looked at Alfred. "How about some of Geena’s strawberries and cream later?" Alfred nodded approvingly. "You want to hear this story's end first." Alfred nodded. "All right!" Steven ruffled his hair and kissed Belinda. "I'll be right back!" He walked out.
"Steven dear!" Steven popped his head in again. "Tell Geena to make another two portions of dinner. Patrick and Erica are eating with us today. I met them by the poppy field an hour ago on his horse. They are keeping so healthy that they can stand some good old Prosperanian cooking.”
"Weren't they going to town?"
"Not any more” Belinda cooed. “Not after Erica found out that he wanted to go for a mead.”
"I'll tell her!"
Belinda blew him a kiss and Steven left. Then she looked at Alfie.
"Want to hear about the breadcrumbs?"
"Brea-crumb." Alfie repeated. And so mother Belinda read him the story.
All the while, Steven was rushing downstairs thinking strange thoughts about his wife.
Belinda was reading the tale to his son because she wanted to prepare the young gentleman for eventual attacks from a certain aunt. All fine and well, the prince general wanted to say, but if there is no way to locate the culprit how can you stop him from tearing down your house?
Two hours later the three were walking hand in hand by the poppy fields near the oak-tree, talking. Patrick who was back in the palace had told them at dinner that Mustafus was due to come here any day to visit Clurafar. He had even expressed interest in an alliance with Alex.
Now the young family was telling their little son about the oak tree where their initials were engraved. Alfred was listening curiously.
Just an hour after that Alfie was running around the mid path after Lance and was throwing gravel around him to stop them from getting him. Alfie was screaming. "Breadcrumbs!" But Lance took no notice of his cousin's weird advice. Belinda took Steven’s hand when seeing this. Her grip was too strong for his comfort. He said nothing. The only thing he could do was kiss her hand.

Thursday, November 1st , 1425 A.D.

The royal palace had received something it had not possessed before: a mind of its’ own. Yes, it had always had a soul of its’ own ever since it had been erected. Now there was an atmosphere of a house waiting to sleep, hoping the inhabitants would soon leave. It was an eerie house, a haunted kingdom that had replaced the original on September 23rd.
That night, Belinda was awake again, afraid to sleep. Anytime she did sleep she had nightmares where Lucinda was the main character. She was back on the rack in the dungeon of Rigor Mortis hearing the name Nina Ray again and again. So she stayed awake.
That, however, did not change the fact that the palace of sacred youth changed that winter of 1425. It was breathing, taking over the life that was missing from the family. Everyone was sleeping. Only the castle was awake. It was a haunted palace floating somewhere else in time.
The only thing that kept Belinda going was Alfred. She would chase him down the hallways and take him on walks, sing him songs and tickle his belly. Steven seemed to be too busy negotiating treaties and inspecting troops to be home and so what was left was her son.
Alexander had changed. He wandered around with a wrinkled brow and had forgotten to shave at important gatherings, making his beard look tousled and untidy.
Alfred was a happy toddler with a bouncy laugh. Belinda seemed to feel that she was the only one spending time with him, though. The family all seemed like ghosts to her now.
He was the light of her life and he made sure to leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind him when he went to strange place and he never went alone.
The person in really deep misery that November was Patrick Winsletenna. His father was ignoring him completely now. He lived in the castle, but he might as well be living at sea.
November 1st Adnicul received a memorandum on horseback that if he didn’t sanction fully to every single one his faults and all his mistakes in the Fraytollah affair, then Alex would send Adnicul Prosperanian Inquisitors to verify the truth about the pirate harbor


Saturday, November 17th, 1425 A.D.

A messenger rode into the palace courtyard on a fierce steed that day. He was a very active, thunderous young gent who knew this was his chance to impress on the king. His freshness was contaminated by an open wound of pain and worry. His horse galloped down the gravel, skidding sideways in front of the main entrance. One of the stable boys came out from the barn, where he had been shoveling hay, and got the horse and took it into the barn.
The messenger walked up the steps to greet the elderly gentleman that came rushing down the steps. The young envoy stretched out his hand
“Roland, Sire ... Ulfaas Nordhjiil’s messenger." He swallowed, catching his breath. "I am sorry ... I am out of breath ..."
"I am Rolf, the servant..."
Rolf waited patiently for him to finish panting.
“What is the issue you come to inform us about?”
He swallowed. "I have ridden day and night for six days without much sleep." He raised his eyebrows, smiling and supporting his hands on his knees. "Catch my breath and I will be able to talk."
"What is the matter, my friend?"
"I must see the king. It is vital for me to give him this message."
Rolf gave the boy a worried nod. “Follow me.”
The two men walked into the grand entrance with the black and white marble floor and the large paintings. They strode up the large staircase and onto the first landing. They wandered in complete silence down the sandstone hallway under arches and beside green lead glass windows, only to arrive at a large mahogany door.
Rolf held up his hand and vanished through the door.
It slammed shut with a large bang.
The young man stood outside Alexander's study, looking at himself in the silver mirror.
Rolf came out again.
"Young man! His majesty is occupied ..."
Before Rolf could finish, the young man was stumbling in and interrupted a hearty handshake. Rolf shook his head, irritated at this boy, asking himself who had assigned such a brute to ride with a message to this potent a gent.
A large man with a big mustache was smilingly shaking Alexander's hand and turned around to see what it was. The young man recognized the man as Alliland's King Mustafus the First.
"Young gentleman ..." Alexander snapped. "I told you to stay ..."
"I am sorry, your majesty ..." Rolf intervened. "I told the young man to wait, but ..."
"I know, Sire ..." Roland gestured to Rolf "... but this message was delivered to me for your majesty by Ulfaas and his Inspectors ... He said I have to get it to your majesty even if I interrupt a coronation."
"What is the message?" The large-mustached man had sat down now.
The young man looked at him. "I am sorry. It is private ..."
"Military matter, envoy?"
"The most urgent of matters ..."
"What is your name?" Alexander asked.
"Roland, sir ..."
"Well, Roland ... This gentleman is the king of Alliland and he is my new ally. We have joined our armies. Now give me the message ..." Roland turned around to Rolf and back to Alex. "And that is my loyal servant ..."
"In that case” the man said and cleared his throat. “Your majesty," the young man began, “a few weeks ago a fleet of ships arrived in the Danish Channel carrying fourteen tons of ammunition for the Russian army. They were undisguised military ships from Nocturania, Sire." The three gentlemen looked at each other, distraught. "Mr. Tom Barnes had signed the agreement in your behalf back in April that Nocturania and Prosperania do not, shall not and will not mix into each other’s affairs. But ..." The young man shook his head. "Well, he would not let the ships pass by under any circumstance and so that evening at a quarter to eleven the fleet returned and attacked the harbour."
“Attacks in the harbor?”
“Yes, Sire” Roland nodded.
"Has there been any injured?" Alex asked.
"When I left forty people had been injured and twenty were dead. By now, the war will have escalated and gotten far worse than it was when I left, Sir."
"Anyone of stature among them?"
"Not when I left, Sire” the man rubbed his chin and said. “Now, there might be many.”
"What were the ships aiming to do?"
"Deliver ammunition to the Russian Tsar, but the Prince-General thought their intentions were completely different. The Russian Tsar does not need to buy ammunition with his Arab trade-agreement ..." Rolf nodded.
"He is right ... Sire." Rolf added. "The fleet might've been a decoy ..."
“There is more, though …”
“What?” Alexander said, worried.
“Ulfaas told me to tell you, the name of the ship that was heading the attack …”
“What?”
”The Margetania, Sire …”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The Margetania. Ulfaas told me to tell you ‘Fraytollah probably rebuilt the vessel’ and you would know what he meant.”
“Yes, thank you …”
Alexander's eyes were full of disbelief. His eyes were staring into the void.
“Fraytollah was destroyed” Alexander whispered so softly nobody heard it but him.
Mustafus took a step further toward the king and put a hand on his shoulder.
Alexander looked up. He had vanished into another dimension.
He smiled without joy. It was the desperate smile of a thousand sorrows.
“Mustafus” he said in shivering voice. “We destroyed the ships. Now they appear as if nothing happened at all.” Alexander took