the haunted kingdom by Charles E.J. Moulton (best detective novels of all time .TXT) 📖

something that Marie-Louise had been willing to do. While she sat there, right breast displayed and the little child sucking joyfully on her nipple, Belinda listened patiently to the row of inquiries and answered some of them. More often than not she said, “Ask Princess Patricia, she is in charge of administration!”

September 1423 A.D.

Clurafar was, of course, in “Alfie-Fever.” More than anyone, Belinda was in love again – with her son. There were little plays about Alfie being written, which were to be performed by theatre-companies around the nation. The inns sold Alfie’s Drink, which was a sweet apple-juice with a taste of plum and apricot. Mostly, it came from the same distillery that had taken the initiative to spread it amongst the famous inns themselves and made sure the children went along with their parents to drink it. It was the same distillery that a year ago had produced: “Steven’s Ale” and “Belinda’s Apple-Wine” and had been able to expand because of these two drinks.
Many new Alfred’s were being born this year. Alfred was becoming a celebrity.
Belinda often sat on the porch that autumn singing to her baby, letting the wind ruffle her hair and hearing the birds sing songs she requested. Her eyes would turn to the sky and she would let the baby’s mouth calmly open its mouth and she would give it her nipple. It would gently suck on it and she would feel at one with the baby. Fairly obvious to anyone was that it had changed her life.
Then she and Steven would take a walk around the grounds, stroll down to the poppy fields. They would chatter about this and that, how they could improve the child’s room, what the baby would do when it grew up and so on.
They smiled at the prospect of seeing it grow.
One day, it was a Sunday after mass they walked to the old love-oak. There was an

A+S=True

written there. Beside it was

B+S=True

and inside that heart they added

“+Alfie”.

Alfie gurgled while they did this.
The parents kissed while the child gazed at the sun.

October 1423 A.D.

Alfred was discovering the world. His eyes opened to the wonders of creation, laughing at almost everything. When someone told a joke, he laughed. When someone sang a song he laughed. When someone danced, he laughed. Morgana kept asking the same question a hundred times: was it unusual for such a small baby boy to laugh so much?
According to Belinda, he looked more peaceful than a summer’s night when he was asleep. Belinda was becoming very outspoken about sensual topics. She spoke of her breasts and her womanhood in front of dignitaries of all kinds and when the topic of childbirth arose, she would tell royal guests how it was to see a new life slowly come out of your own body. She would often say that nuptial lovemaking was the only true lovemaking as its result inevitably was a child.
She was the very incarnation of womanhood and fertility. She spoke with everyone she could about childcare and her favourite occupation was to wander to the castle kitchen and interfere with the royal cooking. She would tell them that by no circumstance should there be nuts in the porridge or anything else than fresh apples in the sauce.
Lucinda’s unexpected curse on the land of Friday the 13th of October had been a year ago now. People thought of it often at Iuventus, but never spoke of it. In fact it had been in the back of their minds for a while. A messenger had heard from someone in Alliland that Lucinda had been on her way to the Ottoman Empire last he knew.
Anyone connected with that land had never heard of the man called Nomed, who just disappeared the day before Lucinda came back to plague the wedding party. Alexander’s archrival King Adnicul was more a recluse than ever now. His Nocturanian nation was falling apart. The curse? What curse? That was a good question. Maybe Lucinda was hot air after all.
Belinda still had dreams, though. She was still in that empty house at night and she still saw ghosts. Lucinda was there and Reficule was still growling at her in the doorways. Steven was still unreachable in her dreams and oblivion was still under her.

The Callenian Forest, Thursday, November 4th, 1423

Two pairs of tired and bloody feet were running down a something that couldn’t be called a path, but more was a down trodden walk of thorny bushes. There were dried leaves and branches everywhere. Creatures were coming out of the dark, invisible entities flying over their heads.
The girl’s foot was twisted and so bloody that the colour of the skin was not white anymore.
It was dark red. She had fallen two miles back and the blood had dripped down her entire leg and dried up. She was only able to run at a certain speed. So many bush thorns scratched her beautiful legs that it really wasn’t possible to differentiate what was dirt and what was blood.
The boy was crying, blaming himself for dragging this attractive woman to this by God forsaken land. He panted and breathed so heavily that it was really hard not to show the girl that he was in pain. Only, it was complete folly to blame himself.
The girl had taken the initiative. She had packed the bag. She had served Adnicul a few more carafes of red wine than usual and then prayed that he would not wake up too soon. She had been the one who let Adnicul get her into bed the night before, not him. She had sacrificed herself. She only hoped that a bastard son wouldn’t be the ultimate result of his penetration. She had killed the guards, not him. She had accepted coming here in the first place. He had brought her to the castle. Adnicul was his father’s friend, not hers.
No matter how much he tried to convince himself it was not his fault, he knew the truth. Now that the bag was gone, the only possession they had was their common sense and that, too, was vanishing quickly.
They had been chased by something flying over the ground now for … how long? Three days? Occasionally, it had disappeared.
They were left in darkness because of some gust of wind that blew out their fire. Berries and grass refreshed them. They were lucky enough now to have a torch that had lasted them all night. They hoped to find a way out of this terrifying madness that was called a successful escape from the unknown. But, mighty Jesus, it was not easy not know where to find this way out.
Eric had remembered coming to the castle. He was sure that this was the way they came to the castle three years ago. All he needed was a town, any village would do, an inn or anything that resembled a rural community. Someone there would help them, he was sure of that. The villagers must’ve hated the king just as much as he did.
The fire from the torch kept flickering in the couple’s faces. Eric’s face had been burnt so many times by Adnicul that it seemed like a relaxing feeling to find the yellow flames dive into his skin knowing that the result must be freedom. Sometimes he thought there were two creatures diving into that madness in his mind and knowing what it was he thought. Sometimes he felt two diving spirits in his soul and behind his back. It wasn’t just one soul penetrating him. There were at least two or three, maybe four. He had stopped asking how many wounds he had on his toes, how many blisters he could count on his feet, how many broken nails, how many open soars were festering on that broken jaw of his. All he wanted to know was how to escape this hell.
When Adnicul had raped his girlfriend for the seventh time that month and invited Eric to drink with him right afterwards he knew that the time had come to leave the palace. Rebecca had said she had consented in order to have peace and to escape the fact that Eric was now the owner of a bloody back. She could not stand the thought of Eric screaming every night he turned around in bed.
They finally did what they had planned and feared for so long. They left. Now they wished they hadn’t. They could not find the way out of the dark forest.
The girl constantly looked behind her. She seemed to be so scared that letting the tears drop down her face seemed refreshing. She prayed to the maker to let those invisible spirits leave, because they were at their tails. It was clear now that there was no way out of this.
She could hear them breaking the branches that they threw in their way. Cackling and whispering, “You can’t escape the perfect team!”
He was sure he had heard them say: “There is no escape today – From Winsly and Ray.”
What that meant he had no idea. He just knew that the ugly, blond girl with the scarred face had been called Nina Ray by Lucinda and Adnicul, if that was who those creatures were.
There was no way to know. Suddenly, the path stopped and the spirits seemed to stop as well. Rebecca and Eric looked around, tried to see what came next.
There were sounds everywhere, but they could see nothing more than the flickering torch. There was a sound coming from behind a tree. Rebecca turned around toward it, never letting go of Eric’s hand.
(I am looking at you through my crystal ball, Eric)
“Eric!”
“Yes, Rebecca?”
She panted, her voice trembling. “What… what was that?”
“I don’t know” Eric trembled.
”The path just ended” Rebecca whispered. “We have no where to go. If we go on, we have to go into the thorny bushes or back.”
“I know, love!”
“Where are we, anyway? I thought this was the way to some village.” Rebecca said, trembling. “Didn’t you say this way the way we came when we arrived in Rigor Mortis three years ago?”
“I know for a certain fact that we came this way.” he answered. “The path has changed.”
The sound came again. “You hear that?” Rebecca spat. “Oh. God. Eric. Help me. It is dark.”
“I hear a sound,” he responded. “There is somebody there. Hello? Who is there?”
The sound came again. Rebecca whispered. “What is it, Eric? Could you tell me?”
She could feel his hand shaking. She could hear him think that he needed to be strong for her. She had always been able to read his mind.
“Don’t try to be brave for me, Eric, just tell me what it is.”
He looked her direction, trying to find something the other way. His eyes were wide-open.
“I think it is a Rumzil.”
“A what?”
He looked at her. His eyes were the size of teacups.
“Rumzils.” Eric said softly. “Adnicul told me about small midgets with one hundred fangs.”
Rebecca started shaking and cuddled up close to Eric.
“Humour me with specifics, Eric my love,” she cried. “Give me hope. Tell me they are nice.”
“They will eat you if you let them.” She heard a giggle and then a scurry. Whispers.
“Is that a specific? If so, I can give you something else: I am petrified.”
Eric was in a dream world and he had no idea what to do next. “Where in the hell are we?”
“I am not asking where in the hell we are, Eric,