The Bard and the Goblet

A One Shot for Summer 2024

Photo by Samuel F on Unsplash

The bard strummed his lute, the gentle tone carrying through the Hunter's Lodge inn to catch the attention of every drinker, eater, and mouse. A hush descended on the happenstance crowd, nestled in nooks with dark ales, around the fire with pipe and whisky, or leaning over the bar to flirt with the innkeeper's daughter. All turned to the bard standing on the table against the wall.

'Greetings fine folk of Lurinstock, in all my travels I have not found such a welcoming and gentle village. In thanks I offer you a tale as true as my lute, a tale of adventure, daring, and danger, of disappointment and unexpected reward,' he strummed the open chord again and took a sip from his goblet, a plain clay thing he carried everywhere with him. The wine was fruity that night and stronger than usual, he pursed his lips, 'Let me begin.'

'In the shadow of Fort Morne stood three friends, fast as tar,' he played a series of joyful notes. 'With a map in hand and the taste of treasure on their tongues.' The bard played more music as he met eyes with a number of his listeners. 'A ruin of war and dereliction stood before them, the scent of gold in the air...'

Taliesin squinted at the velum map, stained with blood and sweat. The red circle around Fort Morne was unmistakable but there was nothing to suggest the treasure was inside the crumbling castle. 'We should search the surrounding area first.'

'Nonsense, we should head right in. Treasure is in treasure vaults, deep beneath the ground, everyone knows this,' Fostuf said, tattered cloak wafting about his ankles. He flicked his blond locks back and stared in wonder at the ivy ridden fort. Great mounds of rubble lay in sections of the wall, victim to catapults and trebuchets, the portcullis was rusted through, the lower bars bent and broken. 'There could be other treasure hunters in there right now, we wouldn't want to lose out to them. Tell him, Gav.'

'Aye, no telling who that peddler sold this map too. Could have made copies,' Gav grumbled and spat, his thumbs in his belt, two spiked maces swinging against leather clad legs. He was bald save for a few wisps of hair that danced on his pale pate, whenever he cut them off they came back until eventually he just gave up.

Taliesin sucked his teeth, 'I dunno. Place looks dead to me. This valley too.' Verdant trees and thick patches of heathland clogged the landscape as far as the eye could see. Any signs of civilisation had been left behind tens of miles ago. Taliesin wondered why the Fort had been built in the first place as there where no other ruins nearby either. Perhaps it was the den of some nefarious baron or bandit king, whoever had built it and defended it from attack had failed and left behind a bounty waiting to be plundered.

Fostuf was already sniffing about the rusted portcullis, 'I can fit, not sure about Gav.'

'Snap a few bars off for us then,' Gav snorted.

Fostuf considered it before backing away, 'I'll leave such work to the professional.'

Gav chuckled, his second chin wobbling, 'Coward.' He reached down, holding his breath, and wrapped two meaty palms around a length of decaying iron. He heaved, puffing out his cheeks until they were as red as strawberries. The iron creaked, bent, and then snapped with a sudden crack. Gav fell backwards, a curse upon his lips, and smashed into the ground. 'Easy as,' he said, winded.

Fostuf keeled over in a fit of laughter, 'Whatever you say, Gav.' The cloaked man got on his hands and knees and crawled through the gap in the iron portcullis. Taliesin followed, a hand on the hilt of his arming sword to stop it clanging against stone or iron.

Gav rolled onto his front, drinking air like ale, and dragged his way to the gap in Fort Morne's defences. The iron pinched his sides and if it weren't for his leather jerkin he'd have been skewered then and there. 'Give us a hand,' he reached out, half way through. Fostuf took the man's sweaty palm and pulled. Gav popped through, a broken bar tearing through his jerkin. 'Bollocks!' He rolled onto his back, wheezing. He rose, 'Let's get us some gold.'

'Right,' Fostuf turned to the darkness. 'We don't have a map of the Fort, which is good otherwise it means someone else was here stealing our rightful hoard.' Oak trees rustled in a courtyard beyond the shadowy gatehouse. 'Best we start in the middle, get a sense of what we're dealing with.' Fostuf strode ahead, head held high, like a lord returning to his manor. Taliesin and Gav followed.

The trio stood in the flickering shade of three gnarled oak trees cloistered from the rest of the forest. The three forest lords buttressed up against their stony companion, thick with ivy and wisteria, cracking the lower stones until the mortar burst. The odd cobblestone peaked from beneath a floor of earth, dead leaves, and acorns. Three towers rose above, the points of a triangle seen from above, each crumbling under the weight of greenery as if the forest waged its own war on Fort Morne. 'Are we in agreement the treasure is not above ground?'

'Aye,' Gav held one nostril down, leaned forward, and blew. A great wad of snot slapped against a crumb of decaying leaves.

'Hold on,' Taliesin stepped ahead, hands out before him. 'We don't know if this place has a dungeon, catacombs, cellar, or what have you. We should check the towers.'

Fostuf looked up through an oak tree's swaying branches at a tower leaning over, a great gaping hole in the side where the ivy had won a victory no catapult could manage. 'I'm not heading up there.'

Taliesin turned, shielding his eyes from the sun, 'Well, I wouldn't send Gav to check it. I could go, alone.'

'We do not split up,' Fostuf said. He kicked an acorn and watched it bounce across the uneven earth and roll down a crevice out of sight. A rotten iron barred door swung on its hinges, a shadowed passage beyond. 'There, we'll go down first. Treasure is in treasure vaults, and vaults are underground, after all.'

Taliesin shrugged, 'As you say but I think you've read too many fairy tales and heard too many bards singing fanciful tales of knights.'

'There's never a ragtag band of treasure hunters in those tales, only burly knights and desperate maidens,' Fostuf said.

'Aye, I'd be happy with a desperate maid instead of gold,' Gav huffed.

'You can pay Mistress Levoix for one of her girls to play the role when we get back to town,' Taliesin slapped Gav on the arm.

'Aye but it ain't the same,' Gav headed for the rotten door.

'Gav's got the right idea,' Fostuf followed the oaf. 'Quicker we find it, quicker we can get home. The worst that will stop us is a couple spiders and their webs.'

'If that were true someone else will have found the treasure by now,' Taliesin shook his head and followed. He collected a few lengths of firewood as he went, tore off a strip of his cloak to tie them together, and lit them with his flint. The flame bowed to the wind.

'Ahh, some light. Good thinking,' Fostuf nodded.

Gav threw the door wide, the top hinge cracking free of the stone. He gagged, 'Something's died down there.'

Fostuf leaned towards the darkness and gently sniffed, 'Maybe a bear uses it as a den?'

'I'm not fighting a bear,' Taliesin said.

'I'll fight a bear,' Gav wielded his maces and entered. Taliesin's torch flickered meekly, revealing little more than ivy roots and crumbling mortar. The floor was damp with dew and week old rain while the air stank of must and decay. Something had died down there but it was long ago. 'Steps,' Gav grunted. He took them one at a time, sliding his foot toward the end before dropping down a level. Years of use and more years of running water had worn a groove into the stone.

The air grew humid as they descended, the heat of the earth cloying at their throats, and the smell of death receded into a deep earthy scent. 'There's a hallway off here,' Fostuf said.

'Aye, another one here,' Gav said, ahead of Fostuf.

'I have a third,' Taliesin said. He held the torch up to his own but the flickering flame pierced no more than a yard. 'For all we know they lead to the same place.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Fostuf shook his head. 'One will lead to kitchens, another to the cellar, and another to the vault, everyone knows this.'

'Aye,' Gav grunted.

'I don't see how everyone knows that,' Taliesin sighed.

'Every castle needs those three things,' Fostuf riposted.

'How many Forts have you been inside?'

Fostuf frowned, 'Well, there was Castle Cranach, the Tower of Mildeep, Fort of the Ford, Roland's Keep, and... err...'

'Three of those you heard from the bard, I was there with you. The tower and the keep I'll grant you but the tower was a tower and the keep had its kitchens above ground, didn't have a vault, and its cellar was a hole in the courtyard,' Taliesin waved the torch from one hallway to another.

'Fine, this one,' Fostuf marched down the middle path.

'Based on what?'

'Instinct!' Fostuf vanished into the velvet shadow. A stone shifted beneath his foot and a loud crack echoed down the hallway. 'Duck!' Fostuf fell to the stone and felt the air shift overhead.

'Arrgh!' Gav screamed, his hand pressed to his side. It came away bloody.

Taliesin leapt to his feet and rushed to Gav's side, 'It's not deep. Looks like a bolt wound but...' He wheeled in Fostuf's direction, 'That merchant didn't say anything about traps.'

'Should be expected,' Fostuf rose to his feet and dusted himself off. 'I'll lead, my instincts will keep us safe.'

'Tell that to Gav's jerkin,' Taliesin sighed.

'Think of the gold, think of the jewels. Traps mean bigger treasure, more treasure, everyone knows this,' Fostuf sauntered deeper into the dungeon.

'No, they don't,' Taliesin grumbled, following the other man's lead. Three doors, locked and bolted, were on the right hand side, each ten yards from each other. The wood had remained solid after all the years and the keys would be long lost. Taliesin didn't feel like trying to break down a solid oak door and, apparently, neither did Fostuf who continued to descend into the dungeon on the same path that had begun to coil deeper and deeper into the earth.

What felt like a whole watch passed, the air was stifling, the stench of dirt catching at the back of Taliesin's throat. He was sweating and his torch had burned halfway to his hands. 'We should head back to the surface.'

'Nonsense, we are close, I know it,' Fostuf croaked. He continued on, a hand trailing the wall, his breathing heavier than before. The stone rumbled and a screeching roar tore through the hallway, freezing Fostuf with terror. 'Where was that from?'

'Behind us,' Gav said, in the same grumble as he said everything. He still wielded his two maces in hope of facing a bear though that was impossible now, no bear would venture so deep. The middle of the three doors rattled, rocking and banging on its hinges. 'This one,' Gav whacked it with a spiked mace.

'Don't do that, don't want to anger whatever's inside,' Taliesin reached out for Gav's arm.

'I think whatever is inside knows we are already here,' Fostuf approached the door, reaching for the iron ring handle. He twisted it but the door would not open. He let go, the ring hitting the iron plate behind it with a clunk. 'Hmm... monsters guard treasure, everyone knows it.'

'We are going to drink in sailor towns from now one, different songs,' Taliesin said.

'But I detest sailing.'

'Precisely.'

The iron ring handle began to turn.

Taliesin drew his sword, shifting the torch to his left hand. He backed up against the wall, though it was only a step due to how narrow the passageway was. Gav held his maces wide, ready to drop on whatever lay beyond the oak door. There was a click followed by the scraping of metal and the door eased open no more than an inch. Fostuf stepped forward and prodded the door, it creaked wider. Torchlight bled into the undisturbed darkness and found nothing. 'Gav, you go in first, in case its a bear,' Fostuf said.

'Aye,' Gav stomped inside, bashing the door open with a mace. 'Need the torch,' he grunted.

Taliesin followed him inside, keeping well behind the man's girth while holding the torch out to his left side, he circled round Gav a little to reveal the whole room, at least for a moment. There was a plinth in the centre, a plain clay goblet resting atop it. 'Nothing here.'

'That cannot be,' Fostuf entered, flustered, and peered into the darkness. The room was bare, save for the central plinth. There were alcoves along two walls that ran from waist height to the ceiling but all were empty. 'What a strange treasure,' Fostuf approached the goblet, the other two staying close by instinct.

The door slammed shut, the draft forcing the flame to bow low. Taliesin shielded the torch near his chest until the air had stilled. A wet croak sounded behind them, he wheeled around as the torch flame flickered back to life. On the floor was a crossbow bolt, unfeathered, with a rusted tip. 'That's... odd,' Taliesin lowered his sword and torch. The length of wood, thinner than his forefinger and no longer than from wrist to elbow, trembled. A wet screech filled the room.

'Break it. Break it now!' Fostuf cried.

It was too late. The bolt leapt onto its end, a small tooth filled maw opening in the tip. The shaft split, two arms peeling from the top half and two legs from the bottom with what remained serving as a body. Gav rushed forward and slammed his mace downward. The stick beast hopped out of reach and began to grow. The screech became a growl, the tip doubling and then doubling again in size while retaining its pointed shape. The arms grew thick, splintering with each doubling. The legs gained a set of knees, then another, the ends elongating into stumps of pale wood. The beast roared, its breath stank of warm earth and mushrooms. Gav swung wildly with a mace, shouting the entire time, and caught the wood monsters arm. A shower of splinters blasted across the room, the beast shrieking from its eyeless iron head.

Taliesin surged forward, swinging his arming sword in one heavy attack. Thunk. His sword cracked into the beasts shoulder, wedged. Taliesin wiggled the blade but it would not come free. The beast swiped at him with splintering fingers. Taliesin leapt back, abandoning his sword.

Fostuf slunk back to the plinth, weaponless, and reached for the plain clay goblet. Anything buried so deep in the earth, protected by monsters was worth something. He grabbed the cup, wine sloshed over the side. 'Wine is wine,' Fostuf downed the cup, a rich, thick as honey, wine lined his throat. He held the goblet, and kept as far from the fighting as possible.

Gav pressed the monster, swinging both his maces like hammers. Spikes snapped off as the wooden beast resisted, yet with each spike of iron came chips of wood too. The beast howled and howled, kicking and thrashing until it caught one of Gav's arms and picked him like a pup. Gav, baffled, swung and missed with his free hand. The beast threw him across the room. Gav slammed against an alcove and slipped the ground, limp. He rolled over, nose smashed and blood trailing down his bald pate, he cursed and spat out a tooth.

Taliesin surged forward, poking and prodding with his torch. The flame flashed and flickered as it leapt for slits of dry wood, lengths of kindling fingers, and splinters from where the shaft had separated. The creature screeched and skittered away but it was too late, a lick of flame danced underneath its arm spreading down its torso and lighting the shavings along the way. The wooden horror thrashed which only made the flame spread further. Taliesin reached for his sword but the beast threw itself around and smacked into the wall, shattering the blade and bending the handle.

Fostuf tapped Gav in the stomach with the toe of his boot, 'Arise, big man, time to go.'

Gav grumbled something about his bones, his missing tooth adding a hiss to his voice, but he rose all the same. The cut in his side had widened from the impact or from the bolt monster's claws, it didn't matter which. Gav hooked his maces to his belt and limped toward the door, shielding his eyes from the inferno in the corner of the room. The wood monster had ceased to writhe and the flame would last for hours, if not longer.

'Hurry!' Fostuf ran for the door and sprinted up the hallway. Taliesin and Gav behind him.

A howl halted the trio at the well-worn steps leading up and out of the dungeon. 'Don't stop,' Taliesin pleaded. 'The flame's nearly out.'

'Aye,' Gav wheezed. He leant against the wall, blood dripping from his head and gut, the man was pale and clammy.

If the beast was ahead... Fostuf couldn't consider it and leapt up the steps two at a time. The howl called again, nearer than before. Fostuf climbed faster and faster until the dim light of evening reached out to him from the courtyard above. He burst out into the shade of the three oaks, clutching the plain, clay goblet. The beast howled again. 'Make haste!' Fostuf yelled behind him before sprinting for the portcullis. There was a flicker of movement to his left. The other bolt monster screeched and charged for him. Fostuf dove for the opening in the gate.

'Gav, look out!' Taliesin shouted as he tossed the remnant of his torch at the wooden monster loping across the courtyard on all fours. Gav grunted and reached for a mace. The torch landed in the dirt, snuffed out by the wind, a thin ream of smoke rose and was scattered as the snarling iron headed creature galloped toward the two men. Taliesin dropped and slid towards the opening in the portcullis. Fostuf was already through and running into the valley forest.

The creature leapt for Gav, its maw of a hundred iron teeth opening wide. Gav clubbed the beast across the jaw with his mace, iron crashed against iron and his mace cracked. He wheezed as he ran, blood sluicing down his side. He dropped to his knees and crawled towards the opening in the iron bars. The beast, its head misshapen, roared and rushed at Gav.

'Quicker!' Taliesin called, ten yards away.

Gav huffed as he squeezed through the gap, a rusted iron bar caught on his belt. He tugged and tugged but he was stuck. 'Give us a hand!' he bellowed.

The beast snarled and leapt. It bit into Gav's boot, raking his legs with its claws. Gav screamed as he was dragged back.

Taliesin whined and ran back, he grabbed Gav's bloodied hand just as the man slipped out from beneath the bars and yanked. Gav grabbed an iron bar and pulled himself forward. The beast's bite sank into the leather and wood of his boot, missing his foot by a hair's breadth. Taliesin screamed, planted his foot on the gate, and pulled hard. Gav's boot slipped off his foot and he slid through the portcullis. The monster roared and harried the gate, throwing itself against the iron, but the rusted barrier held.

Taliesin helped Gav to his feet, 'Fostuf ran. I don't know where but we'll find him... we'll find him.' The pair stumbled away from Fort Morne, empty handed.

The bard strummed his lute, 'Fostuf escaped, with the goblet in hand, and was never seen again.' He bowed to the audience of the Hunter's Lodge, the tables nearest held in rapture while the women knitting by the fire had ceased to listen half his tale ago. A woman, deep in her cups, gazed up at him with doe eyes, 'What happened to Gav?'

'With regret I do not know, the man who told me the tale didn't know either.'

'You should make something up,' the woman leaned on the ball of her hand and hiccuped, the lingering scent of spiced mead on her breath. Her eyes closed as she swayed on her elbow. 'I fancy another drink and I'll buy you one too for the song,' she hiccuped again.

'My goblet is full but I will take a copper in my hat,' he threw down his feather cap and watched as a handful of patrons tossed a few copper his way. The bard reached for his clay goblet and finished the mouthful that was left, rich and claggy. He set it down and wine rose from the bottom to fill it once again, the bard hoped it was not the honey thick wine of his memories. He set to tuning his lute and heard the tinkle of copper landing in his hat, 'Many thanks.' He looked up to find a slim man, stern and serious, and a large one, with a nose smashed flat and a scar across his bald pate, save for a few stray hairs.

'Fostuf, we would like to have a word after all these years,' Taliesin said.

Gav snatched the lute out of the bard's hands and shoved him into a chair. 'Aye, I believe we're owed a little coin and I'd like a drink from that goblet.'

---

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