A Princess of the Chameln (32 page)

“These tales were very different, especially when one asked more questions, from any real attempt to set up a pretender to the throne. I think the councillors will agree that pretenders . . . and many have been seen in the lands of Hylor . . . are the tools of those who would come to power.”

“The False Markgraf Robard ruled in Lien for ten years,” said Lingrit Am Thuven. “In the service of the Denwicks who raised him up.”

“There was a False King of the Firn . . . Védor or Védoc,” said Aidris, “and a false Heir of the Zor, Princess Zenia, raised up so that a Count of Storr might marry her. But these are far in the past.”

“The present insurgence began in the south,” said Nenad Am Charn, “and centered upon the ancient town of Dechar, not far from Winnstrand. It has a large community of the Moon Sisters, the largest in the Chameln lands . . .”

“Why, I have visited that place,” said Aidris. “I think the general will remember. I went there with my father and mother long ago, on the way to a holiday by the Danmar.”

“By the Goddess, of course!” said Jana Am Wetzerik. “What a blessed time that was. We came by the Dechar citadel and were entertained by the Moon Sisters.”

“I am not sure what that means in the context of this present strange tale,” said Nenad Am Charn. “The sisters are well beloved and peaceful. The Mel'Nir landlords around Dechar have shown themselves at their worst . . . even Werris fell out with them over their greed and their cruel treatment of the tenant farmers.

“The Moon Sisters helped the poor and tried to mediate between the men of Mel'Nir and the folk. There was some dispute over a levy of grain from the remaining lands of the citadel. The sisters refused to pay and refused to allow the soldiers of Mel'Nir to enter their sacred halls. When at last they forced their way in, the folk rose against them.

“The sisters not only resisted Mel'Nir, they brought out of hiding a young woman and raised her up as Aidris, Heir of the Firn. The countryside was alight with loyal feeling for miles around; the landlords were set upon, many lost their lives as well as their ill-gotten holdings.”

“It is strange to hear of this pretender,” said Aidris. “Who could she be, this queen? Who has taught her to do this? The Moon Sisters are good women and known for sound sense rather than flights of fancy. Does anyone know what this false Aidris looks like?”

“I have seen her,” said Zabrandor. “I was living hidden away at a manor not far from Dechar, a long way from my own lands, which had been gathered by Mel'Nir. For a time, forgive me, my queen, I believed it might be yourself. Then for a little longer I rallied all the people in the name of this imposter.

“I met the false Aidris in the citadel at Dechar about two moons past. Of course I knew the moment I came into her presence that she was a pretender. She is slender and dark-haired. Her face is pale, with eyes of a hazel green, a pretty and pleasing face. But she is ill-made or injured, her left side twisted. This is supposed to be a mark of her royal identity, the wound made by an arrow in the wood near Musna. Her manner is sweet and childish at times; she speaks well, with a Lienish accent. Sometimes she becomes very haughty and wayward, as if she believes this is how a queen must be.

“Dan Aidris, I was the only person far and wide who knew the true queen, yourself, and took this creature aside and spoke with her very sharply. I came away almost convinced of her innocence. I would say that she is some kind of foundling, that she has lost all memory of her true parentage if she ever knew it, and that the Moon Sisters or some others have taught her that she is the queen. I could not penetrate her disguise or learn of any power that might have raised her up.”

Aidris could not repress a shudder.

“I hope our paths do not cross,” she said. “I would not know what to do with her.”

“There is more to tell,” said Nenad Am Charn. “When Dechar was fully in the hands of the Chameln, it had to withstand an attack from the warriors of Mel'Nir. A young man on horseback with a few attendants entered the city and gave it out that he was Sharn Am Zor. The folk accepted him; the newcomer busied himself with the defences of the place, and Dechar held firm. The false Sharn met with the false Aidris before the citadel; they recognised each other at once. The rule of the Daindru was proclaimed in Dechar.”

“Lord Zabrandor?” said Aidris.

The old lord sighed and ran clawing fingers through his beard.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes . . . I have seen him. I was not at all ready to believe. I knew very well that King Sharn was in Lien. But this fellow, at a distance anyway, played his part very well. Too well. The young king was never much of a horseman. The pretender did more than act the king . . . he defended the city. But he is an impudent imposter, nothing more nor less. Once again I had the notion that he came from Lien. He wore fine Lienish clothes. He was by no means as handsome as Sharn Am Zor, but after seven years, with a child growing into a man, he could have deceived many people.

“He tried his best not to meet me face to face. He knew well, as the poor false queen did not, that I would know him for a pretender. I found myself sorely tested. I left the city, and since the countryside had risen, I was able to gather about me certain other lords and ladies come out of hiding or retirement. We proclaimed the Daindru far and wide.

“Then at last, and to our great joy, the true king landed at Winnstrand. With our help he was recognised at once; he led our army. Old Gilyan marches with the king, Lady, and Count Barr and the Countess Caddah. We skirmished with the Melniros on the shores of the Danmar. King Sharn, jealous of his right, sent a troop of kedran back into Dechar, seized both the pretenders out of the citadel and held them prisoner. Only then, with those two outside the walls, would he consent to enter the city. Since then we have marched many leagues beyond Dechar, gathering strength, but we are still not prepared to strike at Achamar.”

“You have done bravely,” said Aidris. “I cannot see that the pretenders threaten our rights any longer.”

“My Queen,” said Bajan, “your rights must be proclaimed in the same way. There are landholders in the hills between Zerrah and Achamar who have lived quietly in accord with Mel'Nir. They will not risk their forces except for a true queen and a certainty of victory.”

“You have not spoken of the greatest pretender of all,” said Aidris. “How does Lord Werris? What of his marriage plans?”

“He has not married the Lady Micha Am Firn,” said Nenad, “but she has been brought to Achamar. Werris denies the right of princes and pretenders alike. He is fighting for his life. He goes about in fear of assassins.”

“We will send none,” said Aidris, “yet he may not escape.”

She rose up from the table.

“We must ride out of Athron boldly and without secrecy,” she said. “I will be seen far and wide, and it will be known that I am the queen. I will make myself known to the princes in Varda, my cousins. I will write at once to my uncle the Markgraf Kelen asking that he help my right to prevail. I will go further . . . I will send letters proclaiming the Daindru to the so-called Great King of Mel'Nir and to his son, Prince Gol. I will ask them to abandon Lord Werris.”

“This might all be done,” said Lingrit, “but it is difficult to get a message to the rulers of Mel'Nir.”

“The healer at the court of Mel'Nir is called Hagnild,” said Aidris. “I believe he would deliver my letter.”

“This is all bravely said,” put in Jana Am Wetzerik, “but the queen must be closely guarded. We would not lose her now that she has been found again.”

“Dear General,” said Aidris, “I have been invisible too long. All men must know that the queen has come again.”

Then Zabrandor uttered a rumbling cheer, and the councillors saluted her and drank her health. The steward of Kerrick Hall looked in at the fierce Chameln folk and bade them timidly to come and dine with the lord and lady of the house.

Towards the end of the long dinner, there was a noise of singing and drumming in the north court. The captain Megan Brock came into the room where they were dining; Jana Am Wetzerik stood up to take her salute.

“It is the kedran, my lord,” said Captain Brock, in answer to Lord Huw's question. “They are making a drum parade for the queen. If she would be so gracious as to step out on the balcony . . .”

Aidris crossed the long gallery with the two tall kedran women behind her and stood on the balcony beside the blue fir trees. Down below all the kedran drummed and shouted and waved torches. She felt foolish tears sting her eyes as she waved to the upturned faces.

“Well, Brock, my dear old comrade,” said Jana Am Wetzerik, “this is a far cry from the Chyrian lands. What have you to report of this recruit that came to you?”

“I am loath to let her go,” said Megan Brock. “Where else will I find an ensign who writes in two scripts and has the Old Speech? And she rides well, I will allow.”

“What veterans have you?” murmured the general, as the kedran waved still and began to march off, cheering for the Queen of the Chameln.

“Enough,” said Megan Brock. “Some of the younger ones would be keen to see action. There are kerns who could be mounted . . .”

As they went in, Aidris said to the captain, “My room in the barracks must be cleared, Captain. I would have my comrade Ortwen Cash bring all the things to me in the morning.”

The captain saluted. In the brightly lit dining chamber, at the head of the table, with Bajan on her left hand and the Lady Aumerl on her right, she remembered suddenly her dream of the forest. The darkness, the movement through the woods on horseback, the melody the captain had sung.

“The Winter Queen and the King of Summer

Will cast them down.

The men of Mel'Nir are tall as trees.

They will lie dead on the plain.”

The wine in her goblet was red as blood. She had as little stomach for the rest of the dinner as she had for a battlefield.

“You are tired,” said Bajan.

“No!”

“The queen may not be tired,” said Lady Aumerl, smiling, “but Ensign Venn has had a long day. Let Count Bajan escort you to your chamber.”

So another toast was drunk, and Bajan led her down the table to bid good-night. She came to Lord Huw at the table's end; the Lord of Kerrick looked hale enough, but he was still lame, with a basket frame to support his leg.

“Forgive me,” said Aidris, “for entering your service under a false name and for leaving it so suddenly.”

“Majesty,” said Lord Huw, “I do not know when Kerrick has been more honored.”

He smiled at her with a perfect understanding, as if he knew the long way she had come and the long way still to travel. On an impulse she stepped forward and gave the Lord of Kerrick a kiss upon his cheek.

“I will pray that your leg heals perfectly,” she said.

She sat with Bajan at the fireside in the guest chamber, the same where Prince Ross had been lodged. Yvand and Millis moved about in the shadows. The room was high and shadowy, with fine hangings . . . almost, almost they might have been in the Palace of the Firn at Achamar. It needed a smell of fir and dried rose petals, the rose petals sent from Lien for Queen Hedris to scent her linen. She drew out the scrying stone from her new tunic.

“Has your mother's gift been a comfort in exile?” he asked.

“More than that,” she said. “It has helped me to work magic.”

“The tribal Shamans by Vigrund are beating their drums night and day,” said Bajan. “If it were only magic we needed!”

“Let us see if the stone has any message.”

For the first time in ten years she let another person look into the stone. She remembered the wood where she had crouched with Sharn Am Zor, in peril for their lives. Bajan gasped.

“I see . . .”

“What? Tell me!”

“A crown, two crowns linked, lying upon a green cloth, and near them a bunch of oak leaves.”

“The Daindru has come again,” she said. “Do you see anything else?”

“Now the picture is different,” he said. “A silver coronet and an eagle's feather.”

“For you,” she said. “Your crown and the eagle feather for the crest of the Nureshen.”

“What place is that we see?” he asked.

“I call it the world of the stone,” she said. “There is a being there, a Lady, who watches over me. She is my witch-mother or my wish-mother as they would say in Athron.”

She looked into the stone herself and saw only a bunch of nettles.

“We must take care,” she said. “There will be danger.”

Bajan smiled with his head on one side as if to say that they did not need a scrying stone to tell them that.

“I must do all,” she said. “I will speak further with Lingrit, prepare the letters . . .”

“Hush,” he said. “Rest now. We have a lifetime. This is only the first day.”

She slept late in the huge soft canopied bed and woke with Yvand holding a milk posset, the first in seven years.

“There is a big Athron wench waiting, my Queen,” she said. “She has a pass from the kedran captain.”

“Let her come in,” said Aidris.

Yvand showed her disapproval. Aidris set the half-finished milk posset back on the tray and said, “Ortwen Cash is my comrade. She may come to me whenever she will. And I have lost the taste for milk posset. I will drink rosehip tea in the mornings.”

Yvand went off, and presently Ortwen came peering round the door of the bedchamber. She carried the fur cloak and a small bundle of Ensign Venn's possessions. Ortwen looked shy and sad. Aidris was ashamed of her long masquerade. How was it when a close friend was proved to be of high estate? Sabeth could become a countess in the twinkling of an eye, but Ortwen had to endure the teasing of the stableyard.

“I am still the same,” she said.

Ortwen laid her burdens aside and perched on the edge of the bed where Aidris patted the quilt.