Duty: a novel of Rhynan (8 page)

As I searched his face, questions flooded my mind.
Had he seen something I missed? Did he suspect something? Surely
Rolendis’ flirtation hadn’t disturbed him as it had me.

By the time he released my head, Rolendis had
disappeared. Horacian ushered us forward with a sweep of his arm.
“My lord?”

Irvaine straightened his shoulders, smoothed his
cloak and tugged his metal breastplate into place. His emotional
armor settled about him with the movements. When he turned to face
his steward, all traces of the man disappeared beneath a neutral
facade. He offered me his arm.

“Do you wish for some of us to remain behind?” Antano
asked.

“Bring five.”

I rested my hand on Irvaine’s forearm, fingers light.
He caught them and pulled my arm through his. “Don’t believe
everything you hear,” he whispered.

Liveried guards opened the doors to the keep. We
followed Horacian up the stairs and through two sets of doors into
the great hall beyond.

The hall rose to twice the height and thrice the
length of our lord’s hall in Wisenvale. Three heavy iron torch
rings hung from the ceiling, suspended there by thick ropes. Unlit,
they menaced over us like dark guardians, their clawed undersides
splayed for the kill.

“Tomas the mongrel!” A male voice, grating in its
false jocularity, pulled my attention to the dais on the far end of
the hall.

A broad-chested man with beefy arms straining his
velvet sleeves sneered at Irvaine from the head table. If hatred
could murder, my husband would have breathed his last then and
there. Two men sat with the speaker at the head table. They rose
almost as one to greet us. The scrape of wood on stone echoed with
our footfalls in the empty room.

Irvaine’s steps never faltered. Invisible to our
audience, though, the muscles of his arm coiled as he tightened his
fisted fingers. He stopped abruptly at the base of the stairs to
the dais and returned the man’s glare.

“I see you have grown older but not wiser,
Jorndar.”

Jorndar spat in the rushes. His brief mirthless grin
transformed into a scowl as he focused on Irvaine’s unchanged
expression. “Your lofty height reveals your soiled linen in all its
glory.”

“Be still, Jorndar.” A bear-sized man with wild hair
black enough to absorb light laid a massive hand on the first man’s
shoulder. “He is your liege lord now. Best not begin on the wrong
footing.”

Jorndar laughed without humor. “What will he do? Go
whining to King Mendal that his knights are misbehaving.”

“One of his knights.” The third man stepped around
the end of the table. His hair flared red in the sunlight streaming
from the high windows lining the walls. “I do not share your
opinion. I doubt Landry does.”

Irvaine’s arm relaxed slightly at the redhead’s
voice. Not even a flicker of recognition leaked into his
expression, though.

“What, Rathenridge, afraid to tarnish your family
name?” Jorndar turned on the red head. “Or is it too late? That
rough wench on Tomas’ arm looks like she hasn’t fallen far from
your family tree.”

Antano stepped brazenly between Irvaine and the
knights. He cleared his throat and began reading from the sheet of
parchment in his hands. “In recognition of exceptional loyalty and
sacrifice in the service of the crown of Rhynan, Tomas Nirren
Dyrease is awarded the title, properties, and fealty rights of
Kolbent Briaren, late Earl of Irvaine. By His Royal Majesty Alfren
Riond Mendal’s decree all knights who refuse to honor the
assumption of his choice to the title shall be deemed treasonous
and subject to the full extent of the laws of the land.”

Jorndar snorted. “Swear fealty to a baseborn, never.”
He proceeded to describe Irvaine’s mother in terms that burned my
ears. My stomach turned at the images.

One moment Irvaine’s arm looped mine. The next,
Jorndar stopped speaking mid word. Irvaine’s sword tip rested
against his throat. They locked gazes along the length of
metal.

“Leave.” The clipped tone of the single word echoed
in the sudden silence.

Jorndar’s fingers sought the hilt of his sword.

The bear man, Landry, caught Jorndar’s elbow. “I
might not have spoken the loyalty oath, but that will not slow my
sword arm should you draw that blade.”

“Nor mine.” Rathenridge hooked a thumb on the belt
next to his own weapon. “You are no longer welcome here.”

Jorndar released his grip on his blade. Otherwise, he
made no sign of acquiescence.

Irvaine lowered his arm, but not his glare.

The silence pressed in as everyone waited for one of
the men to move. The changing colors of Jorndar’s face starkly
contrasted the cold stone of Irvaine’s.

“This isn’t over, Dyrease.” Jorndar spat toward
Irvaine’s boot. “You are fools to follow him.” He shoved Irvaine’s
shoulder as he strode past.

We all listened for the heavy thud of the outer
door.

“Antano?” Irvaine’s even tones broke the
awkwardness.

“My lord?”

“See that he and his cohort are escorted from my
land.”

Acknowledging the order with a salute, Antano handed
the parchment to the steward and quick-stepped after Jorndar.

“I take it you are acquainted with Jorndar,” Landry
commented. He studied Irvaine’s face with mild amusement.

“A childhood playmate,” Irvaine replied, his eyes
still on the distant door.

Landry roared with laughter. “I doubt anyone called
him playmate then. Tormentor, bully, or oppressor would be more
believable.”

“He was all of those and more.” Rathenridge laid a
hand on Irvaine’s shoulder. “Why does he worry you so, Tomas? He is
only a man, and one of little status or consequence now that you
have a title.”

“How many men does he command?”

“One hundred fifty, hardly an army. Why do you
ask?”

Irvaine sheathed his sword. “Because we are at war.
Any inconvenience, no matter how small could be enough to decide
the result.” He fell into the closest seat.

“War?” Rathenridge met Landry’s gaze.

Horacian’s gasp pulled my attention to him. “We just
accomplished peace.”

Irvaine explained without lifting his head. “A baron
from the west took Wisenvale two days ago.”

“What were you doing there?” Rathenridge asked.

Irvaine shot him a weary frown. “Claiming my bride
and establishing a resident army to prevent just such an
action.”

“Wife?” Rathenridge’s attention transferred to me.
“My condolences, Lady Irvaine. King’s orders?”

His strange mixture of humor and seriousness upset my
equilibrium. “So he told me.” My voice sounded strange in the huge
room.

“I would believe him, my lady. Marriage is one topic
Tomas takes very seriously.”

I peered into his face struggling to ascertain what
he meant. So far, my husband took most things with a large measure
of gravity.

“If King Mendal ordered you to establish an army
presence in Wisenvale, why are you here?” Landry asked.

“Supplies.” Irvaine sighed.

“My cousin has been draining the village dry for
years,” I explained. I didn’t like the way Landry had looked at
Irvaine. It was as though he thought the worst of him. I reminded
myself that Landry didn’t know him as I did.

“My wife speaks the truth.” Irvaine briefly outlined
the situation. “I left behind half the men to defend Wisenvale and
prepare the village for the winter. Which reminds me…Horacian?”

The steward stepped to my side and offered a bow.

“I need the account books, harvest records, and the
latest census logs.”

Horacian’s face drained of color. I was tempted to
lay a hand on his arm to steady him.

“My lord, I did not expect you to ask for them so
soon…. I mean, we didn’t–”

Irvaine’s gaze narrowed on his steward. “In whatever
state they may be, I need the records.”

The steward took a shaky breath, wavering slightly
with the effort. For an apparently healthy man, he appeared
suddenly ill. “I cannot, my lord.”

The air thickened. Irvaine stood and stepped down off
the dais. After crossing the short distance separating him and us,
he asked, “Why?”

The single word, uttered calmly, wrought a singular
effect. Horacian sank to his knees. “Sir Jorndar took them. He
claimed them as his right as the late Lord Irvaine’s heir apparent.
He showed me King Trentham’s decree. It had his seal. He said
Mendal would honor it because of the child. I believed him or I
would have never–”

“Aiden?” Irvaine turned to Rathenridge who was
already trotting toward the back of the room.

“Enroute.” He called over his shoulder as he forced
the heavy outer door open and disappeared into the sunlight
beyond.

Irvaine looked down at the man before him and asked
the question burning my tongue. “What child?”

“Rolendis is with child.”

My hands grew cold. Another innocent life had been
thrown into the mess. I wanted to cry.

“Is the child her husband’s?”

Horacian’s head snapped up, fire flaring in his eyes.
“Are you accusing my daughter of unfaithfulness, my lord?”

“No, I am asking the question that every man, woman,
and child will ask for the rest of the child’s life unless we can
prove beyond doubt that the child is legitimate. Have no fear. I
mean her and the babe no harm. I simply must know. The answer
determines how we proceed.”

Wary trust flickered in the steward’s features. He
swallowed carefully. “Four months past, Lord…my late master sent
for Rolendis. She traveled to join him at the battlefront and
returned a month later.”

Relief lightened the lines around Irvaine’s mouth.
“Good. Then it is his.” He met my gaze briefly before moving toward
the dais and the waiting Landry.

“My lord?” Horacian scrambled to his feet. “What will
happen to my daughter?”

Irvaine looked at me, a question in his eyes. I
answered it.

“We will make sure she and the child are cared for
and protected.”

Horacian relaxed into relief. “Thank you, my
lady.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Horacian led Irvaine, Lord Landry, and me to a barren
room. A massive table hunkered beneath the single window. Stacks of
books, parchment, ink, and candle nubs crowded the surface as
though the master only stepped away for a second. A chair, the only
one in the room, stood against the wall opposite the door.

“My lady, let me.” Horacian dusted off the chair.
After bowing me into it, he bowed to Irvaine. “The late Lord
Irvaine used this room for conducting business, but we haven’t used
it recently. Do you wish for refreshment, my lord?”

“Yes.” He raised his brows to Landry.

“Not for me, my lord.”

“Repast for two then.”

Horacian bowed once again before leaving us alone.
Landry moved to the corner opposite the door and leaned back
against the stone.

Irvaine paced the length of the room, seven strides,
and then the breadth, four. Returning to the center, he faced
Landry. “How would you recommend we proceed?”

“I say we wait for the King’s response.” Landry
crossed his arms as though to indicate the strength of his
stance.

“We can’t,” I said.

Irvaine leaned back against the heavy table. Arms
folded across his chest and shoulders hunched, he studied the floor
as though it would reveal the solution to the quandary before
us.

Landry’s gaze flicked between us. “Why?

“One of the captives is my best friend.” I met
Landry’s piercing gaze with more strength than I felt. “Lord Wisten
has taken a special interest in her before. I fear for her life
and…” A sudden lump pressed against the back of my throat. I choked
on the words.

Irvaine straightened. “The king commissioned me to
marry, settle in Wisenvale, and see that the eastern border was
defended. Those women and children in the invader’s grasp are the
wives and families of my men. I intend to move against this invader
the instant it is feasible.” He crossed to confront Landry. “Can I
count on your men?”

“All four hundred of my men are yours. Only
seventy-five of them attend me now, but I can summon the rest in a
matter of days.”

“How many days?”

“Three at the most.”

Irvaine frowned. “Did you notice how many Rathenridge
brought with him?”

Landry grunted. “I counted eighty plus his wife and
two companions. I would expect him to send her home upon his
departure. She prefers her own hearth. Also, they left three young
children behind.”

Irvaine laughed. “Rathenridge has children?”

“Indeed, three daughters.”

“That must be a sight to see.” Irvaine shook away the
thought. “How many does he command?”

“About five hundred last I knew.”

“With my three hundred, we will have twelve hundred.
What about Avenhege? He should be on the road here as we speak,
answering the call to pay honor to my arrival, right?”

“Only if he answered Jorndar’s summons. Avenhege’s
holdings can only be reached in three days if one rides hard.”

Irvaine’s head snapped up. “Jorndar summoned
you?”

“Four days ago a messenger reached my gates demanding
I appear at Kyrenton Vargar to do my duty to my liege lord. I
learned after I arrived that Jorndar sent messengers to each of us.
He was attempting to claim right of inheritance based on Rolendis’
widow’s rights.”

“She has no rights. Mendal removed the title from the
line and heirs of Kolbent Briaren in light of his loyalties.”

“Jorndar didn’t count on Rathenridge knowing you
personally or your arrival so soon after your marriage. I believe
he hoped you would linger in your new wife’s arms longer before
venturing to claim more.”

Irvaine looked over at me. His expression lightened
slightly. “As diverting as my wife is, she expects to be fed. Lord
Wisten handed over a starving village as a show of loyalty.”