Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter 4

W
hy isn’t he dead, Selmac?” Bishop Lyfair was unhappy about the fact King Aaron still lived. “You told me he would die last week, you told me the same thing the week before, and yet that old fool still lives.” The Bishop’s brows lowered. He was not a tall man, but his looks of displeasure could be imposing. “If he starts to suspect what’s happening things could go very wrong. You know what that would mean for us, Finn?”

The healer ran his hand through his thin graying hair. The royal surgeon was spindly and frail-looking, his face reminded the Bishop of a starving rat.

“I don’t understand it, Your Eminence. The lung sickness should have killed him some time ago. I have done everything I can think of to hasten it, but still he hangs on. I don’t know what else I can do short of poisoning him.”

The Bishop rose from his great oak desk, a gift from the King years ago for his outstanding service to the crown. How things had changed over the years. Once he was the King’s confessor and most trusted advisor, now he was trying to orchestrate the old man’s death.

Bishop Lyfair began to slowly pace back and forth stroking his close-cropped goatee. It, as well as his hair, had both gone grey in the last ten years. It was the stress of trying to keep the declining Kingdom afloat. He turned back to the royal surgeon and held his arms up exasperated.

“You know the rest of the council will be here soon, what am I to tell them? The royal healer is at a loss on what to do? He can’t even see to it that one sick old man dies. Cain has returned home, Finn, we can’t dally now. They will all want this over so we can get on with the succession and restore the Kingdom.” The Bishop knew the Lords of Bandara that were mixed up in this nefarious scheme were already impatient. The King was supposed to be dead before Cain returned from Asqutania. Selmac had failed to see to that now, he would be pressured to make it happen. The intrigue in Turill was beginning to exceed his skills as an agent provocateur.

“Tell me, Selmac, do you understand what is at stake here? Not only the well-being of this Kingdom, but our very lives could be in danger, there are powerful men embroiled in this. They have risked a great deal on the consummation of their plan, and if it fails who do you think they will blame?” Lyfair rubbed his eyes, he hated to be stressed. “I’m a man of God, do you think I would involve myself in this most unsavory of affairs if the very realm did not hang in the balance?”

“It’s the Princess, Your Eminence,” Selmac said almost whining. “She is the one that is keeping him alive. She gives him reason to live, and she is always interfering with my medical orders causing the King to hang on a little longer. You saw her yourself this morning taking him food.”

The Bishop clasped his hands behind his back and walked over to the healer and screamed, “Then do something to stop her!” Lyfair took a deep breath and lowered his voice, realizing he didn’t want to be overheard by one of the young priests outside his office. “Finn, the fate of this Kingdom is resting on your shoulders. For us to move on and rebuild this nation, the King must die and Prince Cain must take the throne; there can be no other way. King Aaron has forced our hand, we must bring solidarity back to Bandara. Our country must be allowed to thrive again.”

The healer nodded his head as a knock came on the door to the Bishop’s private office. A priest stuck his head in the door. “They have arrived, Your Eminence.”

The Bishop cupped his hand to his ear as if he was intently listening to the priest. “Then see them in, Father.” Whirling around, Lyfair faced the nervous surgeon the hem of his black robe spinning tightly around his feet. “You hear that? Some of the most powerful nobles in the land have arrived. What should I tell them, Finn?” The healer shrugged and he put his head down.

The Bishop realized he had taken out his irritation and his own apprehension on the pitiful healer. “Just sit there and keep quiet, and try to act like you know what you’re doing. I will try and placate them as best I can and buy us a little more time if possible.” The royal surgeon sadly nodded his agreement.

Through the door came three men. The first was the Lord of all Eastern Bandara, Galen Bradford. Bradford was tall and thin. He wore very light chainmail under a green woolen tunic with three rampant griffins in red. The Bradford Family was one of the older families in Bandara. The men of the family had two choices when they came of age: join the priesthood or become a knight. Galen had chosen the latter.

The second man was one of the biggest landowners in Bandara, Lord Stuart Kaspar. His family was rich, even by the nobility’s standards; they owned vast tracts of land given to them by the crown during the reign of the Phoenix Queen. He had the largest number of serfs in the Kingdom; their farmlands fed the realm. He was short and very heavy. His face was covered by a full beard. Even though it was warm in the palace, he was dressed in ermine from head to toe.

The third was Lord of all Northern Bandara, Tobias Fox. Fox was a short man with blondish red hair and a well-groomed beard. He wore a simple leather gambeson. He came from a long line of fighting men, but the family was not a noble one in the beginning. Near the end of the Phoenix Queen reign, his family had been granted their nobility because of their skill at arms.

The Bishop greeted each Lord in turn. “my lords, let us get down to business.” If this had been a normal meeting of the council, Lyfair would have said a prayer before it started, but considering the circumstances he thought it inappropriate.

The young priest brought chairs in so everyone could sit down. “That will be all, Father Bindel.” The young priest nodded to the Bishop and closed the door to the room. Three of the most powerful men in the country sat before Bishop Lyfair. They were expecting him to tell them that the King was dead and things were moving forward, instead he had to explain why the old man was still alive and Prince Cain was not about to be coronated.

“Gentlemen, I’m glad you could come.”

Lord Bradford cut him off, “Forget the pleasantries, Lyfair; I heard the King was still alive and doing a little better I might add. Perhaps you can make us understand why we are still waiting to hear of his demise?”

They were not even using his title any more or even “Your Eminence,” they were addressing him like he was any other man. Why should he expect them to show any respect for his office? Regicide was not listed as a virtue in the Holy Tome.

“Yes, I agree with Bradford,” Lord Kaspar said. “I was told this business would be over in a very short time, I was told the King had one foot in the grave and the good healer was kicking the other out from under him.” Kaspar wiped the sweat from his fat face and when on. “I have made certain promises to members of our community, and they won’t be put off much longer. I mean really how long does it take for an old man to die?”

Lyfair raised his hands. “my lords, I have been assured by Lord Selmac that the King has just a matter of days to live. Sometimes people show a false improvement right before the end. I’m correct about that aren’t I, Lord Selmac?”

The healer bowed his head in agreement. “After King Aaron’s death and the new King is crowned, Bandara can once again prosper and we will all have what we want. I urge you all to have just a little more patience.”

Lord Bradford scoffed. “We have been very patience and given you more than enough time to conclude your end of the arrangement; I’m beginning to lose faith in you, Lyfair.”

The Bishop could feel his contempt for the Lords rising in his chest, but he held his temper. “I assure you, my lord, that the trust that was placed in me will be validated.”

The Lord of the East pursed his lips. “We will find that out very soon now, won’t we?” Bishop Lyfair nodded and leaned back in his chair.

Lord Bradford began speaking about how Bandara was failing as a country and how the polices of the King were ruining the nobility and if something wasn’t done soon it would be too late, and of course how if his lands were increased by the new King, he would show the other Lords how to make the best use of their assets and how he would put the peasantry back in its place. Bradford was well known to love the sound of his own voice.

Lyfair had heard it all before, in fact he had heard it over and over. They would all go on about what needed to be done and how they would do it for about an hour, and then they would return to their homes and it would be left to him to see to the details. These Lords were typical of the Bandaran nobility. They wanted results without putting any efforts forward themselves. The Bishop knew it was best just to let them finish without interruption, he would nod his head at the appropriate times and feign his agreement, that way the meeting would be over sooner. As he halfheartedly listened to the long-winded Lords, he began to apprise each one. He felt it was a better use of his time.

He found he disliked every man in the room. Bradford was a greedy pig that thought much too much of himself. He had been told Bradford had drowned his older brother when he was younger to become heir to his father’s title and lands.

Kaspar was a gambler and a poor one by all accounts, losing huge amounts of his family’s wealth to the gambling houses of Turill. The Bishop’s spies told him that despite his noble birth Kaspar spent a great deal of his time with the more shadowy figures of the harbor district. Many people said he would sell his mother for a handful of coppers, and it was well known that Lord Kaspar liked to take small boys to his bed, a vile man indeed.

Then there was Lord Fox. The Bishop was not sure what to make of him, he said very little and listened a great deal. He came from a very honorable family, his older brother was once the Commander of the entire Bandaran Army and a very good one by all accounts. His people had found Lord Fox to be without vices or dark secrets. He was perhaps the smartest of what would be the new King’s council and that made him the most dangerous. The Bishop had his spies watching Lord Fox as well as the other Lords every move. He wanted no surprises from any of the overly ambitious Bandaran Lords.

As for the royal surgeon, Selmac was a simpleton at best. He would do whatever Bishop Lyfair told him to do.

These were the men he had to work with to achieve what he wanted, what had to be. It was no wonder the Kingdom was in such a state with noblemen like these, but they were also easily controlled by greed and their arrogance. That’s why they had been chosen to aid in this skullduggery.

He let them ramble on for a while. Most of what they had to say was unimportant. How they were going to change the Kingdom after Cain was crowned was what most of their discussion centered around and what their gains would be. He nodded and smiled assured each one that everything would go as planned. Then he saw the worthless dullards out. It was he and the Church that would come out ahead when the dust settled. Cain would bring new life to Bandara, and he could be guided to make the right decisions. With a powerful ruler and a strong Kingdom behind him, Lyfair could advance his own agenda. Perhaps even gain an appointment to the Church in Asqutania, from there who knew? He could one day even be Pope.

Bishop Lyfair was tired and it was getting late. The meeting earlier in the day with Lords of Bandara had given him a terrible headache or was it his guilt? He had one more guest to see before he could sleep. The true architect of the macabre stratagem would want a full report and that would be more trying than the meeting he had earlier.

***

It was nearing midnight when his office door swung opened and a man walked in pulling off a pair of riding gloves. Lyfair could tell who it was by the swagger in his stride, even before the man pulled the hood of his cloak back.

“Lord Blackthorn.” The Bishop slightly bowed his head to the older man. William Blackthorn may have been older than Bishop Lyfair, but you could not tell it by his looks. The Lord was still trim and fit, he looked like a man twenty years his junior.

“Father Lyfair.” Blackthorn always addressed him as Father never Bishop or Your Eminence, and it infuriated Bishop Lyfair, but Blackthorn had enough money and power to get away with it and the old Lord was just a bully by nature. The nobleman neatly laid his cloak over a chair and put his gloves on top of it. He wore a grey gambeson with his family crest on it, a black gauntleted fist clutching a thorn vine.

“I heard the King is doing well?” The Bishop could see that Lord Blackthorn’s spy network was on top of things. He had gotten the information before he even arrived in Turill.

“No, my lord, that is just wishful thinking by those close to him. I assure you the King is still very ill, and he won’t last much longer.”