The Godspeaker Trilogy (106 page)

“Please … you must not refer to His Eminence in that fashion!” Ven’Artemis protested. “I have come here to implore you, Highness, to reconsider your rash actions. There is yet hope of reconciliation. I would be pleased to act as arbiter. I’m sure if you did but throw yourself upon the mercy of the Court Ecclesiastica then—”

“ Mercy from a group of old men who’d punish the innocent because Marlan tells them not to recognise my lawful accession?” She stood. “That’s not mercy, Ven’Artemis, that’s arrogant caprice. I will never bow my head before your Court Ecclesiastica. Those old men have no authority over me .”

Ven’Artemis sighed. “You will do as you must, Your Highness … as will I. Where can I find Chaplain Helfred?”

Helfred? “Why?”

“I am charged to take him into my custody.”

“Your custody ?”

“Helfred is judged by the Court Ecclesiastica which you must agree has authority over him . He is declared anathema and must surrender to the venerable house and thence the prolate.”

Anathema? Oh, that Marlan … his own nephew . . . Rhian glanced at Alasdair, then the dukes. In their faces she saw dismay and support. She looked again at Ven’Artemis. “Helfred is my chaplain. He remains with me. It is distressing enough that Marlan has seized a good man like Henrik Linfoi. I’ll not willingly give him another, for God alone knows what abuse he has in mind.”

“It would be in your best interests to leave now, Most Venerable,” said Alasdair. “With no ill will on either side. You’ve always been a champion of Linfoi’s people. Continue as their champion. These troubled times will pass.”

After the most venerable’s defeated departure, Rhian excused Alasdair, Edward and Rudi and offered Ludo what comfort she could.

It wasn’t much.

“I must ride to Kingseat with you and Alasdair, Rhian,” he said. His eyes were dry, but horribly bleak. “I have to rescue my father. He’s an old man. He’s not well. The shock of this—it could—” He closed his lips, tight.

She’d given him leave to use her name in private. “Ludo, I understand—and I share your distress. But I can’t believe Marlan will raise a hand against Henrik, the nobility won’t tolerate it. He’d lose his moral authority in a heartbeat. He’s done this to frighten us. Frighten me . Nothing will happen to your father. He’s too valuable alive.”

Ludo paced the library. “You can’t be certain of that.”

“No, but it’s likely,” she said. “Ludo, I know this is awful. But you’re Linfoi’s duke. Your place is here.”

“My place is with my father!” He turned. “Alasdair understands that. If you refuse me then—”

“It’s not Alasdair’s decision.” Her heart was racing as though she danced her hotas . “You’re staying behind.”

The look on Ludo’s face was worse than a mortal wound.

He hardly spoke to her again after that. Only when he had to, and with the fewest curt words. The hasty preparations for the royal progress continued. Every seamstress in the ducal village and from the outlying farmsteads had been pressed into service, making royal liveries and procession banners and pennants in the Havrell colours—peacock blue, royal purple and gold—with the Havrell device on each piece, subtly altered: still the traditional three-pointed gold crown, but now bordered with silver-white snowdrops, the flower of Linfoi, and a single blood-red rose, Rhian’s personal device. Dexterity and Ursa sewed alongside them. With nobody ill and Hettie stubbornly silent there was nothing else they could do to help. As for Helfred … kept in ignorance, he lived in the chapel and wore his knees out praying.

Word came for Rudi and Edward that their councillor kinsmen were taken with Henrik Linfoi and their duchies placed under the same interdict. Rudi’s son Adric arrived at the manor house and Rhian invested him Duke of Kingseat … but there was no celebration after. Who could laugh and smile when good men were taken hostage? When whole duchies and their people were denied the Living Flame?

Though her council was doubtful she wrote to every foreign ambassador.

“There’s no point pretending we’re not in some degree of chaos,” she’d told her dukes sharply. “They know what’s going on. And you can be sure Marlan’s whispering in their ears as fast as he can, lying until he’s blue in the face. They must hear from the rightful Queen of Ethrea. I can’t allow Marlan’s to be the only voice in this kingdom.”

“She’s right,” said Alasdair. “As king, I concur.”

So she wrote her careful letters, to be sent south to the capital with trusted couriers. Most particular were her words for the ambassadors of Harbisland, Arbenia and Tzhung-tzhungchai. Win the confidence of those countries and half her battle would be won.

She decided she’d ride home to Kingsear, not travel in a carriage. Since no horse in Alasdair’s stables pleased her sufficiently the duchy was hastily scoured for an animal she’d accept. A silver-grey stallion with a mane down to its knees appealed. She named it Invincible and gave Zandakar the black stallion she’d liked almost as much. Alasdair made no outward objection but his eyes were brooding. Zandakar, smiling, named the horse Didijik .

Despite the long meetings and the frantic preparations she made time to dance the hotas with him morning and afternoon, lingering a little while after each session to watch him with the ducal soldiers he’d chosen as her personal bodyguards. They were competent men already … but Zandakar, knowing time was short, schooled them without mercy in all the hours they had left.

“I know you hate to hear this but you must. He frightens me, Rhian,” Alasdair said in a low voice, walking back to the manor with her the afternoon before they departed. He’d come to watch her hotas in the worn and grass-trampled gardens, and stayed with her as the bodyguards returned to their relentless training. “He has skills I’ve never dreamed of.”

A familiar, unwelcome throbbing started up at her temples. “Skills we need, Alasdair. You can’t deny that.”

He couldn’t, but it was clear he wanted to. “I have to say, Rhian, you frighten me a little too. You look so fierce doing those hotas with your knife.”

She made herself smile at him. “You’ve seen me fence before. We used to fence each other back in Kingseat. Were you afraid then?”

“That was different,” he said, shaking his head. “It was fencing and it was … a game. You’re not playing now.” He touched the knife belted at her hip. “And that’s no button-tipped foil.”

He was right. Dear God, how much she hated that. “I know. But I don’t have a choice, Alasdair.”

A complication of pains darkened his eyes. “You could choose to let me defend you.”

She sighed. “No, I can’t. Alasdair—”

“I’m your husband, Rhian!” he said violently, taking her arms in a biting grip. “God help me, I’m your king . Have you no use for me now wedding me and briefly bedding me have put a crown on your head?”

“That’s not fair!” she hissed, pulling herself free. They were still a small distance from the manor and alone, for the moment. “That’s your wounded pride talking! Think, Alasdair. I’m Ethrea’s first queen. How can I ever hope to rule if it’s seen that my own husband doesn’t trust me! I must stand alone. I can’t be overshadowed by you!”

“But you can be overshadowed by Zandakar?”

She could easily pummel her fists against his broad, stubborn chest. “Zandakar doesn’t count! Why won’t you see that? Why do you insist on letting jealousy blind you?”

He looked away. “I’m not jealous. I’m worried. We’ve a long way to travel from Linfoi to Kingseat. We both know a lot can go wrong between here and there.”

“Which is why I need to know how to use this knife! I need to be more than a royal decoration. If I’m not more than a royal decoration I’ll never win this fight. Unless …” She looked at him, her eyes pricking. “Is that what you want? Would that make you happy?”

He released a harsh breath. “I don’t think you want to know what would make me happy, Rhian.”

Now he was wounding her, his words as cruel as any knife. She stepped back. “No more, Alasdair. I’m too tired. I know you’re unhappy. I know you’re disappointed in me. In what your life has become. You dreamed of a duchess not—not a warrior queen. I’m sorry. This isn’t what I wanted, either. And if you think it is then you never knew me.”

“That’s the trouble, Rhian,” he whispered. “I do know you. Better than you know yourself, though you’ll never admit that. I can see what this is costing you … and it’s killing me that you won’t let me help.”

“You want to help me, Alasdair?” She blinked hard, her throat tight. “Then stop nagging me about Zandakar. Don’t carry on because I must put myself first. You want to help me, husband? Then remember I’m your queen !”

She spun on her heel and walked away. Before she said something else, something worse. Before he did.

First Ludo angry with me, now Alasdair. And though the dukes aren’t angry I can tell they’re afraid. Of course they’re afraid, their families are in danger, their duchies are indicted. They’ve put their faith and their futures in the hands of an untried girl.

Dear God. Dear God. Don’t let this be a mistake …

The royal procession departed the following dawn.

Rhian, astride Invincible, still dressed like a boy but in fabrics more feminine, watched as Alasdair embraced his cousin.

“The duchy’s yours now, Ludo,” he said, his voice not quite controlled. “There’s no other man breathing I’d lief entrust it to. Be visible among the people. Let them know you’re here and that you care. Give them no cause to doubt you’ll fight their battles to the death.”

Ludo nodded. “I will. I swear it. But Alasdair—”

“Hush,” he said, and rested his hand against Ludo’s face. “This is right, and you know it. I’ll rescue your father. You have my word.”

“Your Majesty,” Ludo whispered. He turned. “Queen Rhian. God speed your journey south and may he keep you safe and see you on your throne where you belong. Duchy Linfoi is yours until the end of time.”

For a moment she wasn’t sure if she could trust herself to speak. Then she nodded. “Duke Ludo, the Crown holds you in the highest regard. What you give up will be returned to you tenfold. Do not fear for your father or the people whose lives are trusted to you. I will see them safe … or perish in the attempt.”

Somehow, Ludo managed to smile. Managed to release his burden of hurt anger. “Please don’t perish, Your Majesty. You owe me a wife.”

Which made her smile too, and lightened her heart for a moment.

The manor-house staff and the ducal estate workers lined the long driveway to see them leave. If their loyalty was tested by Marlan’s interdict they didn’t show it. They waved and shouted and called “God bless Queen Rhian! God bless our King Alasdair!”

She waved and smiled at them, Alasdair at her right hand. Edward, Rudi and Adric rode directly behind them, side by side, her loyal dukes. Then came Zandakar on Didijik, and the handpicked soldiers, who had swiftly come to respect him for his fluency with a blade. Next the peddler’s van, driven by Dexterity, with Ursa and Helfred riding in the back.

Rhian felt a prickle of pain. She still hadn’t told Helfred that Most Venerable Artemis had come for him. He knew about the interdictions and that was enough. He’d wept at the thought of all the people denied God. To keep him safe she’d ordered he not set foot from the van in daylight and stay close to the royal camp at night.

He’d tried to argue. Ruthless, she’d shouted him down.

After the peddler’s van came a handful of ducal retainers, three supply wagons and the rest of the armed escort. Not the most inconspicuous assemblage.

But her purpose wasn’t to be inconspicuous. Her purpose was to declare herself to the kingdom. There was risk involved, she would be open to challenge by chaplains and venerables and the people whose lives her existence upset … but it was a risk she knew she had to take.

The people must see her, and know her, and accept her. Showing fear or hesitation would doom her … and make everything she’d done for naught.

“What do you think, Jones?” said Ursa, riding beside him on the van’s driving seat for a while. “Do you think we’ll reach Kingseat unscathed? Or will one of Marlan’s ranting chaplains see us pulled from this van and drubbed for our sins?”

Dexterity put the reins in one hand and scratched his nose. “There’ll be no drubbing of any kind. Not so long as Zandakar’s with us.”

Since leaving the manor house they’d passed through three large villages. Each time the villagers had spilled into the streets and each time the royal procession was met by the local chaplain, who attempted to bar their progress and waved a Book of Admonitions in their faces.

“For shame! Repent! Ask for God’s mercy!”

That was the cry from Marlan’s chaplains, to a man. Rhian had commanded them to stand aside for the Crown.

“I am Rhian, Eberg’s daughter. Do not listen to the lies of unGodly men. God has granted me my birthright. I am your true and loving queen. Beside me rides Alasdair of Linfoi, son of your late duke. I have made him your king. Have faith, people of Linfoi, and don’t despair. God has not been taken from you. Only God can take God from the world, and he will never do that. His Flame lives in your hearts. Trust in him and rejoice.”

So young, and so regal. The villagers cheered to hear her words and the chaplains were hushed. It was possible God held their tongues … but it was more likely they saw Zandakar and the bodyguards and realised their best safety lay in silence.

“Zandakar,” Ursa mused. “You know, it seems to me he’s been keeping very quiet.”

“He was never talkative, Ursa. And he’s been kept busy training the soldiers and Rhian.”

She nodded. “True. But something’s changed in him. He seems sadder than usual … or afraid. But what could frighten a man like him? What’s got you frightened, Jones? More than the rest of us, I mean. More than what’s sensible.”

The trouble with Ursa was that her wits were too sharp. “Frightened? I’m not frightened. If anything I’m pleased. We’re going home to Kingseat, Ursa, and not before time. I miss my toyshop and I miss my little donkey. I even miss Tamas, but never tell him I said so.”

After a long silence, broken by the creaking of cartwheels and the steady clopping of horses’ hooves, Ursa sighed. “We’ve been friends a long time, Jones, unlikely as that seems. So why you’d think to start lying to me now …”