The Queen's Gambit: Book One of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 1) (12 page)

Chapter Nine

Eleanor and Edythe sat together on the window seat in Eleanor’s bedchamber, tucked in like a pair of wrens, watching day claim the gardens. Each was aware of the other’s worries. There was no need to discuss the coming summer any further.

“It will be a quiet procession as you and the guard leave Ainsley this morning,” Edythe said, leaning her face against the cold window.

“I imagine it will,” Eleanor answered, lifting her finger as she spoke, tracing a map of Aemogen on the glass. They would leave Ainsley for the northwest, beginning with Common Field, then move east to the coast, following the cliffs along the sea southward, then go west, up through the western valleys, until they were home again. Fifteen fens, she thought. And how many days? Eighty? Ninety?

“You should wear your face like that as you ride out,” Edythe said.

“Why?”

“Because you look brave.”

Eleanor pulled her finger away from the window. “Alright, then,” she said.

It was cold as Eleanor’s company filed through the streets of Ainsley, out the gates, past the fields and wide roads leading back towards the city. A flurry of wind riddled them the day through. Come evening, camp was set up without much conversation. But, the following morning was warm with a bright sun, and the attitude of the company loosened. The breeze coming off the mountains was mellow, the tall meadow grasses full of early blue flax.

By late morning, Crispin and Wil dropped back to ride beside Eleanor. After informing her they would likely ride into Common Field fen before nightfall, Crispin added with a carefree grin, “I know several young men, including a few rather good friends, if you’d like an introduction.”

Eleanor wrinkled her nose in distaste, but she laughed all the same. “Thank you for your consideration, Crispin, but, I believe my mind will be on more pressing concerns.”

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” Crispin said as he laughed in return. Just then, Gaulter Alden signaled him to the front of the column. “Maybe I should find another wife for Gaulter Alden,” he said. “I daresay I’d have more free time on my hands if he were constantly being hounded himself. Excuse me, Eleanor.” Crispin left them, while Eleanor ignored the smirk Wil was sporting on his face.

“You’re looking for a match, Your Majesty?” Wil sounded amused.

“Not at the moment,” Eleanor said as she looked ahead. “But, that doesn’t stop Crispin from introducing me to anyone he thinks might be eligible. His idea of a joke, I suppose.”

“And what are you waiting for? Love?” Wil’s tone carried an acidic undercurrent, emphasized by a quick laugh as his eyes wandered the fertile fields they passed.

Eleanor turned in surprised. “You certainly don’t seem to think highly of the idea.”

“I don’t,” Wil acknowledged. “Not for a monarch.”

“Oh?” Eleanor raised her eyebrows. “My father and my grandfather had successful marriages, equals in intellect and love.”

Wil smiled. “How quaint,” he said then paused before choosing to continue. “But your country must have suffered as a result.”

Eleanor laughed. “In what way, Wil?”

“Look at the riches of Aemogen—your mines, your fields, your climate—yet, you remain provincial, underdeveloped, and powerless,” he said.

“You are a world-weary soul,” Eleanor said. She took a deep breath and readjusted herself in her saddle.

“As a monarch, your country should be your lover,” Wil continued, ignoring Eleanor’s dismissive shake of her head. “That is where your passions should be spent.”

“And what, pray tell, would my husband be?” Eleanor challenged. “A handsome figurehead?”

“A sire,” Wil extolled. “Let him offer you sons. I see no reason beyond that.”

“Really!” Eleanor laughed. “I’ll hear no more of your bizarre ideas. Progression, only for the sake of power? A husband, only for the sake of children? No companionship? No support?”

“No successful monarch can love a person more than they love their country’s best interests,” Wil calmly continued. “You have to sacrifice all emotions to it, or you will prove unfaithful to your people.”

“I disagree that the love of country and of spouse, or anyone else, must be mutually exclusive,” Eleanor said, beginning to feel testy.

“You’ve not been on the throne long,” Wil said. “You’ll learn.”

Eleanor reined up, causing Wil to pull Hegleh to a halt. “Are you such an expert on monarchy and matrimony?” she asked pointedly.

“I—” he began. Pausing, Wil’s smile faded. “No, I am not.”

Eleanor’s glare gave way ever so slightly. “I curse you then,” she said, “with a wife you will love above all, three daughters, and no sons. So many of your philosophies would be turned on their heads.” Eleanor urged Thrift forward.

They rode in silence save the occasional call heard throughout the company. Eleanor began counting fens and villages in her head, as her thoughts strayed back to the stark reason for the battle run. Even the
threat
of war felt like a desecration of her land.

“My philosophies are still bothering you, I see,” Wil said.

“Don’t be a fool,” Eleanor responded curtly. “There’s an army at the threshold of my country, and my people are outnumbered and underprepared. The matrimonial observations of a jaded soldier don’t plague my mind. I am thinking of the war.”

“Point taken,” Wil said. “What is your plan, then?”

“For defense?”

“No.” Wil’s mouth twitched. “For finding a husband.”

Eleanor sighed. “Perhaps I should start by reconsidering my present company. It might open up opportunity to find what I am looking for.”

Wil’s laughter could be heard throughout the entire company, and Aedon glanced back to see what had caused it.

“It’s possible I am just the company you need,” Wil said, trying to provoke her.

Eleanor gave no response.

***

Just before sunset, the company rode into Common Field fen. They had pressed hard for the last several miles, eager to arrive and greet the people there. Wil watched Eleanor as she dismounted and went straight to Adams, the fen lord, who bowed deeply before taking both her hands in his. They exchanged a few intimate words, with concerned expressions and obvious affection.

Those of the company were soon greeting friends, while boys led their mounts away to the fen stables. Wil was the last to dismount, handing Hegleh’s reins to a young man who eyed her with wonder.

“See that she’s rubbed down properly,” he began. As Wil continued to give instructions, the young man turned the wonder he’d given the horse into admiration for Wil.

“Yes, my lord,” the boy said, nodding respectfully as Wil finished his directions.

“Yes, well—see to it.” Shaking his head, smiling to himself, Wil stepped into the crowd.

“Wil!” Blaike was at his side, giving him a hug.

“Whoa!” Wil said as he pulled away. “You are an affectionate group. Tell me,” Wil indicated the socializing between the queen’s company and the people of the fen, “are you all that closely related?”

“To you, I will ever owe my gratitude,” Blaike said in earnest, not answering what Wil had asked. “You have given me my life.”

Almost scowling, Wil followed the moving company toward the fen hall. “I’m sure your mother would have something to say about that, Blaike,” Wil said. “Away with you; love sick is not a disease I wish to catch.”

Blaike laughed.

As soon as they’d entered the large fen hall, Crispin motioned for Wil to join him at the table. Eleanor was seated at the head, with Adams and the men from Common Field to her left, Gaulter Alden and the war council to her right.

After the initial greetings had taken place, Eleanor stood and called the meeting to order. She reviewed what they had already been told by the fen riders and answered any questions Adams had regarding the intentions of the Imirillian Empire.

“And we will fight,” he stated simply.

“That is my intention, if all the fens will stand with me, and if we think it, in any way, possible,” Eleanor affirmed. “As you know, the tradition of the battle run is to assess the strengths of our force. Gaulter Alden and the war council have organized the training. Wil Traveler,” Eleanor said, motioning towards Wil, “is to oversee the combat training sessions, with Crispin, of course. Aedon will see to the archery. Sean will assess the mounts available for cavalry while Bryant, our weapons master, is working with the local blacksmiths. We plan to stay three days, possibly four.”

The men of the fen, who had been eyeing Wil furtively, now openly stared. Blaike, sitting at the table, waved pleasantly as if they were planning a picnic. When all the questions had been answered, Eleanor turned the meeting over to Gaulter Alden to outline the days of training.

“We will appoint the best men from the fen to continue training their fellow soldiers,” he explained. “When the fen lords convene at summers’ end, if we’ve decided to fight, their men will be called to Ainsley, for a last camp, before marching to the pass. Are there any questions?”

Danth, Adams’s oldest son, leaned forward in his chair and pointed in Wil’s direction. “Why is he here?” Danth asked.

Wil could feel his pulse quicken. He stared back at the young man, but he didn’t speak.

“To aid in the training,” Gaulter Alden replied. “Wil’s skill set is a particular asset to Aemogen.”

“Aemogen doesn’t need a dirty northerner to teach her to fight,” Danth stated.

“Have
you
ever seen the Imirillian army fight?” Eleanor asked. Danth’s eyes looked down at this direct address from his queen, and he shook his head. “Until you have, keep your misinformed opinions to yourself. Apologize to Wil. He is on my council. An insult to him is an insult to the crown.”

Danth flushed and gave an insincere, stumbling apology.

Although embarrassed for having Eleanor force this scene, Wil surprised himself by feeling a niggling sense of gratitude for the queen’s defense. All the same, he avoided looking at anyone else the rest of the meeting, relieved when it was over and they were again outside.

***

Eleanor watched, feeling pensive, as Gaulter Alden spoke briefly to the men of Common Field, outlining what he had told their leaders the evening before. He then turned the training over to Crispin and Wil.

“We will divide out the archers later this afternoon,” Crispin instructed the large group of waiting men. “You will work with Councillor Aedon. Until then, we will cover basic techniques of man-to-man combat, assess your skill levels, and specify your training from there.”

The morning went simply, Wil and Crispin showing examples to the men of certain techniques in the art of fighting. They soon divided up into smaller groups, with a soldier from the Ainsley guard leading each, while Wil walked from group to group, observing, instructing, and, at most points, scowling.

Eleanor stood on a wagon at the edge of the training field. A blanket had been rigged up with rope and some poles for shade. She should have worn the heavy Battle Crown and ceremonial sword, as was the tradition of the battle run, showing the monarch to be ever battle ready. But, Eleanor had left them inside. Gaulter Alden sat on a chair to her right, and Adams stood near the wagon on the ground, exchanging comments and observations with Eleanor. She thought he seemed most impressed with Wil’s techniques and ability to instruct the men.

“Your Majesty,” Adams said, glancing up at Eleanor. “Where did you say he came from?”

“Wil’s mother is a Marion; his father, an Imirillian,” she answered coolly. “He is traveling through Aemogen and has been a guest at the castle. When the threat came from Imirillia, he agreed to join our forces and help in our preparations. You will see that he’s an invaluable asset to our training.”

Adams appeared to be working several thoughts through his mind, but he did not ask more questions.

Eleanor was encouraging, complimentary, to the farm laborers and craftsmen turned soldiers. When the company stopped for a simple midday meal, she made herself available to the people. After eating, Wil gathered all the men to show them specific, advanced skills. Eleanor was back, standing on the wagon, silent as Wil worked with the men gathered around him. The women, who had steered clear of the training all morning, now began to wander into the crowd, watching with interest. Several of the younger ladies certainly found watching Wil Traveler worth their time. This amused Eleanor.

“If you can master these techniques, they will make you much more effective at hand to hand combat,” Wil said, finishing his lecture. “Do I have a volunteer, who will challenge me in a mock fight, so I might illustrate?”

Danth stepped forward, his large frame confident and his expression hostile. “I don’t mind a challenge,” he said.

Wil bowed, but raised his eyebrows when Danth did not extend him the same courtesy. Danth instead lifted his chin and raised his arm to the crowd, saying, “Watch me master the arbast!”

Eleanor sucked in her breath at the term. It was a base insult, directed towards people of the North. But Wil did not acknowledge the slur.

“I assume you’ll keep the rules of practice?” Wil said smoothly. “First touch, no blood.”