The White Robe (30 page)

“You sound as if you are a man in love,” accused Borman.

Malingar smiled sheepishly. “If you knew her then you would love her too, but that doesn’t mean that I’m any less loyal to you, my liege. I work on being in a position of power, so that when the time comes, you will be able to take your place on the throne of Leersland with absolute certainty and a minimum of effort.”

“Due to your laxness that will have to be sooner rather than later, or she will be too well established to pluck out.”

“I just await the right opportunity, that is all, Your Majesty.”

Borman thought for a moment and finished the last of the wine in his goblet. He raised his hand and Rastor, who had been standing behind him, stepped forward and refilled it.

“Very well, Malingar, I accept that you have acted only in my best interests but make sure you keep it that way. The lady asks for five hundred men to help guard her kingdom from insurrection. Well, we will be generous; we’ll send a thousand men as a sign of our good wishes to the new queen. You will take the men from the southern barracks and you will advise the queen that they should be deployed in key places for her own protection and the safety of the kingdom she now rules. Your orders and the warrant to commandeer the men will be with you before noon.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, Malingar, one more thing. Your brothers and your sister are here in the palace. I suggest that you spend the time, waiting for your orders to be prepared, in their company. I care for them deeply but they do miss their elder brother so much as I am sure you would miss them if anything unfortunate should happen to them.”

Malingar glared unhappily at the king and, for a short moment, it looked like he would say something, but instead he bowed curtly and left.

“Do you want him disposed of, Your Majesty?” asked Rastor, moving forward to stand by the king. “I have men waiting on your command.”

“You think he will betray me?”

“You heard him, My Lord. He’s infatuated by that woman. If he gets into a position of power he’ll want her for himself, and if he does that, he’ll declare himself king and will end up fighting you.”

Borman took a sip of his wine and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of his high backed, carved chair. “You could be right Rastor, but I don’t think so. Do you know why I’m so certain that the good captain will remain loyal?”

“Because you hold his brothers and sister hostage and you would kill them if he betrayed you?”

“No. I wanted him to see that I really do care about his siblings and they aren’t just hostages to his good behaviour. No, he will remain loyal because he’s a soldier from an honourable family and owes everything to me. Men like that don’t have betrayal as part of their nature.”

“Does that mean that if he did betray you, you would spare him and his siblings?”

“Good goddess no! Whatever are you thinking? They would all die, slowly and painfully with Malingar watching; starting with the youngest boy and ending with his sister, who is quite delectable and would be a real pleasure to deflower. But he won’t betray me. He’s like you Rastor, as faithful as a fanghound pup.” Rastor scowled at the reference and Borman laughed. “Don’t be so offended, I am very fond of fanghounds.”

He took a long draught of his wine and sat up straighter in the chair. “But you’re right; I do need to consider the possibility of betrayal. Make sure the officers assigned to Malingar are apprised of the situation and know what to do if the captain even looks like he is intending to change sides. That means I would want him back here alive for me to deal with, Rastor, not dead or with pieces missing.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“And now for my second line of attack. Is our guest waiting?”

“Yes, My Lord, he is impatient to see you.”

“In that case you had better bring him in. It wouldn’t do to make a man of his rank wait too long.”

Rastor gave a brief bow and crossed the room to a plain door between two long tapestries sewn with battle scenes. He opened the door and bowed briefly before stepping back and letting the king’s guest enter the receiving room. The man crossed to where Borman sat and bowed deeply.

“Welcome, Great Lord Andron. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long but affairs of state were pressing. I hope your accommodation was to your liking and you have been well tended?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, all my needs have been more than adequately met.”

“Good. Now, Great Lord Andron, what is this matter of mutual interest you wish to discuss with me?” Andron frowned and looked confused. He glanced around himself looking for a chair and then glared at Rastor. “Oh, don’t mind Rastor, he hasn’t the brains to be dangerous. Now what is this proposition of yours?”

“It is as I wrote in my missive, Your Majesty. Tarraquin is a usurper who has taken the throne without having the right to it. King Sarrat had no heir and so, as the senior of the Great Lords appointed by the king, the throne should, by right, be mine. If it hadn’t been for the mercenaries that bitch has employed to intimidate and threaten the good people of Leersland, I would have taken what was legally mine and Tarraquin and her little band of traitors would be dead.”

“But instead she is the Queen?”

“Precisely, but with your assistance I could oust the pretender and restore law and order to Leersland.”

“And make yourself king,” mused Borman

“Yes, of course. I owe it to the people of Leersland to provide them with a strong and righteous king to rule them, not some slip of a girl who can only think of parties, dancing and her own looks.”

“Your missive mentioned a loan of men, horses and weapons?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I have my own men of course but they are not enough to take back what is rightfully mine. If you could see your way to lend me ten troops of mounted guards to help me take the throne, or even twenty, if you could spare them, I would be eternally grateful.”

“How grateful would you be?”

Andron looked surprised at the question. “Er, well, I’m sure we could agree some trade concessions.”

“Not enough.”

“And we would reimburse you the cost of the troops, horses and weapons and recompense you for any deaths.”

“That is still not enough.”

“What else would Your Majesty require?”

Borman smiled. “Land. I want all the land that is one day’s walk south of our current borders.”

“Your Majesty! That’s a huge amount of land.”

“A thousand mounted, armed and provisioned troops are a huge resource. It’s the land or nothing.”

The Great Lord sighed in defeat. “Very well, Your Majesty. When can I have them?”

“It will take at least a moon cycle to bring them down from the north and re-equip them so that should give you plenty of time to arrange accommodation on your estate which is discrete and out of sight of spying eyes.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty; I shall wait for them to join my command before we move on Tarmin.”

“In that case I think you should make all haste back to your estate to make the preparations. I will make the arrangements for our agreement to be drawn up and for you to sign it before you leave. Good day, King Andron.”

“King Borman.” Great Lord Andron left the receiving room without bothering to bow and looking far more pleased with himself than he had been when he entered.

“That was well negotiated, My Lord,” said Rastor, coming forward and refilling Borman’s wine goblet. “That strip of land is probably the richest in Leersland save the southern horse pastures.”

“One way or another I intend to have more of Leersland than that one small strip.” He thought for a moment. “Rastor, I have a task for you. Ride to the north and collect the men and equip them the best you can from what we have stored in Northcoast. From there take them to the Great Lord’s estate, but keep well away from Malingar, I don’t want him to know I have more men so close. When you get to Andron’s estate make preparations to ride immediately but do not move until you receive my orders.”

“Yes, My Lord. But what do I do if Andron wants to attack Tarmin straight away and I haven’t heard from you?”

“Then stall him.” Rastor looked blank. “Say that your men are tired or aren’t ready, or the horses are sick.” Rastor still looked unconvinced. “For hellden’s sake, Rastor, use your imagination.” Borman sighed in irritation. “Say you have the flux or the bloody pox if you have to, but do not move from Andron’s estate until you have received my orders. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good. In just over a moon cycle I will have two and a half thousand men ready to put me on the throne of Leersland, each one with his own personal invitation. Now all I need is for Callabris to return.”

*

Jarrul awoke to the sun shining in his eyes from the small grill in the wall high above his head. The rest of the room, which was in total darkness, smelt of blood and piss and the coldness of the stone floor made him shiver. He pulled himself into a sitting position and moved to the edge of the room so he could prop himself up against the wall of his cell. The effect of moving made his head swim and his stomach roil and bile rose in his throat. With an effort he swallowed it down until both had settled and closed his eyes, then opened them again to take in his surroundings. There wasn’t much to see. He was in a small stone cell, probably below ground, which had seen much use in the not so distant past.

He had very bad memories of such places and, despite the gloom, he lifted his hands and studied the scars he had received the last time he had been someone’s prisoner. The thought of what had happened to him then started to make him shake, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Taking several deep breaths he forced his fear back down until the shaking stopped. This wasn’t Maladran’s questioning room, it was just a cell and whoever had put him in here had at least thought to leave some refreshments. He shuffled to the side of the door and investigated the tray which had been left for him; a wooden pot of watered wine and a platter of reasonably fresh bread and hard cheese. It wasn’t guest fare but it wasn’t food for the condemned either.

Jarrul started on his breakfast and tried to remember how he had come to be in his current situation. He clearly remembered riding from Tarmin to the Crosslands bridges with his escort, and then onto the border between Vinmore and Tarbis. From there they had ridden to the first town they had found, and he had presented his papers to the town elder. It was he who had arranged for them to be taken to Dartis, the main city of Tarbis, with a larger escort of soldiers. The ride through rolling farmland had been pleasant enough with his guard and the escort chatting amiably and sharing their rations. The only dark spot had been when he enquired as to the health of Prince Newn, an enquiry which had been met by total silence and hard looks.

He remembered riding into Dartis, a large city without walls which seemed to sprawl across a valley and up a hillside with the prince’s palace at the top. Like all cities it was full of bustle and activity with busy markets and teeming streets, but there was a tenseness about it which was strange, as if the people were waiting for something to happen. He recalled feeling uncomfortable and hoping that, whatever the populace were waiting for, didn’t happen whilst he was there.