The Hope of Vitality, page 10
The more he dwelt on it, the more his sense of loss grew, until it came to feel like a crushing weight.
He winced whenever he thought of his ill-considered words to her. He hadn’t intended to hurt her—he’d been thrown off balance by her assertion that their kiss meant nothing.
It was possible she had been telling the truth, but his heart told him otherwise.
He remembered how it felt as he nestled into her neck. His heart had raced as she drew his face closer. He sensed again her warm breath on his cheeks and the sensation of her lips exploring his own.
Everything had changed in that instant. Until then he had failed utterly to anticipate the raw power that lurked behind a simple kiss.
Now she was gone, far away, beyond his reach.
Would he ever see her again?
11
Steffan arrived in the queen’s private chambers to find her overseeing the final preparations for her visit to Castel. Seeing the king arrive, the servants bowed and hurried from the room.
A troubled frown furrowed his brow. “This trip makes me nervous, Essanda!”
She smiled up at him. “Rufe will be riding with me, along with five hundred of your best soldiers.” Seeing his reaction, she added, “We’re not at war, and there isn’t the faintest hint of internal dissent. The only possible threat is from the Ahrans, and I don’t see what they could do. We’ll be nowhere near the ocean at any point in the journey. How could they even get to me?”
Steffan grunted noncommittally.
Stretching up on tiptoes, she kissed him lightly on the lips before fixing him with a knowing grin. He could guess what she was thinking. She knew him well enough to know that it made no difference how many soldiers Rufe took—he wouldn’t be satisfied until she was safe in the royal castle at Arnost again.
“Gordy will take good care of me,” she said soothingly.
“Count Gordan is effective,” Steffan conceded, before adding darkly, “Most of the time.”
“You surely can’t be referring to the morning I slipped away from him during the Battle of Torbury Scarp!” she protested. “That was years ago! And it was hardly his fault.”
Steffan grunted again. “If it’s any comfort to you, I agree he was a sensible choice as regent in the absence of your brother.”
She raised an eyebrow ironically. “I’m greatly comforted.”
He conceded a reluctant grin.
Her face became serious. “You said you had a dispatch from him this morning.”
He nodded. “He’s arranging for a detachment of his soldiers to meet you at Deadman’s Pass. They’ll accompany you to Castel Citadel.”
“Wonderful! Then you have nothing to worry about,” she said, leaning in to him.
He responded by pulling her into an embrace, wrapping his arms tightly about her.
After a few moments he released her with a sigh. “It won’t be the same—for me or for the children—until you’re back home again.”
“I’ll miss you all terribly!” she assured him. Then she added soberly, “This is an important opportunity to demonstrate our support for Castel. The kingdom has faced a great deal of upheaval in recent years. I can only imagine what the people must be feeling now they’re facing even more uncertainty.”
He nodded. “You’re right of course. It’s the only reason I’m willing to let you go.” He glanced around at the chaos. “I’ll leave you to your packing. There are things I need to attend to.”
He left her with a smile, but inwardly he did not feel happy. A vague sense of unease had settled on him. He tried to tell himself it was mere foolishness, that there was no real reason to be concerned about her safety. Yet bitter experience had taught him just how unpredictable life could be.
With the border of Castel almost within reach, Rufe rode back down the column, checking on the men.
“We’ll be crossing the border soon, men!” he called as he passed. “Never forget you are representing King Steffan and the Kingdom of Arvenon!”
Rufe had no doubt the soldiers would acquit themselves well, not least because he had selected their leaders himself.
When he reached the middle of the column, he came upon Queen Essanda.
“Why are we slowing down, Rufe?” she called inquisitively.
Her curiosity was understandable. For her own safety she had been placed far from any possible action. That also left her with little chance of seeing anything interesting.
“Deadman’s Pass lies not far ahead, Your Majesty,” he told her. “Our scouts are riding forward to make contact with the Castelan border guards.”
“My thanks, Rufe, to you and your men for guiding me here safely. It’s been far too long since I visited Castel.” She concluded her words with a merry wave.
Rufe waved back, a grin on his face. In spite of long hours in the saddle and often primitive conditions when they camped at night, the cheerfulness and gratitude of the queen never wavered. When combined with her good-natured approachability, it came as no surprise that she was wildly popular among the men.
Having delivered his message to all of the men, Rufe turned his horse and rode forward at a canter until he reached the head of the column.
By the time he arrived, the column had come to a halt. Three of his captains were conferring to one side, and he rode over to them.
“What’s the hold up?”
“The border post is deserted,” one of them replied. “There’s no sign of Castelan guards.”
Rufe frowned. The Castelans had maintained a border post at the Arvenian end of Deadman’s Pass for longer than anyone could remember. He knew that no Arvenian guards were stationed at the border, and he was aware of the reason. To begin with, King Steffan had inherited an almost uninterrupted history of peaceful relations between Arvenon and Castel. Having then married a native of Castel, the king was more than content to leave the pass in the hands of his allies.
“Did any of the scouts venture into the pass?” asked Rufe.
“No. They were reluctant to cross the border without approval from the Castelans.”
Rufe nodded. “They did the right thing.” He addressed two of the captains. “Choose fifty men and tell them to report to me. Make sure they’re all capable archers. The rest should remain on high alert until we understand what’s going on. Escort the queen to a position that’s safe and defensible.”
They nodded grimly, riding off immediately to carry out his orders.
He turned to the remaining captain. “You’re with me, Hennis.” He indicated the fifty men assembling nearby. “As soon as our preparations are in place, we’ll head into the pass.”
Almost half an hour had elapsed before the other captains reported back.
“I’m leaving you in charge of the column,” Rufe told them. “Your priority is the queen. If anything happens, get her somewhere safe without delay.”
They nodded. “What about you, Rufe?” one of them asked.
“Forget about me,” he replied. “I’ll have plenty of support.”
He signaled to the men, and they moved out together, heading for the pass.
They came upon the border post almost immediately. It was indeed deserted. Dismounting, Rufe carefully examined the sturdy little building and its surrounds.
“There are food scraps here that are still fresh,” he called to Hennis. “And the coals at the bottom of the fire pit outside the building are still warm. The post was occupied until quite recently.”
Remounting, Rufe rode cautiously into the pass, trying to guess where enemies might have positioned themselves. Hennis rode beside him, tense and alert.
Rugged slopes stretched out before him as far as the eye could see. Rufe knew that the pass offered the only way of penetrating the mountain range that comprised almost the entire southern border of Castel.
From a military perspective, he could only admire the terrain. The mountain range with its solitary pass provided a formidable boundary between the kingdoms.
Readily defensible at many points, Deadman’s Pass was aptly named. During the war with Rogand, the pass had been seized and held by a determined band of Rogandans. King Steffan’s soldiers had eventually forced their way through, but they had paid a high price in human lives.
They had not ridden far before Hennis called softly, “Over there.”
Following his pointing finger, Rufe saw two bodies. With no one else anywhere in view, Rufe dismounted again and examined them. “They haven’t been dead for long,” he said.
Once more they moved forward, more alert than ever. Rounding a bend in the pass they were challenged by a somewhat unsteady voice. “Are you Arvenians?”
“We are,” Rufe confirmed. “Show yourself!”
Three men stepped into the open, raising a ragged cheer.
Signaling to Hennis to join him, Rufe dismounted and drew them aside. “Are you Castelan border guards?” he asked.
“We are.”
“What happened here?”
“We were attacked. From Castel—from behind. Not long after dawn. We were taken completely by surprise.”
A second man chipped in, “They killed our leader and another guard. We scattered and hid. For a while they tried to find us, but they soon gave up and left.”
“Which way did they go?”
“Back down the pass toward Castel.”
“How many of them?”
“Maybe six or seven. There wasn’t any way to be certain.”
Rufe scowled. “Do you know who they were?”
“No. But they were openly speaking another language.”
Rufe exchanged a glance with Hennis. His captains had been briefed before they left Arnost; Hennis would be well able to guess the identity of the attackers.
“Count Gordan was planning to send an escort to meet Queen Essanda,” Rufe told them. “Have you seen any sign of it?”
“No, but we’ve been expecting them. They can’t get here soon enough!”
“Go and bury your friends,” Rufe told them. “A couple of my men will help you. The rest of us will move forward to see if we can find any sign of your attackers.”
The Castelans hurried away, relief evident on their faces. Rufe shook his head. Clearly they had not been well briefed on present realities.
The sound of their horses’ hooves echoed from the hard rock as they rode forward. The pass was otherwise as silent as the grave. Rufe fully expected to find the way blocked and held against them, but they saw no sign of another living being until they reached the Castelan end of the pass.
They halted their horses and gazed out across the rolling green fields of Castel.
“Look, Rufe,” called one of the men.
A body of men was riding toward the pass.
“It’s probably Count Gordan’s soldiers,” Rufe suggested to Hennis. “But we can’t afford to take any chances. Form up the men into defensive positions.”
Something didn’t seem right to Rufe. The incoming riders seemed too few in number to be Count Gordan’s escort. Nevertheless he waited calmly until they came within hailing distance.
A rider separated himself from the column and called out, “Who are you?”
“We are Arvenians,” he called back.
“Escorting Queen Essanda?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent! I will join you.” The speaker urged his horse forward, not bothering to wait for his men to catch up.
Rufe shook his head, unable to comprehend the heedless behavior of the Castelans he had met so far.
The new arrival rode up with a flourish. “Well met! I am Lord Thorsel. Count Gordan sent me to escort the queen to Castel Citadel.”
“I am Rufe Sarjant.”
Lord Thorsel’s eyebrows went up, and he briefly dipped his head. “I am honored to meet you. King Steffan clearly places a high value on the safety of his wife!”
“How many men do you lead, My Lord?”
“One hundred. I thought it to be excessive, and told Count Gordan as much. He wanted to make it clear that the queen’s safety is paramount. How many men have you brought with you?”
“Five hundred of King Steffan’s best soldiers,” Rufe replied evenly.
The Castelan was too surprised to respond.
Rufe saw no reason to indulge the nobleman. “You will need to reestablish your border post. The guards were attacked earlier today—from the Castelan side of the pass. Two of the five men were killed, including their leader.”
Lord Thorsel was not unduly dismayed. “I am sorry to hear of their losses. Most likely it was robbers. I will order some of my scouts to look around for any sign of them.” Seeing the look on Rufe’s face, he added tersely, “Do you have a different explanation for the attack?”
“I have no proof, but I suspect that Ahran agents might have been responsible.”
“Surely that’s absurd! Why would you think that?”
“The guards reported that their attackers spoke a foreign language.”
“They must have been Rogandans, then. If the guards were not imagining things. Why would Rogandans attack the pass? We’re finally at peace with them.”
“Have Ahrans been infiltrating Castel?” asked Rufe.
“There have been a few reports. But nothing worthy of undue alarm. Why?”
“Large numbers of them have entered Varas and Arvenon. Even more so Rogand.”
“All of those kingdoms have major ports. Castel does not. That’s undoubtedly the reason for the difference.”
Rufe shook his head. “Ahran vessels foolish enough to dock in Rog are impounded and searched from stem to stern. Ahran agents are being put ashore on remote beaches.”
“We have no evidence of any such activities in Castel. Perhaps our kingdom holds less appeal to them.”
It was obvious that Lord Thorsel had no intention of taking the Ahran threat seriously, and Rufe saw no point in pursuing the issue further. He was confident Count Gordan would see it very differently.
“So you will entrust Queen Essanda to our care from here?” Thorsel asked.
Rufe was unyielding. “King Steffan made it clear we were to escort her to Castel Citadel, and remain there until she is ready to return.”
Lord Thorsel’s eyebrows had gone up again. “It’s all a little irregular.” He paused for a moment. “Arvenon is an ally, of course. I am sure Count Gordan will be willing to make your men welcome.” Then he snorted. “As long as they behave themselves.”
Rufe ignored the nobleman’s ramblings. Queen Essanda would go to Castel Citadel accompanied by King Steffan’s full escort, or she wouldn’t be going at all.
The Castelan did at least follow through on his offer to have the area scouted. He also instructed his captains to meet with the surviving border guards. Having dealt with the practicalities, he asked to be presented to the queen.
Hennis’s men escorted Lord Thorsel through the pass, Rufe at their head. When they reached the queen, Rufe introduced the Castelan nobleman.
“Your Majesty!” exclaimed Lord Thorsel, bowing low. “I bring the greetings of the regent, Count Gordan, and the entire Castelan court. It is a great honor to welcome you back to the land of your birth. All of us are in shock after the appalling abduction of your brother, His Majesty King Rupert, and we are grateful for your consideration in our hour of distress.”
“His Majesty King Steffan extends his greetings, as do I. He asked me to assure you that Arvenon will do anything it can to support Castel at this time. Securing the return of my brother to his throne is a high priority for our kingdom too.”
Rufe excused himself and departed, more than willing to leave diplomacy to those better suited to it.
He headed first to Hennis. “Have the Castelan scouts discovered anything?”
Hennis shook his head. “No. But their captains are at least taking the attack on the border post more seriously than the nobleman.”
“Are they blaming robbers?”
“Not at all. They questioned the survivors closely, and they’ve drawn the same conclusion as us.”
Rufe nodded in satisfaction. “Brief some reliable messengers, and send them to King Steffan. He needs to know everything that happened here today.”
The remainder of the journey to Castel Citadel proceeded without incident, and Rufe experienced considerable relief delivering the queen safely to Count Gordan. He had asked her to request a meeting with the Count, and she arranged it as a matter of urgency. Before the day of their arrival had ended, the regent led Rufe and Queen Essanda to a private reception room in the castle.
“I have been briefed on the events at Deadman’s Pass,” the count began. “I fully concur with your views, Rufe. I can only conclude that the Ahrans have a larger presence in Castel than any of us had realized. This is not the first occasion when events have gotten away from me. I intend to respond much more vigorously this time.”
Rufe nodded in satisfaction. “I never doubted you would take the threat seriously, My Lord Regent.”
Gordan’s brows had drawn together. “One thing I cannot make sense of. Why attack the border post?”
“I have also given that a great deal of thought,” Rufe replied. “Undoubtedly Will would grasp the purpose behind it in an instant, but he isn’t here. Is it possible that the Ahrans planned to pose as border guards, and attack the queen as she passed?”
“It seems unlikely to me, Rufe,” Queen Essanda replied. “What would they gain by it? They would only strengthen the resolve of the allied kingdoms in opposing them.”
“Could they have been sending a message?” asked the count. “Issuing notice that no kingdom is beyond their reach?”
None of them were any wiser when they left the meeting. But the count had promised to spare no effort in hunting down Ahran infiltrators. He intended to begin the operation at dawn on the following day.
That night Rufe retired to his assigned room in the royal castle weary to the point of exhaustion. He had barely fallen asleep when he was roused by a servant. “The regent needs to meet with you urgently!”
