Serpent's Strike (The Chronicles of Adalmearc Book 2), page 14
“Just keeping out of sight,” the sinewy man said.
“You again? Where is the high priest?” Diane asked angrily. “I thought I was clear that I deal with him, not his underlings.”
“The high priest,” Renard said calmly, “does not wish to attract attention by frequent visits to the palace. I am more inconspicuous and may serve perfectly on his behalf.”
“Of course you would say that,” Diane snarled. “You can tell your master to be patient. I will bring Leander to him when I feel he is ready.”
“My master is eager to know when that may be? We have already waited weeks. The army has left the city. There is no better time.”
“My son needs to be properly – coaxed,” Diane said, choosing her words with care. “He cannot simply be thrust into things. I have already made great strides,” she claimed. “He is taking part in court life, and the affair with the geolrobes proves him to be decisive and with leadership qualities.”
“From what I hear, your son practically stumbled into this affair, as you name it. It was sheer luck that landed him the accolades of the people rather than a blade to the stomach, which is not a very reassuring interpretation of events,” Renard remarked dryly.
“Interpret it differently,” Diane sneered. “Leander is almost ready to assume his role. I will bring him to your master when I deem he is ready, not before.”
“As long as you deem him ready soon,” Renard said with a blank expression. “There are others sympathetic to our cause. If we must, we will look elsewhere than to your son. Our plans will not be delayed forever on your behalf.”
“I do not care for your threats,” Diane replied.
“Simple statement of facts,” Renard replied casually. “You should leave before anybody notices your presence and wonders about it.”
“Nobody suspects a thing,” Diane said disdainfully. “You are the one sneaking into the palace. Have you taken precautions? There are several geolrobes in the dungeons right now who thought they had outwitted Irene, that old hag.”
“No need for concern,” Renard dismissed her fears. “They believe to have a spy in our midst, but he only tells them what we desire for them to know. They are completely in the dark.”
“If so, there is no need to hurry, is there?” Diane smiled and left the shrine. The white-robed priest waited a brief while, glancing repeatedly towards the altar of the statue but avoiding looking at it directly before he left the consecrated room as well.
8
CITY OF DIVINES
TOTHMOR
Afew days passed until the story of ‘The Swordsman and the Queen’ was replaced by more dire tidings. The first soldiers from the Mearcian army arrived, sent ahead to bring word of the battle and their defeat. Within an hour, the news spread across the entire city. As the soldiers were brought to the first district to tell their tale, they did not have to go inside the palace; the members of court were so anxious to hear the news that they came half-running out of the palace to greet the exhausted soldiers. Thus in the courtyard between the district wall and the palace building, the queen and her retinue received the messengers and bade them speak.
“The outlanders won the field,” one of the soldiers panted as they knelt before their queen. “There were more of them, and their horsemen stopped our knights. In the end, our footmen fled.”
“How is this possible?” demanded one courtier to know. “How could you be defeated by this rabble, these barbarians?”
“With respect,” another soldier said after regaining his breath, “their arrows and swords were still sharp. If you doubt that, they will be here soon enough.”
“How severe were our losses?” asked Irene, cutting through the clamour of the court surrounding the arrived soldiers.
“Heavy, but not catastrophic,” said the first soldier. “Though we do not know what happened to the knights.”
“How do you mean, you do not know?” Irene asked sharply.
“Last we saw, they were fighting to hold back the outlanders and cover our retreat. They did not join up with us afterwards, so we presume they have fled elsewhere – or they are dead.” This response caused a new wave of wailing throughout the courtiers at the thought of five hundred knights slain.
“Our commanders?” Irene continued her questioning. “Are they all dead?”
“Not all,” came the reply. “It was Sir Leonard who ordered the retreat once the battle was lost, saved our remaining men. The others are presumed dead.”
“What of Lord Stephen?” asked Theodora, her voice slightly shaken. “The march warden of the South. Was he not in the retreat?”
“He was not,” one of the soldiers said with regret in his voice. “The flank under his command fell to the outlanders shortly before our retreat. I am sorry, Your Majesty, but it seems he was lost on the field.”
Beatrice, the queen’s mother, had been standing by her daughter’s side. Upon hearing such news of her husband, her face became white as ash, and she turned, walking into the palace with hasty steps. Noticing her mother’s departure, Theodora wavered but found herself steadied by Irene’s hand on her shoulder.
“Be strong,” she whispered to the young queen. “The court is watching and weighing your reaction. You must show strength,” Irene reiterated. Looking around, Theodora could see her courtiers gazing at her, most notably the counts of Lykia and Larisa, who had not fought in the battle. The queen composed herself, cleared her throat, and thanked the soldiers for bringing word of the battle to the city.
“Poor Beatrice,” Diane said, watching the lady exit from the courtyard. “She was always a bit sensitive. Not meant for the harshness that life can offer.”
“Losing her husband, I think she has a right to be sensitive,” Leander mumbled.
“No offence was intended,” Diane said. “When did you become so attentive to others?”
“She always treated me well,” Leander replied. “I am going inside to speak with her.”
Diane watched her son walk into the palace. As she turned her head back towards the crowd, her eyes were caught by movement to her other side. A man in a white robe moved up next to her; although his hood covered most of his face, he was able to make eye contact with Diane.
“Are you mad? People could be watching,” she whispered.
“Then act natural,” came the reply from Renard. “My master has heard the news as well. Soon the remainder of the army returns. We cannot wait any longer.”
“Fine,” Diane said quietly without looking at the priest. “I will bring Leander later today. Now leave,” she added with a hiss. Without acknowledgment or a glance in her direction, the white-robed priest left, disappearing into the crowd of courtiers and servants.
The messengers bringing news from the marshal of their defeat had arrived after noon, leaving the court in turmoil, and chaos reigned in the ensuing hours. Therefore, it was almost evening when Diane sought out her son in his private chamber. She found him in the last moments of changing clothes before he took out a cloak.
“Are you on your way out?” Diane asked.
“I promised a friend to meet him in one of the lower circles this evening,” Leander explained, clasping the cloak around him.
“That bard, no doubt,” Diane speculated, unable to hide her disdain entirely.
“You need not make your disapproval known,” Leander smiled sardonically, “I am well aware of it.”
“I did not come to quarrel,” Diane said quickly. “Would you accompany your mother to prayer? Afterwards, I will not stand in the way of your plans. It need not take long.”
“If you insist,” Leander replied, sounding a little bewildered.
“Good, thank you for pleasing your dear mother,” Diane spoke. “We just need to walk by my chambers. I need a cloak as well. There is a bit of a chill in the evening wind.”
“The shrines do not even have windows,” Leander said, questioning.
“We are not going to a shrine,” Diane said, smiling as she took her son’s arm and led him out of his chamber. “I had one of the temples in mind.”
They left the palace and walked down the city circles to the third district containing Tothmor’s six temples. The city was still humming from the news of a disastrous defeat, and the streets were crowded, especially in the third circle, with many people turning towards the gods.
“You need not look dissatisfied,” Diane reproached Leander. “This is not a long delay.”
“I am not dissatisfied,” Leander claimed, “just not understanding. I do not recall ever seeing you go to a temple before.”
“I am getting older. I have no husband and only a son that rarely spends time with me. It is not strange that a woman should turn to faith,” Diane said in a coquettish voice, which despite his misgivings made Leander smile.
“As you wish, Mother. Which temple are we visiting?”
“Hamaring,” Diane said in a brief manner.
“The Lord of the Mountain? I thought your devotion was mostly to the Lady of the Forest.”
“It is true that I am more inclined towards Austre’s faith,” Diane admitted, “but Hamaring has his appeals.” With those words, they turned inside the temple belonging to the white-robed priests.
They walked through the entrance and into the altar room of the temple. In that respect, this particular temple differed very little from others; the only key difference was the statue by the altar, which depicted a man in bearskin holding a great hammer. First, the lady and then her son approached the altar, making obeisance to it and showing the deity respect. When it was done, they left through one of the doors and let the next supplicants move forward.
“I thought you wanted to come here to make an offering,” Leander began speaking, “but you left nothing at the altar.”
“Come this way,” Diane said, sidestepping the implied question.
She led her son through some of the temple corridors deeper into the small complex. This was where the warrior monks of Hamaring slept and worked. Without hesitation or knocking, Diane opened the door and walked through, followed more cautiously by Leander.
Inside the room sat Bernard, the leader of the white-robed priests in Tothmor. By his side stood his aide, Renard. “Finally,” the high priest grumbled. He rose and revealed himself as much a bear of a man as the statues of the god he served. In contrast, the wily Renard next to him had the appearance of a fox.
“Mother,” Leander said hesitantly, “what is going on?”
“My dear son, the high priest is here to make you an offer,” Diane said, smiling. Leander looked at Brother Bernard with raised eyebrows.
“It is quite simple,” the big priest said. “I will make you king.”
Leander stood with open mouth as he processed this. “What?” he finally managed to say.
“As said, quite simple. There are many who would support you, Lord Leander. A weakling woman sits upon the throne of Hæthiod while the son and true heir of our late king has been thrust aside,” Bernard explained. “We will correct this situation and place you upon the throne.”
“I see that priests of all colours are plotting treason now,” Leander mumbled. “Though even the geolrobes did not dare go this far.”
“Those mewling fools,” Bernard spat. “With their petty intrigues. The strong takes what is his right, and so should you! You are King Everard’s son! Now succeed him!”
“Exactly how? A revolt is not simply done. They require armies, not to mention they tend to precipitate civil wars. And we are already at war,” Leander argued.
“Precisely,” Bernard retorted. “A woman cannot lead us in war. This city is doomed if dependent upon the usurper Theodora.”
“You alone can save the city, the realm, your father’s realm,” Diane urged her son.
“You have not answered my question as to how,” Leander pointed out.
“There will be no civil war. We have compatriots among the guards. Tomorrow morning at dawn, twenty of our brothers in the cloth will be allowed through the gates into the palace,” the high priest elaborated. “Along with our allies in the guard, we will take control of the palace and the gates for the upper circles. Nearly all soldiers remaining in the city are in the lower circles already. We will depose the usurper queen and crown you king.”
“You are certain you can take the palace?” Leander asked in a neutral voice.
“We have enough swayed to our cause,” Bernard smiled. “Even some of the courtiers.”
“Who?” Leander asked sharply. “The counts?”
“You do not need to know their names until after it is accomplished,” Renard quickly said before the high priest could answer.
“You truly believe this plan is feasible?” Leander asked after a brief pause.
“The queen will be in our hands, as will the court and all remaining noblemen in the second district. They will bow before you or lose their heads,” Bernard said, satisfied. “Already many in the city are singing your praises. They will welcome a strong king who can protect them from the outlanders like your father did.”
“And your payment? For I presume you do not offer me a crown free of charge,” Leander said with a sardonic smile.
“It would be my honour to serve as court seer to Your Majesty,” Bernard offered with a short inclination of his head.
“Anything you could ever desire, Leander, will be yours,” Diane added in a low voice. “All would bow to you. Any woman you could desire would fall at your feet.”
“Theodora,” Leander breathed. “She is my cousin.”
“You will decide her fate,” Diane smiled. “The dungeons or anywhere else you might have in mind. As king, whatever you wish will be done.”
“She will not be harmed?” Leander questioned.
“As said, it is up to you, my son,” Diane assured him.
“This is not an easy decision to make on the spur,” the youth muttered.
“It must be now,” Bernard said sharply. “We will not wait any further.”
Leander took a deep breath. “Very well. I will do it,” he finally said.
“Good,” the high priest nodded while Diane gave a relieved smile. “To be honest, I had my doubts. I am glad to see not only King Everard’s blood but also his courage was passed on to you.”
“Tomorrow at dawn, you said?” Leander asked, which the others in the room confirmed. “I will leave now rather than linger. I am expected elsewhere in the city.”
“Are you really going to the lower circles? Should you not return to the palace with me?” asked Diane.
“I should stick to my routine,” Leander countered. “It might arouse suspicion if I suddenly changed my habits, and we do not want to invite scrutiny.”
“His lordship may have a point,” Renard conceded.
“Best that I stay away from court until the appointed hour and the deed is done. I have no desire to take unnecessary risks,” Leander continued.
“As you say,” the high priest granted.
“Brother Bernard, can some of your temple guards escort my mother back to the palace?” Leander asked.
“Of course,” Bernard growled.
“My thanks.” Leander gave a small bow and left.
“He really committed to it,” Bernard said with a growing sense of realisation in his voice; there was still a lingering frown on his forehead. “I had my doubts until the end.”
“My son is no fool,” Diane remarked, “even if he pretends to be. Who could refuse kingship when offered on a platter?”
“Not your son, it would seem,” said Renard. “I will find a guard to escort the lady,” he added and left the room as well.
“The schedule is very strict, however,” Diane complained. “Tomorrow already?”
“With the army defeated, they will be retreating here,” Bernard explained. “It had to be now, or it would be too late. Besides, aid from Korndale is on its way. Once the siege is lifted, you want your son recognised as the man who defended the city, would you not?”
“I suppose,” Diane agreed. “What would you have done if my son had declined?”
“Restrained him here and found another candidate. We would have had to delay, perhaps, but if it could not be any other way,” Bernard spoke with a shrug. “There are many who are unsatisfied with a female ruler, Lady Diane, many who will applaud our actions when we supplant the queen with a king. Your son was the most obvious choice,” Bernard admitted, “but not the only. Finding a nobleman in Tothmor who would seek to be king is like searching for a bear that likes honey,” the high priest smiled.
Renard returned along with one of the temple’s warriors, who was holding a large war hammer as his weapon. “See the lady home,” he commanded the guard.
With her escort, Diane took her leave of the two white-robed priests. “Follow the boy,” Bernard muttered to Renard, who nodded. “Just in case he might do anything to endanger our plans.”
Back on the street, Leander left the third district and moved down into the city. He walked with hasty steps, occasionally bumping into other people or tripping. Finally, he reached his destination in the fourth district, which was a seedy tavern. He pushed the door open and all but stumbled inside. People gave a few looks but quickly resumed their discussion about the war. Leander’s eyes darted in every direction until he recognised a feathered, red cap. “Troy,” he said, pushing his way over to his friend. The bard sat with a cup of wine in front of him, which Leander grabbed and emptied.
“Steady on, man,” Troy frowned.
“I have to talk to you,” Leander said quietly. “About a serious matter.” He glanced around until he found an empty chair and grabbed it, dragging it over to sit down.
“Last time we had a serious conversation, it ended with priests plotting and you about to die,” Troy said suspiciously.
“It is one of those again,” Leander admitted. The expression on his face told its own grave tale.
“Hel below,” Troy swore. “What’s wrong with these robes? Don’t they have duties, like animals to sacrifice, prayers to pray?”
