Serpent's Strike (The Chronicles of Adalmearc Book 2), page 17
“I confess, my lady, I do not,” Dominic shivered.
“Tonight, half the whiterobes in Tothmor are dead, if not more.”
“Dead?” gasped Dominic. “Is the mob killing priests?”
“No, you spineless sod, the royal guards are. The whiterobes were going to attack tomorrow, take control of the palace.”
“I have not been told of this.” Dominic rubbed his eyes while wiping water from his brow.
“Exactly,” Irene hissed. “You were supposed to watch the priests. You were supposed to know, yet you utterly failed, you ignorant, foul, little pus boil of a man!”
“My lady,” Dominic stammered, “please forgive me. I was deceived. It will not happen again.”
“Do you enjoy wearing this?” Irene asked, picking up a necklace with a heavy pendant; it was the symbol of the court seer. He gave a nod with eyes full of fright. “Then I suggest you consider how to make up for this, or I will remove not only the necklace but your head along with it,” she all but screamed and threw the necklace against his head.
“Yes, my lady,” Dominic mumbled weakly as he raised his hands to cover his face. The pendant hit him and fell down into the bed. The court seer looked down to find it and pick it up; when he had done so and looked up, Irene was gone.
As the new day dawned, it revealed that few people had rested well after the night’s tumultuous events. Forgoing sleep, Theodora had simply sat in her chamber ever since returning from the council room, dismissing or ignoring all attempts by her handmaiden to interact with her. There was a knock on the door, and when opened, it revealed the queen’s mother.
“Daphne, would you give me some time alone with my daughter, please,” Beatrice told the handmaiden, who bowed and left the room. Walking inside, Beatrice spotted Theodora sitting in a chair. In her hands, she had sewing equipment. She was not using it to make much progress, however, but rather idly occupying her hands with it.
“Theodora?” Beatrice asked cautiously. “I have been informed of what happened. Count Esmarch was kind enough to explain matters.” When she did not receive a reply, she came closer until she could sit down in a chair next to Theodora. “I can understand if you have been left shocked by last night’s events,” she continued saying. “And the new guards make sense, even if some of them seem a little rough around the edges. I suppose that makes them more intimidating,” Beatrice remarked.
“I am not shocked,” Theodora suddenly replied, turning her head to look at her mother. “I have been thinking. On what to do.”
“Is there anything you have to do?” Beatrice asked. “If you would like to take a few days to rest, none would blame you. I am sure your aunt Irene can handle things for you.”
“I am sure she can,” Theodora commented a touch acerbically. “If I leave this in Irene’s hands, what are the odds she will have Leander executed?”
“Oh dear!” Beatrice exclaimed. “It is not so common in Hæthiod to execute people, dearest. A northern habit we must have picked up. Exile is most likely, or…”
“Or?” Theodora pressed.
“The salt mines, I expect,” Beatrice admitted reluctantly.
“Does Leander deserve that?” Theodora asked.
“My dear, Leander is a sweet boy. There is not a deceitful bone in his body, I believe that,” Beatrice said earnestly. “But Irene is right in many things. He poses a danger to you, and he always will while he remains this uncertain factor. If the choice were between him and you, I would choose you. So would Irene, and so should you.”
“It seems unreasonable that circumstances of birth should doom a person,” Theodora pondered.
“It is entirely unreasonable,” Beatrice granted. “But we cannot change the rules of society, dear. These are the rules we must live by. Fate would have it that your circumstances made you queen.”
Theodora sat quietly for a moment. “I think I know what I must do. Mother, would you summon one of the guards for me?”
“Certainly,” Beatrice said, sounding a little confused but complying nonetheless. She walked over and opened the door, telling one of the guards to step in.
“Find the court seer,” Theodora commanded. “Tell him I wish to see him immediately.” The guard inclined his head and left swiftly.
“Theodora, what are you intending?” asked Beatrice, a bit worried.
“I will tell you later,” the queen informed her mother. “But there is something you can confirm for me. Given that I was four years old at the time of my coronation, I presume certain legalities concerning my age had to be amended.”
“You had to be declared of age, yes,” Beatrice nodded. “Otherwise, you could not have inherited the throne until you were twenty-one.”
“And a lord protector would have been instated rather than Aunt Irene’s invisible hand,” Theodora muttered. “But in the eyes of the law, I am of age, then. With all the responsibilities and rights such entail.”
“You are,” Beatrice confirmed. “Theodora, why are you asking?”
“Not yet,” Theodora replied. “I will explain in due time.”
A little while, there was a discreet knock on the door. “You may enter,” Theodora granted, and the black-robed high priest of Rihimil walked in with his court seer’s pendant hanging around his neck.
“You desired my presence, Your Majesty?” Dominic said questioningly.
“I did,” Theodora nodded. “I have a few questions for you. Do you enjoy being court seer?”
“I do, Your Majesty,” Dominic answered cautiously, his eyes darting around the room.
“And at whose behest do you serve as court seer?”
“Yours, Your Majesty,” Dominic replied, licking his lips.
“Now think carefully about this question, for I will hold you to your answer,” Theodora said, leaning forward slightly and folding her hands under her chin. “If given an order by me or my aunt Irene, whose order would you follow? Whom would you choose?”
The priest stood with his lips parted, formulating an answer but without sound being expressed. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and opened it again to give his response. “Yours, Your Majesty.”
“Good,” Theodora said, leaning back. “I will have need of your services tonight, so be prepared. Do not speak of any of this to anyone. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dominic bowed deeply.
“Very good. You may yet prove worthy of your position for many years to come. Now leave us,” the queen bade him. Dominic gave another deep bow and backed out of the room.
“Theodora,” Beatrice began to say, but she was silenced by a raised hand from the queen.
“Another time, Mother. For now, leave me be. I am tired, and I would like to sleep.”
Being confined to his room, Leander was not allowed to receive visitors. He was brought a few meals, but otherwise, the monotony of his day was not interrupted. He attempted to sleep a few times without luck. His room was not in the royal wing but rather in the western-most wing, and his windows faced in that direction. They had heavy bars set into them to prevent entry by outsiders, which was now convenient to serve the opposite purpose; still, the windows gave him a measure of time as he could watch the sun approach the horizon and, in the evening, fill his room with fading light.
Shortly after it dissipated entirely, Leander heard the dissonant tolling of several bells announcing nightfall; there was no longer the full number of six bells, however. It was not hard to guess which temple had silent towers or domes with no acolytes to pull the bell rope. Leander finished eating an apple and threw the core out between the bars of his window; then, he leaned as much as he could onto the windowsill and stared westwards.
The quickly approaching darkness soon covered everything his eyes could reach, and instead, he gazed upwards towards the faint stars. Since the bars kept him back, however, he had to gaze at an awkward angle. He could make out the belt of the Swordsman but not see his torso. If other constellations were visible, he would never know, for his astronomical observations were interrupted by a knock on the door.
The person opening and stepping inside was Count Esmarch. Leander’s face lit up briefly in a smile, but the count’s blank expression caused it to fade away. “Appearing after nightfall,” Leander mumbled. “I wonder what cause you might have to be here.”
“The queen has summoned you,” Hubert replied. “I am not at liberty to reveal why.”
“Not a request I can refuse, I take it,” Leander smiled sardonically. “Very well,” he answered and went to his closet, picking out a doublet. “Wherever I am going, I intend to be well-dressed,” he said, putting it on.
“Follow me,” Hubert said, stepping outside. Once Leander joined him in the corridor, the count took a strong grip on his arm and led him away.
They walked through the hallways of the palace, which were empty apart from the Queen’s Blades. Hubert paid them no heed but marched briskly forward, forcing Leander at the same pace. Finally, the count stopped and glanced in either direction of the hallway. Finding it empty, Hubert opened a door and pushed Leander inside before following himself and closing the door behind him. Inside, Leander found the queen, the queen’s mother, and the court seer turning to look at him. They were standing near an altar with a statue that Leander could recognise as Rihimil.
“I admit, this strikes me as a rather odd arrangement for an execution,” Leander remarked.
“Leander dear,” Theodora said, walking towards him, “we are not gathered for such an occasion. Rather, on the contrary. You and I are going to wed.”
She was rewarded with a perplexed look. “Pardon, I thought you – what? If this is a jest, it is in very poor taste,” Leander managed to spit out.
“Not at all,” Theodora shook her head. “I spent all of today considering options. I am told you are a threat to me, that some will always be interested in using you, putting you on the throne for their own gain. I intend to beat them to it and put you on the throne for my gain.”
“This is an absurd idea,” Leander protested. He glanced towards Beatrice and Dominic, but neither came to his aid. In desperation, he turned his head to look at Hubert behind him, but he found no sympathy in the count’s face either.
“On the contrary,” Theodora argued. “The realm is divided because both you and I have a claim on the throne for different reasons. This way, our children will unite our claims and conclude this divide.”
“Children,” Leander choked, his eyes widening.
“It is a perfect match,” Theodora continued. “Those who complain of my rule and would favour you as king will be placated. Whereas I will have a suitable husband that I trust, the only husband I could ever trust.”
“Theodora, I have absolutely no skill where kingship is concerned,” Leander insisted. “I would be horrible with responsibility.”
“How can you know? Have you ever been given any?” Theodora asked. When Leander was unable to reply, she continued. “I will continue to rule as queen regnant, obviously. You just have to support me in whatever I do and otherwise look handsome by my side,” she smiled, patting his cheek.
“The latter will be easy enough,” Leander admitted. “But is this even possible? You are sixteen years old.”
“When my dear aunt Irene had me crowned at age four, she pushed me into adulthood,” Theodora explained with another smile. “Legally, I have been able to marry for twelve years.”
“But sixteen,” Leander repeated. “In some places, you would still be considered a child.”
“I do not have the luxury of acting like a child,” Theodora retorted. “Really, I did not expect you to be so obstinate. What alternative do you think awaits you? Imagine what Irene will do if I cannot protect you.”
“When you put it like that,” Leander mumbled.
“Leander,” Theodora said, drawing near to him. She was slightly shorter and, standing this close, had to raise her head to look him in the eyes. “You were ready to die for me at some point. Would marrying me be so much worse?”
“No,” Leander said slowly. “I mean, yes, very well.” Very cautiously, a smile began to take shape on his face. “I will marry you.”
“Finally,” growled the count behind them. “I have seen soldiers charge certain death with less reluctance. What made you so hesitant, boy, the fact that your bride is beautiful or that she offers you a crown?”
“It is a little overwhelming,” Leander mumbled defensively as Theodora took his hand and led him towards the altar. Beatrice was already managing the facial expression between smiling and shedding tears that only the mother of a bride might produce.
“Are both parties willing and agreed?” the court seer asked, clearing his throat.
“Willing and agreed,” Theodora confirmed, looking at Leander with a smile.
“Good. Hands, please,” Dominic requested of them. Theodora and Leander each raised the one closest to the other person, letting their hands touch in the air between them. “Step forward and touch the altar,” Dominic instructed them and moved away to allow them access. The pair moved forward and extended their free hand to touch the statue upon the altar while still keeping their other hands held together.
“Leander, born to Everard, whose title was king of Hæthiod, vassal to the Megas Basileus of Adalmearc, do you swear that you are here by your own free will and that to enter matrimony with this woman is your own desire?”
“I do so swear,” Leander replied.
“Theodora, born to Stephen, whose title was count of Lakonia, vassal to the king of Hæthiod, do you swear that you are here by your own free will and that to enter matrimony with this man is your own desire?”
“I do so swear,” Theodora answered.
“You may step back,” Dominic told them, and with one hand still touching the other’s, they moved backwards one pace from the altar to allow the priest to take position in front of it again. Several things were lying on the hewn marble slab, which served as the base for the statue, and Dominic bent down slightly to pick up some of the items. In his one hand, he held a cup of wine; in the other lay grains of salt.
“In salt is life,” Dominic chanted while letting the precious mineral fall down into the wine. “In wine is trust,” he continued, swirling it around a bit and letting the salt disperse before he offered the cup to the bridal couple. They used their free hands to both hold the cup, and carefully they led it first to Leander’s lips and then Theodora’s. When they had both drunk from the salted wine, they returned the cup to Dominic. “May your union be blessed with both,” he finished and placed the cup back on the altar, picking up two pieces of string instead.
There were examples of far more elaborate pieces of woven fabric made specifically for this part of the ritual, but the improvised nature of this occasion meant that the strings were entirely plain; they looked as if they might have come from a sewing kit. The court seer tied one string around Theodora’s wrist and the other string around Leander’s wrist. Then he braided the loose ends from each string together.
When it was done, the priest pulled down. The enjoined parts proved stronger; the two singular ends of the strings around Theodora’s and Leander’s wrists broke apart, leaving only what had become entwined into one. Holding the small braid in one hand, Dominic took hold of the pair’s hands with the other, turning them around and letting the braid fall into their open palms. As a final gesture, he closed their hands around it.
“With this act, you have become one. Under the eyes of the dragon, the raven, the bull, the horse, the bear, the hart, and the eagle, your union is consecrated. Let no man dispute what the gods have done this day.” With those words, the ritual was completed, and Theodora and Leander were wed.
10
MOVEMENTS IN SHADOW AND LIGHT
TOTHMOR
The morning after their wedding, Theodora woke to find Leander already awake as he lay by her side. He was staring at the ceiling, but she managed to catch his attention. “Good morning,” she said quietly but smiling.
“And a very good morning to you,” he replied in the same fashion.
“You seem pensive?” she commented.
“These last few days have given me much to consider,” he responded. “When do you intend to announce that our sleeping habits have changed?”
She giggled at his expression before managing to stifle her laughter. “Today, as soon as I can summon the court. I kept our wedding secret to ensure nobody could interfere, but Irene will still be planning a trip to the salt mines for you. Not to mention all the rumours there must be flying around regarding the other night with the whiterobes.”
“Indeed,” Leander remarked. “There was something I wanted to do first. If I return around noon, afternoon, maybe you could announce it to the court then?”
“What are you intending?” Theodora asked.
“I have been thinking. While your arguments last night were compelling, I think many will still doubt you. Doubt your choice in me, I mean. They will not agree that I am suitable for the honour you have shown me.”
Theodora had been resting her head by his shoulder, but now she jerked away to look into his face. “You are not having doubts, are you?” Theodora asked.
“Not at all,” Leander hastened to reassure her. “No, you are my heart, Theodora. You always have been.”
“Good,” she said more quietly, leaning back into bed again.
“But I was thinking that before people know, I should go down to the battlements. Inspect the outer walls.”
“Leander, the enemy is not there yet,” Theodora said in a teasing tone.
“I know, I know,” he chuckled. “But they will be soon. I should familiarise myself with our defences, let the men see me.”
“What for?”
“While I have my doubts about my father, he did do some things right,” Leander began to explain. “His bravery might have killed him, but he was admired by all. He was the very image of what a king should be. If people are to respect me, I must do likewise. The people must see me on the walls, ready to defend the city. Both now and once the siege begins.”
