Serpent's Strike (The Chronicles of Adalmearc Book 2), page 4
“Now that those beacons are lit, the Order will be sending their army,” Godfrey spoke.
“Do you know anything of this army?”
“There are about five hundred knights in Middanhal. I suspect that will be the vanguard, making its way towards Tothmor as soon as they can.”
This final piece of information made Farhad stop his movements on the board. “Better,” he said, looking up. He opened his purse and poured a handful of coins onto the table.
“You are being stingy, Farhad,” Godfrey said, lowering his voice but adding emphasis for the last word.
“Do not press your luck,” Farhad said. Without further words, he got up and left.
“Boy,” Godfrey called out to Guy’s son. “Fetch my staff from the back. Quickly,” he added. The boy turned around, ran through the door, and returned shortly after with Godfrey’s staff. “Thanks,” Godfrey said gruffly and pointed towards the silver coins that Farhad had left on the table. “Give those to your father,” Godfrey commanded and hastened out the door. He quickly spotted Farhad moving down the street and began pursuit, though keeping distance and his hood up to conceal his face.
When the first evening bell had rung, and there was still some lingering daylight outside, a group of priests in yellow robes moved through the second district. They passed the gate downwards and entered the third circle that was dominated by the temples. Moving east, they walked until they reached the temple of Egnil, which was decorated in the same colour as their garments. The temple guards nodded slightly at seeing them return, welcoming them home. While the other priests separated to their quarters, one walked through the halls until he reached the personal chambers of the high priest of Egnil in Tothmor and knocked.
“Enter,” came a voice from inside. The priest did as much, walking into the presence of his superior. “Brother Gregory. You are late in returning,” the high priest said. “Everything went as planned?”
Gregory nodded. “Nobody noticed when I separated from my brothers or disguised myself, and the boy was there to stop me in the garden as intended. Once I put on my robes back on and re-joined my brothers, none guessed that I was the culprit.”
“Good. It has been set in motion then. The rest depends on the boy.”
“Brother Aubrey,” Gregory said hesitantly, “was it wise to enact our plans already? In our haste, we might have overlooked something.”
“The beacons were lit,” muttered the high priest. “The counts and their sons will most likely be conscripted and sent to battle. We could not risk delay.”
“As you say,” the lesser priest conceded while bowing his head.
“Now he is entrenched at court and has cause to remain there, and he can carry out our designs. Worry no more, Brother Gregory. Go rest,” Aubrey told him.
“I shall, Reverend One,” the other man answered and left accordingly.
3
TAVERNS AND PALACES
TOTHMOR
Little over a week passed since the lighting of the beacons and the attempt to murder the queen. Life continued as normal in Tothmor, but anxiety had crept into the city and lay stirring below the surface. The first reports of the outlander army had reached the capital, and they spoke of thousands, if not tens of thousands. Hitherto, the people of the heath had only known those beyond the Langstan as raiders, thieves, and brigands. Blackboots, as they were called. An actual army marching together with a purpose was something hitherto unimaginable. Thus, it was met with immense relief when the guard on the outer city wall raised the cry that the Order army had arrived.
From all over the city in every district, people lined up along the road to watch the entry of the army. Ranks of imposing riders, knights and their squires or sergeants in gleaming armour and heavily armed. At the forefront rode the lord marshal and his first lieutenant, Sir William. While people cheered loudly upon seeing their defenders, both leaders of the Order vanguard had grim countenances.
“As soon as we arrive, I want the queen to assemble her counts. We need the levies raised without delay,” Reynold declared.
“Of course, my lord,” William replied. “I suggest we speak to the lady Irene, however. Best before we speak with Queen Theodora.”
“The dowager queen? I do not see what importance she holds,” Reynold argued.
“Unless matters have changed greatly since I left, she is of the utmost importance. Her niece may be queen, but the lady Irene rules,” William told the lord marshal.
“I never really understood how the last succession took place here,” Reynold mumbled as they passed the gate into the fourth district. “I thought the last king had a son.”
“He did, my lord,” William explained, “but the mother of this son was not the dowager queen, Lady Irene. It was to be expected that she would oppose his ascension to the throne.”
“Ah,” Reynold said knowingly. “That is always complicated.”
“Indeed. When the king was on his deathbed, tensions rose greatly. The lord Leander was the only male heir, but his claim could not be recognised.”
“So, how did the crown pass to Queen Theodora?” Reynold asked, confused.
“She was the king’s niece,” William continued patiently. “Her mother is the lady Beatrice, who was sister to King Everard, and so he adopted her. Once he died, Lady Irene, now dowager queen, had Queen Theodora crowned immediately to quell any dispute of succession.”
“How old is this Queen Theodora exactly?” Reynold enquired.
“I left twelve years ago, and she was four at the time, I believe,” William said, making calculations. “Sixteen, my lord.”
“This all happened before I was lord marshal,” Reynold muttered as they bowed their heads while riding through the gate to the third district. Both men noticed how many of the onlookers wore robes in the different colours of the priesthoods. “I did not know the state of affairs in Hæthiod.”
“It was a – troublesome time,” William said, spending a few moments choosing his words. “But that is how matters currently stand. Officially, the queen regnant is named Theodora. In truth, the regent is Lady Irene.”
“So it is Lady Irene we must inform to call the levies,” the lord marshal said, finally understanding.
“Yes. Unofficially, beforehand. Once she accepts, we must make a public request to the queen,” William instructed.
“Hel on a horse,” Reynold cursed. “This is too complicated for my taste. They do realise that this Theodora is a vassal queen, do they not? She is subject to my authority as lord marshal of the Order.”
“No doubt they are aware, my lord,” William said in his most patient voice, “but nonetheless, it might ensure everything went more smoothly if we observe the proper procedures. Formal as well as informal.”
Reynold sputtered a few more indignities as they rode onwards, leaving the third district in their approach towards the inner circle and the Order garrison.
As the procession of riders passed through the city circles, a group of white robes was among those looking. Some had purely white robes, signifying their status as acolytes. A few had the black bear signalling they had been initiated into the priesthood, and one stood with the patterned hem descrying him as the high priest of Hamaring in Tothmor. “Damn beacons,” muttered the highest ranking of the white robes. “We should have acted before the Order knights arrived.”
“We were not ready, Reverend One,” said the priest next to him. “It would have failed.”
“But what now, Brother Renard? Are you advising we postpone until this war has ended? I will not wait for what might take years!” the high priest exclaimed in a sudden outburst, drawing attention.
“Peace, Reverend One,” Renard said quietly. “Let us speak back at the temple.” With a disgruntled expression, the high priest accepted this suggestion, and they moved out of the crowd. From a distance, Godfrey watched their departure; as they left, so did he, following in their wake but remaining unseen.
The crowd in the second district was a curious mix of servants and nobles. While most of them, particularly the commonborn, expressed the same relief as others that the Order knights had arrived to defend the city, some of the counts and their relatives were less thrilled. With the Order here, levies were now to be raised; this meant paying for equipment and provisions, not to mention many peasants would not be available to bring in the harvest for their lords.
Thus, the mood in the second district was polarised, though two of the onlookers seemed unaffected. Troy was making note of the knights riding in rank and already mumbling a few attempts of composing verse; Leander was watching with disinterest. They were sitting on the wall between the third and second districts, which gave them a good view of the long columns of riders processing through the city. Troy had his lute between his hands while Leander was lazily eating a carrot.
“There aren’t as many as I would have thought,” Troy said, abandoning his unfinished strophes.
“They could hardly bring more soldiers in,” Leander argued. “There is barely going to be room for all these horses in the city.”
“But are they enough to defend it?” Troy asked. “What are they, six, seven hundred strong?”
“Closer to a thousand,” Leander guessed with a shrug. “Anyway, these are just the knights and their attendants, I would wager. Those fellows are always ready and itching for a fight. The infantry will probably follow at their own pace.”
“You think? I hope so if the rumours of the outlander army are true.”
“My father did it this way, as do the march wardens,” Leander continued explaining. “Have a strong force of riders always available so you can quickly react in times of war. The rest of the army follows if and as needed.”
“Sometimes I forget you know things,” Troy admitted reluctantly.
“Part of my disguise to avoid being saddled with responsibilities,” Leander said, throwing the end piece of his carrot over the wall. An outburst of anger could be heard from where it landed, but since they were separated by a wall, nothing followed. “Come along. I know where we can get something to drink.”
“Should you not be at the palace? For when the queen receives the Order knights?”
“Good grief, I could not imagine anything more tedious. No, the alluring song of wine calls to me. A tune vastly superior to anything you have ever plucked, so I suggest you pay attention and learn a thing or two.”
“I’m rather low on silver these days,” Troy admitted.
“Again?” Leander asked, raising an eyebrow, to which Troy simply shrugged. “Very well. You can pretend to pay the tavern keeper with a song. I will slip him some coin meanwhile and preserve your dignity,” Leander said casually, eliciting laughter from Troy before the two compatriots walked down the wall, disappearing into the crowds.
It took hours for all five hundred knights, as well as their squires and sergeants, to pass through the city circles and reach the first district. Once there, space quickly became an issue as there were barely quarters enough for this influx of men, not to mention their horses. Leaving the responsibility to others and his horse to his sergeant, the lord marshal quickly left the open yards of the inner circle of Tothmor and walked straight for the palace; as his first lieutenant, William had no choice but to follow Reynold immediately.
Their pace lessened slightly as Reynold allowed William to catch up and lead the way; unlike the lord marshal, William had been in the palace before, and he knew the route to the throne room. As with most buildings in Tothmor, the palace was not built very tall, so the throne room was somewhat unusual. Whereas in other kingdoms, they would have built a great hall to emphasise size and make the visitor feel small, such was not possible here.
Therefore, while the audience room was large enough to accommodate hundreds of people, the roof stood only a little higher than the tallest of men. Columns were also erected at intervals, upholding the low ceiling and acting as gathering points for courtiers behind which they might whisper and exchange idle chatter. Such noise of tongues rose to a clamour as the lord marshal strode into the room with William by his side; they walked briskly through the hall towards the elevated throne at the other end.
Upon it sat Theodora, queen of Hæthiod. By her left hand stood her aunt, Lady Irene, and her mother, Lady Beatrice. By her right hand stood Brother Dominic, high priest of Rihimil in Tothmor and the court seer. Close by, now wearing armour and weapons, stood Hugh. Ever since saving the queen’s life from the attacker in the garden, he had often been found near the queen. As the two knights came to stand before the throne, they each bowed, Reynold as a nobleman to an equal, while William gave a bow to one acknowledged as a superior.
“We bid you welcome, Sir Reynold,” Theodora spoke with a clear voice once she had cleared her throat. “It is reassuring to know the Order’s swift response towards the incursion of our enemies.”
“My lady queen,” Reynold said, returning the greeting. “We are honoured to stand here in pursuit of our duty. With me, I have brought five hundred knights, and thousands of footmen are to follow.”
“That is promising to hear,” Theodora replied. “Reports say that the outlander army is many thousand strong.”
“That is true, my lady queen,” Reynold acknowledged. “While the Order’s ultimate victory is not in doubt, we will require every sword and bow available. But perhaps such is better spoken of under less formal terms.”
“If that is your cautious approach towards the subject of calling for conscription, you need not be concerned,” Lady Irene interjected. “We have already sent out messages summoning the counts and the march wardens, including their levies and standing forces.”
“That is most clear-sighted of you, my lady,” Reynold muttered. “I did not realise such foresight reigned in Tothmor.”
“We are well aware of the danger emitting from beyond the Langstan,” Lady Irene said with a cold smile.
“It was I who told them to begin mobilisation,” an old, gnarled voice broke in. Parting the crowds of courtiers came Leonard, marshal of Hæthiod. His armour and surcoat looked heavy upon his old body, but he stood upright and showed no signs of frailty as he reached the throne and gave the queen a small bow.
“Sir Leonard,” Reynold said gruffly. “You took it upon yourself to issue commands before my arrival?”
“I was given the duty of marshal thirty years ago,” Leonard retorted. “I took nothing upon myself. I only carried out the command given to me when I was made marshal.”
“Would this be your first lieutenant?” Irene asked, interrupting the argument between the marshals with a question directed towards William.
“Indeed, my lady. Sir William of Tothmor, declared champion at solstice in Middanhal and a great champion of the Order as well,” Reynold introduced his aide.
“He is known to us,” Irene said, and again she spoke with a smile that lacked any warmth. “Even if it has been many years since Sir William was in this city.”
“I am grieved to only return in such ill times,” William spoke for the first time and turned his attention from Irene to Theodora. “But I am glad to see my queen in such good health.”
“And we are happy that in such ill times, you have returned to our defence,” Theodora said cordially. Irene placed a hand lightly on her shoulder before removing it again. “Lord marshal, we are certain you have preparations to make. We will give you leave of our presence that you may tend to them,” the queen said and rose. As she walked down from her throne, her courtiers bowed their heads. She moved to leave the room, followed by her aunt Irene, her mother Beatrice, the court seer Brother Dominic, and finally, Hugh.
As the small procession moved through the hall, everybody stepped away to let the queen and her followers pass. One of these, a lady with her own servile companion, exchanged scornful glances with Irene as the latter walked by. As soon as the queen’s retinue had retired from the hall, the lady turned to her handmaiden. “Did you see the contempt that Irene shows me?” she complained.
“She is only jealous, Lady Diane,” replied her personal attendant. “It was you who gave the king a son, not her. She will always be envious of that.”
“Yes, my son. Where is Leander? I explicitly told him he was to be present today.”
“Your son has his own will,” the handmaiden said cautiously. “He is a strong character like his father was.”
“Stubborn, you mean,” Diane said, sounding exasperated. “Nothing I say will ever take root inside that head of his.”
“Come, Lady Diane, and let me prepare you some tea,” said the servant in a soothing voice, leading her lady away by the arm.
At the other end of the room, the lord marshal and the marshal of Hæthiod, along with William, left the chamber; a rising argument between the marshals could easily be heard over the whispers of the court attendants.
The excitement of the Order’s arrival lingered for many hours in Tothmor until daylight began to grow scarce, and most people returned to their homes. Among their number was Godfrey, who now occupied one of the vacant rooms at Guy’s inn. Upon entry to the establishment, however, Godfrey did not go upstairs but told Guy’s son to bring him an evening meal and sat down at a table by the window. It gave him a view of the madman that Godfrey had encountered upon his first day in Tothmor. He was still ranting and raving, and nearly all who passed by ignored him.
A short while after, Godfrey’s meal arrived in a bowl. It was delivered by Guy, who sat down afterwards. “I have seen very little of you these last few days,” Guy ventured to say.
“I have not had much time for rest or food,” Godfrey replied. “I rarely seem to do.”
“Anything interesting?”
Godfrey shrugged. “Just keeping an eye on people. There is something simmering in the city, just below the surface. And the whiterobes seem to be in the thick of it.”
“The priests of Hamaring?” Guy asked, surprised. “What could they be up to?”
