Fury of the Crown, page 19
"Tog already has them moving. I received word that they arrived in Kingsford a week ago. They're likely halfway to Hawksburg by now."
"Trolls?" said Bronwyn.
"Yes," said the queen. "They are a large race, easily a head or two taller than most men, with grey skin that's hard as stone."
"Now you're pulling my leg," said the princess. "Such things are the stuff of bedtime stories."
"I can assure you they are quite real."
"Yes," added the old man, "and quite terrifying to face on the battlefield."
"Have you any other news, Gerald?"
"Herdwin has brought more troops from Stonecastle."
"Stonecastle?" said Bronwyn. "Is that the Dwarves?"
"It is," he replied, "why? Do you know it?"
"No, but the name sounds Dwarvish."
The queen put down her fork. "Do you have Dwarves in Norland?"
"No, but we know of them. They occupy a fortress in the gap."
"The gap?" said the marshal.
"Yes, it is a flat area of land that runs through the mountains near Holdcross."
"Where does it lead?" asked the queen.
"No one really knows. The Dwarves of Ironcliff have a fortress on its northern side, but no Norlander has ever ventured past it."
"Perhaps it leads to the continent?"
"The continent?" said Bronwyn.
"Yes, what we like to call the old country. Our Ancestors came from there, many generations ago. Surely you know of it?"
"I do not. My knowledge of history only goes back to the origin of our realm. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me?"
The queen smiled, obviously relishing the thought. "Our Ancestors were mercenaries," she began. "They came to his land after betrayal at the hands of their last employers."
"What kind of betrayal?"
"The books don't say, but it led them to the coast where they seized ships. They hoped to sail away to find an untamed land. Eventually they made landfall on what is now the southern coast of Weldwyn, that's Westland to you."
"Is that where Weldwyn comes from? Our common Ancestors?"
"In a manner of speaking, but not the way you might think. The land was already inhabited by Humans, though a unified kingdom did not exist. Instead they lived as clans or tribes, similar in some ways to the organization of the Orcs. When our Ancestors landed, the tribes united against us. They had the advantage of numbers, whereas we were few. We fled westward, across the river to found the city of Kingsford. That was the start of Merceria, or Mercenaria as the men of Weldwyn used to call us. From there we spread westward until we came up against the mountains. Along the way we battled Elves and Orcs."
"Who now serve you," said Bronwyn. "I suppose that's the price of being conquered."
"What makes you think they were conquered?" asked the marshal.
"Why else would they serve you?"
"The are our allies."
"Allies? Aren't you worried that they might turn on you?"
"Turn on us?" said the queen. "Why should they do that?"
"Elves are not Human. To believe they would see reason would be a grave mistake. The comparison gets even worse when you consider the Orcs."
The queen's face turned to stone, her voice growing cold. "They might look different, but inside they are much like us. They live, they love and they see reason, is that not enough?"
"Do not tell me such nonsense," said Bronwyn, "I saw the black blood on that Orc. They are as different from us on the inside as out."
"Why do you hate them so?"
The princess was taken aback. "What makes you think I hate them?"
"You see them as monsters," said the queen, "that much is clear."
"And you do not? They are savage brutes, capable only of murder and mayhem."
"Is that what you think?"
"Of course, don't you?"
"Not at all," said the queen.
Bronwyn turned to the marshal. "You must make her see reason, Lord Matheson."
"I have no reason to disagree with her," the man replied. "The Orcs have proven to be solid, reliable allies. They came to our aid during the war when we could offer them little and even helped us rebuild Hawksburg after the king burned most of it to the ground. They are a people to be admired."
Bronwyn's face betrayed her disgust. "Spoken like the commoner that you are. The queen might see fit to dress you in finery, but you will always be of low birth!"
"That's enough!" said the queen rising to her feet and slamming the table with her fist. "I will not have you speak ill of Gerald."
The two royals stared at each other, neither willing to back down. The moment stretched into eternity.
Bronwyn's mind was racing. What was this strange connection between this young queen and her marshal?
The door opened, revealing Prince Alric. "Is everything all right in here?"
The queen sat, taking a moment to compose herself.
"A slight disagreement," said the marshal.
Bronwyn noted the lack of respect given the prince. Just who was this man?
"Come, join us, Alric," said the queen, "perhaps your presence will have a moderating effect."
"I should be delighted."
The old man shifted his chair down the table, allowing the prince to take his place. It appeared they knew each other well, and yet still there was something the young princess was missing.
"We were just talking of Lord Matheson," said Bronwyn. "Do you know him well?"
Alric smiled, warming the room. "I first met him some years ago when he visited my home. I thought him a bit rough at first but I've come to appreciate his qualities."
"And what qualities are those?"
"He cares greatly for the queen, she is like a daughter to him."
Bronwyn's ears pricked up. Could this commoner truly have bedded the queen. "Oh?" she said, feigning only a moderate interest, "do tell."
"Gerald lost his own family some years ago," explained the queen, her composure now fully restored. "Through a series of unfortunate circumstances he found himself assigned to the Royal Estate at Uxley. That's where we first met."
"Assigned? Was he then a servant?"
"He was actually a soldier. He'd been injured in Bodden and was sent to Wincaster to recuperate."
"But you just said he was assigned to a place called Uxley. Is that here in town?"
"No, it's a country estate. He was eventually assigned there as a groundskeeper."
Bronwyn sneered. "Then it is worse than I thought."
Alric picked up on the tension. "Lord Matheson is more of a father than was the king," she said. "Would you insult the Royal house of Merceria?"
She stubbornly clung to her belief. "He is no royal."
"Nor are you, at the moment."
Bronwyn stared daggers.
The prince continued. "You are the granddaughter of the late King Halfan, but there is no king on the throne of Norland at present and the earls fight over it. While there is war, there is no Royal House. The victors will dictate who is royal and who not."
"And what would you know of such things?"
"My father is the king of Weldwyn, my elder brother the heir."
The princess hid her surprise. She had assumed his was a prince by way of his marriage to the queen, but this revelation painted an entirely different picture. "Tell me," she continued, "what do you think of these creatures?"
"Creatures?" said the prince.
"Yes, the Orcs and Elves."
"They are people," objected the marshal, his voice betraying his agitation.
Alric held up his hand to halt any further interruption. "While it is true that the army of Weldwyn includes only Human warriors, it might surprise you to know that we count Elves and Dwarves amongst our populace."
"Surely not in positions of authority?" said Bronwyn.
"Oh, yes. In fact an Elf, Lord Parvan Luminor is the Baron of Tivilton, though perhaps he is not the best example."
"Ridiculous. I suppose next you'll be telling me that women hold titles."
"They do in Merceria," said the prince. "You haven't met Lady Aubrey Brandon, but she's the Baroness of Hawksburg. She assumed the title upon the death of her parents."
"But surely that will change when she marries?"
"Not under Mercerian law," added the queen. "And if you want another example, consider the woman that rescued you."
"Yes," said Bronwyn, "I understand she is a Knight of the Hound."
"More than that," added the marshal, "she is the baroness of Queenston."
"Wasn't she born to a poacher?" asked Bronwyn.
"I see the Palace guards have been talking," noted the old man, "I shall have to have words with them."
"It wasn't Palace guards," added the prince. "I saw Fitz earlier, he assigned two Knights of the Sword to her protection."
The marshal's frown flooded Bronwyn's mind with possibilities. Was there dissension within the Palace halls?
"I value people based on their abilities," said the queen, "regardless of race or gender. Perhaps your own country would be better served if your fellow Norlanders did likewise."
"My people value the art of war," said Bronywn.
"MY country was built by such men, and yet I am not the first queen to rule Merceria. The last time a woman wore the warriors crown it heralded in a golden age."
"Yes," said the prince, "Queen Evermore." He blushed, then looked at the queen, who was smiling. "I've been reading up on your history."
"I don't think I'm familiar with her," said the marshal.
"I am," said the queen, "but I'll let Alric tell us what he knows."
The prince smiled. "Her actual name was Georgette. She was the widow of King Ansel the second, taking the name of Evermore when she became queen. I believe her reign only lasted twenty years, but at that time it was the longest Merceria had ever been at peace. Her reign is principally remembered for encouraging the arts, that's when the great bard, Califax, came into his own. She was succeeded by her son, who was still in the womb when she was crowned."
"Would her son not have been named king after he was born?" asked Bronwyn.
"That would have been the normal course of events," said the queen, "but she was determined to remain on the throne."
"Did I hear you mention Califax?" asked Bronwy. "I've heard of him."
"I did," said the prince. "Are you familiar with his work?"
"Such books are hard to come by in Norland," said the princess, "but I have read Autumn's Twilight."
"A fine story."
The queen laughed. "Before you came to Merceria you'd never heard of the man."
"True," said Prince Alric, "but I've come to appreciate his work since coming to Wincaster. The books are good, of course, but to truly experience them, you must see them on the stage."
"Stage?" said Bronwyn.
"Yes, at the theatre. Surely you have those in Norland?"
"I have heard of no such thing. Explain it to me, if you will?"
"It would be far better to show you."
"That's a tremendous idea, Alric," said the queen. "What's playing at the Grand?"
"Something by Madrusen," the prince replied. "The Golden Mask, I think. They had Autumn's Twilight last month, it's a favourite amongst the populace. Perhaps you could demand a Royal Performance?"
The queen sat back, contemplating the idea. "Very well, but I shall make it a request, not a command."
"You are the queen," said Bronwyn, "surely they must obey your commands?"
"I rule on behalf of my people, not over them. It is the obligation of the nobility to protect the people, something I learned many years ago." She looked at her marshal, with a smile. "A wise man once told me that."
"Shall I arrange things?" asked Prince Alric. "I thought we might make an event of it, perhaps invite all the people of influence?"
"If the master of the Grand is agreeable," said the queen. "How long do you think it would take?"
"I suspect he'll need a week or two to organize things."
"What is there to organize?" asked Bronwyn. "Do they not just show up and read the book?"
"No," said the prince. "They act out the story, each performer taking on a singular role. I suspect they'll need time to review their lines."
Bronwyn couldn't quite grasp the concept, her face revealing her confusion.
The prince was quick to notice. "Let's just say that preparations will have to be made, shall we? I'll get Jack onto it right away."
The princess allowed the smallest of nods. "Very well, I shall look forward to it."
Seventeen
Autumn's Twilight
Spring 965 MC
* * *
The carriage rolled to a stop. Bronwyn waited until her guards climbed down, then the door opened, revealing Sir Greyson.
"We are here, Your Highness."
Bronwyn took his hand as she exited, leaning on him perhaps a little more than necessary to keep her balance. It had the desired effect, eliciting a smile from the older knight.
They were now standing in front of a rather nondescript building. It had an archway of sorts, that served as the entrance. Inside doormen waited, no doubt aware that the queen was visiting this day. They bowed as she entered, and then she beheld a young woman dressed in fine clothes.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," the woman said, "my name is Lady Aubrey Brandon. I've been asked to escort you to the queen's box."
"Box?" enquired Bronwyn.
"Yes, a private seating area for the enjoyment of the play. If you'll allow me?"
"Of course, lead on."
She followed the young woman up the stairs, halting before a door. Outside stood a red-headed woman wearing armour, a sight that made her look to Sir Greyson. Sure enough the man was scowling.
"This must be Dame Beverly," said Bronwyn. "Knight Commander of the Order of the Hound."
The knight nodded, "Your Highness. Welcome to the Grand theatre. Her Majesty is inside along with her other guests."
"Other guests?"
"Yes, Prince Alric and the marshal."
"The marshal? Does he accompany her everywhere?"
"No, but this theatre is one of his favourite places, as it is the queen's." She turned, opening the door a crack and peering inside. "The princess is here, Your Majesty."
"Show her in, Beverly," came the reply.
The knight stood back, opening the door fully and bowing slightly.
Bronwyn strode through the door to see the small space beyond. It was barely big enough for the five chairs and was situated high on the wall of a large room. Thankfully a low wall kept them safe from a fall.
Queen Anna had risen, as had the rest. "You may take a seat and get comfortable, Your Highness, and then I shall give the word for the play to begin."
Bronwyn looked at the seats, then to the queen.
The queen immediately understood the dismay. "Your guard will have to wait outside, I'm afraid."
"Very well," said the princess, turning about.
Sir Greyson nodded, "Very well, Your Highness." He cast a glance at Dame Beverly, then took up a position on the other side of the door from her, in the small hallway.
Bronwyn settled into her seat, Lady Aubrey taking a seat behind her.
"The queen tells me you've never seen a play before," noted the young woman, "I hope you like it."
"It will be a new experience for me," said Bronwyn, in a rather neutral tone.
The queen nodded at someone below, then took her seat. Bronwyn saw Prince Alric take her hand in his, giving it a slight squeeze. Was this a normal sign of affection, or was he trying to tell her something?
She looked ahead and down, to where a large curtain had been drawn across the back of the room. Men appeared below, snuffing out candles, plunging the audience into darkness. Moments later the curtains began to part. Candles were lit on the front of the stage, their metal coverings shielding them from the audience and pushing the light back towards the curtain.
Bronwyn watched in fascination as the curtains revealed a scene of carnage. Dead and dying men littered the stage and for the briefest of moments she wondered if something had gone terribly wrong.
A man strode out amongst them, then paused to kneel, taking the hand of a wounded man.
"Oh woe is me to suffer such a loss," he keened. "For the entire kingdom lies in ruins. How did such a thing come to pass?"
The Norland princess found herself drawn into the scene, and she felt a lump in her throat, her mind struggling to make sense of things. She knew, in her heart, that this was only a story and yet the scene below her evoked such a strong feeling of loss.
The man stood, moving to the front of the stage and speaking directly to the audience. He was lamenting how the kingdom had risen to such heights. Never again would the realm see such a golden age, until another queen took the warriors crown.
Bronwyn was suddenly taken aback. She had read Autumn's Twilight many times, and yet she could not recall this reference. She looked at the queen for an explanation and saw only delight on her face. Her attention turned back to the stage in wonder. What else would they change?
* * *
The curtain came down to tremendous applause.
Bronwyn looked about in confusion. "It is not done," she said. "Surely they don't mean to end it so soon?"
"It is merely a break," said lady Aubrey, "to allow the audience to stretch its legs. Shall we go and seek some refreshment?"
"Yes," added the queen, "Alric has arranged for food and drink to be served in the foyer." She rose, the prince on her arm. Right on cue, Lady Beverly opened the door.
For a brief moment, Bronwyn wondered how the knight new such was expected of her, but then reason told her it was the clapping that had given it away. She let the queen and her husband exit, then followed. Once outside the door, she looked at Sir Greyson.
"Would you accompany us?" she asked.
A smile creased the knight's features. "I should be delighted, Your Highness."
They took their time descending the steps, allowing Bronwyn to see the people crowding the foyer. Amongst them she spotted a number of Orcs. So engrossed in their appearance was she that she was taken by surprise by the queen's remarks.
