Robin Hardy Online

Book Two of the Latter Annals of Lystra

From the back cover:
The murder of Surchatain Cedric has ended his brutal reign over Lystra. But according to the Law of Roman, Cedric's son, seven-year-old Henry, must either rule or die when he comes of age. To save his life, Commander Ares swears to uphold Henry's ascension.

But while the throne is vacant, pretenders come pouring into Westford to press preposterous claims of rulership. In the midst of this turmoil, the young Chataine of Qarqar arrives, seeking safety from pursuit. In choosing to shelter her, Ares invites attacks from enemies known and unknown.

When the crisis comes to a head, and leadership is thrust upon Ares, long-hidden pages of Roman's Law come to light that seal Henry's fate and make Ares' course inevitable.
 

Chapter One

Nicole leaned on the comforting arm of her husband, Commander Ares, as the funeral party stood on the cemetery grounds of the abbey, gathered around the newly dug grave. A great procession of palace courtiers and townspeople trailed the black carriage bearing the body of Surchatain Cedric to its final resting place. But only the priest, the royal family, high officials of Westford, and senior nuns of the abbey were allowed into the small graveyard to witness the interment.

 Surviving Cedric were his daughter, the Chataine Renée, and son, the Chatain Henry. Nineteen-year-old Renée, a regal, spoiled, blond, blue-eyed beauty, stood dry-eyed and sullen in the dowdy black dress specified for the occasion. Since only three days had elapsed since Cedric's murder, the dressmaker Preus had not enough time to create something stunning and original for her to wear on this occasion. She glanced aside at Nicole's elegant black and gold ensemble purchased earlier, and rued not having the foresight to have selected it first. Cedric's murderer, Bruck, and two other insurrectionists, Roath and Antony, had already been tried for treason, found guilty, and beheaded. A number of others had been banished. Renée had not attended the executions, but her half-brother had.

 The Chatain Henry, a pale, delicate, seven-year-old, stood clasping his guardian's hand, solemnly attending the intonations of the priest over the body of his father wrapped in a Lystran blue burial cloth. Henry had always worn a military uniform of brown leather and wool, but as of today (upon his stubborn insistence) he wore smart dress blacks--black brocaded jacket with standing collar, white shirt and black pants--like those of his guardian, Commander Ares. Relishing the similarity, Henry looked up at him now, and his guardian turned his scarred face down to his charge.

 As a young boy, Ares had been wounded in the attack that killed his father, the heir to Surchatain Roman's throne. Henry's grandfather, Talus, had been the usurper responsible for that attack, as well as the murders of Ares' grandfather and uncles. When Talus had slashed at Ares' throat, the boy had jerked away, receiving the blade across his face instead. Now, in his mid-thirties, he still carried a gaping purple scar that ran from his eyebrow to his jaw.

 Because of the guardianship of Talus' brother, Reynard, Ares had survived to serve in the army, and had sworn to lay down his life for the Chatain Henry when the newborn lay in his arms. Ares had defended that oath at the cost of the throne, for he was now Co-Regent for Henry with Counselor Carmine.

 At thirty, the Counselor was a handsome man with intelligent, refined features and shoulder-length, curling brown hair. His dress and quarters rivaled those of Surchatain Cedric, who valued him enough to retain his services when Carmine was found to be the Chataine's lover. For this transgression, Carmine was castrated. Nonetheless, he still appreciated beauty, and watched in wry pleasure as the shy, rural-bred, seventeen-year-old Nicole appeared at the palace in Westford as a guest of the Chataine and captured the Commander's heart. They were wed the day after she arrived six weeks ago.     

 Ares glanced down at his wife, and his arm tightened slightly in reassurance. Her thick chestnut hair was blown about by the hilltop winds despite the headband, and her clear skin was pale from crying. Even now, tears hung on her thick eyelashes, and she closed her eyes to keep the wind from sending them down her face. For she had just discovered that she was not pregnant, despite many opportunities to be otherwise. And her greatest desire right now was to give her husband, the last surviving descendant of Surchatain Roman, a son and an heir. But she was not pregnant. While Ares held the Chatain Henry's hand with his left, he cradled her in his right arm, and she buried her teary face in his jacket. The courtiers watching were impressed with her grief for the late Surchatain, even though he had tried to put her husband to death.

 While the priest commended the Surchatain's body to the ground and soul to God, these witnesses, plus the Steward Giles, the palace physician Wigzell, and the Sisters Agnes and Elizabeth contemplated life and death with eyes downcast, or looking out to the Sea south of the abbey fortress. Then the priest read from the Holy Canon:

As a father pities his children,
   so the Lord pities those who fear him.
For he knows our frame;
   he remembers that we are dust.
As for man, his days are like grass;
   he flourishes like a flower of the field;
for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
   and its place knows it no more.

 But the steadfast love of the Lord is from
   everlasting to everlasting
   upon those who fear him,
and his righteousness to children's children,
   to those who keep his covenant
and remember to do his commandments.

 "Amen," Ares murmured, and most of those attending repeated it, but Nicole wept silently for the children's children that were not.

 Counselor Carmine turned to gesture for two servants standing off with shovels. They hurried up to lower the Surchatain's body into the grave with ropes, then began reshoveling the dirt atop it. The party turned away to their waiting carriages, litters and horses.

 Ares kissed his wife's hand, then leaned down and kissed her wet cheek, pleading in her ear, "Please don't cry, my love. Please. It would mean more to me to see you happy than to have ten sons."

 She nodded, wiping her face, then knelt to enter the litter and sit next to the Chataine, who took her hand. Ares leaned down to look in, and Renée gave him a little smile, waving him away. He released the lace curtain of the litter, giving a short nod to the carriers, who bent in concert to lift it. Then Ares turned away with a troubled sigh to take the reins of his gray stallion Karst from the hand of the servant.

 Mounting, he glanced back at the doctor climbing into his carriage. Wigzell, the most senior palace official, had survived war, plague, and accident, and his skill had enabled many others to do so. He was compassionate, knowledgeable, and deathly afraid of horses. He clutched the sides of the carriage uneasily as the driver clucked to the horse. Ares started after him, but heard, "Ares! Wait! Bring me up!"

 He reined around to see Henry running up, so he leaned down and scooped him up on his arm. "I thought you were to ride in the litter, Chatain," he said distractedly.

 "With the women? No!" Henry said in horror, settling before him on the saddle. "When do I get to take my own horse out?"

 "When you learn to stop running him amok," Ares said, tapping Karst to catch up with the doctor's carriage. "Wigzell!"

 The doctor startled slightly at the stallion advancing on the carriage. "Eh, Commander," he nodded. "Good day for a funeral. The June rains have not made the abbey road a river of mud yet."

 "Yes," Ares said absently. "Doctor, I wished to ask you about my wife. She is most vexed at not conceiving yet, and I was wondering if you had any herbs to give her."

 "Herbs?" Wigzell snorted. "Herbs are for seasoning stew. Your wife's problem will not be answered with plants. Now you tell me why should she have any trouble conceiving, with being taken forcibly by Ossian's son, and dragged from the bath to testify before the Surchatain, and watching you almost get beheaded. Good heavens, man, give her a little peace and quiet! What, have you been together a month, all total? One minute she's living in the abbey, the next she's responsible for bearing Roman's heir! With that kind of pressure, could you conceive?"

 "Not right away," Ares said dryly, and Henry snickered. Ares had unwillingly explained all this to him after Henry had observed him and his wife in the tub together.

 "She must have peace, and security, and especially time. Your impatience thwarts her most of all," Wigzell chided. 

 "I've not been impatient," Ares insisted dully, at which Karst snorted and shook his mane. "Mind your own business, beast," he instructed the horse. "Thank you, doctor. I shall be mindful of what you say."

 "Eh, good. God grant you both your heart's desire," the doctor nodded, glancing uneasily at Karst.

 "Amen," Ares agreed as he guided Karst away from the carriage.

 After contemplating this, Henry sat up against Ares and said, "I have an idea! I can be your son, Ares."

 "Of course you are, Chatain. But I have to share you with the Counselor," Ares replied.

 "That's the law," Henry said gravely. For the Counselor had drawn up a royal proclamation announcing the terms of the co-regency, and all three of them had signed it. Although it was too early to know the reaction of other provinces around the Continent, the idea had been well-received in Lystra. The people had no great objection to the usurper's son ruling, as long as good economic conditions continued to prevail.

 Ares directed Karst closer to the litter so he could bend and look in through the lace curtain, mindful of the carriers' feet. It appeared that Nicole had stopped crying, and he saw the outline of her face turn toward him.

 They departed the switchback road from the abbey fortress where it intersected the main road into Westford, then turned toward the palace. The great, iron-banded gates were standing open, and the procession clattered through the spacious cobbled courtyard up to the steps of the palace where waiting servants and stable hands took the reins tossed to them. Ares dismounted, then lifted Henry down. "Your tutor waits with the law books, Chatain."

 Henry started to balk, but seeing the lecture forthcoming, gave it himself: "It was knowing the law that saved your life. I know, Ares. I am going." Henry began trudging up the steps into the foyer, and Ares glanced at a soldier with an unspoken directive. With a salute, the soldier followed the Chatain into the palace.

 When the litter was set down in the courtyard, Ares extended his hand to lift Nicole from the seat. Carmine, on the other side, assisted Renée out. As Ares put his hand at Nicole's back to escort her up the palace steps, she murmured, "I saw you talking with the doctor. You were asking him about me, weren't you?"

 "Yes," Ares admitted, looking down on her delicate features and upturned hazel eyes. When she turned those eyes on him, his knees went weak. He still could not believe he got her to marry him.

 They passed through the great foyer, watching servants and courtiers express their deep condolences to the Chataine, who ignored those who were insincere, which was almost all of them. Renée paused to listen to one particularly fawning moneylender, then observed, "You're just as glad as anyone he's dead, Guinn. But that doesn't erase your debt to the treasury." She hiked her voluminous skirts to ascend the wide, curving staircase.

 Nicole turned back to Ares. "And what did he tell you was the problem with me?" She was fidgeting with a gold thread from her sleeve in unconscious anxiety.

 Observing that, he said, "He told me that the fault is mine. It falls squarely on me." Tall and broad-shouldered as he was, he looked capable of carrying a great deal of weight, but she did not entirely believe him.

 "How so?" she asked.

 "I do not wish to discuss the failures of my manhood, Lady," he muttered, glancing around the crowded foyer.

 "Come, then," she said impatiently, pulling him by the hand down the corridor to his quarters, and he was quite willing to be led along. It was a large enough room, despite the clutter of dresses, and the stone of the walls and floor was softened by the brightly woven rug and coverlet bought by Nicole from the textile master. Until she came along, Ares had no notion that he needed a bed, much less a rug to go under it and a coverlet to go over it. (At present, the coverlet was bunched at the foot of the bed, which awaited clean sheets from the laundress.) 

Moreover, Ares' chamber was the only one in the palace equipped with running water in the garderobe, for Ares had built it around a portion of underground stream that surfaced at this point. The stone that hid his safe place was in the wall opposite the garderobe, protecting the signet and thousand royals that had been returned to him. Ares had the Counselor draw up a second marriage certificate to replace the one Cedric had burned, and it, too, rested in the safe place. Ares had no qualms about using the same safe place since it had been exposed, for with the stone back in place, it was nigh impossible to tell exactly which stone was the loose one. And few people in the palace would have the nerve to go rummaging in the Commander's quarters looking for it.

 Nicole pulled him into the room and shut the door, then reached up to his neck. "We have privacy now, my lord. Tell me your troubles."

 "Suffice it to say," he said, maneuvering her over the bed, "that I will deal with it."

 He meant to let her down gently onto the bed, but his foot caught in the folds of her long dress, and he fell atop her on the straw mattress supported by ropes. When she let out a cry, he scrambled up on hands and knees on the shifting mattress. "I hate this bed!" she said, lifting up from the sharp piece of straw poking up through the cotton binding.

 "I do, too," he sighed.

 "It's like lying in needles!"

 "It's breaking my back," he groaned.

 "Oh, please, Ares, can we get a feather bed?" she pleaded.

 He considered the question, then said, "Will you compromise?"

 "Anything is better than this," she conceded, then cautiously, "How?"

 "Wait." He left, and she heard him calling to a servant in the corridor outside. His voice receded as he went down the corridor. Minutes later, Gretchen, the little laundress who personally took care of the Commander's cleaning needs, entered to scrutinize the straw bed while Nicole sat on it. "Um hmm. Um hmmm," she deliberated, looking on one side and then the other as Nicole shifted to watch her. Then Gretchen left, and another servant entered with a rod to measure the frame anchoring the ropes under the mattress. Nicole moved the trunk of dresses away from the foot of the bed in anticipation of what would come.

 In a while a couple of servants brought in a thick feather coverlet, which Gretchen began to sew to the top of the straw mattress. When Nicole saw what she was about, she asked for a needle and thread to help her. By the time they finished attaching the two, Ares and another servant had brought in planks of wood which had been cut to fit into the frame atop the ropes, beneath the straw mattress. The planks had to be shaved a bit to go in properly, but soon they had a solid bed with a straw middle and feather top. Then Gretchen made up the bed with clean sheets, and Nicole replaced the coverlet. When the servants had sufficiently admired their handiwork, they left, patting each other on the back.

 Nicole flopped down on the bed fully dressed, and Ares lay beside her.  "What do you think, Lady?" he asked.

 "I won't know until we try it out, my lord," she said, raising her eyes.

As that would not be for several days yet, Ares groaned, "I am deprived at every turn."

Stretching, he sighed, "Still, that's much better," feeling the solid support underneath the straw.

 "Yes, I agree," she said, nestling into his side atop the soft feathers. Then she leaned over to kiss his mouth. He held her, caressing her thick chestnut hair. As she lay on him, the little filigree cross spilled out of her bodice onto his chest. He looked down at it and smiled. Nicole studied his smoky brown eyes and full lips, basking in the tenderness that few others ever saw. Then she regarded the ugly, gaping scar. Somehow, it looked different. Now that she knew its history, it was almost--an endearment.

 She felt his solid chest expand beneath her. "Nicole, I want to tell you something." She looked back to his eyes in mild alarm at his tone. His left hand rested on her back while his right enclosed her hand on his chest. "Henry seems to think that--he is my son. He knows Cedric was his father, but now that he is dead, Henry has been looking to me to be his father. I think that . . . it would disturb him for me to have my own child any time soon."

 "What are you saying?" she asked, sitting up.

 "I do not think this is a good time for you to become pregnant," he said.

 She contemplated that in confused righteous indignation. "Because Henry does not want it?"

 "Not at all. I just think he will accept it better when he is a little older. You are very young yet, so we have plenty of time," he said placidly.

 "Does this mean we cannot make love?" she demanded, pursing her lips in anger.

 "Of course not. It only means--I will not force myself on you. I know you accommodate me a great deal. So we will scale back to your wishes. When you want me, I will make myself available to you. But I think I should give you a rest, and buy us some time for Henry to mature, and be less dependent on me."

 She lay back down on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "And you will accommodate me whenever I wish?"

 "Yes," he said aloofly, while smiling over the back of her head.

 "But what if I do become pregnant?"

 He shrugged as if dismissing a grave problem. "Then I will endeavor to make Henry understand. But we won't try so hard, you see."

 "As you wish," she said, trying to match his aloofness. Caressing his chest, she began unconsciously toying with his jacket buttons. She lifted up to kiss him, sighing, and her fingers somehow found a way through his jacket and shirt to his bare chest. He delved into her mouth and she lay fully on top of him. According to the inviolable laws of human nature (of which Ares was an attentive student) being told that they would not do this so much made her want to do it that much more.

 There was a knock on his door, and the voice of the sentry beyond it said, "Commander, the Counselor and the Chataine request your presence."

 Ares turned his head. "I'm coming."

 Nicole slipped off him reluctantly, fretting, "How shall I ever wait?" And the sentry had to duck his face when the Commander came out of his chambers buttoning his jacket and grinning broadly.

 "In the Counselor's chambers, I assume?" Ares asked him.

 "No, Lord Commander, the Chataine's," he replied.

 Ares paused in surprise, then passed through the foyer, trotted up the stairs, and turned down the corridor toward the Chataine's apartments. Before he got to the door, he could hear her angry, beseeching voice.

 Ares stopped in the doorway and looked in. It was strictly forbidden for any man, even the Surchatain, to enter the Chataine's quarters, and Ares intended to honor that prohibition until the day of his death. The Counselor, feeling free to ignore this injunction for several reasons, was there, however, in the midst of luxurious furnishings, tapestries, room accessories and decorative touches all squeezed together. Renée wheeled at Ares' approach, hastening to throw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Ares, Carmine is being such a beast! Talk to him!" she pleaded.

 Sternly repressing any hint of a smile, Ares asked him, "What have you done now, Beast?"

 Carmine sighed. "I am, as you well know, presenting the Chataine with our plan to put her on a budget, which you, in your cowardice, declined to do."

 Ares looked off in unconcern. "I have my own woman troubles."

 "Ares, this is unreasonable! He proposes to limit me to one hundred royals a month! A month!" Renée cried.

 Ares made a point of looking around the room full of treasures appropriated from Surchataine Elise's chambers when she was deposed for infidelity. "And what do you require that would exceed that amount, Chataine?" he asked.

 "Jewelry! Clothes! Makeup! Do you think it right that the merchants' daughters should look better than the Chataine?" she cried.

 Ares looked at her. "Dear Chataine, that is an impossibility. Were you dressed in a goat's-hair camlet and rope necklace, you would still eclipse them all. But as it is, you have the wardrobe of a Surchataine. Literally."

 "Oh, you're both horrible! Get out!" she cried. Ares was already out, and Carmine joined him. Renée gestured to her maid, Eleanor, who closed the door on them with frosty disapproval.

 In the corridor, Ares and Carmine deliberated. "We don't want her unhappy," Ares said.

 "Do you know that sitting in those quarters is the equivalent of five years' tribute from the whole province of Scylla?" Carmine asked casually.

 Ares' mouth hung open, then he shut it. "No." His brow wrinkled as he pondered this difficulty. "I do not understand her concerns."

 "Perhaps the Lady Nicole would be helpful as a translator," Carmine suggested.

 Nodding, Ares turned to a sentry. "Tell the Lady Nicole her presence is requested." As the sentry moved off, Ares turned back to Carmine. "If one hundred royals a month is insufficient, what had she been spending before?"

 "Do you really want to know?" Carmine asked.

 Ares looked down, then said, "That is more than my salary, you know."

 "Considerably more," Carmine agreed.

 "And I have more expenses now, with a wife," Ares pointed out.

 Carmine regarded him with new appreciation. "Why, Commander, are you demanding a raise?"

 Ares looked troubled, as this was a presumption he had never succumbed to in all his years of service. "No. But what is the state of the palace finances?"

 "I showed you the figures. We are healthy, for the time being, but if the wheat failure taxes our resources, or one of our neighboring provinces becomes acquisitive, or we must supply a dowry for the Chataine's wedding, we could find ourselves quickly strapped. Giles has been pleading for years to staunch the hemorrhaging from the Chataine's purse," the Counselor said.

 "What promising matches do you see for her?" Ares asked.

 Carmine sighed. "The best match for us politically would have been with the Chatain Magnus. The best match financially would have been Lord Lieterstad. With those two possibilities rendered void, it simply does not matter whom she weds, unless it proves to be a drain on our resources."

 "Which is why you sent back the Selecan emissary with regrets," Ares noted.

 Carmine shuddered. "To be saddled with an alliance with Seleca--we might as well toss royals into the Sea."

 "Are there no possibilities from Calle Valley other than Lord Lieterstad?" Ares pressed.

 Carmine shook his head, adjusting his brocaded, fur-lined surcoat. "Surchatain Verschoyle has only young daughters, which may prove advantageous when Henry comes of age, but even now they are receiving bids from suitors that outstrip what we could offer. The Surchatain has a marriageable nephew who has openly campaigned for the throne, but it would be suicidal for us to match our Chataine with him unless we were certain of his success."

 Nodding, Ares turned as Nicole approached and curtsied. "Did you desire me, my lord?"

 "Yes," he said warmly, taking her hand, and she smiled up at him.

 Since Ares just stood there looking at her, the Counselor leaned forward. "Actually, dear Lady, we both did. We have managed to enrage the Chataine by proposing to limit her spending, and we were hoping you might--talk to her for us. Help her understand our concerns, but mostly, help us understand why a hundred royals a month is too little for her."

 Nicole's eyes widened. "She gets a hundred royals a month?" she asked in awe.

 Ares and Carmine exchanged glances. "Please go in to her, and bring us back words we can understand," the Counselor requested.

 Nicole nodded, then turned to knock on the Chataine's door, identifying herself. When she had entered and shut the door behind her, Carmine turned to Ares. "You do not need a raise." Ares wryly agreed.

 "This may take a while. Come have a drink," Carmine proposed, extending his arm toward his chambers down the corridor.

 "Accepted. First, let me see what success Thom is having recruiting the men for law classes," Ares said, turning toward the steps.

 "I still say you will never enlist them without additional pay," Carmine said lightly.

 "And I still say that money makes a poor mistress," Ares returned over his shoulder. "By the way, those who don't go to law classes, dig instead." For they were now endeavoring to trench a canal from the Village Branch to the Sea, thus reopening trade that had languished over time as the ports at Hycliff were rendered unusable due to erosion.

 "I see," the Counselor said, enlightened.

 Within a half hour, Ares was seated in the Counselor's receiving room as Carmine produced a bottle of spring wine and two goblets from a wine stand against the wall. The Counselor's chambers, large and richly appointed, reflected the success he had enjoyed in his position. The material rewards might also reflect some second thoughts on Surchatain Cedric's part after Carmine's punishment, for Renée had pleaded to marry her lover when they were found out.

 With a knock, a sentry opened the door to admit Nicole, and Ares stood to greet her. "Ah. Have a seat. What do you have for us, dear spy?" Carmine said, producing a third goblet and filling all three.

 Nicole sat with Ares' arm over the back of her chair. "First, my lords should know that I told her you had asked me to talk to her, and I do not think you wish to hear the words she specifically directed to you, dear Counselor."

 Ares laughed richly, and Carmine inclined his head. "A curse so gently delivered only blesses me, Lady. Please proceed."

 Nicole took a sip of wine, gathering her thoughts. "Despite what she says, I do not think the money is the true difficulty. I believe she harbors great doubts about her future--whether she will be pawned off on someone personally revolting for the sake of an alliance, or whether she can even draw an acceptable suitor. She feels unworthy, or unpresentable, which is why she needs to adorn herself lavishly and surround herself with luxury. I believe she is using that for security, and that is what you are threatening to take away from her."

 Both men remained silent for several moments. Then Carmine said softly, "Your goodness of heart is matched only by your clarity of mind, Lady. I never would have guessed."

 But Ares protested, "I cannot believe that. When she is more beautiful than anyone in the province but my own dove, and dressed ten times more richly, how can she see herself as unpresentable?"

 "She is 'used goods,' my lord," Nicole murmured, dropping her eyes.

 This reminder of Magnus' taunt struck them dumb. Carmine rose to stand at the paned window, head bowed. Ares picked up Nicole's hand and kissed it appreciatively. Leaning on the window casing, Carmine said heavily, "Dear Lady, please tell the Chataine that she is free to marry anyone she chooses, or not. For the sake of appearances to the rest of the Continent, it is more valuable to us for her to fulfill her role as Chataine of Lystra than to be chained to an unsuitable mate, regardless how rich or influential. She may live here the rest of her days in perfect confidence of her worth."

 "Of course," Ares concurred. Nicole stood. "I do not know that I can express it so beautifully, but I will try." She left the receiving room, and in a moment Carmine reseated himself, taking a long swig of wine.

 "I never really understood how much I wronged her, even though she wanted it," he muttered. "She swore she loved me; she swore it would not matter, and it was my undoing to believe her. But until this day, I never believed she suffered as much for that lapse in judgment as I." Ares sat back contemplatively, without anything to add.

 In scant minutes, Nicole had returned. Both men stood in surprise, and Carmine asked, "You have a response already, dear?"

 "Yes," Nicole said, looking on the Counselor with harder eyes. "The Chataine wishes to know if these flowery words have any basis in truth, my lord Counselor."

 "My lady may reassure the Chataine that this is my word of honor spoken in front of the Commander and yourself, two impeccable witnesses," he replied formally.

 Nicole softened, glancing down. "Then she wishes to inform my lord Counselor that she has selected a marriage partner."

 Ares and Carmine exchanged surprised glances. "Well--excellent. Whomever she chooses. Whom has she chosen, Lady?" Carmine asked, slightly flustered.

 "You, my lord Counselor," Nicole replied.  

Copyright 2004 Robin Hardy

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