“Lady Sorrell?” Scylla waited to hear what her former handmaid would say.
“Princess Scylla had a most abusive reputation when I came here,” mused Sorrell, as if Scylla was not present. She was resting flat on her bed, staring at the ceiling. “I expected to be chased out like all her other handmaids. Yet look at me now... I have risen to become ‘her Ladyship’, and now I am appointed to the War Council of the kingdom! It is merely, of course, that with my injuries I’m suffering too much to be able to run away.”
“Let me know when you are well enough. I will run away with you.”
“Meanwhile,” said Coltic, sounding hopeful. “Princess... the wine that will languish in the cellars now that the king is gone... I ask for permission to begin selling it. I’ve made a list of some who may be interested.”
Scylla raised her eyebrows in question.
Coltic continued, “The monies raised from selling the wines can be used for rebuilding the castle wall where the priest smashed it...”
“The lightning hit it,” interjected Mako. “Let us say the lightning hit it.”
“... where the lightning from the priest hit it... I propose a tower to be built at that corner, not overly large...”
“It would be a good lookout in that direction,” Mako said, abandoning his attempt. “What do you think, Princess?”
Scylla shrugged. “There is no point in letting all that expensive wine occupy so much of the cellars. Sell it.”
“I will reserve some for future court occasions and find buyers for the rest,” Coltic said, looking pleased. “It will certainly cover much of the cost of the repairs, if not all.”
“Also, I am proposing a new flag.” She held up her project, which now looked like the current flag with one red spot added. “I am putting three spots on it for the blood of the king and the princes.”
Coltic and Mako inspected it. “What about a spot for the late queen?” asked Mako.
“Curse the late queen!” snapped Scylla. “No one will remember her.”
“Perhaps one larger spot representing the bloody betrayal of all?”
“Hmmm... well, maybe!” She studied it. “I will try one larger red spot. Will it need a proclamation?”
“We’ll make a proclamation,” Mako said. “Along with the one for the War Council.”
“Excellent,” said Scylla, although she was beginning to tire of the subject. All in all, she thought she could use a nap and wondered how quickly Mako and Coltic could be encouraged to leave.
“There is one other thing...” said Mako. He was staring out at the rooftop garden as if the sight of Axit and Prince Leon playing hide-and-seek around the legs of the soldiers was fascinating.
“Oh?” Scylla smothered a yawn.
“This is a subject suited to the War Council as well as the queen...” He hesitated. “May I ask, Princess, are you also part of the War Council?”
“Oh, I will have to be, I’m sure,” said Scylla with a hint of annoyance. “Unless I am feeling unwell, which may happen. What subject are you talking about?”
“Ah... we have received word of another marriage proposal, although the actual party presenting it has not yet arrived.”
“Curses!” said Scylla violently. “What now?”
The other members of the War Council waited for Mako to continue.
“We may have to think about this one.”
“I am waiting,” Scylla informed him icily. “May I point out before you continue, however, that I alone will decide whether I will even begin to consider any marriage proposal?”
“We are told that Gryor, our neighboring realm, is sending a proposal.”
“It is regarding the Puppet King,” Coltic said. “The court advisors seized power over the past several years, and have begun to pull the Puppet’s strings with less and less caution... or so we hear.”
“Consider this. We have been told by the trellet that there is danger to our lands from our neighbor. Now, this neighbor – and we hear worrisome tales about Gryor’s court – is proposing that our queen weds their king.”
“Their Puppet King,” Coltic interjected. His eyes were bright with interest.
“Oh?”
“They seek to expand their lands, it seems. I wonder what happens if our queen refuses.”
The War Council took a moment to contemplate the prospect.
“It could be very unpleasant,” Coltic pointed out.
Mako added after a moment, “But what if we see this as an opportunity to expand our realm?”
There was further silence.
Minda said, “You gentlemen are contemplating a dangerous game. Not only for your queen but also for this kingdom. Rellant’s population has no history of conflict... no expertise... not even much of an army. We are a peaceful kingdom of sheepherders, wool merchants, weavers, and woodcutters.”
“And a few fishermen,” Coltic added.
“What is the alternative?” said Mako. “Does Gryor’s messenger bow and leave if the queen refuses? Or does Gryor go on with what we now suspect it has already started? Think of what now has become apparent... our own priests’ attempts to seize power. It appears that they were involved in the massacre of the royal family, and we know they tried to assassinate the queen at her coronation. Can we not presume Gryor has encouraged – if not incited – Rellant’s recent treachery?”
“The trellet warned of danger from that direction,” Minda said.
“I think we’re looking at a serious threat. We may have to fight ‘magic’ if that’s what it is, or this new problem from the direction of Gryor. Princess, you’ve created your War Council at a time the kingdom will need it.”
“I resign,” Lady Sorrell spoke up from her sickbed.
“You’re not allowed to,” Scylla told her sharply. “I need a nap. Gentlemen, go about your business and come back here for dinner – in an hour or so. We will confer then.”
Curses! she said to herself as she hobbled to her alcove. Curses! Curses! Curses! How could it be possible that life had seemed so simple, little more than a week before? Perhaps it had been not entirely satisfactory... but it had been simple.
***
Shadows began to lengthen as the sun slowly dropped in the western sky. Scylla, who had not slept, rose from her bed and returned to her chair in the main room, picking up the flag, which needed only a few stitches to finish. Sorrell, having left her bed, was pacing slowly around the roof garden.
Minda said, “The kitchen has sent up a few things to nibble on. Dinner will be a little later.” She gestured towards the long table, where several platters were laid out, and vases of flowers provided a colorful backdrop.
“Well, I am sure the chancellor and Captain Coltic will be pleased when they arrive,” said Scylla, critically eyeing a block of butter carved into a sleeping sheep, loaves of bread braided and decorated before baking, and thin slices of cold meats and cheeses that had been folded, rolled and otherwise displayed with an excess of imagination.
“Clearly, the head cook was not trained locally. I wonder how Queen Maris found him,” mused Minda, as she too surveyed the pre-dinner offerings. “And where. I must ask him.”
“I wonder what further excesses the kitchen has planned for this evening?”
“So far it has all been very admirable,” Minda said. “I remember that your mother had a very temperamental cook to cope with. The kitchen could not be relied upon for any consistency.”
“Oh well, as long as food appears and is edible...” Scylla yawned. “Let them do what they wish. I will save my appetite for dinner.”
“Would you not like me to make up a small plate for you? You have eaten very little today.”
“I’m not a big eater,” Scylla said. “And what a sin it would be to disturb such superb creations – such as that multi-colored mountain of salad, Minda! – before the others have had a chance to feast their eyes upon it. Unless, of course... are you hungry now, Minda... or you, Sorrell?” This last was to Sorrell, who had re-en
tered from the roof garden.
She went to the bed and gingerly lay down. “Not now, I will get up for dinner.”
Minda said, “I too will wait.”
They did not have to wait long. The door burst open and Coltic came in with little Leon riding piggyback and Axit not far behind. Mako entered next, in conversation with another soldier who was following.
He broke off speech as they came in. “Princess! Do you recall Captain Renold?”
“Oh yes, of course. Captain. Thank you for setting your men on the priests!” She nodded to the well-remembered dark angel from the smithy, and Renold gave a half-bow along with his boyish grin in return.
“I recommend that you add him to the War Council,” said Mako. “As he is the very capable captain of Rellant’s home army, and is planning to increase it with the help of our district lords.”
“I am sure you’re right,” Scylla agreed. “Does he know about...?”
“... the priests smashing the wall and all the rest? Yes.”
“Although I would like to see the stick creature. May I?”
“He’s in there,” Scylla gestured. “Minda, will you show him?”
Renold came out of the alcove some moments later with an odd expression on his face. “It appears to be little more than a bundle of sticks,” he said. “Are you sure it’s alive?”
“We’ve all seen him in action,” said Mako. “Everyone in this room except you and Prince Leon. As much as I don’t want to believe in him or the priests’ magic, I accept we must.”
Renold shrugged. “I suspend disbelief,” he said.
“I wonder whether War Council is the right name,” said Minda. “I have been thinking perhaps a better name would be Peace Council. How obvious are we to be about this proposed war, since we haven’t even fully identified where the threat is coming from?”
“Good point,” Mako responded. “I was thinking earlier to call it simply the Council... Rellant’s Council... Princess?”
“I do not care. Put it on the proclamation... that is if you have not already had it written up.”
“Not yet.” Mako was inspecting the table with less admiration than hunger. “Is this dinner?”
“It is a lead-in to dinner, which will arrive a little later,” Minda said. “Please help yourselves, gentlemen. Axit, the kitchen has sent up some food more suitable for Leon – it is here.”
“I’ll feed him in the other room,” Axit said. “And then bedtime after that.”
“Renold’s troops are still on the hunt,” said Mako after the girl had taken Leon to his room accompanied by his usual wailing when he was parted from Coltic.
Renold nodded. “We’ve brought out the tracking dogs and I expect they will soon find the priests’ trail.”
“The younger priests remain in custody,” said Mako. “They are heavily guarded and will not escape. It seems they had far less involvement in the treachery than the others. Yet I cannot trust them.”
He and the other two men sat down at the table and demolished a large portion of the pre-dinner feast.
“Mmmm!” said Renold, chewing with gusto. “I know we just had the coronation feast yesterday, but today was a very long day, with most of it spent in the saddle. May I express my appreciation for the dinner, Princess?”
“There is no point in expressing it to me,” Scylla told him. “The kitchen is merely in the habit of providing a feast every evening – as orchestrated by Queen Maris and enjoyed by my father the king and his cronies, all you soldiers, and the queen's retinue as well. The War Council will be well-fed as we contemplate each day’s new disasters.”
“And accomplishments,” Mako added smoothly. “At any rate, as long as Rellant is in a state of emergency, it will be useful for the Council to consult each evening over dinner. I will assemble Rellant’s district lords for a dinner in a few days, in the Great Hall. You may or may not attend, Princess... as you will.”
“How much do you intend to tell them?” asked Minda.
“Only what we decide here,” he answered. “We will develop a strategy and present it to them.”
“Quite possibly I will be feeling unwell that day,” Scylla said.
“As you wish.”
“We have sent out some... spies... if I may call them that,” said Renold. “We need more information about what is known generally in our countryside and villages... about the priests, for example. I’ve also sent some men by boat to our neighbors in Gryor, to see what’s abuzz in the Walled and Unwalled Cities.”
“Gryor’s Cities are much larger than our castle village,” said Coltic in admiring recollection, around a mouthful of bread and butter. “I am planning to sell some of the wines there.”
“So, Chancellor... Captains... do you really think our small and peaceable realm has any hope at all... of what? First of all, surviving whatever attack Gryor may or may not have planned next and, after that, having the audacity to contemplate the takeover of a much larger kingdom.”
“Well said, Princess!” Mako grinned at her. “We are developing a plan of attack.”
“I am waiting,” Scylla prompted him coldly.
He shook his head. “Not yet, Princess. We need to assemble more information before we can formulate a clear plan.”
“Due to the recent deaths in my family, I remain in mourning and will not contemplate any proposal of marriage for at least six months,” Scylla reminded him. “Perhaps even as much as three years.”
He nodded. “Excellent! That gives us more time for negotiation.”
She glared at him. “I leave the Council to contemplate the current state of emergency – I am going to bed... goodnight!” Without waiting for a reply, she hobbled with the aid of her swordstick and broom to the alcove, where she drew the curtain viciously across the alcove opening.
She called through the curtain, “Take a look at the new flag! The sample is finished.”
She crawled into bed, pulling the bedclothes up around her head. With the blankets over her ears, she was able to muffle the voices in the next room and sink into pleasant daydreams of running away to some quiet place where War Councils were unnecessary. The details of how she would feed herself, and the like, were not very clear. But then neither were the details of how the House of Rellant – and Scylla herself – could survive the threats against it.
Curses!
***
Early the next morning she woke up hungry, which was not really surprising as she had gone to bed without eating much. Nevertheless, she felt quite well. Rest and Minda’s capable management had allowed her to begin her recovery from the week’s horrors.
“Eeee... eeee!” came a small squeak from the corner of the room as Scylla sat up. It was such a faint sound that at first she disregarded it.
Minda peered around the curtain. “Are you awake, Queen Scylla?” Beams of early morning sunlight shone through the windows.
“ ‘Princess’,” Scylla reminded her with a yawn. “Yes, I am awake, and in the corner, it sounds as if the trellet may be too. Can you hear him?”
Minda listened and nodded. She crossed the room and peered into the basket. “He is stirring a little,” she said. “Let us leave him for now. I am sure the kitchen is sending breakfast up soon.”
“Thank the Goddess!” said Scylla. “Would you put this ankle binding back on? I’ll thank the healer profusely if I see her again.”
Minda replaced the ankle binding and Scylla hobbled out into the main room.
“Princess,” Sorrell greeted her from her bed. “I am sorry I cannot help you dress.”
“Do not be sorry. If not for you I would be dead. Meanwhile, your suffering is worse than mine. How are your ribs?”
“I recommend you never break your ribs,” Sorrell said with a cautious cough. “Ow! ... I’m sure I’ll recover in due time. What do you think of the chancellor’s war games, Princess?”
Scylla rolled her eyes. “So tiresome! And yet, it seems necessary. Did he and Coltic and Renold offer
any hints of what they are planning?”
Minda answered. “No, just as you heard, Princess... that their spies are out gathering what information they may... and Renold’s soldiers are scouring the countryside for the missing priests. We can only wait to see if there will be another strike.”
“From Gryor?”
Minda nodded. “I’m sending for Orwen, my husband. The Council will find it very useful to consult with him this evening. King Tobin often did so. Orwen was an adventurer in his youth, and now runs much of Rellant’s wool export business. He has many contacts and you and the Council may find his insights valuable, especially with a view to the mood in Gryor.”
There was silence for a moment.
“Oh,” said Scylla thoughtfully. “Could it be possible that not only the trellets of Gryor are building a resistance against that kingdom’s rule?”
Minda pursed her lips. “I suspect so. Orwen has mentioned growing unrest in Gryor.”
“Hmmm,” said Sorrell. “So Mako and the captains are not as foolish... ah... as far off the mark as they first seemed to be.”
“How fascinating. I hope the chancellor does not allow his revenge or his ambition – whichever it is that drives him – to carry us all to ruin.” Scylla sighed. “Well, I do hope breakfast arrives soon.”
“I am happy to see you are eating a little more,” Minda observed. “You are far too thin. Mako has told me you suspected Queen Maris of tampering with your food.”
“Princess Scylla was often ill after eating,” Sorrell said. “When we stopped eating food supplied by the kitchen, three years ago, she was never ill again. But the princess eats very little at any time.”
“The chancellor has investigated the cook and the kitchen staff and tells me he is almost certain the food is safe now. The cook, in fact, and several of the staff have been here for only about a year. Meanwhile, Mako advises that you continue to eat in your usual grazing manner – a little here and a little there – until things are more settled. We will not request anything to be sent up specifically for you. If you want something in particular, Axit or I will make it on the stove here in these chambers. Sorrell has advised me on how she procured your food and what you like.”
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