The Deceit of Tongues

by N M Zoltack

  Thorley grumbled but nodded.

  “I do not need one of your personal guards,” Sabine protested.

  “Nonsense.” Rosalynne waved a hand. “You do.”

  “Accept,” Greta murmured to Sabine.

  “Thank you,” Sabine said.

  Rosalynne smiled.

  Mother and daughter finally left, and Rosalynne whirled around to face her guards.

  “Thorley, swear on my brother’s glass casket that you will not betray the true Riveras.”

  “I so swear,” he said without hesitation.

  She sighed with relief. “I do not trust either of them,” she whispered. “Please. I need to know I can trust you.”

  “You can. I will be your eyes and ears.”

  “Please,” Rosalynne begged. “I know she is beautiful, and she may promise you the world, but do not betray me.”

  Thorley knelt before her. He was maybe twenty, the other guard a few years older. She knew that either or both could easily be susceptible to the wily and beautiful Sabine. Rosalynne had not failed to notice that Sabine would flirt with any and all men who looked her way. Sabine used and abused men. Certainly she would do the same with power. Of that, Rosalynne had no doubt.

  “I swear that there is nothing that Sabine or her mother can do that will turn me away from you,” Thorley said. “Your father knighted me, and ever since I first saw you, I wished to be your guard. If you wish me to guard another, I will, but I will only ever have your best interests at heart.”

  Rosalynne had never known this, and frankly, she did not know how to respond. Thankfully, Thorley climbed to his feet and rushed out of the mausoleum, most likely to guard over his new charge.

  Wilfrid shifted to stand before his queen. “I do not like being the only one to guard you,” he muttered.

  “Do you have another guard who you trust with your life?”

  “I do. Two even. May I enlist them both into service for the duty of protecting you?”

  “Two more?” she protested.

  “Many and more like Sabine,” Wilfrid whispered. “I do not. I will not dare let anything happen to you.”

  Rosalynne nodded. “Then two more it shall be. Thank you, Wilfrid.”

  “Anything for you, My Queen.” He hesitated.

  Clearly, there was something else on his mind. She nodded for him to go ahead.

  “It seems to me that two queens in Tenoch might be too many,” he said. “Do be careful.”

  “If you are that worried, perhaps you will stand guard over my bed as I sleep at night.”

  His stern face collapsed into one of relief. “Oh, thank you. I wanted to ask but feared how that would sound.”

  She gaped at him, shocked. Rosalynne opened her mouth to retract the request made in jest but opted not to.

  “Very well. Let us return to the castle.”

  Despite her words, Rosalynne crossed over to her brother and laid a hand on his glass covering. For a long while yet, she remained there, trapped in memories of happier times. Eventually, Tabes, Noll’s dog, stirred from the nap he was having above Noll’s chest on the glass.

  “Come now, you silly dog,” Rosalynne scolded playfully. She scooped the dog into her arms, and the three of them made the long trek back to the castle. All the way, the rain still poured down from the heavens as if Life and Peace were crying along with the mourners over the short, tragic life of Prince Noll Rivera.

  8

  Queen Sabine Grantham

  Sabine scowled for several reasons.

  First, she was scowling at her mother’s backside. Already, she was trying to test the guard Thorley to see if his true allegiance laid with Rosalynne or with Tenoch Proper or where exactly. Once more, her mother was overstepping herself.

  Second, she was scowling because she knew that Rosalynne was playing her. Sabine may have married the king, but she maintained her father’s surname instead of gaining her husband’s. Just as when Rosalynne would marry, her husband would keep his name, whereas her children would carry on the royal name of Rivera.

  If Rosalynne has children.

  By the Fate of Life or maybe it should be Death, Sabine hoped the younger queen would never bear fruit in her womb. Some might consider that terrible, but Sabine knew better. She would keep her deceits to herself and allow her tongue to say only the sweetest of expressions.

  When the trio arrived at the castle, Sabine waited a moment for her mother to leave. Then, Sabine turned to her guard.

  “I have a meeting with my advisor. Will you be willing to stay outside the doors?”

  The guard nodded. “Anything that the ruling queen wishes,” he said.

  She eyed him curiously. Did he truly mean that? Honestly, she doubted that greatly. Rosalynne had not learned the art of finding her duplicity, but Sabine would pretend that she had no idea of the younger queen’s desire to have a spy on Sabine. This could be rather fun actually. Oh, yes, indeed.

  For now, though, Sabine truly did have a meeting, and she found Aldus Perez waiting for her in the tea room the farthest remove from her own quarters. This was where they most often met.

  “The funeral was rather moving,” Aldus said.

  “It was,” Sabine said shortly.

  He laughed. His teeth were white and perfect. “You wish to get straight to it, so I see.”

  She smiled. “I always do.”

  Aldus cleared his throat and turned serious, although his gaze did drift down to settle on her painted lips.

  “Do you remember what we spoke about previously concerning Vincana?” he asked.

  “I do. You think I should marry a man from there.”

  “Indeed. It will go a long way to cement your power for all of Tenoch Proper and not just here on Tenoch. To that end, I wish to send a falcon on your behalf to invite the Vincanans to a tournament to be held in three months’ time.”

  “Three months’ time?” she questioned, startled. “I thought originally it was intended to be a year from now?”

  “Given Noll’s death, I believe you need to cement your power more immediately than that.”

  “You fear that his death will rally the people more toward Rosalynne,” she murmured.

  “It is entirely possible. You saw how many turned out for the prince’s funeral.”

  “I did.” Sabine scowled yet again. The younger queen was not a rose at all but a thorn stuck in her side, festering.

  “In addition to the tournament in three months, I propose that you also invite any who might be willing to come to a grand ball you will host in a month.”

  “A grand ball a month after burying the prince,” she mused thoughtfully. “Do you think that wise?”

  “I would not advise you to do such if I did not think so.”

  Sabine nodded and stood. “Then, so it shall be. I must have new gowns created for the ball. Perhaps, since they are traveling from such a far destination, we should have an entire week-long castle party for them. How many can we comfortably house within the castle?”

  “I can consult with the chef and the servants and maids and determine that for you.”

  “Thank you, Aldus,” she murmured.

  “Certainly,” the advisor said, his gaze leering once more.

  Sabine waltzed out of the room, and Thorley trailed behind her. She was certain that at least Aldus was watching her backside, and she grinned.

  9

  Marcellus Gallus

  The deer startled and darted away, but that made no difference as Marcellus Gallus’s arrow still pierced its hide. The deer hesitated and then tipped onto its side.

  Marcellus crept over to his kill and realized that the deer still breathed. To ease the animal’s suffering, he stabbed the deer clear through the eye, the better to prevent any of the meat from toughening up by the deer’s muscles tightening upon death.

  After wiping the blood from his dagger onto the vibrant green grass and with hardly a grunt, Marcellus draped the deer over his shoulders. He had to maneuve
r around the towering pines and oaks to leave the forest and then cross the wide grassy field to reach his father’s domus. The stone house was one of the greatest around. The interior courtyard was massive, and all of the walls were painted beautifully.

  It was to the courtyard that Marcellus dumped the deer. The animal was a large one, and although he could carry it to the kitchen himself, he allowed two of the servants to struggle to bring it away.

  His father was in the courtyard, sitting on one of the ornately carved marble benches. He did not look up from the scroll he was ready and tilted his head to the side.

  “Join me, my son,” he said in his staggeringly deep voice.

  Marcellus complied. Sweat covered him from his efforts, but he was not out of breath. At nineteen, he was strong and hardy, swift and sure.

  “A missive from Tenoch,” his father said.

  Marcellus smirked. “What does it say?”

  “Their prince is dead. Killed. Maybe murdered.”

  “So quickly after the father and the babe,” Marcellus said. “A coincidence?”

  “Who knows? Truly that does not matter.” His father leaned forward. “I believe now is the time.”

  “You think so?” Marcellus swallowed hard as a fire burned within him. He had lived and trained and breathed for this moment. Now, it had finally arrived, or so he hoped.

  “I do indeed. Come. We must assemble the others in the forum. It is time for me to give a speech.”

  “Very well.”

  Marcellus stood and nodded to his father, and he was back off to the races on his favorite horse’s back, rushing around to be the messenger to all of the oldest and noblest of families within Vincana. Certainly, the island was far too large for him to notify everyone, but others joined him in spreading the news. In two hours’ time, many of the most influential people in all of Vincana were assembled within the grand pillars of the forum.

  His father stood at the bottom of the tiered bowl-like structure. Marcellus moved to sit in one of the front benches, but his father waved him forward to stand beside him.

  “Grand men and women of the wondrous island of Vincana,” his father boomed, “you all know me. I am Antonius Gallus. I am this island’s lifeblood as are you. We need no king on Tenoch’s throne to dictate what we should and should not do. We do not need to be a part of the so-called Tenoch Proper. We need nothing and even less from others. We can and should defend and protect ourselves. We can and should provide and better ourselves.”

  A rousing cry of cheers and applaud burst out, and Marcellus did what he could to settle the people once more so his father could continue.

  “We need no king on Tenoch’s throne,” his father repeated, “and, indeed, there is no king on Tenoch’s throne at all. The king has died, or should I say their king?”

  More applause rang out, more cheers and shouts of jubilation. It took even longer for Marcellus to quiet the audience this time around.

  “Not only is their king dead but so is their prince. The turmoil within Tenoch makes the entire island ripe for the picking.”

  Marcellus gaped at his father in surprise. He had assumed that his father only wished for Vincana to be separate from Tenoch Proper, for Vincana to be its own separate and sole kingdom once more.

  But, no, clearly his father had far more ambitious and loftier goals.

  “With your leave,” his father boomed, “I shall declare myself king, and if it is your will is the same as mine, all within Vincana will prepare for war!”

  The tremendous outcry of support and praise and exculpation went on for so long that Marcellus did not even bother to try to quiet the crowd.

  His father clasped Marcellus on the shoulder and then gave him a tight hug. Into his ear, he whispered, “If I am king, boy, that make you a prince.”

  His father pulled away and lifted Marcellus’s hand high into the air.

  The people cheered and chanted, “King Antonius! Prince Marcellus! King Antonius! Prince Marcellus!”

  10

  Rase Ainsley

  A week later during which Pa brought home some meat but not the animal themselves as well as a strange assortment of fruits or vegetables, and Rase couldn’t help it. He was too curious to learn where and how exactly his pa was getting the food.

  Besides, even if his pa didn’t think Rase could work yet didn’t mean Pa was right. Maybe he could convince his pa’s employer to hire him on too. Maybe then they could bring home twice as much food, or at least a somewhat larger portion.

  Normally, Rase’s Pa left before the boy woke, but this night he forced himself not to toss or turn or to think too much. Thankfully, this helped him to fall asleep much quicker than normal.

  He heard the soft thud of the door shutting early the next morning, and Rase sat up. Forcing himself to wait a minute so that his pa wouldn’t realize he was being followed wasn’t the easiest on Rase, but he managed. The door hardly made a sound when he shut it behind him.

  Swiftly, he glanced around. At first, he didn’t see his pa anywhere, so he rushed to the back of the house. Ah, there Pa was.

  Rase hurried along but made sure to go from tree to tree as much as he could. His pa wasn’t walking on any of the paths but off to the side. It took Rase a few minutes before he could even guess where his pa was heading. Soon enough, Rase realized his guess was accurate.

  His pa was heading for the marketplace.

  Interesting. What could his pa be selling there? And it wasn’t as if his pa had a cart full of goods. Did he barter for the food items? But what did he barter with?

  Rase, in his curiosity, hurried closer and closer to his pa until he had to back away. The closer they neared the marketplace, the more his pa shifted over to the east until he finally did step foot onto one of the many paths that led directly to the marketplace.

  Considering a crowd of people, a combination of peasants and nobles as well as merchants with their wagons, Rase had an easier and more difficult time keeping an even distance behind his pa. By the time they entered the marketplace proper with all of its stalls and wagons and some of the merchants approaching people by foot, Rase struggled even more. His pa wove in and around and between stalls, and soon, Rase had no notion at all where his pa might be.

  For an hour, maybe two, Rase wandered the marketplace. While he saw all kinds of jewelry, clothes, hats, food, and much more for sale, he couldn’t locate his pa anywhere.

  Rase was a lot of things, and one such quality was stubbornness. Although the soles of his bare feet were beginning to ache from the rough pavement of the marketplace, he kept on walking, still searching.

  About an hour later, Rase finally spied someone he did recognize, although he did not know the person well. Lord Radcliff, son of the earl who had taken Maxene in, was there. He was one of the few to be riding a horse, the same horse Rase had seen from afar when the lord had gone off to an alchemist to fetch an elixir for Maxene.

  Which should seem like a good and decent thing, but all Rase could think of was how nobles were. Everyone knew nobles only ever thought about themselves. Maxene was a peasant girl. Why would the son of an earl care about a peasant girl?

  As Rase watched, the lord guided his horse through the crowd, the people parting for him as if he were a king. He strolled over to a few other lords on horses. Clearly, they were friends.

  And clearly, they would be here for a while.

  Forgetting all about his pa, Rase hurried along all the way to the manor of the Snells. If the lord was at the marketplace, maybe Rase could check in on Maxene. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to be there when the earl’s son was there. As for the earl himself, Rase hadn’t even seen the noble, and Rase didn’t want to.

  Actually, Rase wasn’t even certain if Maxene was still at the manor, so when he arrived, he didn’t approach the door. Instead, he peeked into the windows. There, in a room with too many chairs and settees was Maxene. She appeared to be sleeping, but that didn’t stop Rase from climbing through the wind
ow. He landed hard on his knees with a thud.

  “Oh!” Maxene cried, sitting up and glancing around. “Who are you?”

  Rase scrambled to his feet. “Don’t tell me you forgot me,” he grumbled. “Did you hit your head again?”

  Maxene rubbed her eyes, squinted, and then sighed. “Rase. What are you doing here?”

  “Miss?” someone called from another room.

  “I’m fine,” Maxene answered.

  “I heard a commotion—”

  “I fell out of the bed,” Maxene said. She smoothly stood, stepping to move in front of Rase, but the servant—at least Rase assumed it was a servant—did not enter.

  “Very well,” the man said, and that was that.

  Maxene jabbed a finger to Rase’s chest and pushed him back toward the window. “Why are you here?” she snapped quietly.

  “Why are you?”

  She brushed her dark blond hair back and rubbed her eyes again. “Because I haven’t been cleared yet.”

  “Cleared by who?”

  “A physician.”

  “You see a physician?” Rase was impressed. Only nobles and the royal family could afford to see a physician.

  “Of course.”

  Rase grimaced. “How exactly did you hit your head?”

  “I can’t quite remember everything that happened,” Maxene said, rubbing the side of her head. “I can’t… I think I was trying to find flowers maybe. Or berries. I don’t know why I came so close to the house, but all of a sudden, a flower pot hit my head. The next thing I knew, I was in a bed inside the house. Radcliff—Lord Radcliff—was hovering over me. He has been so very kind to me—”

  “Why?” Rase blurted.

  “Because he is a good and kind man,” Maxene said dreamily. “Not all nobles are worried only about themselves.”

  “Where is he now?” Rase asked pointedly.

  “At the marketplace,” Maxene said.

  Rase grimaced. He had wanted to catch the lord in a lie. Again, Rase was struck by how much he truly did not like the lord even though he hadn’t seen or heard this Lord Radcliff do anything wrong or deserving of disdain.