The Godspeaker Trilogy

by Karen Miller

  Idson bowed. “Eminence, quite clear.”

  Stunned and no longer protesting, the troublesome councillors were removed. Marlan waited for the chamber door to close behind them and once more looked to Porpont and Niall.

  “Have no fear, gentlemen,” he said. “For I will subdue this riotous disarray. God will not be mocked in Ethrea. Go about your business never hinting of your dismay. Should any ambassador accost you, direct him to me. What has been revealed in this chamber will not be spoken of beyond it, on pain of my extreme displeasure. Trust in me, as you trust in God. For am I not God’s chosen man in Ethrea?”

  They were sheep in dire need of a shepherd. Fools who could no longer be trusted with so much as a thimbleful of power. Behind their anger and resentment, a bleating of fear.

  “Your Eminence,” they muttered, and withdrew with all haste.

  Blessedly alone, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud as he was struck by a new and welcome realisation.

  Eberg’s bitch of a daughter and her lovestruck swain have, without meaning to, done me a favour. No-one will accept her as queen in her own right. No-one will accept Alasdair, that pauper of the north. Arbat and Morvell have damned themselves by association. Hartshom and Meercheq will fall over themselves to prove their loyalty. I will move to have meek, untroublesome Rulf declared the new Duke of Kingseat and thus what I have dreamed for will come to pass. It’s a scant distance from a duchy to a Crown …

  Rhian sat in the manor-house library’s windowseat, dressed in her boy’s clothes, knees pulled to her chest. She’d danced her morning hotas with a Zandakar still distracted by something he refused to share, and had meant to go upstairs to bathe and change into a more seemly dress … but she’d heard Edward and Rudi’s rumbly voices as the dukes came down the wide staircase and ducked for safety into the library. She wasn’t ready to face them yet, after a late night in debate that had solved so little. She’d sat in the windowseat, intending to wait only a moment to be sure it was safe to venture upstairs …

  … and somehow more than an hour had passed and she was still here, the sweat dried on her skin, and even though she was hungry and thirsty she felt no inclination to stir.

  Too much has happened too quickly. I don’t know who I am any more. When I look in the mirror I don’t recognise myself. Who does Alasdair see when he looks at me now ?

  Alasdair. Her husband. The king at her right hand.

  Is he truly content to stand one pace behind me? Does he truly believe I am strong enough to rule? Ludo thinks he’s suntouched, I can see the disbelief in his eyes. The dukes are humouring me, I’m sure they think that once the dust has settled and we’re all safe in Kingseat Alasdair will step forward and I’ll retreat to the nursery where I belong.

  Assuming, of course, they reached Kingseat safely.

  She shook herself. There was no reward in thinking like that. Of course she’d see her home again. She’d see the castle and her people. She’d see Dinsy. She’d ride waving through the streets and laugh to hear her name called. The people would accept her. Hadn’t Dexterity said they would?

  And who am I to argue with God’s harbinger?

  She shivered, even though she sat full in sunshine. The sight of Dexterity, bursting into flames … the sound of his voice: his, and yet not … the public declaration that she was the chosen of God…

  I never asked to be chosen. I never asked for this. I’d have been perfectly happy to die Duchess of Linfoi. Now it seems I must die as a queen … please, God. When that time comes let me be old and frail and surrounded by my children.

  The library door opened and Alasdair came in.

  She felt her heartbeat quicken to see him. He wasn’t a handsome man. Next to Zandakar he was dreadfully plain. But she remembered his kisses and the way her breast fit so neatly in his hand.

  He looked over and saw her. “Rhian! There you are!”

  “I was thinking,” she said, sliding to her feet. “A moment’s solitude. Are you going to scold?”

  “No,” he said, frowning. “Were you outside before? With Zandakar?”

  “I was dancing my hotas, ” she said, the knife heavy at her hip. “I’m not going to argue over them any more.”

  “Did I say I wished to argue? Rhian—” His lips tightened and he returned to the open door. “Sardre!” he called through it. “The queen is here. Tell the dukes to come, would you? No—wait—” He glanced back at her. “You’re ready to meet with them?”

  She nodded. “I can bathe later. And ask Sardre to bring me ale and some bread and soft cheese, would you? I’m famished.”

  “Breakfast for the queen, Sardre,” he said. “Then send for the dukes.”

  The dukes’ eyes widened when they saw her, dressed like a boy and quaffing ale like a sailor in the meanest Kingseat Harbour tavern.

  “Be seated, gentlemen,” she told them with a wave of her goblet. She’d already eaten coddled eggs and felt much better for them. “I’m in no mood to stand on ceremony. We’ve decisions to make and little time in which to make them. The longer we stay here the more advantage we grant to Marlan.”

  Cautiously, they sat. Edward cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, Majesty, I wonder if we might revisit the question of how we’ll travel to—”

  “No, we might not !” she said, thudding her goblet on the desk. “I’ve made my decision. We ride to Kingseat by road.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Edward. “I know. This is about the manner of our travel. It’s a question of your security.”

  “I am perfectly secure! This is Ethrea, not Icthia, where rulers succeed through assassination. Edward—”

  “Is right to be concerned,” said Rudi. His broad, fleshy fingers were laced across his soft paunch. “All four of us are concerned, Majesty. The king and your dukes.”

  She flicked a wounded glance at Alasdair. You’re supposed to be on my side, not discussing me behind my back . Standing at the fireplace, the echo of his portraited father, he caught the glance but his face didn’t change.

  Fine.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, temper rigidly controlled, “I will say this once and then I tell you the subject is closed . I won’t take to the roads of my kingdom surrounded by a garrison’s worth of soldiers. What kind of message does that send to the people?”

  “A less messy one than the sight of your bleeding, broken body in the dirt,” said Ludo, who’d taken her place on the sun-painted windowseat.

  “Ludo!”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Forgive me. But I think we must face facts. Violence against you is a distinct possibility if Marlan incites the people to act in peril of their souls.”

  “He has a point, Rhian,” Alasdair murmured. Of course he’d agree with his volatile cousin. “The people are Marlan’s most potent weapon. If they won’t accept you…”

  But Dexterity said they will . “They surely won’t if they think I fear them.”

  “No-one’s suggesting you give that impression,” said Ludo. “But neither can you travel to Kingseat unprotected. Not with such a tenuous grasp on authority.”

  “I won’t be unprotected,” she retorted. “I’ll have Zandakar at my back.”

  Ludo and Alasdair exchanged guarded looks. Rudi and Edward’s expressions were far less self-contained.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What? You think he can’t protect me?”

  “It’s not a matter of can’t, ” Alasdair said quickly. “I don’t doubt his skill for a moment. I’ve seen his hotas . I’ve seen how fast he moves, and his strength. Rhian, I know he’s saved your life once already but—”

  “What?” said Rudi, sitting up. “When was this?”

  “Are you keeping secrets, cousin?” said Ludo, displeased.

  Rhian thumped the table. “ I decide who knows what and when, gentlemen. If you have a complaint you may direct it to me. Ludo?”

  He stared at the carpet. “No, Your Majesty.”

  “Excellent.” She looked at Rudi. �
�As I travelled through Arbat I was attacked by six armed footpads. It seems, Your Grace, that your soldiers have better things to do than keep your duchy safe. Zandakar killed the men. Do you wish to object?”

  Rudi flushed a dull red. “Majesty, I apologise. I—”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter now,” she said, impatient. “What matters is Zandakar’s proved himself. And I do have my own knife, you know. I’m not completely helpless .”

  “Of course not, Majesty,” said Edward. “But do you truly desire a foreign mercenary—for that’s what this Zandakar will be, to all intents and purposes—to ride alone at your back with a knife in his hand? At a time when you’ll be fighting to convince the ambassadors in Kingseat that their interference in our affairs is unwelcome? Is that a message you wish to send? Is it the message you should send to your people, that you don’t trust your own kind to keep you safe?”

  Damn. It was an excellent point and she should’ve seen it. “You’re right, Edward. Very well, a compromise. I will ride with a personal bodyguard. A small one. Two soldiers each from Linfoi, Arbat and Morvell. Zandakar shall choose the men and lead them.”

  The men exchanged looks, but wisely refrained from argument. “Fine. But we need more general soldiery than that,” said Rudi. “If Damwin and Kyrin should offer arms to Marlan…”

  “They won’t,” she said firmly. They can’t. Dear God, they can’t . “Ethrean against Ethrean? You’re talking civil war.”

  “If it looks like he’s losing, Marlan might not care,” said Edward. “And he’ll find a way to blame you for spilled blood.”

  Rudi cleared his throat. “Majesty, if you’re not willing to risk confrontation you’d best abandon the crown now.”

  She bit her lip. This isn’t what I wanted. I never looked for war .

  “Her Majesty prefers to be safe, not sorry,” said Alasdair. “The rest of Edward and Rudi’s men will ride with us, plus twenty more from Linfoi—if Ludo permits?”

  “Of course,” said Ludo. “The garrison’s best men are yours.”

  Alasdair looked at her. “Rhian?”

  “Agreed,” she said, something breaking inside her. “Now, as to the question of Kingseat’s new duke. Rudi, I have in mind your younger son, Adric.” As Rudi spluttered incoherent thanks she turned to Edward. “You have an unmarried daughter, Your Grace? I seem to recall meeting her at last summer’s revels … Very shy and pretty.”

  Edward’s whiskered jaw sagged. “Yes, Majesty. Dimelza.”

  “Is her heart unspoken for?”

  “Her heart is my affair. If you mean what I think you mean she will—”

  Rhian leaned over the desk, fingers drumming a warning. “My recent rough wooings, Edward, have left an indelible impression. You’d do well to believe me when I say I’ll have no unwilling girl broken on the back of your ambitions. If Dimelza is amenable she shall marry Adric of Arbat, whom I name Duke of Kingseat. You’ll be a duke and goodfather to a duke and grandfather to the next duke … if Dimelza accepts. If she declines, you will remain a duke for as long as it pleases me … and she is left undisturbed for her choice. I trust you understand me?”

  After a brief, startled silence Edward nodded. “Perfectly, Majesty. The choice will be hers.”

  She bared her teeth in a smile and sat back. “Yes. I thought it would.”

  Reluctant admiration warmed Edward’s eyes. “You’re Eberg’s daughter right enough.”

  “Yes, I am. Rudi—”

  “Majesty?”

  “You’ve no objection?”

  “None at all! I am deeply honoured!”

  She sighed. “It’s a small thing, gentlemen. And I know what you’ve risked by standing with me.”

  It was important that they know she knew it. Their pleased smiles eased, a little, the burgeoning pain in her head.

  See Papa? I can be diplomatic as well as warlike. I’m not going to fail you. I’m going to make you proud.

  For another four hours nearly they thrashed out the details of the imminent journey south. Which were the best roads to take. Which townships and villages they should visit and which they should avoid. Should they sleep rough, on common land, or risk the complications of commandeering public inns? They debated provisions and proclamations, speculated on how the Church might react and how they could best show the people that their lives would be enhanced, not harmed, by the crowning of a queen.

  And then they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Saldre, his face disciplined but his eyes perturbed.

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but a message has come from Lord Henrik’s people. By pigeon. I fear it is … urgent.”

  She held out her hand. “Very well. Present it.”

  With the merest shift of his gaze to his master and back again, Sardre crossed the room and gave her the note.

  She read it, and the room reeled.

  “Rhian! What is it!”

  She looked at Alasdair, dizzy and sick. “It’s Henrik,” she whispered. “He’s been arrested.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  It was a sombre procession that four days later departed the Linfoi ducal estate, bound for Kingseat and confrontation with Marlan.

  Most Venerable Artemis had brought the announcement of interdict himself as Rhian and her council sat stunned by the news of Henrik Linfoi’s arrest. Shown into the library, Ven’Artemis had spared one uncomfortable glance for Alasdair and the dukes then focused on her.

  “I’m grieved to bring you such dreadful tidings,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Your Highness, I beg you—”

  “Your Majesty,” said Alasdair, standing at her back. “You are addressing Ethrea’s queen.”

  Ven’Artemis wrung his thin hands. “Forgive me, I can’t. I am instructed not to recognise Princess Rhian’s claimed estate.”

  “Who told you that?” said Rhian. “The Venerable Martin?”

  “Ven’Martin has returned to Kingseat, Your Highness. My instructions come from the prolate himself.”

  Rhian sighed. Of course they did . “I appreciate you’re in a difficult position, Ven’Artemis. But I would remind you that Rollin was quite clear on this matter: Church and state are two separate institutions. You may not use Church powers to achieve a political end. Marlan has no right to interdict this duchy or any other, just because he’d prefer I wasn’t queen.”

  “I’m a simple country divine at heart, Your Highness,” said Ven’Artemis. “These matters are above me. All I wish to do is tend the needs of my people.”

  “As do I, Artemis! As queen I wish to tend the needs of everyone in Ethrea. And I’ll not allow a creature like Marlan to stand in my way!”

  “Please … you must not refer to His Eminence in that fashion!” Ven’Artemis protested. “I have come here to implore you, Highness, to reconsider your rash actions. There is yet hope of reconciliation. I would be pleased to act as arbiter. I’m sure if you did but throw yourself upon the mercy of the Court Ecclesiastica then—”

  “ Mercy from a group of old men who’d punish the innocent because Marlan tells them not to recognise my lawful accession?” She stood. “That’s not mercy, Ven’Artemis, that’s arrogant caprice. I will never bow my head before your Court Ecclesiastica. Those old men have no authority over me .”

  Ven’Artemis sighed. “You will do as you must, Your Highness … as will I. Where can I find Chaplain Helfred?”

  Helfred? “Why?”

  “I am charged to take him into my custody.”

  “Your custody ?”

  “Helfred is judged by the Court Ecclesiastica which you must agree has authority over him . He is declared anathema and must surrender to the venerable house and thence the prolate.”

  Anathema? Oh, that Marlan … his own nephew . . . Rhian glanced at Alasdair, then the dukes. In their faces she saw dismay and support. She looked again at Ven’Artemis. “Helfred is my chaplain. He remains with me. It is distressing enough that Marlan has seized a good man like Henrik Linfoi. I’ll not willingly gi
ve him another, for God alone knows what abuse he has in mind.”

  “It would be in your best interests to leave now, Most Venerable,” said Alasdair. “With no ill will on either side. You’ve always been a champion of Linfoi’s people. Continue as their champion. These troubled times will pass.”

  After the most venerable’s defeated departure, Rhian excused Alasdair, Edward and Rudi and offered Ludo what comfort she could.

  It wasn’t much.

  “I must ride to Kingseat with you and Alasdair, Rhian,” he said. His eyes were dry, but horribly bleak. “I have to rescue my father. He’s an old man. He’s not well. The shock of this—it could—” He closed his lips, tight.

  She’d given him leave to use her name in private. “Ludo, I understand—and I share your distress. But I can’t believe Marlan will raise a hand against Henrik, the nobility won’t tolerate it. He’d lose his moral authority in a heartbeat. He’s done this to frighten us. Frighten me . Nothing will happen to your father. He’s too valuable alive.”

  Ludo paced the library. “You can’t be certain of that.”

  “No, but it’s likely,” she said. “Ludo, I know this is awful. But you’re Linfoi’s duke. Your place is here.”

  “My place is with my father!” He turned. “Alasdair understands that. If you refuse me then—”

  “It’s not Alasdair’s decision.” Her heart was racing as though she danced her hotas . “You’re staying behind.”

  The look on Ludo’s face was worse than a mortal wound.

  He hardly spoke to her again after that. Only when he had to, and with the fewest curt words. The hasty preparations for the royal progress continued. Every seamstress in the ducal village and from the outlying farmsteads had been pressed into service, making royal liveries and procession banners and pennants in the Havrell colours—peacock blue, royal purple and gold—with the Havrell device on each piece, subtly altered: still the traditional three-pointed gold crown, but now bordered with silver-white snowdrops, the flower of Linfoi, and a single blood-red rose, Rhian’s personal device. Dexterity and Ursa sewed alongside them. With nobody ill and Hettie stubbornly silent there was nothing else they could do to help. As for Helfred … kept in ignorance, he lived in the chapel and wore his knees out praying.