Edgar seemed about to argue further, when he stopped and snickered, and then looked to his Lordly fellows. “What did I tell you this very morning, gentlemen? Our lady is a lawbreaker. Theft, by a princess or vagabond, is theft all the same.”
Danielle reached over and grabbed Sir Ambry’s arm before he could rein his horse forward. “I will pay their bond in gold,” she said firmly. “And if you want to avoid the consequences of trespassing on my father’s lands, I think you should convince your father of the wisdom of acquiescing on this matter. Am I understood?”
The corner of Edgar’s mouth twitched with annoyance. “I will not argue with you, Milady, for everyone knows that your religion makes you incapable of reason. You Reformist Goddians are all the same. You claim all men are equal in the eyes of the Gods but tyrannise any who disagree with you.”
“Tyrannise, no. Oppose, yes, and I make no apology for it. Any who think that the bounty of the gods, including mercy and justice is the sole privilege of the high born, the lordling, the king the archbishop … and that the peasantry and commoners can only know such things in the afterlife has not read the Book of the Divinities with a pure heart.”
“That is at best, naive, and at worst blasphemy.”
“To your Archbishop, perhaps. Not to my Cardinal or the Gods I pray to.”
“Mark my words, your folly will doom us all. Your orphanages, soup kitchens, demands for land reform, this elected house of commoners you want to establish and other such madness. It flies in the face of divine order. You demand that the common born rise above themselves, to be their own masters, yet if you free a beast, you do not get a domesticated animal, you get a beast freed to wreak havoc. And havoc is what your Cardinal and his blasphemy are unleashing on this realm, and you are his chief steward.”
“Havoc? I call it freedom and the peasantry are not beasts. They are just like us, only constrained by the bonds of servitude that our laws unfairly place upon them because of no other reason than their birth and name. And I can but pray that the changes we seek were unleashed as you say; for then your birth and the birth of those like you would no longer allow you the unnatural privilege to grow fat and indolent off the toil of others.”
“Ha! Says the wealthiest most privileged woman in the realm.”
“True, I am. And my wealth and privilege you’d do well to fear, Lord Edgar.”
“You‘d also do well to moderate your tongue, sir,” Faith said. “I do not have your lady’s patience for politics, though you know well enough I share her faith.”
Slightly taken aback Edgar nodded respectfully to King Richard’s daughter. “Of course, your highness. I mean no disrespect to Corenbald.” His gaze returned to Danielle, less arrogant but still defiant. “However, I do thank the gods daily for Arkaelyon law. For in that at least they and our forefather’s offer us some protection from the madness our princess and her kind would otherwise unleash upon us all.”
“You ungrateful cur,” Faith said, before anyone else could respond. “If it were not for your lady’s negotiation at the Grand Assembly of Realms three months past, your quota of grain would have been halved; and this is the way you repay her? With disrespect and slights?”
“Our princess has a clever tongue and a mind unnatural for her sex, your Highness, no one would deny that, but it was more likely her pretty face and lovely figure that convinced the North Surlemian delegation to change their minds.”
Pushed beyond tolerance, Sir Ambry drew his sword and kicked his horse forward and circled round and stopped behind Edgar.
Faith came to her feet in a rush at the same time, her hand resting lightly on the handle of her scabbard sword. “You’d do well to apologise for slighting your royal lady, sir.”
“I concur,” Ambry said. “Milady, you need only give the word and I’ll happily teach this scoundrel a lesson in respect.”
Edgar was smirking at her. They both knew this was very precarious legal ground.
“Thank you, Sir Ambry, but that won’t be necessary. His apology would be meaningless to me,” Danielle said. “As he said, you can not unleash a beast and expect it to be anything but a beast. Besides, Lord Edgar’s assumptions are erroneous as usual.” Her attention shifted back to the young Lord. “My figure and the grain negotiations aside, you should know, sir, that Lord Frankton’s bill you have been working on so tirelessly these past months. The one that would have these lands and all royal woods like them returned to the original Landlords; men like your father, is destined to fail—those of us in my father’s Inner Council are seeing to that. And if I have my way, these lands will be used to extend the commons, making the peasantry less dependent on the likes of your house.”
Edgar scoffed. “You know far less of what goes on throughout Arkaelyon’s four dukedoms than you think, Milady. Now, good day to you.” He offered Faith a bow, adding, “And to you as well, your highness,” before snatching his hat from the ground, turning abruptly and stride to where one of his men held the reins of a chestnut stallion.
Danielle frowned as he walked away. His dismissive tone left her no doubt as to what he was hinting. He had spoken of a matter that had much of the palace court in feverish speculation. A matter that had dominated discussions in her father’s Inner Council for months and given them both more sleepless nights of late than all other concerns of the realm combined.
“You speak of this business my brother has been up to recently?” Danielle said, voicing her fears.
It was well known that Kane had ridden from Illandia a month ago on personal business and had not yet returned. The Lord Protector’s spies had discovered that her twin brother was engaged in some business that linked him to the Archbishop and Lord Helidon, the owner of the realm’s largest shipping line. Apparently Kane was visiting the estates of select nobles, endeavouring to broker support for some venture as yet unknown. Unfortunately, this was all that the spies could discover. But the level of secrecy that Kane and his colleagues were employing suggested that whatever they were up to was very likely illegal, at least to her way of thinking. Father and Joseph had insisted that they wait-and-see what developed, which frustrated her immensely. Kane was someone you needed to pre-empt. You waited at your own peril.
Edgar took the reins of his horse, slipped a polished riding boot into the stirrup and swung up, the saddle leather creaking under his ponderous weight. “Perhaps I do, Milady.”
Danielle feigned her own air of certainty. “You should know, Lord Edgar, that I have learned a little about this venture on which my brother and his colleagues are working.”
She was lying, of course, but whatever lack of virtue there might be in her statement, there was no denying the result, for she saw Edgar freeze for an instant, the tension obvious in his eyes as he searched her face for the truth. The forced grin now creeping across his mouth did nothing to hide the concern lingering behind it. “Yes, I have heard the rumours,” he replied smugly as he adjusted his riding gloves. “Apparently, you are collecting evidence sufficient to justify an arrest?”
Danielle returned only a slight smile, which he tried to mimic. “Well, then,” Edgar said breezily, “good day to you, ladies. May those two worthless serfs be of more service to you than they were to my father.” He gestured over to where Black was devouring the caress of the lead hound, bones cracking between his powerful jaws and his snout red with blood. “And I will be gracious enough to forgive the loss of one of my best dogs.”
“Wise decision, Lord Edgar,” Faith replied. She was helping the old man up onto the back of Sir Ambry’s horse. “And I’m sure you will desist from trespassing here again.”
Edgar tipped his hat at Corenbald’s First Sword, and then at Danielle. He then wheeled his stallion around, and as the others of his party mounted their horses, he stopped and turned back, his attention resting on Danielle. “A word of advice, Milady,” he said. “I fear you waste your time with all your training in swordplay.” He jerked his beardless chin toward the weapon at her belt
and her chainmail shirt. “I am sure you haven’t yet heard, but His Eminence has presented a petition to your father this very morning demanding the continued and rightful exclusion of women of high birth from participation in Arkaelyon’s tournaments of arms. A hundred and four of Arkaelyon’s hundred fifty-seven members of the General Council have put their seal to it, which means your father will see reason and reconsider his decision to let you compete, I’m sure.”
Danielle did everything she could to keep the shock of hearing this news from showing on her face. “I think not, sir. My father knows how important my participation in this tourney is for the future of Arkaelyon.”
The truth was, however, the seals of one hundred and four members of the General Council made a considerable statement and could very well sway her father, who had only reluctantly agreed to her request to compete in the first place.
Her attempt to look unperturbed by the news seemed to work for Edgar shrugged and added, almost as an after thought, “Well, on the off-chance you are right, Milady, you should know that many of us have wagered considerable gold on your brother to keep the champion’s crown.”
Faith laughed and rode up beside Danielle, who was grateful for the support. “I’m sure the common folk of Illandia will enjoy spending your money, then.”
Edgar could only nod grudgingly toward Faith, but his supercilious grin returned as he shifted his attention back to Danielle. “We shall see. Though we all know that the Lady de Brie is terrified of her brother. It’s a standing joke, the way she blanches whenever duty forces the two of them into close physical proximity—and we all know how bruised he left her last time they met with swords.”
None of Edgar’s company dared laugh aloud, but the smirks were enough to fuel Danielle’s anger again. She licked her lips as she adjusted her gloves, and with some effort she managed to keep her composure. “Then as you said, we shall see, shan’t we?”
Faith added with a wicked smile, “I’ve noticed that your name isn’t registered as a competitor in the tournament this year, Lord Edgar. But then again, after your embarrassing performance last year, I suppose that is probably for the best. Your house is not well known for its valour.”
Edgar Gilmore weathered her insult with a wry smile before saying enigmatically, “Enjoy your victories while you can, Miladies. One can never know when events might turn against you. Now, good day to you both.” Then he nodded almost imperceptibly to his company. “Back to the manor house!”
More than a little disturbed by his odd comment, Danielle called after them, “Oh, Lord Edgar!”
The young lord stopped and levelled a contemptuous glare at her. “Milady?”
“You should know this: When I have sufficient proof to dismantle this venture my brother is about of late, I will see to it that everyone associated with him shares his accountability and faces the law’s fullest penalty for his malfeasance. Everyone. You know how hard this wasp can sting, so by all means, involve yourself in Kane’s conspiracy, sir, right up to the elbows, for few things would please me more than to see your father’s house impoverished.”
“Your prerogative, Milady,” he said, unfazed by her threats.
As Danielle watched Edgar ride away with his company, her fears about the tourney receded and she was left wondering more than ever what her brother was up to outside the tourney circuit.
Faith reached over and touched her arm. “Leave it to your father.”
Danielle wished she could, but on that front she had a host of concerns as well.
CHAPTER THREE
A black coach and matching pair of black steeds raced along a remote coastal road in the southern reaches of Arkaelyon’s fourth dukedom, Renwick. The afternoon sun glinted off the ebony paintwork, and a swirl of dust followed in its wake as the coachman’s cracking whip and the thunder of hooves put birds to flight and all but drowned out the surf crashing on the rocky coast below.
The ornately crafted vehicle, which belonged to the esteemed Lord Patrick Helidon, was well known throughout Renwick. Since inheriting the family shipping empire at the tender age of twenty and six, more than three decades ago, he had gained quite the reputation as a shrewd businessman. His exact wealth was not known, but most believed the cantankerous old lord to be the richest man in the dukedom, his riches surpassing even the duke himself.
Ensconced inside the leather-upholstered comfort of the coach, Prince Kane de Brie, second son of Arkaelyon’s high king and twin of the fair and accomplished Lady Danielle de Brie, had been watching the landscape beyond the carriage window change from meadows and the occasional town and village to remote, mountainous woodland as he contemplated the myriad of difficulties that had come to plague his latest and most ambitious venture to date. In hindsight, it had been a poor use of time, since he had made little progress in finding much needed answers sufficient to waylay his burgeoning fears.
As the carriage slowed and turned onto a stone bridge, Lord Helidon’s bookkeeper cleared his throat from the opposite seat and looked up from the journal he had been perusing. “If I may, milord?”
Kane frowned at the intrusion. He had expected that there would be questions when he handed over his private travel journal shortly after leaving the dukedom’s main port town of Renae. Recorded there in his own hand were the results of four tiring weeks spent secretly brokering support for his slavery bill and the response of the nobility to his vision of an Arkaelyon slave market. The negotiations had certainly proved more difficult than he had anticipated when he rode from Illandia a month ago, and he had said as much in his message to Lord Helidon and the Archbishop last week. The fact that this annoying little stoat of a man had been sent with the carriage to collect him from the wharves at Renae and bring him back to the remote Helidon estate was evidence enough that the shipping merchant had taken the news badly—as Kane suspected would be the case. Helidon’s reputation as a man of courage and vision had proved to be more myth than truth.
“What is it, Mr. Pelton?”
“Well, sir, I do fear that my master will not be overly pleased with these figures.”
Kane chuckled sardonically, not surprised in the last. “What do you mean, not happy? You can clearly see that I have garnered the votes needed to pass my reform bill, just as I promised.”
“Yes,” Pelton said as he flicked through the pages of the travel journal. He stopped and squinted through his glasses at one leaf in particular. “As you say, twenty-two noble houses in the dukedom of Renwick, forty-four in Dunston, twenty-seven in your father’s dukedom of Illandia, and three in Leithfield.” He lowered the book. “A total of one hundred four of the one hundred fifty-seven members of the realm’s General Council. And while, of course, your vote total is impressive given the nature of what is being proposed, the financial concessions that you have been obliged to make to secure these votes will cause Lord Helidon some concern.”
“I made it clear in a letter to your master that financial concessions would be necessary.”
“You did, but not of these amounts.”
Bemused, Kane shook his head. He was bone weary after being on the road for so long. “You know, Mr. Pelton,” he said, “if these past weeks have taught me anything, it is the absolute and unequivocal confirmation of my belief that the otherwise superior blood of my father’s realm is imbued with the singular characteristic of cowardice. There is hardly a man among my esteemed peerage who has even the slightest inkling of vision, let alone the fortitude to see it realized.”
“Yes, well, this venture is illegal, at least until your bill is passed. And if you—or any of the nobility for that matter—are caught trafficking in slaves… Well, we all know the penalties. And I don’t expect that your father will be lenient, given his reformist views on the rights of all the gods’ children, even if those gods are of the ancients.”
How many times he had heard these words over the last four weeks, Kane cared not to remember. “Exactly my point. We have had ten years of bountiful harvest and
trade has never been better! Foreign merchants flock here every summer with ever more gold to spend, and every autumn the nobles put more lands in tillage, hoping to benefit from Arkaelyon’s good fortune. Yet in all those years none of them has thought of a way to deal with the realm’s most pressing problem: a shortage of peasants to tend the fields. Am I not correct?”
“Yes.”
“Indeed. And what do they do instead? They moan, of course. They moan about the fields that have still not been harvested when the first snows arrive, and each year they moan still louder. I’m afraid that, for the most part, they are a pack of small-minded, fearful dunces. Truth be told, we are lucky to have that number of signatures at such a small cost, and I will be telling your master as much when we arrive.”
“Yes, although, having said that, I still fear he won’t be pleased. After all, he is carrying the financial burden for this little venture, to say nothing of the risk. It is my master’s ships and lands that have made this venture possible—you can’t deny as much. And there is a growing rumour that your father and his inner circle of advisors suspect something is up, your sister first among them.”
“Yes, yes, and His Eminence assures me—and I’m positive he has said as much to your master also—that we’re all quite safe. And after the next monthly council meeting, slavery of the kind we are suggesting will be legal anyway, and there will be nothing they can do to stop us.”
“A month is a long time, particularly with your sister vowing publicly to discover what you are up to. Her talent for such things is legend, sir. I suspect you have heard the rumour?”
Kane gave a wary smile. Word had reached him just before he boarded ship in Knox Harbour after leaving his Uncle Dunston’s court. “Yes, well, I say let the little wasp hunt away.”
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