The King of Anavrea (Book Two of the Theodoric Saga)

by Rachel Rossano

  Ireic frowned. “I do,” he admitted. “Aarint, choose out four men of slender build that are not afraid of heights, preferably with mountain climbing experience.”

  The request for volunteers flowed through the ranks quickly. Finally, seven men made their way to the front. Ireic selected four. “They will each need a squad of eight men, preferably men who know the grounds.”

  While the larger batch of volunteers sorted themselves out, Ireic dismounted and took the first four aside. “Follow the wall east. Three outcroppings past the first corner, you will find a place perfect for scaling the wall. Once you are on the other side, go to the postern gates, there are four.” He assigned them each a gate and gave them each detailed directions. “Once you reach them, the unit assigned to you will be waiting. Let them in and then attack the nearest gate house and open the gates.” The men nodded their understanding and soundlessly left in the direction of the wall. Ireic watched them until they melted into the bushes that lined the base of the wall.

  Returning to the newly formed squads, Ireic gave them their instructions and sent them off. Then the waiting began. The crowd around them grew restless. The enlisted men remained in formation, a silent and disciplined example for the masses around them. Ireic trusted the officers to have the men ready when the gates opened and the real work began.

  The former council members could be anywhere on the grounds. Once found, there were also the families to deal with, hysterical females and frightened, distraught children. Ireic dreaded the coming events, especially the over ninety executions demanded by law. If he was lenient, however, and set them free, this could happen all over again in a few years and then they might succeed. Somehow, he had to figure out how to render the men useless without executing them all. He did not want to martyr the fathers so that their sons would return for revenge once they grew into manhood. Regardless of how wrong the councilmen’s actions were, their wives and children still loved and needed them.

  “We can separate into squads and search systematically through the grounds from this gate on,” Aarint suggested.

  Ireic looked over to find his brother-in-law pointing to a spot on a map. The man holding the map, a captain, nodded. Ireic was just wondering where the two of them had found a map when the sound of more than one galloping horse drew his attention to the right.

  “There is movement in the gate house,” someone called.

  The heavy groan of massive doors moving on iron hinges drowned out any other comments. Aarint swiftly rolled up the map as the area erupted into chaos. Ireic reluctantly turned his attention to the opening gates.

  Officers yelled instructions and the men formed ranks. Before the doors were halfway open, the contingent moved forward. Ireic, protectively cocooned in the center had no choice but to move with them.

  He scanned the right flank as best he could from his position, but he could see no sign of the galloping riders. Aarint rode with a few warriors off to his right. Surely he had seen the riders also. Ireic feared it was someone with news of Lirth. Feared and hoped. Kurios, keep her, he prayed.

  “Enemy bearing down.” The cry came from the tower as leaders of the charge passed through the gates.

  As soon as the first men were through the gates, they spread out to meet the approaching riders and protect the men still passing through the opening. Ireic could spot Aarint out among the right flank. In the brief glimpse he got of his brother-in-law, he thought he spotted a familiar face nearby, but a battle cry from the left drew his attention there.

  A handful of the councilors’ older sons rushed the left flank. In a matter of minutes the whole group had been disarmed or incapacitated. Casual sword fighting lessons were no match for men who survived by their skill.

  A distant woman’s scream pierced the air. A child wailed. Ireic scanned the crowd for the riders, but they had been lost in the fray. His unit continued forward, making for the main entrance into the palace.

  Two middle-aged secretaries to the council surrendered the gate with barely an attempt to defend it. After that, the rest of the assault became a surreal dream of wandering dark corridor after dark corridor and uncovering cowering women and children. Every once in a while, they encountered a family unit, huddled together as far as they could get from the bed chamber door. Within a few hours the troops had located all but three of the councilors. The army gathered them in the outer courtyard before the main entrance. Shivering and exposed, they made a pitiful sight in the torchlight despite their varying efforts to appear noble and proud.

  “I feel almost a bully,” Aarint commented from Ireic’s side.

  “Keep remembering what they have done.”

  “Jumper on the tower!” Someone yelled.

  Heads craned to find the man.

  “East tower.” Aarint pointed.

  The orange-red light of a torch looked like a small peephole against the black velvet of the night that hid the bearer. However, a moment later the flames blossomed into a flaming backdrop, outlining the figure of a man.

  “Who is it?”

  “We are only missing two councilors.” Ireic peered at the figure perched triumphantly on the tower’s parapet waving his torch aloft. “Councilor Kline?”

  “The other option is Councilor Regintin.”

  The distant figure yelled something aloud and then fell out of sight. Ireic closed his eyes and turned away from the scene. He felt sick despite there being nothing he could have done.

  “What do we do now?” Aarint asked.

  “Give those we have justice and continue to search for Regintin.”

  The dawning reality that Regintin likely was the man who had threatened Lirth lay heavily at the back of Ireic’s mind. He didn’t mention it to Aarint.

  ~~~~~~

  Clang, clang, clang. Lirth’s assailant’s weapon struck the lattice next to her ear. The steady rhythm shook her whole body and sang in her head. The throbbing in her head pulsed randomly between blows. Then suddenly the striking stopped. Or at least that was what her limbs said happened. They no longer vibrated. However her ears continued to hear the harsh tone marching onward. Clang, clang, clang. Her head ached.

  “Had enough?”

  The harsh voice was followed by a nasal laugh. The man’s moldy breath washed over the left side of her face while her ears continued to sound the tone. It still echoed through her skull. Tightening her lips, Lirth resolved yet again to face this man with silence. With the Kurios’ strength, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. Somewhere in this room, she knew Liam remained, bound and gagged. He still gave her hope. He hadn’t been in her dream.

  If it was her fate to die, she would die bravely, a solid witness for the Kurios. If anything, Liam would hopefully live to bring word back to Ireic.

  The thought of Ireic brought a wash of sadness so strong that it took all of her strength to not cry.

  Thank you, Kurios, she thought to the Unseen One. Whatever You have planned, thank You for giving me these past few months with him. Thank You for letting me know his love and that I love him in return. He is so precious to me, Father. Keep him safe. Show him Your perfect gift so that I might see him once again in paradise.

  The thought of spending eternity without Ireic tore at her heart, but she closed her eyes tightly against the tears. The Kurios knows best, she reminded herself.

  Suddenly a yell in her left ear and a stinging slap across her face brought her head up. With a gasp, her eyes flew open. “Falling asleep are you?” the voice asked. “Fall asleep, Brat, and you might wake up dead.”

  Her body screamed as he kicked her helpless foot, bending it painfully backwards. With a bittersweet longing, Lirth almost wished he would kill her and get it over with.

  She clung to the truth. Death only meant she would be with her Savior, the Kurios.

  The thought was so appealing. To escape this aching body, bruised and battered. The first thing she would set her healed eyes on would be the beautiful face of her K
urios and King.

  “What makes you smile?” The weapon struck the lattice and nicked her ear. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you like being roughed up.”

  Lirth carefully swallowed. She sensed the man leaning in closer and turned her face away. He caught her chin between hard, grimy-smelling fingers and wrenched it around so that she faced him. She could feel his breath on her face and the stench of it filled her nose. “So you like it.” His voice was laced with cruel laughter.

  “Sir?” The door opened with a bang.

  “I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed!” Her torturer roared, turning on the newcomer.

  “I know, but there is news from the palace, sir. New orders.” The man’s voice shook with fear. “You said you were to be notified immediately when we heard anything.”

  “Outside!” the man bellowed.

  The door slammed and for the first time since she woke, she was alone in the room with Liam. She prayed that he still lived.

  “Liam?” she asked, her voice rasped. Her throat hurt and forming words made her parched, cracked lips stretch painfully. “Make a sound if you hear me, please.”

  Something overturned and rolled across the floor. Turning her face toward the sound, she tried to control the hope that rose in her chest.

  “He is going to come back to kill me.” She knew that the time was coming. Her dream would play out. “Ireic has taken back the throne, and I am no longer of any use to the council. This man is going to come back and kill me.” Even as the words passed her lips, she shuddered. “Tell Ireic that I love him and let Aarint know the same.”

  A strange shuffling noise came from Liam’s location followed by grunting. She couldn’t understand a word. “Thank you for your service, Liam. You have been a steadfast friend and defender. Thank you.”

  Heavy footsteps approached the door. A muffled conversation drifted in from beyond the wall. Lirth withdrew into herself and sought the Kurios’ strength. A serene, peaceful wave of warmth flowed over her as she closed her eyes. Dimly aware of the outside door opening and thumping shut again, she tightened her hold on the faith that had brought her through until now. She was being tested, but God had seen her through every trial so far. He would be no less faithful at the time of her death. She was ready. Soon I shall see Your face.

  Something struck her hard in the stomach, forcing the air from her lungs in a harsh rush. A torrent of blows followed, striking her head, ribs and legs. Lirth could not stop the tears that slid down her cheeks. Then just as suddenly as they had begun, they stopped.

  “The time has come for us to part, Brat, but we have some unfinished business. It is rare that I catch the same hare twice.” The voice filled her ears, rasping and low. She recognized the words. It was the voice of her dreams, yet this wasn’t her dream. “My, you have grown in value, Brat. Queen now, aren’t you?” He laughed. “What shall I ask for this time? A title and lands for your return? A kingdom for your life?”

  Something struck the lattice of metal close to her head. Instinctively she turned away from the sound, but her captor grabbed her hair and yanked brutally upward. A cry fell unbidden from her lips as fresh tears of pain sprung to her eyes.

  “Have you nothing to say, something that I might relay to your beloved husband? I shall say, ‘She was strong to the last, my liege. She died with your name on her tongue.’”

  Suddenly her hair fell free, but before she could breathe in relief, the sound of a dagger being drawn made her blood run icy cold. Help me stay strong, Kurios.

  “Ready yourself, Brat.” The man grabbed hold of her chin and squeezed his fingers against the corners of her mouth, forcing her cracked lips to open wide. “Hold still and I will make a clean cut.”

  A tip of cold steel touched her cheek. Taking a shallow breath, she braced herself for the pain.

  Something hit away the man’s hand and rebounded off the lattice. The knife fell to the ground with a clatter. The solid thud of a hard object connecting with something followed. Her assailant pitched forward. His heavy bulk slumped against her and then with a groan slid to the floor. There was a nasty crack. Lirth’s stomach churned.

  It took a moment for Liam to free himself. Once he did, his first words were, “Are you well, my queen?”

  Carefully, Lirth nodded. The adrenaline coursing through her abruptly abated and her limbs shook. If she hadn’t been bound to the lattice, she would have collapsed. Thank you, Kurios.

  __________

  Chapter Fourteen

  “By what authority?” the former high councilor demanded. Arrogant disdain dripped from his voice. Lousen’s watery blue eyes, red rimmed from hiding in the smoke house, flashed with hatred. “By what authority do you condemn me?”

  Ireic purposefully did not meet the man’s gaze. Instead, he skimmed a glance over his face before resting on the controlled features of the armed man standing at the old man’s side. Then Ireic returned his attention to the stack of parchment before him on the rickety desk.

  The piece on top was the death sentence. To his right, a stack of unsigned documents contained many pages of the same nature. The procession of faces seemed endless as the sun slowly sank and disappeared beneath the window sills. Broken men, hunched with shame, mad men babbling about nonsense, and one tearful confession, he responded with mercy to each. Stripping them of power, land, and title, he offered each the choice of banishment for the rest of their life or work camp. Both completely cut them off from family, support, or any chance at wealth and power again.

  But as Ireic lifted his eyes to meet the maniacal gleam in the cold features of his last adversary, Ireic knew he was not going to be able to do the same for this man. While the others had a chance to gain sanity and wisdom in hard work, Lousen would never be content. He would return revenge for Ireic’s mercy. For the humiliation of having his power stripped from him, this man would hunt Ireic and those he loved to the grave.

  Ireic rose slowly to his full height. Then turned a carefully composed face to meet the former councilor’s defiant glare.

  “I am King of Anavrea, sworn to defend and serve her until death. I uphold her laws and statutes. By law, you have committed high treason against the crown.”

  The older man spat. “You are no king.” Lousen laughed. “You are a weakling. You pander to the people when you should be dictating. You listen when you should strike out. Your father knew how to be strong, but you–” His lip curled in disgust. “You are a coward.”

  Up until now, Ireic had allowed a junior official to read the charges against each prisoner, but this time he did not. Without asking for the list, he began to recite them from memory. After all, he had heard them almost ninety times in the past few hours.

  “You are charged with committing insubordination, disobeying a direct order, convening the council while the king was in residence, but not present. You are accused of organizing an assassination attempt on the life of Queen Lirth Yra Theodoric of Anavrea, inciting the people to riot by spreading lies about Her Majesty the Queen. And finally, but not least, seizing the throne through military action and setting up a governing body contrary to the monarchy.”

  Trahern had tried to talk Ireic into letting the lawyers’ scribes come up with more charges, but Ireic had said no. These were enough to serve his purpose and he didn’t need a detailed list citing every violation.

  “How do you answer these charges before the court?” Ireic asked.

  Lousen spat again. Spittle flecked the toes of Ireic’s boots.

  “She is a witch and worthy of death for practicing her sorcery. A deformed wench of the streets.” The old man leaned forward and leered at Ireic. “She deserved to be hung for reaching above her station.”

  “So, you are admitting to organizing an attempt to kill her?” Ireic tried desperately to keep his voice level.

  “What do you mean attempt?” Madness glimmered in Lousen’s eyes. “She is dead. I sent the order long before you arrived at the gates.” He howled in apparen
t delight. “You are too late.” Suddenly doubling over with mirth and glee, Lousen laughed hysterically.

  Dismissing Lousen’s claim as madness, Ireic straightened his shoulders and hardened his face. The man lied.

  “By your own admission, you are guilty of these crimes against the crown and country.”

  The old man’s only reply was to raise a red face and gasp for breath in wheezing gulps. Ireic tried to ignore the acute agony in his chest right beneath his breast bone. He shoved aside the reality that he couldn’t disprove Lousen’s words and concentrated on his own speech. He just needed to get out these few sentences and then he could give in to the tightening pain in his ribs.

  “Therefore, by the power vested in me as the King of Anavrea, I sentence you to death. In one week’s time you shall be marched out to a newly erected gallows, where you shall hang from the neck until dead.”

  Ireic’s hand shook as he signaled the guards to lead Lousen out. Then turning away, he faced the wall. “Leave me,” he ordered.

  The junior official scampered after the guards. Isack did not leave, but Ireic hadn’t expected he would. The bodyguard remained at attention, motionless against the wall. The doors closed with a resounding thud. Ireic wearily sank into the chair behind the rickety desk and lowered his head into his hands.

  Please let it not be so, Kurios, he prayed desperately. I love her. Please don’t take her from me. I need her. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingertips against his eyes, fighting against the pain, physical and emotional, that tore at his body. Tears leaked out from beneath his eyelids.

  “Ireic?” Trahern’s concerned voice broke through the storm and beckoned for Ireic to respond. Lifting a head that felt made of lead, Ireic looked up at his brother.

  Trahern leaned over the table, one hand resting on the pile of pardons and the other near the inkwell. Deep creases broke up the tightness around his mouth and purple smudges of fatigue ringed his eyes.