"Leir Eals."
"And your companion?"
"Leir Eral."
"I won't forget your names, Leirs. Just a minute, please."
Lily returned to the queen's cart. Milia was burning with fever, like a furnace. She half-opened her eyes, smiled at Lily, but…
"I'm too weak to raise my head."
"Millie, hold on. I'll ride forward so they can meet us. All right?"
"Yes."
Bertha wiped away another tear. Lily shushed the nanny, seeing as Mirrie was currently handling the children, recounting stories about Mowgli to Edwin and Cor while the wetnurse was feeding the baby.
"Tsk. She'll make it, all right?"
"Oh..."
"Away with the snot! Give her another herbal infusion before you reach the palace and change her compress. Got it? "
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do it, then." Lily's voice softened. "Mirrie, watch the dogs. Lou-Lou, Nanook, guard!"
In two confident steps, she leveled with Leir Eals.
"Let's go. We need to be as quick as possible."
Foot in the stirrup, pull yourself up, and to the saddle behind the man. Grab his waist tight.
"Go!"
The horse turned out to be quicker on the uptake than its master and broke into a gallop without being spurred.
***
"Leir Eral..."
A quiet voice from the cart caught the man's attention. The Eveers and the Virmans spread ranks to let him through. Mirrie tsked at the growling Lou-Lou, and the man spurred the horse...and choked up, dumbfounded.
He knew the queen's face; they had met a few times.
"Y...your—"
"Your Majesty," Master Salsi awkwardly tried to clear the air, "the leir wants to say that he didn't expect to meet you."
The leir managed to recover.
"Your Majesty!"
"Yes, Leir. It's me. Please escort us to the palace as soon as possible."
"Ah...err...yes, Your Majesty!"
The procession took off.
The Virmans looked at each other. They weren't comfortable with letting their mistress go alone, but there didn't seem to be any other options. And it's not like anything threatened her in that place, right?
Even if something did, it remained to be seen who threatened whom. They believed in the countess unconditionally; Her Grace could whip anyone into shape. That's who she was.
***
By the time the lathering horse reached the palace, Lily was in a pretty poor condition. Sitting behind someone might be nice if your mount slowly trotted. If it broke into a gallop, however? Most of your energy would be spent trying to hold on, not sliding aside, falling off, or plopping on the ground on your behind.
Her legs hurt, her arms hurt, her bum... It didn't hurt anymore. It was already beyond that.
Lily barely managed to climb down from the saddle and almost debased a nearby rosebush. Thankfully, she hadn't eaten anything for breakfast, or the flowers would get fertilized. She held it in and pulled herself together.
"Is there any water?"
"What’s going on here?"
Now that was a real commanding snarl. Lily immediately discerned a fancy uniform coupled with an emerald bracelet, a ring, and even an earring. Then she stepped forward, presenting herself to the eyes of a man in his sixties.
"Are you Count Chantaine?"
Blown away by her impudence, the count couldn’t help but nod.
"Great. My name is Lilian Elizabeth Mariella Earton, Countess Earton. I don't know if you've heard of me, but we need to talk. Now."
Even if the count had heard of her, it couldn't have been much, considering the doubt on his face.
"His Majesty didn't tell me—"
"His Majesty is dead."
Lily decided against wasting time on niceties. Milia would reach them soon; she needed help, fast, and then...they needed a lot of other stuff.
Could she really mollycoddle the captain of the "musketeers," trying to spare his feelings? As if he was a Victorian maiden about to faint! And even if he did, a rose garden was much more efficient than any smelling salts; even a corpse would snap out of it after diving in there.
"WHAT?"
Count Chantaine turned pale as a sheet, slumping down from his horse instead of jumping. He came up to Lilian but was unable to grab her by the collar, as she had stepped aside a moment before.
"We shouldn't discuss this in public, Count. I hope you're not afraid to talk to me one-on-one?"
The count's face became crimson.
"I...I..."
"Great. Come here, Count."
She took his arm and dragged him to the rose bushes, then eyeballed the distance to the soldiers and added six more steps. All right, that was far enough for them not to be heard, unless she started screaming. As for the count...
Well, the more he screamed, the less he'd cry.
"Do you know that Princess Maria is marrying the prince of Ativerna? That Count Earton is the head ambassador who represents the groom?"
"Earton...ah, that's right! Yes, I’m aware of that, Your Grace."
Lily smiled, pleased. Of course, the man was still in doubt. He had never encountered a countess like her before, or a countess in such a state, really. It didn't matter. He was going to hear her out and believe her.
"I came with my husband and child. I don't know what His Majesty told you about me, but I had the honor to meet them when he visited Ativerna."
Going by the count's salacious look, the king hadn't mentioned her. That said, what could anyone think, considering Gardwig's tendency to go after anything that moved and move whatever couldn't budge?
"I am a student of Tahir Djiaman din Dashar and was present when he treated the ulcer on His Majesty's leg."
That was something the count had heard of, apparently.
"It was you, Your Grace?"
"Yes. My teacher couldn't come, which is why His Majesty asked me for a private consultation. He took me to the queen."
The count didn't expect that.
"The queen?"
"His leg was practically healed, but Her Majesty had a complicated third pregnancy."
The count nodded, losing all grip on reality. No big deal, bud. You're far from the first. Jerisson Earton still sometimes doubts whether he's still alive and not in the afterlife.
"All right..."
"When I was with the queen, we were attacked. At the cost of his own life, His Majesty bought us time to escape."
"But you didn't see his death?"
Lily shook her head.
"No. But he couldn't have survived. There was at least a score of them and more incoming. I can't imagine what they would have done with us... There's a secret passage from the nursery. We escaped through it."
"You and..."
"Her Majesty, the children, the nanny, and I."
"And where are they?"
Lily narrowed her eyes.
"They should be here soon. Her Majesty gave birth recently and cannot ride, and it will be a while until a cart gets here through your lavish scenery..."
"Gave birth?"
The count was completely flabbergasted. Lily waved her hand.
"Her husband died, the escape... Thank Aldonai that a kind man gave us shelter, or the prince would be delivered on a trash heap."
Chantaine could only produce jabbering sounds.
"Umm...err..."
"She's alive, Your Grace, but she has a fever. Do you know her in person?"
"Yes."
"If you want, you could ride ahead to meet her."
"Wh—"
"Tell the servants to follow my orders. They will need to prepare rooms for the queen, and the guests need some attention as well."
"Wh-what guests?"
"Count, as awesome as I might be," Lily said coyly, "I couldn't have obtained a cart in the city at night, driven Her Majesty out, and got here all by myself. Well, fine, I probably could, but I didn't have to. Thank Aldonai, I ha
ve friends."
The count shook his head so heartily that the bushes shrank back.
"Your Grace... I'll go. But if—"
"If I lied, you can bury me right under these roses."
Lily was so calm that Count Chantaine couldn't help but believe her. A roar trumpeted across the Summer Palace.
The count commanded someone to bring him a horse, for the servants to obey Countess Earton, and for the guards to gather in the courtyard with some of them accompanying him.
At least he grabbed Leir Eals, or he would have still roamed the area, unsure where to go.
Lily followed him with her eyes, looked at startled guards and the servants, who stayed away and exchanged fearful looks, expecting the worst, and put her hands on her hips.
Look out, kiddos! I'll whip you all into shape!
With a resolute gait, she walked toward the servants.
"Who's in charge here?"
"I...am, Your Grace."
It was a portly man around forty-five with a noticeable belly and a livery richly decorated with gold. Lily nodded.
"Your name?"
"Leir Tivet Olsen."
"Great, Leir. Countess Earton. Let's go; we need to get everything in order for a visit from Her Majesty and the princes."
"But..."
The poor guy was all flustered by her declaration.
"Calm down, Leir. Are the chambers ready?"
"The royal chambers and the ones adjacent to them are. But there aren't many of them..."
"No worries, there aren't too many of us, either. Listen then. Her Majesty, her children, and the nanny will go to the royal chambers. If it gets too cramped..."
"Those are royal chambers!"
"How many rooms are there?"
"Eighteen!"
"It won't get cramped. All right, so Her Majesty, the children, and the nanny will go to the royal chambers. I want one of those eighteen rooms for my daughter and me. I know a bit about healing arts, so...is it possible?"
"There's a maid's room there."
"It will do."
"But, Your Grace!"
"Leir, we have no time for ceremonies. The count will explain everything. Just make the arrangements. I will need hot water, lots of it., and a bowl."
"The royal chambers have a wonderful bathroom!"
"Her Majesty cannot take a bath right now; only get splashed with water, Leir. Her children should be washed. We also need food for thirty people, more or less. No frills."
"B-but..."
"Leir, believe me, I'm not joking. Everything's more than serious."
The leir could only sigh heavily and issue orders. If anything happened, all responsibility would fall on Chantaine, anyway. The servants scurried like frightened rabbits. Lily breathed out and accidentally leaned on the leir.
She almost fainted. For a second, she felt dizzy and couldn't see straight.
She was safe. Miranda was safe. Not completely, of course, but being inside a palace guarded by a thousand men felt much more secure than on a cart—or a horse—in the middle of nowhere.
"It's all right, Leir. I promise you I'm not going to faint. Do you have any medicine? Or a doctorus, at least?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Send him to the royal chambers at once."
Lily didn't doubt that she would be able to handle Milia's sickness by herself, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Everything should be as transparent as possible. She wanted witnesses.
***
Count Chantaine didn't fully believe that crazy woman, but...
Was she crazy, though? Her eyes, her face, her posture, her jewels… Hadn't he seen lunatics before? They weren't like that. Yet how could he accept her story? He couldn't quite make up his mind.
Eals confidently led the group, keeping ahead by half-a-body length. Considering the caliber of their mounts, the journey didn't take much time. Soon, a strange caravan loomed ahead: several carts, the stench of which made even flies drop dead mid-air, people, horses, dogs... The most apt description of that ragtag bunch was a crew of vagabonds that any decent man was supposed to drive out of his lands with a stick.
Eral was riding next to one of the carts, looking like... Chantaine struggled to find a word. Like the sky fell on his head. And he wasn't the worst of his men by far; what could happen to him to confound him so much?
All Chantaine could do was to spur his horse. He would learn it when he got there.
But it was not to be. Not so fast, bucko. Like grey lightning bolts, two huge dogs scrambled to meet him, blocking the way. Virman dogs? Where could they come from?
"Lou-Lou, Nanook! Heel! Friend!"
A young girl of no more than ten years old who sat in a cart gave the command. The dogs set their ears back, growled out of habit, but let him through. Only Chantaine himself, though.
Inside the cart... The count couldn't be mistaken. He knew Her Majesty well. It was her, but her appearance was far from one he was accustomed to.
She was wrapped in rags of some kind. Two of her children were by her side, while the third was in her hap. The nanny, whom Chantaine also knew, was next to her. She was all haggard, with red blotches on her sullen cheeks, barely alive...
But she was alive. That's what mattered.
"Your Majesty!"
Milia slowly opened her eyes, and two tears ran down her cheeks.
"Count...we made it. Lily promised..."
Lily? Lilian Earton. She hadn't lied.
"Your Majesty, you're safe. I swear on my honor..."
Milia could barely move her lips.
"Did Lily tell you everything?"
"About the king, about your escape, the delivery..."
"Yes. Meet my youngest son—His Highness Gardwig."
The count bit his lip. From the looks of it, he owed a lot to that strange countess. He would need to think of it later and pay her back.
"Your Majesty, lie down and don't worry about anything. I'll deal with your problems."
Milia closed her eyes and seemingly passed out. Bertha's look made Chantaine ride up and reach out for her. She clearly wanted to talk. Despite her old age, she was pretty sprightly and quickly got on the horse.
"Did the countess tell you all about us? Did she make arrangements?"
"Yes. I told the servants to listen to her."
"Thank Aldonai."
"So what happened, Bertha?"
"Didn't Lilian tell you everything?"
"I rode here as in a dream! Do you think that it's easy to believe something like that?"
Bertha only sighed. Then she repeated Lilian Earton's story but in more detail. She also hadn't seen what happened to the king, but she did praise the countess in every other sentence.
As the count listened to her, he grew to appreciate Lilian. She really had saved them. He was in her debt. No, scratch that—the whole of Wellster was in her debt, and paying her back would take a long while!
***
Upon his return to the Summer Palace, Count Chantaine encountered a surprise: a letter sealed with His Majesty's personal seal instructing the count to stay put and not listen to any stupid rumors. Gardwig would come later and deal with it personally.
The count kept the letter and went into the royal chambers. The queen had already been carried there with all due respect, and Lilian Earton was busy undressing her, deftly wielding scissors and cutting off the remains of the once glamorous dress. Milia didn't mind that.
Doctorus Ilave was fidgeting by her side. Gardwig hadn't sent his court physician there, but how could a regiment survive without their own "leech"? That's whom Chantaine had called for.
"What's wrong with the queen?"
"She's weak after labor. The countess says that she got a fever during their travels—apparently, it's bad for her health, but they didn't have a choice. And then, there's blood loss..."
"What do you think?"
The doctorus shrugged.
"I can always recognize a colleague. Whoever taught Co
untess Earton, she has skilled hands. Good hands."
Chantaine trusted Ilave's opinion. Still, the doctorus was used to treating soldiers’ wounds, and that was a noble lady there. He wanted to be sure.
"She won't hurt her?"
"She's real bossy, but it's going to be fine."
"Bossy?"
"She made me undress almost completely and take off my boots, said I'd get dirt on the mother and child..."
It was only then that the count noticed the doctorus was half-dressed. He had his pants on, but his doublet had disappeared, as did his wig powdered after the latest fashion. The countess herself was wearing...well, something. Mostly, it resembled a maid's nightgown under which she hid her hair. At least it was clean.
Chantaine dismissed it. Was it madness? He decided to think that the whole world had gone insane. Nothing special, really. It happened.
"Don't worry, doctorus. Help the queen, will you?"
"Of course, Your Grace. It's my duty."
"And could you tell the countess that I'd like a minute of her attention later?"
"Absolutely, Your Grace. Oh, and the countess asked for a wetnurse for the baby, preferably a clean and healthy one. In case one won't be enough."
"Will do."
A wetnurse? Where would he find one? In a village? Count Chantaine had basically zero knowledge in that area, so he did what he was supposed to do: called for his second and gave him an order. The man ran away, bewildered, and the count decided to ask around.
He had no luck. After going such a long way buried in trash, everyone was busy washing themselves at the same time, making the staff run off their legs carrying hot water.
Her Majesty's people took quarters not far from her chambers, just in case. They didn't really look like the king's soldiers, not at all. The Virmans, the Eveers, women, children...
Chantaine didn't give a damn. Even if it were Maldonaya herself, he would have kissed her hand. Countess Earton had performed a miracle, and her friends helped her. Who were they? Nobles, of course. Common rabble were simply incapable of honorable deeds, so these men must be noble. Chantaine didn't doubt that the queen would recognize that in writing as soon as she got better.
Finally, he got the chance to speak to Countess Earton and ask his questions. Alas, Lily knew very little about what was going on in the city. She guessed that Gardwig was dead and that Cardin was overrun by mercenaries.
The Road of Kings: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 8) Page 8