The Red Fox Clan

by John Flanagan

  The line of attacking infantry began to withdraw, leaving a score of huddled shapes on the grass behind them. Once they began to retreat, Gilan knew they wouldn’t attack again in a hurry.

  “Cease shooting!” he called, and the last few arrows hissed away. Nestor’s men had already stopped. The Fox line was out of range now.

  “Back to the riverbank!” he ordered. “Partner up and get across the river!”

  19

  The new Iberian ambassador was an incredibly tall and thin man, standing well over 190 centimeters. He was aged around forty and had thick black hair slicked back from his face with a scented pomade. His skin was swarthy and he had a large hooked nose set between prominent cheekbones. His eyes were dark—almost black, Maddie thought—and his eyebrows were thick and bushy. They too were black, with no trace of gray in them. She wondered if he perhaps dyed his hair.

  He wore a richly brocaded red-and-gold tunic, with the national symbol of Iberion, a griffin, on the left breast. He was accompanied by a retinue of only four attendants, since he had been warned that the official dinner was to be a small affair only.

  “My apologies again for such a small gathering, Don Ansalvo,” Cassandra said as they were all seated at the dining table in the large hall. “Normally I would have arranged a larger group to welcome you. But as you know, my husband and our Ranger Corps Commandant are absent at the moment, so it’s just us.”

  “Just us” was Cassandra herself, Maddie, Dimon and Lord Anthony, the Castle Araluen chamberlain.

  Don Ansalvo waved the apology aside. “A smaller gathering gives us the opportunity to get to know each other more closely,” he said. “And besides, who could complain about a gathering that contains two such beautiful ladies?”

  He made a graceful hand gesture that encompassed Cassandra and Maddie, at the same time contriving to bow forward from the waist, in spite of the fact that he was seated.

  Maddie caught Dimon’s eye and rolled her own eyes. Dimon hid a grin behind his napkin. Iberians, Maddie had been told, were well-known for their effusive compliments and exaggerated sense of gallantry. Don Ansalvo looked at her now, his perfect white teeth showing in a smile, and she bowed her head toward him in recognition of his remark.

  “You’re too kind, Don Ansalvo,” Cassandra said.

  He looked back at her. “Tell me, my lady, what is it that has taken Sir Horace away from the castle?” He had been informed of Horace’s absence when he arrived, but the reason hadn’t been stated.

  Cassandra shrugged. “It’s a relatively minor matter, but one that requires his attention.”

  Don Ansalvo tilted his head to one side. “A relatively minor matter?” he repeated. “What is it exactly?”

  Cassandra wasn’t keen to discuss Araluen’s internal politics with the new ambassador. Araluen and Iberion were at peace, but the Kingdom of Iberion had a reputation for meddling when other countries were having problems. She indicated for Dimon to answer, feigning disinterest in the matter.

  “A small group of hotheads and rabble-rousers are trying to stir up the people,” he said. “It’s not a big problem but Sir Horace thought it best to stamp it out before it became one.”

  Don Ansalvo nodded, leaning back in his chair while he considered the answer. “And he is right,” he said. “Any sign of rebellion must be stamped out quickly. We have a problem of our own in Iberion.”

  “And what might that be, Don Ansalvo?” Maddie asked. She sensed her mother’s reluctance to discuss the Red Fox Clan and thought this was a way to steer the conversation away from them.

  Don Ansalvo favored her with a rather patronizing smile. “It’s nothing that need worry such a gem of female pulchritude,” he said smoothly.

  She smiled back, forcing the expression onto her face. “And yet I’d be interested to know,” she said.

  He shrugged. “As Sir Dimon says, hotheads and rabble-rousers. Two of our southern provinces are seeking to secede from Iberion and form a separate nation. Naturally, we can’t allow this to happen.”

  “Naturally,” Maddie said dryly. She was willing to bet that the provinces in question were rich in farmland or natural resources. Don Ansalvo studied her briefly. He didn’t seem to notice the cynical attitude behind her reply. But then, Maddie thought, he was a diplomat and had years of experience in masking his true feelings.

  She shifted slightly in her seat. In spite of her misgivings about wearing formal clothes once more, Maddie was enjoying the dinner. The blue gown that her mother had chosen for her was an excellent choice and she knew it suited her. But it was a fraction tight around the shoulders.

  Don Ansalvo took a sip of his wine and turned his attention back to Dimon. Maddie had the distinct impression that he preferred to discuss important matters with a man, rather than with a girl like herself, or even her mother, the Princess Regent.

  “But tell me, Sir Dimon, what is the nature of this rebellion of yours?” he asked.

  Dimon hesitated. He seemed to share Cassandra’s reluctance to discuss internal politics with an outsider. But Don Ansalvo had been frank and forthcoming about the problems Iberion was facing, so it was difficult for Dimon not to go into a little detail. He glanced quickly at Cassandra, who nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  “There’s a small group of agitators who object to the law that says a daughter may inherit the throne. They wish to return to the rule of male succession,” he said. His tone indicated that he would give no further details on the matter.

  The ambassador nodded slowly. “Ah, of course. Your country is one of the few that allow female succession, isn’t it?” he said thoughtfully. “You say they wish to return to the old way. So this has not always been the law in Araluen?”

  “My grandfather changed the law,” Cassandra told him, with a note of finality in her voice.

  Don Ansalvo stroked his waxed mustache. “It would never do in Iberion,” he said. “My people wouldn’t stand for it.”

  If they’re anything like you, I’m sure they wouldn’t, Maddie thought. She glanced quickly at Dimon and was surprised to see the stony, set expression on his face. It was there for only an instant, and then he realized she was watching him, and smiled brightly at her. She assumed his look of distaste was triggered by the Iberian’s unmistakably superior attitude to all things Araluen. Cassandra interrupted Maddie’s train of thought with her next question.

  “So, Don Ansalvo, when do you plan to move into your residence?”

  As ambassador, Don Ansalvo was provided with a large manor house as his official residence. It was a few kilometers south of the village that sheltered under the castle’s protective shadow. Cassandra’s question, and the deliberate change of subject, indicated to him that any further questions about the trouble in the north would be unwelcome—and probably go unanswered. He was diplomatic enough to concede.

  “I thought we would leave at mid-morning tomorrow,” he said. “If that suits your arrangements?”

  “As a matter of fact, that would suit me perfectly,” she said. “We’re about to let most of the castle staff go and keep only a skeleton staff on duty.”

  Don Ansalvo’s raised eyebrows posed an obvious question, and Lord Anthony leaned forward to explain.

  “At this time of year, the farms in the district are plowing the stubble into the fields and gathering food and firewood for the winter—salting meat and bringing in the late harvest of vegetables,” he said. “Most of the castle staff come from local farms. We usually let go as many people as we can spare to help out. And this year, with Sir Horace and most of the garrison absent, we only need a skeleton staff in the castle—no more than twenty people. Even I will be leaving early tomorrow. My daughter and her new baby are coming to visit and staying at our house in the village.” Anthony smiled at Cassandra. “The princess has kindly given me leave to spend time with them.”

  “Of course,” Don Ans
alvo replied. Then he turned those dark, penetrating eyes on Maddie once more. “But what will you do, Princess? Won’t it be boring for a lively young woman like yourself to be stuck in a half-empty castle?”

  “Oh no,” Maddie replied, with expertly feigned enthusiasm. “I’ll have my sewing and needlework to keep me busy and entertained. You’ve no idea how diverting petit point can be.”

  Don Ansalvo sniffed delicately. “I’m sure I haven’t,” he replied.

  Maddie quickly glanced at her mother and read the warning expression in her eyes.

  Don’t push it.

  But Maddie was still irritated by the ambassador’s earlier comment about Araluen’s laws of succession. She smiled sweetly now. “Tell me, Don Ansalvo, you said a female ruler would never be accepted in Iberion. What makes you say that?”

  The Iberian leaned back in his chair and made a languid gesture with one hand. “Iberians believe it is not a woman’s place to rule. That is a man’s role.”

  Maddie saw the quick warning glance from her mother but ignored it. With the smile still fixed to her face, she continued. “And what, precisely, is a woman’s role?”

  “It’s an important one,” the ambassador said condescendingly. “A woman nurtures and teaches. She is the emotional center of the home. She creates an atmosphere of gentility and affection so important for the family.”

  “And stays barefoot in the kitchen?” There was a hard edge to Maddie’s voice now, but Don Ansalvo didn’t seem to notice. He considered her statement and nodded.

  “We have nothing against shoes, but preparing meals is an important part of a woman’s function—either cooking them herself or overseeing the efforts of servants.” He nodded toward Cassandra as he said this. Then, seeing Maddie’s obvious disagreement, he continued.

  “But a woman cannot lead a country in time of war. That is a man’s job. No woman has ever done so.”

  “My mother has been involved in more than one battle in her time,” Maddie said doggedly. The smile was long gone now. Cassandra made a gesture for her to desist, but Maddie had the bit between her teeth and Don Ansalvo’s reply had only served to fan her anger further.

  “Yes,” he said, “before I accepted this appointment, I studied your mother’s past accomplishments and they are admirable. But the battles she fought in were small skirmishes, not full-scale wars.” He bowed toward Cassandra. “No offense intended, my lady.”

  “I think the Temujai invasion of Skandia might count as a full-scale war. I’m sure the Skandians thought so,” Maddie said.

  He raised an eyebrow at her in polite disdain. “And was your mother in command of the Skandian army?” he asked.

  She flushed, realizing she had trapped herself with her hasty words. “Well, no. Not exactly . . .”

  “As I read the account, the commander was the Skandian Oberjarl Ragnak. And his chief strategist was one of your Rangers.”

  “That’s true. But—”

  “In fact, in all of her battles, Princess Cassandra was assisted by one or more of your redoubtable Rangers. And her husband, of course, a champion knight. Fighting and commanding armies is not something a woman is cut out for.”

  “Yet my mother is practicing with the sword,” Maddie said.

  Don Ansalvo tilted his head to one side, considering the statement. “Ah yes. Many Iberion ladies of noble birth learn to use the foil or the épée. It develops coordination and balance. But I think a woman with a light sword, facing a fully armored knight, would be at some risk. Don’t you agree, Sir Dimon?”

  Dimon, not expecting to be drawn into the conversation, hesitated awkwardly. He had no wish to offend the ambassador, or Cassandra.

  “I think,” he said reluctantly, “that in such a case, the advantage would lie with the man.”

  Don Ansalvo nodded, a superior expression on his face. Cassandra hurried to change the subject before Maddie could speak again.

  “Well, that’s enough talk of wars and fighting,” she said. “Don Ansalvo, I’m told you are an expert performer on the lute?”

  The ambassador bowed slightly from the waist. “I do have some small skill in that area.”

  “Then perhaps you’d favor us with a song?” Cassandra said.

  Don Ansalvo shook his head modestly, making a disclaiming gesture with both hands. “No, no. I couldn’t possibly bore you,” he began.

  But one of his entourage had already produced a lute case from beneath the table and was opening it and passing it to his master.

  “Oh, well,” said Don Ansalvo, accepting the instrument. “Perhaps one song—an Iberian song about a beautiful lady and a noble knight who dies defending her honor . . .”

  And more fool him, Maddie thought grimly. She settled back in her chair, her anger at the smooth-talking, condescending Iberian still smoldering. Don Ansalvo smiled at her with what he thought was overwhelming charm, struck a few preparatory chords and began to sing. Maddie leaned back in her chair.

  This could be a long night, she thought.

  20

  The following day, Maddie and Cassandra were strolling around the battlements, enjoying the expansive views below the castle. Cassandra was taking a welcome break from her desk and its litter of paperwork.

  “Well, you managed to survive the ordeal of dining with the Iberian ambassador,” Cassandra said.

  Maddie frowned. “He’s a pompous, condescending git,” she said spitefully.

  Her mother smiled. “Such courtly language,” she said. “He seemed very taken with you.”

  “He seemed very taken with himself,” Maddie replied. “But he certainly kept himself busy passing oily compliments on my ‘unsurpassed beauty.’”

  When he had finally set the lute aside—after not one but half a dozen numbers—Don Ansalvo had spent the rest of the evening plying Maddie with effusive, overstated compliments, all of them based on his appreciation of her physical charms.

  “Well, he’s a diplomat, and an Iberian. There’s an old saying, When you’ve learned to fake sincerity, you’re ready to become an Iberian diplomat.”

  Maddie pushed out her bottom lip in a moue of mock disappointment. “You mean he wasn’t being sincere?”

  Cassandra grinned. “I’m afraid not. In case you were wondering, your eyes don’t really shine to match the full moon low over the horizon,” she said, quoting one of Don Ansalvo’s more exotic compliments.

  “I’m devastated to hear it,” Maddie said, in a tone that indicated she was anything but. “I felt sorry for Dimon. He was sort of caught in the middle there, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. He apologized later for not sticking up for you. But there wasn’t a lot he could say. You seem to be getting on well with him,” Cassandra added, a questioning note in her voice.

  Maddie nodded. “Yes. I like him. He’s good company.”

  “You know he’s a distant relative, don’t you?” her mother said.

  “Dimon?” Maddie looked up in surprise.

  Cassandra nodded. “Pretty distant. I think he’s your cousin six or seven times removed on your grandmother’s side,” she said. “It gets a little hard to keep track after four or five removes.”

  “So we’re related. No wonder he’s such a nice person,” Maddie said.

  “It’s not a close enough relationship to form any barrier if you were . . . interested in him,” Cassandra said, studying her daughter’s reaction.

  Maddie snorted derisively. “Oh, please!” she said. “I like him. He’s good company. But I’m not interested in him romantically!”

  Cassandra shrugged. “Just saying, if you were,” she said. It was a new experience for her to think about her daughter forming attachments with personable young men. She wasn’t totally sure how she felt about the sensation.

  But Maddie waved the idea aside and changed the subject. “So what’s been keeping you busy
?”

  Cassandra sighed and stretched. “I’d forgotten the amount of paperwork involved in accepting a new ambassador,” she said. “King Carlos of Iberion sent a twenty-page missive for me to answer in detail—and in suitably florid court language. I should have kept Lord Anthony on for a few more days to draft the reply for me. It’s taking me ages.”

  “Why not call him back?” Maddie asked, although she suspected her mother would never do that.

  Cassandra shrugged. “His daughter arrived with her new baby daughter. He’s settled happily at home with his family. And with the visitors, he has a lot of work to do stockpiling food and firewood for the colder months. What about you? What have you been up to?” she asked.

  Maddie waved a hand vaguely in the air. “Oh, just poking around the castle. I’ve been out to Warwick and Lou’s farm a couple of times to see Bumper. Patrolled the area to see if anything’s happening. Gilan asked me to do that,” she added, in case her mother might think she was interfering where she wasn’t wanted.

  Cassandra nodded. She knew about the arrangement with Warwick and Lou, knew they were part of Gilan’s intelligence network. And she was aware that Gilan had asked her daughter to keep an eye on the fief in his absence.

  “Gilan said something about the old abbey above the farm,” Cassandra said.

  “Yes. Apparently they had seen lights up there. Or thought they had. I checked it out but there’s been nobody there for some time. If anything, it was probably travelers passing through and using the building for shelter.”

  She paused, then changed the subject abruptly. “Mum, tell me about the south tower.”

  Castle Araluen had four towers, one at each of the four corners of the crenellated outer wall. In the center was a fifth, the keep. The main administration offices, formal dining halls, audience rooms, throne room and apartments were there, along with floors of accommodation for visiting guests and senior castle staff. Cassandra’s and Horace’s work spaces were there as well, in addition to the royal apartments.