by Jane Glatt
“I would be happy to,” Brenna said, rising to her feet. She shoved the coronet and mortar and pestle back into her pack and slung it over her shoulder. “Oh no, I’ll leave the way I came,” she said as King Mannel moved to open the door. Swinging the window wide, Brenna reached out and grabbed the rope. She was up and onto the roof before Evlan’s head appeared out the window, looking down.
“Up here,” she called quietly as she coiled her rope. With a wave she edged back into the shadows.
It took less than an hour to find her way back to the White Whale. When she entered the window and her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she found Dasid propped up in a chair, watching her.
“Everything all right?” he asked. She nodded. “Good, do I need to know anything right now?”
“We’ve been asked to dine with King Mannel and his daughter tomorrow. The rest can wait until morning.”
“Then get some sleep Brenna,” Dasid said before he rose and left her room.
Exhausted, Brenna stripped off her clothes and slipped into the crisp clean bedding. Wondering what she had that she could wear to dine with the King of Langemore, she fell asleep.
Flanked by four Kingsguard, Duke Thorold, resplendent in a rich, dark green, velvet robe, his gold chain of office glittering around his neck, entered the church. With three hours until the ceremony, the church was already crowded with Guardsmen and priests.
“High Bishop,” Thorold called when he spotted the black silk robes and skullcap of Thomas Valden at the front of the church. “A moment, High Bishop.”
High Bishop Valden turned towards him, a wide, serene smile on his face. “Of course Duke Thorold, the church always has time for her followers.” The High Bishop knelt and bowed his head towards the altar before he moved in Thorold’s direction. “The preparations are almost complete,” the High Bishop said. “We will accept the king and his heir back into the church after the ceremony for their blessings.”
“And before the ceremony?” Thorold asked. He was to deliver Beldyn and Liam into the hands of the High Bishop shortly - after he made sure they understood their roles and the consequences they faced if they didn’t follow his directions.
“They will need to meditate with me,” Valden said
“We cannot have any marks on either of them,” Thorold admonished. “And they must be able to stand for the ceremony.”
“Of course. I will minister to them personally before the ceremony. They will be ready to perform their duties.”
“See that they are,” Thorold said. “If you’ll excuse me I have a few things left to do.” He turned to one of his guards. “Please have Captain Barton join me.”
Thorold picked a chicken drumstick from the platter and bit into the tangy meat.
“Eat something, your Majesty,” he said to Beldyn. “You are looking rather pale.” In fact, the boy looked terrified. “Fainting will not do, I insist you eat.” Beldyn picked up a slice of black bread, then put it back down. Instead, he sipped tentatively at his tea.
“I’m eating poppa, see?” Liam held up a piece of cheese.
When Thorold turned to watch him he shoved the whole piece into his mouth.
“Yes, that’s fine Liam, very nice.” Thorold looked away, wishing the boy’s mother had been allowed to come, or better yet, a dutiful nursemaid. But they both needed to be seen as adults - the king and his heir. A nursemaid would not indicate that. He frowned at Beldyn, who sat staring at his untouched plate.
“If you eat, the visit with the High Bishop will be up here, rather than down in his rooms,” he said.
Alarmed, Beldyn looked up at him.
“It’s imperative that you be fit to get through the ceremony.” Valden wouldn’t be happy but he’d let him have the boy after the ceremony, when Beldyn’s value was lessened. Right now he had to make sure that nothing hampered his plans, including Beldyn fainting. Liam must be named heir today.
“All right, I will eat,” Beldyn said. He bit off a piece of bread and chewed slowly.
“And some chicken,” Thorold said. “At least one piece.”
Beldyn nodded and chewed methodically. By the time High Bishop Valden came to collect them Beldyn had eaten half of what was on his plate and his color was a little better.
“High Bishop,” Thorold said. “You must minister to my sons up here. The air is much better and I fear for Beldyn’s health if he’s enclosed in your rooms.” Valden’s lips narrowed slightly but he nodded. “You will have plenty of time with them both at the blessings afterwards.”
“Of course my Lord. Your Majesty, Liam, please come this way. It will take just a moment to ready altar.”
The preparations were made quickly and soon both Beldyn and Liam were kneeling in front of the High Bishop. Bored, Thorold looked away as High Bishop Valden’s voice intoned the service. He caught Captain Barton’s eye and nodded. All was ready. There were enough Kingsguard present to surround the platform and protect his sons from the crowd, as well as secure the square. Thorold wasn’t certain that Kane Rowse would attend this ceremony but Captain Barton had advised his men to watch for him and his lieutenant, Dasid Addems. The man who captured either one would be well rewarded.
Finally the High Bishop finished speaking. Thorold smiled - it was time. Captain Barton and some of his men formed a line. Beldyn, followed by Liam stepped into the line behind them. The great oak doors of the church were pushed open and he heard a cheer rise up from the crowd. He fell into line behind Liam and the procession made its way outside where the sun beamed down on a crisp clear fall afternoon.
Kane scratched at his beard. He’d asked Eryl to find him a realistic disguise but now he wasn’t sure he could last the length of the ceremony like this. The beard glued to his chin was bad enough but the fleas that inhabited it were worse. Already there were places where he’d scratched his skin raw. And the smell. Both the beard and the clothing were ripe but the beard was real hair cut from a man who apparently didn’t believe in washing. Kane had spent the first few minutes wearing it trying to keep down what little breakfast he’d eaten.
He felt better now that he was out in the square where a cool breeze blew his own stench away from him. The citizens who stood downwind of him, however, had edged as far away from him as they could in a crowd this size.
Kane searched the crowd again, looking for familiar faces. He’d spotted Guild Master Brunger and his daughter Carolie earlier, close to the platform near the section roped off for the nobles. He’d also recognized a few members of the Brotherhood along with some men he’d dealt with in his days as the Captain of the Kingsguard. Those he stayed well away from - he didn’t want to test his disguise that fully. He hadn’t seen Eryl. He was disguised too, of course, but Kane knew what the other man was wearing.
The crowd at the front started to cheer and Kane looked towards the church. The doors opened and Barton came out. Kingsguardsmen in the familiar navy uniform filed out after him. Then he saw Beldyn. The lad’s face was pale and his shoulders were squared as he walked woodenly through the crowd. Beldyn kept his eyes on the back of the Guard in front of him, not once glancing at the throng that was cheering for him, not even as he was led up the stairs and onto the platform.
Kane didn’t see the other boy until he was halfway up the stairs. Liam it must be - the one who would be named heir. Unlike Beldyn this boy smiled and waved to the crowd, obviously delighted with the attention.
Duke Thorold and the High Bishop mounted the platform and Kane’s lip curled in disgust. The duke took a place near the back, his hands folded in front of him and the High Bishop strode to the centre. A second line of Kingsguard encircled the stage, facing out, hands on their sword hilts. Kane ducked behind a merchant’s hat. He knew one of those Guards. It was no surprise that he was part of Thorold’s personal escort - the man had never met Kane expectations for integrity and honesty - but he was well-trained. He wouldn’t be lax in searching the crowd – not like some of the newer Guard. Kane had to keep out of
his line of sight.
“People of Kingsreach, people of Soule,” the High Bishop shouted. His voice carried out across the square and the noise of the crowd rippled and then fell silent. “Your Majesty, lords and ladies, good citizens, we are here for a very serious matter. We are here to ensure the continuity of the throne and preserve it for the future. On this day, with you good people and the One-God as witnesses, King Beldyn will name his heir.”
A cheer went up and Kane shouted along with the rest of the crowd. For a moment Beldyn looked impassively look over the throng. Then the lad closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath and stepped over to the High Bishop.
“King Beldyn, is it your intention to name an heir this day?” The High Bishop asked.
“It is,” Beldyn replied. His voice was faint and Kane had to strain to hear him.
“Then repeat after me. I, Beldyn Embrey of Comack, King of Soule.”
“I, Beldyn Embrey of Comack, King of Soule.”
The crowd fell silent in order to hear their King’s words.
“Solemnly and with great deliberation,” intoned the High Bishop. “Do appoint my brother, Liam Embrey of Comack as my only true heir.”
“Solemnly and with great deliberation do appoint.” Beldyn paused, and then he stepped to the edge of the platform, raised his head and looked out across the square. “I, Beldyn Embrey, King of Soule!” Beldyn repeated, shouting now. “Solemnly and with great deliberation do appoint Brenna Trewen, as my only true heir!” Beldyn’s chest heaved and he balled his fists.
The High Bishop stood behind him, his mouth open in surprise.
Kane closed his eyes and sighed. He hoped Beldyn lived through this day. He looked up at the King. Even now Thorold, red-faced, stormed toward his son.
“If anything should happen to me, Brenna Trewen will be Queen. You are all my witnesses,” Beldyn shouted at the crowd just as Thorold reached him. He flinched when his father raised his hand but as on the night of the fire, Duke Thorold managed to refrain from striking his King in public.
After an initial cheer, the crowd fell silent, eyes focused on the platform. Kane eased himself to the back of the square as Beldyn and his father glared at each other. He could see Thorold talking to his son but Beldyn simply shook his head and raised his chin. Kane took one last look back to see Beldyn being escorted away by Kingsguard.
He hurried back to the hideout, already thinking about what he needed to do now. They had to rescue Beldyn as soon as possible - that was the first priority. Thorold may not kill him right away but he could make it so that he would do anything, say anything, in order to die. Including recanting naming Brenna’s his heir. If he did, Kane feared that Beldyn would never be seen alive again.
“I’ll kill you for this,” Thorold said quietly as soon as the door to the church was closed.
Beldyn paled, then swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I imagine you will,” he said. “Or you’ll have your lackey Valden do it for you. But when I die, Brenna will be Queen. There’s nothing you can do to change that. Half of Kingsreach heard me name her as my heir. You can’t kill all of them.”
Thorold stared at his son, his betrayer, for a long time. “I won’t kill you today but I will let the High Bishop have you. I don’t think you’ll be seen in public for a very, very long time.” He waved at a guard. “Take him to the High Bishop. Tell him I need him alive and able to speak but other than that, I don’t really care.” The guard grabbed Beldyn’s arm and spun him around. “And Beldyn, my King, you are wrong. I will do something about this. I will.” As Beldyn was led to the High Bishops rooms below the church, Thorold called for Barton.
“Shut the gates,” he said to the captain when he arrived. “I don’t want anyone to leave or enter Kingsreach. We must stop this news from spreading.”
It was futile, he knew. Someone was probably already on their way out of the city with this news but he had to at least try. And there were too many in the square to kill, his son was correct about that. He’d have to make the ceremony invalid. But how, that was the question. He’d spent a great deal of time and effort ensuring that it was legitimate. It would not be easy to undo that. Thorold heard a sound from a corner and turned to see his youngest son, Liam, crouched low, sobbing.
“Come here lad,” he said. Hesitantly the boy stood up and came over to him. “Sit down.” He patted the pew beside him. “Don’t worry, you’ll be the heir, soon, I promise.”
“But I don’t want it, really. I don’t want Beldyn to be mad at me.”
“I’d worry about having me mad at you Liam,” Thorold said. The boy rubbed a hand across his tear-streaked face. “Now, we’ve had some excitement but you need to get back home. I think there are some pies set aside for tonight.” As well as a feast to celebrate the naming of the heir, Thorold thought sourly. Well, let this boy have it all, if he wanted it. He’d keep him closer than he’d kept Beldyn. His ambitions had quickly settled on his young shoulders. Thorold stood and steered Liam to the door and their waiting carriage.
seventeen
Brenna eyed her companions and then looked ruefully down at her own garb. She was clean at least. They all were, but none of them were dressed for dining with a king. She brushed her hand across the uneven stitching of her vest. She was poor with a needle, despite her healing skills, and the tear she’d mended was still quite visible.
“Let’s hope King Mannel decides we’re worth more than our clothing,” she said. “At least Wils and Dasid look the part.” Both wore uniforms, the gray she’d chosen as her colour, the colour of the Brotherhood, but both uniforms showed the hard wear they’d seen during their journey.
“Well lass, like as not King Mannel will see beyond what yer wearing,” Pater said. “Me, I’d just as soon stay here. I never dined with a king afore this and I can’t say I want to now.”
“But you need to be there. I need King Mannel to understand that my support is deep. Not only do I have Ewart and Avery but I have regular folk on my side as well.”
“All right,” Pater said. “But I’m there to watch and eat, that’s all. Don’t expect me to make any fancy speeches or such.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Brenna gave Pater a quick hug then took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Brenna led the way through the darkening streets. It was early yet, but this far north the days were already short and it was fully dark by the time they reached the large wooden doors that led into the castle.
“Brenna Trewen to see King Mannel,” Dasid said to the guards on duty. One of the guards ducked through a smaller door. He returned after a moment and nodded to the other guard, who opened the large doors. Inside, an elderly man dressed in heavy, black, woolen clothes stood and bowed to them.
“I am King Mannel’s seneschal, Orpe. His Majesty and Princess Evlan are waiting for you in the small reception room. Please follow me.”
The castle in Whitehaven was smaller than the one in Kingsreach, Brenna thought as they trailed Orpe down a short hallway, past three closed doors. But the woodworking was of a much better quality. They passed through a set of doors that were ornately carved with hunting scenes. Brenna stopped and trailed her hand over a large wolf battling with half a dozen hunters.
“King Mannel’s namesake,” Orpe said.
“Of course,” Dasid said. “The White Wolf of the north.”
“Not many outside of Langemore have heard that,” Orpe said.
“I spent some time along the borders as a Kingsguard,” Dasid replied.
They went along one last corridor before Orpe stopped in front of another set of double doors. The scene that spanned the two doors showed a banner waving above a crown.
“Another wolf,” Brenna said, pointing to the image in the right top corner of the banner.
Orpe swung one door open and gestured to the four of them. Dasid stepped through the door first.
“Please come in,” a voice said.
King Mannel sat on a large settee near the front of the room. Ev
lan occupied a chair across a low table from him, her hands folded in her lap.
“Your Majesty,” Brenna said with a quick nod. “May I present my companions? Dasid Addems, Wils and Pater, this is King Mannel and his daughter Princess Evlan. Your Majesty, I thank you for inviting us to dine with you.”
“You’re most welcome, Queen Brenna. I am intrigued by you, to say the least,” Mannel said. “Please sit down. Evlan, pour some tea for our guests please?”
“Now,” Mannel said once tea had been poured. “Did I hear correctly? Is this man Dasid Addems, second in command of the Kingsguard?”
“That’s true your Majesty,” Dasid said. “But as you can see, I no longer wear the blue of the Kingsguard.”
“And who does the gray belong to? Queen Brenna?”
“Yes. And the Brotherhood of the Throne,” Dasid replied
Mannel’s tea cup rattled in its saucer and Brenna stared at him.
“Have you heard of the Brotherhood, your Majesty?” Brenna asked.
“It’s an old story, one my father learned from his father and so on for generations. Is it true then?”
“It’s true,” Dasid assured him.
“Have you family ties with Ewart of Fallad, your Majesty?” Brenna asked. Mannel nodded and she smiled. “I thought so. He said much the same thing when he heard about the Brotherhood. It makes sense that two lands so close would have such ties between them.”
“There have been marriages between mine and Duke Ewart’s families, although it has been many generations since we had such a close connection.” Mannel looked over at his daughter as he said this and Brenna recalled Ewart’s declaration that he had been approached as a suitable match for Evlan.
“And so you, Dasid Addems are a member of the Brotherhood of the Throne,” Mannel said. “And I suppose Wils and Pater here are as well?” The other two men nodded and Mannel continued. “That makes Brenna the one prophesied. I’m even more intrigued by you. Why don’t we retire to dine? We can continue our discussion after we’ve eaten. Evlan?”