by Clare Smith
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Envoys
Tarraquin laughed loudly and somewhat nervously and then read the missive again. When she had finished reading the scroll for a second time she put it down on the table by her side and stared at Lord Istan.
“Is he serious? Does he really mean this or is it some sort of jest?”
If it were a joke Lord Istan didn’t appear to find it a funny one. He looked dusty, tired and dispirited. Considering he had ridden back from Essenland in under a moon’s turning that wasn’t surprising. The queen looked up at her councillors sitting around the table and wished that Malingar or Jarrul had returned from their separate missions as envoys. Her councillors were worthy men, chosen by the minor lords and guilds of Leersland, but they would always put their own interests first, Leersland’s second and their queen’s a long way third. Despite this she was duty bound to ask their opinion.
“My lords, revered guildmasters, gentlemen, we have a reply to our overtures of friendship from King Vorgret of Essenland. I will not trouble you with the intricacies of the language; suffice to say that Great Lord Andron has also sent an envoy to Essenland to seek Vorgret’s support.” There were murmurs of concern and disapproval around the table. “However, Essenland’s king, whilst being impressed with Andron’s cause has made me an offer. In return for his support and his soldiers to put down any insurrection, he has offered to take me as his wife, so that when our first son reaches the age of majority the kingdoms may be joined as one.”
For a moment there was a stunned silence and then everyone spoke at once. Tarraquin let the noise run on for a short time until voices started to be raised in argument, and then she rapped the hilt of the knife she kept at her side hard down on the table. It wasn’t the first time that arguments had broken out in council meetings, but her councillors had learnt very quickly that their queen was not averse to using the knife’s blade as well as its hilt if it became necessary.
“Gentlemen, before we debate what is to be done for the best, I think it would be advisable if Lord Istan told us what sort of a man this King Vorgret is, and if, by joining with Essenland, Leersland and its people would benefit. That is, of course, unless any of you have more up to date information about Essenland and its ruler than our newly returned envoy.”
There were a few mutterings as there usually were, but the councillors turned their attention to Lord Istan who had taken Jarrul’s vacant seat at the table.
“Your Majesty, honoured councillors, my knowledge of Essenland and its people is limited to the areas through which I rode, and my impressions of King Vorgret are based on just two brief audiences and what his subjects say about him, but I will report as best as I can. Essenland is split roughly in two. The north is mountainous and, whilst I didn’t travel there, I understand that silver is mined in the hills and the population is sparse. The south is rural and large areas of land are put aside for growing foodstuffs, particularly wheat and barley. Many of the fields stood empty and neglected, although I am not sure if they were being left fallow or if there were insufficient people to tend them.
I passed many small villages full of the very young, the very old and women. When I stopped, there was plenty of simple food and good ale to be had, but no conversation or laughter. On my way to Vorglave I saw two recently burnt estate houses and the nearby villages both had dead hanging in the square. There was a line of wagons going to one of their silver mines and I saw slaves being taken there in chains. I also passed numerous field camps, as if Essenland is preparing for war. Unfortunately I saw only a little of the main city, as I was escorted throughout my visit there and kept under guard in the palace.”
“This cannot be so,” interrupted the metal guild’s representative. “We know that they employ felons and vagrants to mine silver but we have always received assurances that they were paid a living and were well cared for.”
“I am certain that King Porteous would never have allowed any of his people to be abused,” put in the guildmaster from the brewer and vintners guild.
“That may have been so in the past,” said Tarraquin, “but Vorgret is king now. Lord Istan, please continue.”
“The palace is large and well guarded and the rooms I saw were richly decorated. I was given comfortable accommodation and was treated with respect at all times, but I was never left unguarded; even at night two guards stood outside my door. On both occasions the king received me in his throne room, which was impressive, but only on the first occasion was his magician present.”
“A magician?” interrupted Tarraquin. “The king has a magician?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, a black robe. He was quite young and seemed a bit uncertain of himself.”
“Damn! I thought we had seen the last of them when Sarrat’s bastard died.” For a moment there was silence in the room as the councillors considered the implications. “Please continue.”
“There is not much more to tell, Your Majesty. I gave the king your missive which he read and passed to his magician. I was then dismissed and was returned to my rooms until I was summoned the following day. Vorgret asked me a few personal questions about you and then handed me that scroll. After that I was escorted to the border in all haste, and rather than go on to Vinmore, I returned here.”
“Thank you, Lord Istan. Gentlemen, are there any further questions you wish to ask our envoy? If not, I think we should retire and consider what has been said before any decisions are made.”
“Lord Istan, did it seem to you that there were excess supplies of goods in Essenland which could form the basis of a trade agreement?”
“Yes, Guildmaster Jobes, I passed storehouses full of both cloth and grain and was told that the silver mines are producing more ore than ever.”
“And did they look to be in need of horses and leather ware?”
“I would say so, Lord Horseman. As I said, they appeared to be preparing for a war, and horses and armour are always needed for such an enterprise.”
There was an excited mumble of voices about trading possibilities which Tarraquin allowed to go on until one or two voices began to rise above the others. “Gentlemen of the council, as there are no further questions for Lord Istan, we will adjourn. I will call you when I have had time to consider this offer.”
There was a general scraping of chairs against the stone floor as the councillors stood, bowed briefly and filed out of the room. Tarraquin could hear the arguments trailing off down the corridor with them, until the guard closed the sturdy wooden doors and blocked off the noise. “Now Istan, please tell me what it is that you are holding back, and didn’t want to tell the others.”
“You are perceptive, Your Majesty. There are other things I could have said but didn’t, mainly because they are feelings based on what I heard rather than on things I saw. Vorgret oppresses his people; he taxes them to the point of rebellion and then kills or enslaves those who object. He’s taken all the young men for his army and people say that he brutalises them. I’ve heard that many die in the process of changing from a farmer to a soldier. He’s also disposed of all the councillors and military leaders who supported Porteous, and has replaced them with what the people call thugs; mostly felons who he has taken from the mines. There is also a rumour that he has killed his own father who hasn’t been seen since Vorgret became king.”
“I see. So when you say Essenland prepares for war, what you really mean is that Vorgret prepares for conquest.”
“It would seem so, Your Majesty, and bloody conquest at that.”
The queen was quiet for a moment whilst she thought about what Istan had told her. “You said that Vorgret asked some personal questions about me. What did he ask?”
“He asked about your accession to the throne and how it was achieved. He also asked about your hold on the kingdom and how you would deal with any who opposed you. I told him your hold on Leersland was firm and that you would deal decisively with any opposition to your rule.”
; Tarraquin nodded. “What else did he ask?”
“There was nothing else, Your Majesty.”
“Come, you are blushing, what else did he want to know?”
“He enquired about your appearance and whether you were a virgin.”
“Did he now? I expect it wasn’t in those terms though.”
“No, Your Majesty.”
Tarraquin laughed. “At least that leaves me free to ask the same question. Well, what does he look like?”
“He’s not very tall but he is muscular with striking features, only slightly marred by the scar across his face.”
“I see, and his sexual habits?”
“Frequent, although most of the women are willing.”
“Not the ideal husband then?”
“No, Your Majesty, but powerful and avaricious with his eyes on Leersland.”
“Thank you, Lord Istan, you have done well. Now go and rest and I will think about what you have said and Vorgret’s kind offer.”
She watched Istan leave and then poured herself a goblet of wine and returned to the table. What she needed now was good counsel. She wondered where Malingar and Jarrul were and when they would return.
*
“This wasn’t quite what I expected,” said King Borman as he looked across the space to where the young captain stood. “I distinctly gave the order that you should aid King Sarrat against the rebels to get in his good books and then stay with him until I was ready to move. And what do I get? Sarrat and his black robe dead and the rightful queen on the throne. Not only that but all her people cheering the accession and supporting her. It had been my intention to ride into Leersland as a saviour, rescuing the people from a despicable tyrant. Now, when I ride into Leersland, it’s me who is going to be seen as the tyrant. Well, Malingar, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry if I have displeased Your Majesty, that was not my intention, but King Sarrat’s death was unexpected and I had no time to seek new orders, so I did what I thought was best under the circumstances.”
“How in hellden’s name did Sarrat die without any bastard knowing about it?”
“It happened in a remote place outside the black magician’s tower where nobody goes unless they have to. His army in the south must have thought he’d ridden north and the court thought he was still in the south. It was only when Great Lord Andron produced his head that we found out that he was dead. The situation changed in a moment and I needed to make a decision which side to support. You had ordered me to ingratiate myself with Sarrat and as the Queen had taken his place I thought it was best to side with her. I needed to make myself invaluable to the new queen, which I have done. I’m now one of her most trusted councillors.”
“So you are. Trusted enough to be a royal envoy, but should I trust you, Malingar? That is the question.”
“I am sworn to you, Your Majesty, by the vow I took and the lives of my family which you hold so close. I’ve done what I could in the changing circumstances. I even kept the Lady Tarraquin safe during the uprising as you commanded.”
“Ah yes, the Lady Tarraquin. Tell me about her. Is she as beautiful as I’ve heard?”
Malingar relaxed slightly, sensing that the worst was over. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, Your Majesty, but I am sure whatever others have said it doesn’t do the lady justice. She has a rare beauty, like that of a fine stallion. She is full of life and energy and determination. Yet she can be unsure and in need of a man to guide her. The lady has a physical attraction which draws others to her, and a nature which holds them there, like spiders hold flies trapped in a web.”
“You sound as if you are a man in love,” accused Borman.
Malingar smiled sheepishly. “If you knew her then you would love her too, but that doesn’t mean that I’m any less loyal to you, my liege. I work on being in a position of power, so that when the time comes, you will be able to take your place on the throne of Leersland with absolute certainty and a minimum of effort.”
“Due to your laxness that will have to be sooner rather than later, or she will be too well established to pluck out.”
“I just await the right opportunity, that is all, Your Majesty.”
Borman thought for a moment and finished the last of the wine in his goblet. He raised his hand and Rastor, who had been standing behind him, stepped forward and refilled it.
“Very well, Malingar, I accept that you have acted only in my best interests but make sure you keep it that way. The lady asks for five hundred men to help guard her kingdom from insurrection. Well, we will be generous; we’ll send a thousand men as a sign of our good wishes to the new queen. You will take the men from the southern barracks and you will advise the queen that they should be deployed in key places for her own protection and the safety of the kingdom she now rules. Your orders and the warrant to commandeer the men will be with you before noon.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, Malingar, one more thing. Your brothers and your sister are here in the palace. I suggest that you spend the time, waiting for your orders to be prepared, in their company. I care for them deeply but they do miss their elder brother so much as I am sure you would miss them if anything unfortunate should happen to them.”
Malingar glared unhappily at the king and, for a short moment, it looked like he would say something, but instead he bowed curtly and left.
“Do you want him disposed of, Your Majesty?” asked Rastor, moving forward to stand by the king. “I have men waiting on your command.”
“You think he will betray me?”
“You heard him, My Lord. He’s infatuated by that woman. If he gets into a position of power he’ll want her for himself, and if he does that, he’ll declare himself king and will end up fighting you.”
Borman took a sip of his wine and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of his high backed, carved chair. “You could be right Rastor, but I don’t think so. Do you know why I’m so certain that the good captain will remain loyal?”
“Because you hold his brothers and sister hostage and you would kill them if he betrayed you?”
“No. I wanted him to see that I really do care about his siblings and they aren’t just hostages to his good behaviour. No, he will remain loyal because he’s a soldier from an honourable family and owes everything to me. Men like that don’t have betrayal as part of their nature.”
“Does that mean that if he did betray you, you would spare him and his siblings?”
“Good goddess no! Whatever are you thinking? They would all die, slowly and painfully with Malingar watching; starting with the youngest boy and ending with his sister, who is quite delectable and would be a real pleasure to deflower. But he won’t betray me. He’s like you Rastor, as faithful as a fanghound pup.” Rastor scowled at the reference and Borman laughed. “Don’t be so offended, I am very fond of fanghounds.”
He took a long draught of his wine and sat up straighter in the chair. “But you’re right; I do need to consider the possibility of betrayal. Make sure the officers assigned to Malingar are apprised of the situation and know what to do if the captain even looks like he is intending to change sides. That means I would want him back here alive for me to deal with, Rastor, not dead or with pieces missing.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“And now for my second line of attack. Is our guest waiting?”
“Yes, My Lord, he is impatient to see you.”
“In that case you had better bring him in. It wouldn’t do to make a man of his rank wait too long.”
Rastor gave a brief bow and crossed the room to a plain door between two long tapestries sewn with battle scenes. He opened the door and bowed briefly before stepping back and letting the king’s guest enter the receiving room. The man crossed to where Borman sat and bowed deeply.
“Welcome, Great Lord Andron. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long but affairs of state were pressing. I hope your accommodation was to your liking and you hav
e been well tended?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, all my needs have been more than adequately met.”
“Good. Now, Great Lord Andron, what is this matter of mutual interest you wish to discuss with me?” Andron frowned and looked confused. He glanced around himself looking for a chair and then glared at Rastor. “Oh, don’t mind Rastor, he hasn’t the brains to be dangerous. Now what is this proposition of yours?”
“It is as I wrote in my missive, Your Majesty. Tarraquin is a usurper who has taken the throne without having the right to it. King Sarrat had no heir and so, as the senior of the Great Lords appointed by the king, the throne should, by right, be mine. If it hadn’t been for the mercenaries that bitch has employed to intimidate and threaten the good people of Leersland, I would have taken what was legally mine and Tarraquin and her little band of traitors would be dead.”