“Results in him being removed.” Gatun laughed. “You high-born folk are too delicate. In the Warrens a man in the way just gets a length of steel in his belly.”
“Unfortunately for us Pieter doesn’t live in the Warrens.” Selena smiled.
“No, he doesn’t,” Gatun agreed. “You’re ten times a fool if you think he’s just going to sit back and watch you decide his fate though.”
“I don’t see that he really has much choice,” Selena retorted. “Not if the Council decides otherwise.”
“Now, don’t go ruining the good impression you’ve made by talking shit,” Gatun warned her. “Pieter has his own reasons for letting things get this far but he’s not going to sit back and let you depose him. At some point you’re going to have to get some steel involved.”
Selena winced. “If I’d wanted open insurrection I’d never have called for a Council. We can’t afford to get bogged down in a pointless civil war right now.”
Gatun sat back and, for a moment, Selena caught a glimpse of his mouth. He was younger than she would have guessed. “Pieter might disagree with you. If his plans go badly then he’ll send men to fix them. I assume you have the men to deal with it when he send the troops out?”
“We’re not unprotected, no,” Selena admitted. “But then that just takes us back to civil war. We can’t afford to have our men fighting Pieter’s.”
Gatun emptied his cup and reached for the wine to refill it. “Then it seems to me you need to remove the threat.”
“An interesting notion. What do you suggest?” Selena asked.
“I have a few knives at my disposal,” Gatun shrugged. “They could be made available, for a price.”
“You can’t simply cut their throats, Gatun.” Selena gasped. “We’re not talking about twenty men here. Pieter probably has a good few thousand men garrisoned here in Celstwin. And even if you could we’re going to need those men.”
“Six thousand,” Gatun told her flatly. “He has six thousand men, plus another ten in forts around the city that could be called in. That’s enough to quash your little rebellion in about five minutes I’d say.”
She sat back, eyes narrowing, and then leaned again, resting her arms on the table. “So what do you suggest?”
“You don’t want those men dead,” Gatun told her. “Even if it was possible it’s not a good idea with the Bjornmen marching towards Kavtrin. What you need is for them to be neutralised for a time.”
“True,” Selena agreed. “And how exactly does one achieve this?”
“Soldiers are a pretty predictable lot. Not a lot of initiative, by and large.” Gatun swirled the wine in his cup, and then drank, sighing appreciatively. “Take away their orders and they tend to do a lot of milling about. The trick,” he said, raising a finger as he held his cup, “would be to make sure those orders never arrive. A few knives on the right necks, a few whispered conversations, and I think you’ll find a whole host of captains and the like completely forget how to do their jobs.”
Selena shook her head. “These are soldiers, Gatun. They’re not going to be cowed by threats or a few rusty knives. I expect they’re more than capable of looking after themselves. All you’d achieve would be getting your own men killed.”
Gatun nodded. “You’re probably right. But then I didn’t say which necks I was talking about. Wives and children can make much more compelling arguments.”
“That’s…a bit contemptible isn’t it?” she asked him.
He pointed a finger at her. “No, it’s getting things done. It’s not as if anyone is going to come to any real harm provided they do as they’re told.”
She frowned. “What about those officers who don’t have children or wives, or those who just ignore you?”
“There won’t be many,” he told her. “Besides their response will be uncoordinated and confused.”
Selena pondered this and looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “And you’re willing to do this out of the goodness of your heart are you?”
Gatun laughed. “I like you, Freyton, but not that much. Me and mine will provide this service for the sum of twenty thousand crowns.”
Selena blinked. It was a ridiculous figure. “Out of the question. That number is outrageous.”
The hooded figure nodded. “I thought you might say that. I would, however, be willing to waive that fee if you were to agree not to implement the taxes you mentioned for five years.”
“I’m not sure that twenty thousand would cover the taxes, Gatun,” Selena said with a smile.
Gatun laughed and raised his cup in salute. “But then, without my help, I doubt you’ll be in a position to collect those taxes anyway.”
Selena had to laugh at that. “You may have a point. Agreed then, Master Gatun.”
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, your grace,” he said as he raised his cup in salute.
***
“This really is rather good, Salisbourne,” Jantson said, raising the crystal tumbler of whiskey.
“I’m surprised you can still tell.” Selena cast a downwards look at the man over one shoulder. “You’ve been swilling it down since we arrived.”
“I’m nervous,” Jantson began. “No, scrap that. I’m damned well scared, as well you should be! Pieter simply pulled Raysh out of his house and had him tortured for days. The man has no limits. We could all be next.”
“Oh, pull yourself together, man,” Selena snapped. “Raysh has been back for a week now. If Pieter was going to have a knee-jerk reaction he’d have done it already. Besides, he has no idea where Raysh is. Only that he’s gone.” She looked over at the older man at the sideboard as he poured another drink. “Uncle Thomas, has there been any word?”
“Word, my dear?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the drink he was pouring.
“About the Council, Uncle.” Honestly, was there no help to be had here?
“Oh, that.” Salisbourne sipped at the tumbler. “Yes, a number have arrived already. Curiosity if nothing else, I suppose. Another day or so and I expect we’ll have enough to get started.”
“Enough?” Jantson raised an eyebrow.
“The numbers are a bit fuzzy on this,” Selena admitted. “With the expansion east there have been a number of lordships created. Not only that, but the duchies, earldoms, and what-have-you that existed in Abaram’s time have all but vanished. They’ve been merged, split, and then pushed back together again so many times that the original notion of the Council just wouldn’t work. There are far more than the original twelve duchies now and who know how many baronies they are now.”
“A hundred and thirty-eight,” Jantson said, and then flushed as the eyes fell on him. “It’s always good to keep up, you know?” He shrugged.
“Regardless,” Selena said. “We’re going to have to work on a two thirds majority. The Pact worked on the same basis anyway, it just dressed it up differently.”
“And you think this can be achieved, do you?” Jantson asked.
Selena raised an eyebrow. What was going on here? The man was suddenly very formal. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t know.” Jantson sighed and sank down into a chair. “You know, Selena, there’s something about this whole process that unsettles me. Voting. Numbers and scraps of paper. That’s no way to remove a king or to choose a new one. Whatever happened to divine right?”
Selena swallowed hard to keep from spitting the water out. “Divine right? Don’t be absurd, Janton. Before this New Days nonsense there hadn’t been a religion in Anlan since before Caltus. Nodding at the Lord of Midwinter hardly counts either. It’s closer to wishing winter would hurry along and finish than anything else.
As for choosing a new king I’d much rather use scraps of paper than the traditional method. We’ve Bjornmen settling whole counties of Anlan. We can’t really afford a civil war at the moment.”
Jantson tilted his head in a motion that was probably an approximation of a shrug and took another drink. “What is k
eeping them anyway?”
“Rentrew’s with him,” Salisbourne told him. “He can’t move very fast at the moment, that’s all. He probably shouldn’t be moving at all, to my mind. From what you told me, Selena, Pieter’s butcher fairly did him in.”
“And you say we’ve no reason to be nervous,” Jantson said from the bottom of his glass.
Selena gave him a look and then rose to her feet, knuckling the small of her back with a sigh. “Where’s Agatha? I thought you said she’d be back?”
Salisbourne grimaced. “I was rather hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”
Selena cocked her head with a frown, the question unspoken.
“She’s at some function at the palace,” Salisbourne admitted. “A garden party or some nonsense.”
She blinked, thrown for a second. “At the palace? Are you sure that’s entirely wise?”
“I don’t govern her affairs, Selena,” Salisbourne snapped.
“Don’t be so peevish, Uncle,” she chided with a smile. “I’m the one supposed to be prone to mood swings remember?”
Salisbourne nodded with a pained expression. “You’re right, and I apologise. She downright refused not to go actually. Told me to mind my own bloody business, as I recall.”
Jantson snorted into the bottom of his glass. He was well on the way to being drunk, Selena decided. She opened her mouth to speak, but then glanced at the door at the sound of distant voices, raised in anger and protest.
“Uncle?” she asked, looking to Salisbourne.
He frowned, setting his glass down and heading towards the door as the commotion grew louder.
“Just what is going on here?” he demanded as he wrenched the door open. Selena followed to find men in golden armour and crimson uniforms stood holding back a cluster of servants as another man, an officer by the looks of things, addressed Salisbourne.
“I tried to stop them, my lord—” a servant began but fell silent at a raised hand as the officer gave a curt bow and spoke.
“Lord Salisbourne, I apologise that I must do this in your home. I am charged by his majesty to take you into custody under charges of treason and sedition.”
Selena ignored the gasps and whispers of the servants. “The Kingsworn does not normally conduct arrests. I assume you have a King’s Warrant and this has been signed by the Lords High Justice and the Lord Chancery, Major…?” she asked with a glance at the braiding on the man’s shoulder.
“Gomen,” he replied. “I am charged by the word of the king himself, madam, and I know of no such people.”
“Your grace,” Selena grated.
That stopped him and his eyes passed over her, taking in her gown and finery. “My apologies, your grace. Would I be correct in assuming you are the Duchess Freyton?”
She inclined her head. “You would.”
He nodded. “Then I am afraid to inform you, your grace, that I am under orders to detain you also.”
“You are aware that the arrest of a duke or duchess on charges of treason cannot be ordered simply on the king’s whim?” Selena told him, icy calm in the face of it all. “The Pact itself lays down this limitation on the king’s power.”
“I am oath-bound to fulfil the king’s wishes, your grace,” Gomen said with a small shrug. “I have no great knowledge of law, or of ancient pacts, but I would carry out the king’s wishes regardless.”
“Your oath is to the office, Major, not to Pieter. Don’t lose sight of that.” She paused then, peering past him as if confused. “This isn’t really all the men you’ve brought with you is it?”
The glance was involuntary but it told her everything she needed to know. “Really? You came to charge us with treason and sedition and brought only, what? Ten men with you?”
“The remainder of my company waits in the courtyard, your grace,” Gomen replied stiffly as he drew himself up.
“Isn’t that where your guard's barracks are, Uncle?” Selena asked, throwing the words over one shoulder.
Gomen’s eyes narrowed and Selena felt the warning touch of Salisbourne’s hand on her arm. “I do not accept your charges, Major Gomen,” she told him. “Or the authority of Pieter to levy them. I will, however, accept you as our escort to the palace where I shall speak to the king.”
“My orders were to escort you to Chaldragne, your grace.” Gomen almost managed to hide the wince as he spoke.
“The prisons? With the rapists and murderers? I hardly think so,” Selena replied, her voice thick with indignation and disdain. “No, you will escort myself and Earl Salisbourne to the palace to speak with the king. I will accept nothing less. We really don’t want to get the household guard involved in this now do we? I’m sure your Kingsworn are far superior troops but how many do you really have with you?”
“I can easily return with a superior force, your grace,” Gomen warned her quietly.
“Only if we let you leave, my dear,” she said as she smiled sweetly. “Now, isn’t it going to be much better if you to take us to the palace to speak to Pieter than if we to take you to the palace to speak to Pieter?”
His eyes met hers for the space of three breaths before they fell.
“Shall we then?” she reached for Salisbourne’s arm and met Jantson’s eyes where he stood grey-faced in the doorway. “Council,” she mouthed. “Now.”
Chapter Thirteen
The carriage was cramped with Gomen and the soldier he’d insisted cram in with them. Selena sat in silence, looking out of the window as it wound its way through the streets. Gomen’s Kingsworn rode proud on their chargers to either side of the carriage, forcing the crowds back out of the way. It was largely a futile effort and the throng pressed close, moving out of the way only when it became clear it was a case of move or be trampled. A full troop of Kingsworn was a rare and impressive sight and the gawkers slowed their progress to a slow walking pace.
Salisbourne’s own guards followed behind the carriage in a column with almost double the numbers of Gomen’s men. It was obvious to all of them that they were there mostly for show. Her threats had been empty and it had shocked her that they hadn’t rung hollow as she’d uttered them. Regardless of the numbers, Gomen’s Kingsworn would have cut through the household guard like a knife through wet paper.
Salisbourne’s estate was on the outskirts of the city and they’d wound through the narrow streets at a crawl, impeded by the press of people. It had been so fast she’d almost missed it. A glimpse of a face in a passing carriage as they’d pushed out towards the centre of Celstwin. The face wore a look of surprise and frustration, and was gone in an instant, but she was sure it had been Raysh.
Now though, they’d reached the broader avenues and the carriage clattered over the cobbles towards the palace. Salisbourne had tried to catch her eyes more than once, a worried frown on his face, but she’d ignored him.
Despite the delays the trip to the palace was over too soon. It was too short a time to think things through and just long enough to allow for worry. The wheels crunched over the fine gravel as they passed through the gates and came to stop.
“Your grace?” Gomen said from the doorway, a touch of annoyance creeping into his voice.
“Hmm?” She glanced down at him from where she’d been making a show of examining her fingernails.
“I’m going to have to ask you to step down from the carriage, your grace,” he told her, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.
“Of course,” she said as she smiled at him. “Mustn’t keep the king waiting now must we?”
She made her own way inside, moving just slightly faster than Gomen and his men to make sure it was they who followed her and not the other way around. She glanced back once and noted that Salisbourne’s guards had been smoothly diverted. They were on their own from this point.
Pieter leaned to one side on the throne as they entered, listening as a red-robed attendant read from a sheaf of papers. He glanced up at the doorway as they paused inside the doorway and his eyes widened. One ha
nd waved the attendant away as he leaned forward on the throne, eyes glittering in the light.
“Gomen, I’m assuming you have an explanation for this?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“My apologies, your majesty,” Gomen replied from the depths of a bow. “The duchess insisted on being taken to the palace.”
Pieter shook his head slightly and curled his lip. “And are you in the habit of taking orders from women, Gomen?”
“She threatened her household guard, your majesty,” Gomen explained.
“Then you should have died, Gomen,” Pieter snapped. “Fulfilled your oath.” He turned his gaze away from the major. “You, woman. What have you to say for yourself?”
Selena glanced at Salisbourne, and then met the king’s eyes coolly. “Your majesty?”
“Don’t play games with me, woman. You haven’t the wit for it.” He fairly threw the words at her, contempt heavy in every one. “You plot treason and sedition in my own city, setting my own nobles against me? Explain yourself or you’ll swing this very hour!”
Anger flared within her, unexpected and as dangerous as lightning in dry grass. “What do I have to say for myself, my king? What do you have to say for yourself? You have ignored calls for aid against the Bjornmen incursion from myself, Rentrew, and who knows how many other lords and nobles. You ignore the plight of the peasants as entire villages are burnt to the ground. You dare send men to arrest your nobles with no thought to form or process, violating the most central tenants of the Pact. You, sir, are no king. I declare you unfit to rule and call for a Council of Lords to fill the throne you squat in. By law and tradition I can commit no treason until the Council is complete.”
Pieter pulled himself up out of the throne, visibly shaking in his anger. “Pact!” he spat, flecks of spittle flying from his lips as he stalked down the three steps from the dais. “What pact holds power over me? I rule here, I am king. Abaram’s Pact is nothing more than the dusty memory of a bygone age. It holds no sway with me.”
“With no Pact then there is no crown,” Selena stated flatly.
The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set Page 97