Of course, he could not have come forward with any proof of active support to the Rebellion. He was already glad that no one had shown the king the proof of his active support of Agroln. The last king had paid well the special packages he and Elye had wrapped up for him. The Rebellion had grown into a threat, but Evrardin had trusted Elye to scheme a solid backstab on the late Bertrant. Unfortunately, the count had failed, and the Rebellion had won. Evrardin had maneuvered Pembroke to get a seat on the high council. Yet, he was no dupe. Louis’s piercing eyes had mistrusted him from the start. And now, the king was making a fool of him with this stupid project of sewers.
“Will you eat that?” his wife asked, approaching the table.
She was a tall, emaciated woman with red, bushy hair and beady eyes. Evrardin could barely endure her presence, but her dowry had brought him five thousand head of cattle and lands in Earthfell. The ashes of the property must be cold by now. At least, that one would not go to the Crown.
“No. You can eat it,” he said. “And choke on it,” he whispered.
“Will you stay here on your chair until they are done picking your last feathers, or do you intend to do something?” his wife nagged at him, pretending she had not heard his last comment. She picked up the half of the pomegranate and sat on the couch in front of him.
“And what do you want me to do?” he growled. He had no army, and the last force of opposition had been swept from the Eryas Lowlands over a month ago. “We can’t leave the city without a royal authorization. We are trapped like mice. I would have more freedom were I born in the slums!”
“We managed pretty well under Agroln. Don’t tell me you are scared of this brat.”
“He has support from the people.” The king’s decrees had drastically improved the life of many in the commoners’ districts and the slums. Evrardin could still smell the stench of that area on his clothes. He remembered how the king had humiliated him when he had presented his project. The coliseum could have brought him and his friends a large amount of money. He already had the contacts in the construction industry. Instead of that, he had been commanded to dig sewers, and they were probably financed by the incomes the Crown had made on the selling of his ninety thousand acres.
“He would not be the first popular king to have an accident,” his wife retorted.
“Accidents are planned. I need trustful allies and an ironclad scheme.” Should he organize something, there was no reason for him to pay for the whole higher class. If they wanted their share, he would drag them with him. He did not want his head to end up like Brecken’s.
“You will probably find allies everywhere now that the king has refused the alliance with the Windy Isles.”
“He refused the hand, not the alliance.” Evrardin still could not understand why the man had declined such an offer. The princess was probably the most beautiful match he could have gotten, and the dowry was worth its weight in gold. Maybe the man was as insane as Agroln.
One of his servants came to the door. “We have received a letter for you, my lord.”
Evrardin rose and took the envelope. There was no name on it. “Did you see who left it?”
The servant shrugged. “It was a woman, my lord, but she had veils on her head. I would dare to say that she came from the slums or some whorehouse.”
Puzzled, Evrardin opened the letter and read the missive. He smiled.
“I think I have the solution to all our problems, my dear.” He took a candle and moved to the fireplace. Delicately, he lit the corner of the paper. As the flames consumed the letter, Evrardin savored the five small words written on it. Down with the sapphire eyes.
CHAPTER 68
The charcoal brushed the paper with short strokes. Louis stumped it with the tips of his fingers. Though he was satisfied with the shades on the mouth and the curves of the neck and shoulders, he was sure something was wrong. He realized the tattoos were missing.
“What will happen to us if you succeed in your task?” Selen asked.
His friend lay on the grass in front of him, his hair spread around his body like a satin halo. The colorful flowers of the inner garden smelled sweet. Louis spotted bees and butterflies, but no birds were singing.
“I have no idea,” Louis answered sincerely. He was so absorbed in the past and in his task that he never took the time to think of the future. He had dreams for his country and the people, but none for himself. He believed he was already lucky enough to have met the man of his dreams. He knew how precarious such relations could be. It was like being a rock on the shore, facing the blades of the waves under a storm. Two souls against the rest of the world. Therefore, he enjoyed every day as if it were his last. “What would you want?” he asked with a smile.
“I miss the life I had in my shack. It was primitive compared to the king’s apartments, but I was free, and I felt at home,” Selen said dreamily.
“I understand what you mean,” Louis said. The solar was not his home, but he had not felt at home in Neolerim either. What was home, anyway? An apartment with blue curtains? A place where he could sleep in peace? If it was a place where love was, then he had had no home since childhood. Yet, if it was a place where he felt free, himself, and happy, he didn’t remember having had a home at all. “When all is done, I want a home,” Louis said. “But I have to tell you that I have never taken care of sheep.”
They laughed. Louis drowned in Selen’s laughter. He could not help but think of his previous life’s soul mate, of all the flowers Louis had brought him, of their walks in the countryside, and when his love had once told him how he had run naked in a field of wheat. The memories made his heart ache. That was indeed the simple kind of and carefree life he longed for. If it could ever be more than a dream. “All right for the sheep, then,” Louis said, smiling. “Selen?”
His friend turned his face towards him. The waving grass caressed his cheek.
“Je t’aime.”
The tenderness in Selen’s smiling eyes answered his feelings.
Lissandro entered the yard. “I am pleased to see that you can also enjoy the fresh air,” his friend exclaimed. Lissandro approached behind him. “It’s beautiful. I had no idea you were so talented,” he said, looking at the drawing.
“Don’t exaggerate. It’s not a Michelangelo artwork,” Louis said.
“He would have enjoyed your model. You share his tastes for classical eroticism.” Louis gave him a dirty look. “You know your model has some clothes on,” Lissandro hurried to say.
“What?” Selen exclaimed.
“I was only joking,” Lissandro laughed, “but you should come and look at that. It’s you on all points.” Selen rose and came to them.
“Am I that pretty?”
“You are,” Louis said. “Unfortunately, I will have to burn it.”
“But why?” Lissandro exclaimed.
“There can’t be any evidence,” Louis sighed.
“In that case, I will keep it on me. If not signed, it could have been drawn by anyone,” Selen said. He took the paper, folded it, and put it in his tunic.
“How do you feel, Louis? Are you ready for the session?” Lissandro asked.
His friends had been so kind to him the last few days. He felt like he had burned his last sparks of energy with the princes, and he had gotten sick. For three days that had felt like an eternity, he had stayed in the solar, resting and writing. Lissandro had taken care of the papers and formalities while Selen had met the ministers. Though Louis was stubborn, his friends had had the last word for once, and he had felt his energy grow again. He felt blessed to have them by his side. “I am fine. I have prepared a speech, just in case. Once again, I have no idea who our guests will be. The king of the Frozen Mountains. It sounds like the title of a fairy tale.”
“It sounds like a Wagnerian opera,” Lissandro said.
“Do you like opera?” Louis asked with interest. “I love Italian opera. I tried to compose some stuff, but I suppose it all got lost. I miss music
so much.”
“You composed?” Lissandro asked, surprised. “Did you play any instrument?”
“I tried flute,” Louis answered.
Lissandro burst out in laughter. “Hmm. I’m sorry. You should know that the best music came after your death,” Lissandro said. “I can’t play any instrument, but if I see a minstrel, I will sing a few airs that he can play for you. Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ on hurdy-gurdy. It promises to be interesting.”
“Shall we move?” Selen asked, holding out his hand to him. Louis grabbed it and rose.
“Show must go on!” Lissandro exclaimed.
“His Majesty Louis Domgeornan, first of his name, by the grace of God, King of Trevalden and the Crysas Peninsula and His Other Territories, Protector of the People, Guardian of…” the herald cried out.
Louis did not listen to the rest of those pompous titles. Those false courtesies made him wince inwardly. Every time, it felt like a slap to his face, reminding him how low he had fallen. Should anyone from his previous life be here today, Louis would have been ashamed to death. “I am Louis and only Louis,” he muttered, “and I am but a man in the crowd.” Should he ever forget it, he would stab himself.
He went to his throne and sat. The king’s guards took their positions, five on each side of the dais. Selen and Lissandro took their places. As usual, the hall was crowded. On account of Louis’s poor health, the sessions had been scarce lately, making each of them a special event. Besides, it was the first time a foreign king would present himself in person to him.
The crowd near the entrance moved to the side with haste. Behind him, the herald cried out the titles of the king of the Frozen Mountains. Louis straightened in his seat. The men walking down the main alley had none of the graceful appearance of the princes of the Windy Isles. They were warriors. The metal of their massive armours clattered as their boots pounded forward. Breaking with all good manners and protocol, they had kept their helmets and weapons on. They looked clean, yet their appearance was marked with battle wounds. Though their height was impressive, one man towered over them all. Heavy fur of what once may have been wolves hung from his shoulders like a cloak over his steel armour. Louis could not see the man’s face under his half helmet, but his long, blond hair floated straight around his shoulders. In a leather gloved hand, he held leashes in an iron grip. Three shabby wolfhounds trotted by his side. None of the men had horns on their heads, yet Louis knew what he was facing. Louis squirmed, hoping they had come in peace. The tall man Louis had suspected to be the king handed the leashes to one of his soldiers and spoke.
“King Louis of Trevalden, I, King Thorkell of the Frozen Mountains, salute you and wish you a long and peaceful reign,” the king said in a stentorian voice. As he talked, he removed his helmet. “But I fear that his Majesty has something that belongs to me.”
Louis heard a shrill come from his left side. He turned his head and saw Lissandro bend over and fall to the ground.
“My son,” King Thorkell said with an understanding look at Louis.
Keeping his calm, Louis rose, came forward, and spoke. “Your Majesty, I think this requires an explanation. Therefore, I suspend the session for the time being and propose to you that we settle this matter in private.”
Once Louis had spoken, the herald declared the session over. The crowd broke into outraged whispers. Louis did not want to know now what kind of gossip would come out from this. Behind him, Selen rushed to Lissandro and carried him out of the hall. Louis stepped down to King Thorkell. “Follow me,” he whispered in anger.
They gathered in the room where they used to hold the high council’s sessions. While Selen helped Lissandro to regain consciousness, Louis talked to Folc.
“And don’t let anyone enter this room until we are done,” he told the boy.
Louis closed the door and strode towards the king, his hands spread in incomprehension. Louis did not know how to begin.
“I should have guessed that he may swoon,” the king said, confused. His voice was low but kind. “Lilo has always had a fragile nature.”
“Grimmr, is that you?” Lissandro asked, rising from his chair.
“Yes, it’s me, love,” the king said, looking at his friend with a smile.
“How did you find me?” Lissandro walked forward and embraced Grimmr.
“You shine like a beacon in the night. When I heard that three young men had defeated the evil King of Trevalden, I had no doubt you were one of them.”
“If you came to this world with Lilo, how can it be that you are the king of the Frozen Mountains?” Louis inquired.
Grimmr approached him. “Ages of experience. I know how such kingdoms work. I used to be king once. It was easy to take over the throne. When my memories came back, I knew Lilo would appear somewhere,” Grimmr said, looming over him. The man was probably a head and a half taller than Louis. “En passant, I am impressed by your work. To build all that on your own in a world you barely know. I knew you had it in you, but still.”
“You know me?” Louis asked, surprised.
“I remembered your face when we were in the hall. In centuries of existence, you learn to know the place to be at the right time, and Europe had its eyes riveted on your capital. I saw you die on the scaffold. That was a scene,” Grimmr said with awe. “Good to see you are back in one piece. Oh, and I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man.” He patted Louis on the shoulder with commiseration.
Louis realized that the man was probably of the same kind, or species, as Lissandro. An older sort maybe. This would explain his extended knowledge and his brutal conception of power. He could well have been a real Northman.
“And now that you have launched a scandal in my court, what are your plans?” Louis asked.
“Bringing Lissandro home, of course. I have a kingdom to rule.”
Louis was taken aback. Not only had the man troubled a royal session, but he would take away one of his friends. “I oppose…” he retorted with anger.
“No. Louis, please,” Lissandro implored. “He is my soul mate. If he goes, I can’t stay.”
It was as if the walls were falling down. “I can give you lands, a townhouse…whatever you want.” Louis regretted his weak words at once, but he felt helpless.
Grimmr looked at him and half smiled. “I need to go, I’m sorry. You’re clever. You can manage it as king. I can leave my men here if you fear for your security.”
“I don’t care about my security!” Louis snarled. “You don’t understand.” He pointed at the king. “I do not expect barbarians to appreciate my work. All your sort can do is sack and destroy civilizations, like the Goths falling on the glorious cities of Rome and Sparta.” Never would Louis receive counsel from primitive Northmen.
Grimmr smirked. “I do understand. I have seen what utopias like yours do to the world. I have seen them being twisted and corrupted. It is not your fault. You are an idealist. Yet, you should aim for peace instead of changing the hearts. But what can you understand of life, you who only long to die?”
Louis stepped back with disgust. “I won’t even answer to that.” Upset, he leaned with his flank against the table. The world turned around him, and he had lost his grip on it. He felt Selen’s arms fold around him gently.
“He doesn’t know you. I know how life in the Frozen Mountain is, and we don’t want something like that here,” his soft-spoken love said. “Lissandro is my friend, and I will miss him dearly, but we must respect his choice.”
Louis took one of Selen’s hands in his. “You are right, but I feel…”
“Abandoned?” Selen whispered. “You are not. Every man has doubts, but in the end, comes a new dawn. We have a world to build.”
Louis closed his eyes and clenched Selen’s hand.
“My men and I will leave tomorrow. I don’t want to bother your people,” Grimmr said.
“Louis, will you let me go?” Lissandro inquired.
Louis opened his eyes. “I do not own you. You have alway
s been free to choose.”
“I know. But I know how you feel about the cause. I don’t want you to see me as a coward or a traitor. I want to stay your friend.”
Louis turned to him. “I won’t. You will always be my friend.” He smiled.
Lissandro smiled back. “Just don’t go dying on me when I’m gone.”
“I already died once for the cause,” Louis said.
“You never died for the Revolution,” Lissandro chuckled, “you died for love.”
“What do you mean?” Louis asked, confused.
“No one told you to die. They did not ask for your head. If you wanted to help the cause, you could have lived, played your cards cleverly, and influenced the men and the laws. You had won the war, you had power, but you loved him so much that you sacrificed yourself and your dreams. Yes, choosing your friend was honorable, but was the cause not worth all sacrifices? You gave up and left your country at the mercy of lesser men. The little Corsican of your team imposed the military tyranny that you had feared. And look at you now. What stands in your way if not him?” Lissandro pointed at Selen. Louis just gaped. “But if you crushed your feelings, if you betrayed your friend, I would not have the respect and admiration I have for you today. So be yourself. Follow your heart to the end.”
Louis had not uttered a word since Lissandro’s talk. The words still resounded and spun in his head. Under his ear, he heard Selen’s slow heartbeat. They lay on the bed, silent. A candle burned on the bedside table. Selen’s hand delicately caressed his hair. Under him, his friend’s peach skin was warm and comforting.
“Did I make the wrong choices?” Louis asked, tightening his embrace around his friend. Louis did not know if he should feel sad or not. He only felt confused.
“Did any of us say that?” Selen replied. “Everyone has to face difficult choices in his life. I think you made the noblest ones. And you should keep going that way.”
Louis had done what he thought to be right. Yet, it did not mean it was the best decision. Lissandro and Grimmr saw him as an utopist, but he could not be the monster his opponents had said he was. “I know I don’t fear killing the scum of this world, but did I kill innocents?” He had given the condemned a trial and a chance to prove their innocence. They had to punish not only the traitors but even those who had been indifferent; passivity, especially in wartime, was a crime as it let evil flourish. Cowards had paid. Criminals had been executed. He couldn’t have killed the ones he wanted to protect.
Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1) Page 47