The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate

by Ashling, Andrew

“I have strict orders to keep them closed until her ladyship has arrived, your royal highness,” the steward replied nervously.

  “I don't care about your orders. Open the doors or I'll have them battered in.”

  Hemarchidas drew his dagger and forced an arm of the now cowering steward behind his back. Bortram saw the big ring with keys at his belt and removed it. Moments later the group entered the great hall.

  Meanwhile a servant, sent out by Athildis to fetch her own guard, had come back.

  “My lady, the guards can't come. The soldiers of the prince won't let them leave their quarters. They both await further orders from you and his royal highness.”

  Athildis looked at Threnn.

  “What now?”

  “Let's stay calm,” Threnn said. “There's nothing for it but to confront him.”

  “Threnn, this can't be good. He has cut us off from the outside, and he has as many men inside the castle as we have. Probably more. The devious, little rat. He had me remove fifty soldiers.”

  “Grandmother,” young Arranulf intervened, “let's just see what the meaning of all this is. Maybe he has an explanation.”

  Athildis's instinct was to send her grandson somewhere safe, the problem being that she was not sure if there was still a safe place to be found in the castle. She decided the best thing to do was to keep him by her side.

  “He is so young. From that single fine strand the whole future of the House of Landemere hangs. After all these years, this is what it finally comes down to... one little boy.”

  “Very well, let's go and look the adder in the eyes.”

  The great hall was surprisingly light, thanks to some windows high up near the ceiling. From the walls hung colorful tapestries, banners, and several pieces of armor. Most items had clearly seen action at one time or another. There were two enormous tables that almost ran the whole length of the hall. At the farthest end, facing the main entrance, stood the ducal throne on a dais. Behind it hung the standard of Landemere, a sun with rays on a blue field.

  Once the group was inside, Anaxantis ordered the doors closed and went resolutely to the throne. From nearby it became clear that it was enormous, in fact it was so big that he couldn't sit down easily on it.

  “What are those dukes of Landemere? Giants?” he cried out in a frustrated voice.

  Bortram picked him up and sat him on the throne, like he would have put a sack of beans on a table. Which didn't do much for Anaxantis's mood.

  “This is ridiculous. Look, my feet don't even touch the ground.”

  Bortram meanwhile looked on both sides of the enormous chair and then went behind it.

  “Ha,” he said almost immediately, “here it is. I thought so. It had to be somewhere in the vicinity.”

  He appeared from behind the throne, carrying a wooden foot bank.

  “Lift your feet,” he said to Anaxantis and placed it before the throne.

  From a distance it looked as if it was an integral part of the big chair, although from nearby it was clearly visible that it was of much more recent manufacture.

  Anaxantis put his feet upon it.

  “That's it. Perfect. How did you know that this thing was there?”

  “It stood to reason, didn't it?” Bortram replied philosophically. “The young duke is fourteen, fifteen years old. He probably wouldn't reach the ground either, and since he would have to sit in it on official occasions, it was logical that something like this had to be around.”

  “Ha, yes, when you explain it...”, Anaxantis mumbled.

  “Guards,” he shouted.

  He had taken Ehandar's soldiers in his own service and so his personal guard now counted twelve soldiers, all dressed in tunics with the dragon crest.

  “Six to the left of me, six to right,” he ordered them.

  The rest of the soldiers posted themselves by the main entrance and the two smaller side doors.

  They didn't have to wait long.

  “Open. Open the door for the duke and the duchess-regent,” they heard the steward shout.

  Upon a sign of Anaxantis the soldiers opened the doors, and Athildis, with Arranulf by her side, entered the hall. They were followed by Threnn, three soldiers who had happened to be in the corridors of the castle and a few attendants.

  When she saw the young prince sit upon the ducal throne as if he was born there, her worst fears surfaced. She wanted to shout to him that he had no right to sit there, that he must vacate the seat at once and make place for the rightful heir of Landemere. But her long experience took over. However, she couldn't bear seeing a Tanahkos sitting there and decided to lure him away.

  “Your royal highness, welcome to Landemere. I had refreshments prepared. So, if you would like to foll—”

  “I thank you, madam, but I prefer to immediately dispose of the business at hand,” Anaxantis said imperiously.

  He nodded in the direction of Tomar, who mounted the dais, stood beside the throne, unfolded a parchment and in a sonorous voice began to read.

  WE, ANAXANTIS, Prince of Ximerion, Lord Governor of the Northern Marches,

  To all to whom these Presents shall come, Greetings.

  WHEREAS Athildis, Duchess-regent of the Duchy of Landemere has refused to send adequate aid on Our request, so attested by a letter, sealed and signed by said Athildis, Duchess-regent;

  AND WHEREAS as a result grave doubts have been cast upon the sound governance of said Duchy of Landemere;

  AND WHEREAS the defense of the Realm has been compromised by said Athildis, Duchess-regent of said Duchy of Landemere;

  AND WHEREAS We can no longer put Our trust in said Athildis, Duchess-regent of said Duchy of Landemere;

  NOW KNOW YE that We, by the powers invested in Us by His Glorious Majesty, Tenaxos the First, High King of Ximerion, Arch Duke of Tanahkos, Overlord of the Ronicerian Isles, etcetera, etcetera, and by Our especial grace, certain knowledge and mere motion do by this Our Charter will, ordain and declare as follows;

  OUR WILL AND PLEASURE is that said Duchy of Landemere shall forthwith be placed under Our personal tutelage;

  AND FURTHER Our will and pleasure is that said Athildis shall be placed forthwith under Our guard, pending charges of High Treason, and We do hereby straightly charge and command the Captain of Our Guard to take said Athildis forthwith to Our Castle of Lorseth, there to be kept at Our pleasure;

  AND MOREOVER Our will and pleasure is that Arranulf, Duke of Landemere, shall be placed forthwith under Our guard, and We do hereby straightly charge and command the Captain of Our Guard to take said Arranulf forthwith to his private quarters in Our Castle of Landemere, there to be kept at Our pleasure;

  AND FURTHERMORE Our will and pleasure is that all and every person or persons, in any way connected, affiliated or attached to the service of said Athildis, shall be placed forthwith under Our guard, and We do hereby straightly charge and command the Captain of Our Guard to take said persons forthwith to the dungeons in Our Castle of Landemere, there to be kept at Our pleasure;

  ANY STATUTE, Act, Ordinance, Proviso, Proclamation, or Restraint heretofore had, made, set forth, ordained, or provided, or any other Matter, Cause or Thing whatsoever to the contrary in any wise notwithstanding,

  IN WITNESS WHEREOF, we have caused these Our Letters to be made;

  WITNESS OURSELF at Lorseth, the Twenty Seventh Day of November, in the Fourteen Hundred and Fifty Second Year after the Ending of the Darkening.

  BY WARRANT under the Lord Governor's Sign Manual and Seal.

  The hall kept spinning around Athildis and she heard again and again echoing in her head ‘High Treason’, ‘personal tutelage’, ‘Our Castle of Landemere’, ‘at Our pleasure’. Who did this child think he was? The high king himself?

  “No, they can't put Threnn in the dungeons, he is too old.” Athildis panicked, at the same time irritated that this was the first coherent thought that came to mind.

  “No, no,” she shouted at the impudent brat, seated on the Landemere thron
e, “you can't do that. You have no right to do that. This is an outrage.”

  “I assure you, madam, that I am well within my rights.”

  Steel-gray eyes looked impassively at Athildis, while a clerk began unfolding parchments on one of the long tables.

  “I invite you to affix your seal to these documents,” Anaxantis said calmly.

  “Why? What do they say?” Athildis said in a rebellious tone that made clear she wasn't going to surrender just yet.

  “Essentially, they say that in view of the charter that has just been read, you invite me to take the regency of the duchy of Landemere upon me. I, of course, agree graciously to take this onerous task upon me.”

  “Never,” Athildis shouted defiantly.

  Anaxantis made a barely visible sign, and two soldiers took hold of Arranulf and dragged him before the dais. Lethoras drew his sword and with outstretched arm pointed it at the chest of the young duke, who visibly paled.

  “Grandmother,” he cried, looking in her direction for help.

  “Unhand the duke, you brutes,” she shouted.

  “Madam,” Anaxantis intervened with a voice cold as ice, “it seems to me you have a choice to make. Either affix your seal to those documents as I have ordered you, or see the line of the Landemeres end forever before your very eyes.”

  “You wouldn't dare,” she gasped. “Even you wouldn't—”

  “Watch me, madam, watch me.”

  Still Anaxantis showed no emotion, and his voice sounded devoid of all compassion.

  “He is the reincarnation of Bordomach. Pure poison in a pretty cup.”

  “You can't do this to us,” she cried in desperation. “You can't do this to me. I am a peer of the realm.”

  “You are a traitor and a common thief,” Anaxantis roared. “You misrepresented the revenues of the duchy and withheld tax money that was needed for the defense of the border. You are a thief, and in the Northern Marches we hang thieves. Don't for one moment imagine, madam, that your age, your gender or your rank will protect you from swinging by the neck from the gatehouse of this castle. Your avarice and petty deviousness are partly to blame for the loss of fifteen thousand lives twelve years ago. I will not permit you to repeat your crimes. Now decide. Which is it to be?”

  Athildis had cowered back as if every word had been a lash of the whip. Nobody had ever dared speak to her in this manner. Anaxantis raised his right hand to give the sign to Lethoras. Athildis almost fainted, and Threnn had to keep her upright by supporting her from behind by her elbows.

  “All right, all right,” she cried in terror. “Stop that. I agree. I will affix my seal.”

  Anaxantis nodded and Lethoras sheathed his sword.

  “You cruel, evil, vicious... boy,” Athildis hissed under her breath at Anaxantis in powerless rage, while tears fell down her cheeks. “You... you... Tanahkos.”

  She pressed her ring in each of the blobs of fast hardening wax the clerk had dropped on the parchments.

  “So this is how it ends. Not amidst the turmoil of death cries and war, but with a few drops of blood red wax. Tricked by a demon child that doesn't balk at vile murder.”

  When she had finished, she ran over to Arranulf who still was recovering from the shock of having a sword pointed at his heart, and took him protectively in her arms.

  “Lower the sun and raise the dragon above the castle gates,” she heard the man who had kept the duke at his sword's point command one of the soldiers. So, it really was the setting of the sun.

  Her shoulders stooped, her head sunk down.

  “I will lodge a formal complaint with your father, the high king,” Athildis said after a few moments, righting herself and regaining some of her former strength.

  “That is your privilege, madam, however you will exert it from the dungeons of Lorseth Castle, for which you will depart immediately,” Anaxantis said dispassionately.

  “But I must prepare. I must pack... and my grandson...” Athildis stammered.

  “You ‘must’ nothing, madam, except obey me. You will depart now. This instant.”

  Arranulf took a few steps towards the dais.

  “Your highness,” he said, “take me instead of my grandmother.”

  For the first time since the Landemeres had entered the hall, Anaxantis's face showed some emotion. Surprise. With his almost fifteen years, Arranulf, looked still a child, but there was some visible inner strength there. He had a square, pleasant face, with a sensitive mouth that seemed always on the verge of smiling, accentuated by a strange glimmering in his right eye.

  “Your grace,” Anaxantis replied, “I—”

  “It makes perfect sense, Your highness, hear me out,” the young duke insisted. “My grandmother is old, and locking her up in a damp dungeon could be the end of her. The exertions of the voyage to Lorseth may kill her, as it is. And then you will be left with nothing. Take me instead.”

  Anaxantis hesitated.

  “As much as I admire your offer, your grace,” he finally said, “I'm afraid I must decline. The times could grow very dangerous very soon, and I don't want to be encumbered with the responsibility for children.”

  “May I remind your highness,” Arranulf said smilingly, “that he is but a few years older than I am. I am sure I could make myself useful.”

  “And again your grace has a point,” Anaxantis, who suddenly began to like this boy, smiled. “I agree that in ten years the difference in our ages would be so small as to be insignificant. However, at our present age that same difference means that I am the lord governor of the Northern Marches and that your grace has yet to come into his inheritance and is in the guardianship of the regent. Me.”

  “All the more reason to take me with you, your highness. Surely, there must be a place for me among your pages?”

  “Pages?”

  “A princely court must have pages, mustn't it? I don't care to who or what you assign me. Just let grandmother stay here.”

  Anaxantis now definitely was inclined to take the young duke up on his offer. He thought a few moments.

  “Very well, your grace... I have no pages as I hold no court. Nevertheless you shall have your wish. You are aware that it is not customary to address pages by their titles?”

  “I don't care. I accept.”

  Anaxantis turned to Hemarchidas who immediately saw what was coming.

  “Oh no, oh no, you don't. You're not going to fob him off on me, Anaxantis. I don't want a page. I don't need a page.”

  “That ugly stain on your tunic says otherwise, Hemarchidas,” Anaxantis smiled.

  Athildis had listened silently to the conversation with mounting disbelief.

  “Sir, who are you,” she finally intervened, addressing Hemarchidas, mustering all her remaining authority.

  “I am Hemarchidas of the Cheridoni tribe.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. That's it.”

  “You're a horse breeder,” Athildis said exasperated. Her world stood on its head. She turned to Anaxantis. “And you let him call you by your given name?”

  “Yes, madam, I do,” Anaxantis replied irritated. “And you, madam, will keep addressing me as your highness. That should give you an indication of your importance in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Anaxantis, come on, what am I to do with him?” Hemarchidas complained.

  “Well, for starters he could polish your boots. It looks as if that hasn't been done for some time.”

  “Yeah, well, you keep us rather busy, if you hadn't noticed.”

  “Yes, I know, and that's precisely why—”

  “You're insufferable. Look at him. He doesn't even know how to polish boots. He himself has people to do that for him. So don't you come and—”

  “You're right,” Arranulf interrupted him. “But I am a quick study. Show me once how you want them done. Once, just once.”

  Arranulf smiled at Hemarchidas insistently, imploring, yet with confidence.

  “Anaxantis, I can't p
ossibly take him everywhere on my horse. It will—”

  “I have my own horse,” Arranulf said. “A Cheridonian Fourblood. Grandmother gave him to me for my last birthday. I take care of him myself. I can take care of your horse as well.”

  Hemarchidas's mouth fell open.

  “That decides it,” Anaxantis laughed. “Arranulf meet my friend Hemarchidas. Hemarchidas, I present you your page, Arranulf. And Arranulf... see to it that he is presentable in the future when he has to accompany me on official business.”

  “OK, I know when I am beaten,” Hemarchidas muttered. “At least he has good taste in horses.”

  Athildis couldn't believe her ears. Had the whole world gone mad? Tanahkos was giving the duke of Landemere as page to a horse breeder who, to add insult to injury, thought it beneath him to be served by a Landemere. All the while the duke himself begged to be allowed to clean his boots.

  She looked behind her, at Threnn, for support and saw a man who had aged ten years in ten minutes.

  “We are both too old for this. I knew it. I knew it. The only thing left for me to do is beg Tanahkos to keep him safe.”

  Suddenly she noticed how very young the prince and his companions were.

  Anaxantis had left the throne and was descending from the dais. Athildis went over to him and took one of his hands between hers.

  “Your highness, I'm just an old woman, a grandmother and I beg you... He is all that remains. My husband is gone. My son is gone. My grandson is all that I have left. He is the last of the Landemeres. There is a war coming...”

  Anaxantis looked her in the eyes.

  “Poor woman. She is beaten and she knows it.”

  “Yes, war could be upon us,” he said softly. “Arranulf may see some action, but I promise you that it will be from the very last line, and I will give orders that he is to be the first to be escorted off the field, should the fortunes of war turn against us. Have no fear, his life will never be in any danger. You have the word of Anaxantis, madam.”

  “Thank you, your highness,” she whispered and turned around to join Threnn to seek and give comfort.