King's Errand

by N. J. Layouni

  Miriam gasped, unable to believe her ears. “I-I beg your par-pardon?” She could barely speak her heart pounded so furiously. Surely she must have imagined—?

  “You… Sir Anselm.” Rodmar gestured lazily from one to the other. “You seem to rub along reasonably well together.”

  No, she definitely hadn’t imagined it, nor the way Hortensia was beaming at her from where she sat at Rodmar’s side.

  “Admittedly,” her brother continued, “Your friend Anselm was never my first choice for you, but at least I can say I’ve known him at his very worst. There are no secrets or surprises waiting to ambush me further down the highway. No falseness or duplicity. Yes, I see Sir Anselm clearly, and well he knows it. The question is, what do you think of him, Miriam?” Rodmar regarded her intently. “Might you consider entering into an alliance with the house of Edgeway?”

  A bubble of violent emotion rose up from her heart and lodged in Miriam’s throat. She couldn’t speak… couldn’t breathe.

  Suddenly it was all too much. Hot tears slipped unchecked down her cheeks, a combination of joy, regret, and sorrow. Rodmar was about to grant her greatest wish and yet she didn’t deserve it.

  After the way in which she’d tried to betray her brother—her whole family, in fact—she didn’t deserve such happiness.

  With a stifled sob, she leaped from her seat and, without waiting for the guards to assist her, she pushed through the doors behind the dais, hurriedly seeking the solace of a small ante-chamber that lay beyond.

  Once inside, she slammed the door behind her and leaned her back against it, surrendering to the storm of tears that claimed her.

  Of all the men her dear brother might have chosen for her, he had picked Anselm. Truly, he knew her better than she gave him credit for. Oh, but when she thought of how she’d plotted and schemed. To think, she’d seriously considered abandoning her family for the fleeting pleasure to be found in the arms of a worthless pirate.

  Unthinkable.

  Shame shriveled her joy, transforming it into a dry and empty husk. Until Rodmar learned the whole truth, she would know neither joy nor contentment. Keeping such harmful secrets would eventually destroy her. Hurt though Rodmar would undoubtedly be, it was time he knew the full truth.

  Just then came a gentle tap-tapping at the other side of the door.

  “Miriam?” Rodmar called softly against the wooden jamb. “May I speak with you, dearest?”

  Taking a deep breath, Miriam swiped her tears on her sleeve and stepped away from the door. “As you wish.”

  Her brother entered the room with Hortensia, their faces matching masks of concern. The tenderness in their eyes was more than Miriam could bear.

  “What is it, dearling?” Hortensia asked gently. “What troubles you so?” She would have embraced her if Miriam hadn’t stepped back so quickly.

  “No, please don’t touch me! I don’t deserve to b-be c-comforted. Not after how I’ve betrayed you.”

  “Oh, come now. Surely it cannot be as terrible as all that?” Hortensia turned to look at her husband, but for once he was silent. As he regarded Miriam, his golden eyes glinted with some secret knowledge. At that moment, Miriam had the strangest feeling that her brother knew. That he’d somehow managed to read all the secrets her guilty face betrayed.

  “I think I can guess what this nonsense is about. Hortensia my love?” Rodmar turned to his wife. “Would you leave us for a few minutes? ”

  Was it possible he had guessed the truth? Surely not.

  Ever obliging, Hortensia inclined her head gracefully. “Very well. But if you have need of me, I am only on the other side of that door.” With that, she departed.

  A heavy silence took the queen’s place, filling the void left by her absence. Only the occasional crackles and pops from the fire in the hearth punctuated the quiet. But Miriam could not feel the fire or anything else for the bitter winter storm that raged inside her heart.

  How typical of life’s contrary nature. Just when everything she’d ever wanted was finally possible, when the chance to love Anselm as freely as she desired was but an ‘I will’ away, her wonderful dream was about to be pulverized into dust.

  The worst of it was, she had no one to blame for this calamity but herself. Not Fabien. Not her family. Her. Albeit unwittingly, Miriam had managed to sabotage any chance of future happiness by her own foolish hand.

  Oh, if she could but go back and alter the past, she would do it in a heartbeat.

  On that fateful day when she’d first seen Fabien strutting aboard his ship—if some kindly spirit would grant her those moments to live again—she would avert her eyes from his raw, bare-chested beauty. Instead, she would stick to Catherine’s side like a burr in a blanket. No matter how dull or vapid the subject, she would enter into whatever topic of conversation Catherine chose to introduce with the utmost enthusiasm.

  But—alas for her— the opportunity to save herself had come and gone. No matter how desperately she longed to make things right, the ability to master time would never be hers. Even if such a thing were possible, maybe altering past events would make the present even more intolerable.

  After all, without Fabien, she might have never had the opportunity to fall in love with Anselm in the first place. Without Fabien, there would have been no kidnapping.

  No rescue.

  No nights adrift in the wilderness with the man she loved.

  But still, Rodmar was silent, regarding her thoughtfully.

  Miriam chewed the inside of her lip and tried to divine his thoughts.

  “You think you know me, brother, but I’m afraid you do not,” she said at last, overwhelmed by the silence and the aching need to confess. “If you only knew the things I’ve done you would never forgive me.” Free at last, the words spilled from her lips with all the urgency of her guilt. “Oh, how I have lied and deceived—”

  “Miriam… ”

  “and cheated—”

  “Miriam!”

  “No, brother. Please indulge me,” she begged. “Hear my confession for it’s long overdue. Per-Perhaps then I might know a moment’s peace.” Emotion clogged her throat, robbing her of breath. Suddenly she couldn’t continue.

  Rodmar’s eyes softened. “Oh, you silly sweetmeat. Come here.” Taking Miriam in his arms, he held her to the comforting expanse of his chest as he’d done when she was a child after she’d skinned her knee. Little by little, Miriam’s resistance crumbled and her resisting body finally yielded. With a loud sob, she clung to the soft purple velvet of his robe and let it all go.

  “Do not vex yourself so, my dear,” Rodmar said against her hair. “You made a mistake, that’s all. Even the wisest of us will flounder in the shallows from time to time.” He sighed. “I understand why you did it. You were angry with me for forcing you to leave the only home you’d ever known. Not that I blame you for it. Believe me, Miriam, despite what you may think, this recent upheaval hasn’t been easy for any of us.

  “Do you imagine it was a decision we took lightly? Do you think Hortensia or I relished the chance to throw off the familiar comforts of our pleasant home in the sun and exchange it for some strange cold palace set in the lands of the frozen north? We’d always expected some show of rebellion on your part, but it’s time to leave the past where it belongs. Your dalliance with the pirate captain has finally been put to rest and—”

  What? Miriam stiffened, shocked to her very roots. “You knew about that?” she demanded, pulling free of her brother’s arms.

  “Yes. I knew.” Rodmar had the grace to look sheepish.

  He’d known all along? Miriam’s mind reeled. She couldn’t believe her ears. “B-But… ”

  Rodmar chuckled. “Come along, dearling. You’re a woman, not a goat. Spit it out and let’s have done with it.”

  “If you knew about F-Fabien… then you also knew of my plans t
o elope with him once I’d… I’d—”

  “Given him the key to the palace vaults?” Rodmar finished helpfully. “Yes, I knew. Which is why I had the vaults emptied long before I departed for the Norlands, just in case you decided to go through with your ill-advised plan.”

  “But wh-what about… ” Oh, by the gods. This was too humiliating. “What about the manner in which… I mean, the way I behaved with him. How I allowed him t-to… make free with my… favors?” Miriam’s cheeks burned scarlet with shame.

  “Yes.” Rodmar’s smile dimmed in warmth. “I can’t say I was too thrilled about that. Still, in the grand scheme of things a few kisses are hardly reputation destroying, are they? But you may rest assured that had matters advanced any further, the guards I’d tasked to watch over you would have dealt with your pirate friend most severely.” A new smile appeared, brighter than before. “Fortunately for us, Sir Anselm always seemed to be at hand whenever you needed him the most.” He chuckled. “Indeed, I understand he extinguished the threat of pirate invasion almost single-handedly and left very little for my guards to do, so diligently did he watch over you.”

  “Oh?” A flame of anger ignited within Miriam’s heart, banishing her tears. She’d always know her brother was something of a strategist, but this account beggared all belief. “And what about when we were kidnapped, hmm? Was that all part of your plan too?”

  “No. Not by any means.” This time Rodmar’s smile went fully out, and his eyes glinted dangerously in the candlelight. “To my shame, I sorely miscalculated the pirate captain’s wrath and you almost paid for my oversight with your very lives. Were it not for the timely intervention of Sir Anselm and his friends the outcome might have been catastrophic.”

  Reaching out, Rodmar took Miriam’s trembling hands and squeezed them lightly. “Can you ever forgive me, sister? I was a bloody fool. In my arrogance, I assumed I had everything under control. When Hortensia first arrived in the Norlands without you and Catherine, that was the day I learned the true meaning of fear. Never have I been so afraid as I was in those terrible moments when I believed I’d never see either of my dear sisters again.” Rodmar pressed a tender kiss to her hand. “But just as our hopes were fading, Sir Anselm brought you back home. For that action alone, he will always have my gratitude.

  “Yes, I admit, in the past, I have despised the fellow a good deal, but I will never forget how well he took care of you both. Especially you, Mirry dear. Such fierce devotion is rare and cannot be valued too highly. So my question to you is this: do you think you could find lasting happiness with my old nemesis, hmm? What say you? Will you have Sir Anselm for your husband?”

  Miriam could only stare, too shocked for words. Slowly, she nodded her head.

  The two taciturn guards escorted Anselm to the king’s chambers. Upon reaching their destination, they opened the doors and silently ushered him inside.

  As Anselm entered the king’s solar, his sense of trepidation increased, his nerves jangling like a leper’s bell. From every direction, a sense of foreboding crushed in on him, frightening in its intensity. But instead of beating a hasty retreat as he longed to, instead, he took a deep breath, wiped his clammy palms upon his trews and advanced to where the king sat waiting.

  To the casual observer, Anselm might have seemed calm, walking with his head held high, each footstep deliberate and measured, being neither too fast nor too slow. Inside, however, it was another matter entirely; he felt as jittery as the fieriest thoroughbred after a long winter confined to its stall.

  Forces were at play this night over which Anselm had no control and he liked it not at all. As if to agree with him, he heard the low menacing grumble of approaching thunder from outside in the night.

  King Rodmar seemed perfectly relaxed, though. Sitting beside a blazing fire with his legs stretched out before him he raised his tankard cheerfully in Anselm’s direction.

  “Ah, Sir Anselm. There you are at last. How good of you to join me.”

  As if he’d had a choice in the matter. But as politeness dictated, Anselm swept into a deep respectful bow, murmuring a polite “My liege.”

  “Come closer. Stop hovering over there like a serf and take a seat by me. Let us speak together as friends.”

  Anselm arched his eyebrows. Why was the king being so pleasant all of a sudden? Was he drunk? Whatever the cause, it was most unnerving. Or was this the beginning of one of those elaborate courtly games of which Rodmar was rumored to be so fond? Was he to be executed at the end of it? Only time would tell.

  Doing as he was bidden, Anselm sank silently into the vacant chair opposite his host and, with a word of thanks, accepted a tankard of ale offered by the hovering manservant. Any moment now the ax was sure to fall. Until then, he could only settle back and wait.

  “So,” Rodmar began after dismissing the servant. “Would you care to tell me why you never claimed the reward I offered you?”

  This again?

  “A new horse… your choice of weapons?” Rodmar prompted, perhaps mistaking Anselm’s lack of response for forgetfulness.

  Clearing his throat, Anselm somehow rallied his wits. “As I believe I explained at the time, sire, I require no reimbursement for doing my duty. Your gratitude was reward enough.”

  “Hmm, yes. I do seem to remember you saying something of the sort. However, I am not wholly convinced by your noble claim.” Rodmar leaned forward in his seat, his eyes mirror-bright and all-seeing in the candlelight. “Come now. No more games between us, Anselm. Every man desires something—even a man as self-sufficient as yourself. Your friends have been rewarded and I am quite determined that you will, too. Simply name your prize and it shall be yours.”

  Anselm smiled. How would the king react if he took him at his word? What if he dared ask for Princess Miriam? Hah. He’d likely not live to see another sunrise.

  “Really, sire. I am perfectly content with the lot life has given me,” Anselm assured him. “There is nothing more I need.” Nothing you would grant me, at least.

  “Hmm.” Rodmar leaned back again and took a deep drink from his tankard, all the while observing his guest closely. “Tell me,” he said at length, “how is it you’re not yet married, Sir Anselm?”

  What a question. Anselm chuckled, unable to hold back his amusement at such directness. “I could not possibly say, sire. How does anyone decide that it is the right time to take a life-mate? Perhaps you should ask the ladies of your court why I’m still unmarried. I daresay the castle gossips have much to say on the matter.”

  But Rodmar was not distracted by Anselm’s brief foray into levity. “Have you never wanted to take a wife?” he asked, his expression perfectly somber. “Or does the unshackled life of a single knight hold greater appeal?”

  While Anselm was unable to tell the whole truth, he would not lie. Not if he could avoid doing so. “No, sire. Not at all.” If Rodmar was so interested in his personal life, the least he could do was answer him as truthfully as possible.“What I want or do not want hardly signifies, does it? Not when the last few years of my life have been so… ”

  “So?” Rodmar prompted with a broad grin.

  “Eventful.”

  “Nicely put.” Although the king looked almost disappointed at his choice of word. “Well, whatever has happened in the past, you certainly have the approval of plenty of doting mamas and papas now, all eager to foist their precious daughters off in your direction.” Rodmar guffawed loudly. “You’ve been fending them off all evening, or so I’m told.”

  “True enough, my liege. Your gracious favor has earned me some… unexpected dividends.”

  “But none of them comely enough to tempt you to put your head into the noose?”

  “I’m afraid not, sire. No.”

  Rodmar frowned and leaned forward again. “You don’t prefer men, do you?” he asked in a conspiratorial tone.

  “To my regre
t, I have not that good fortune, sire.”

  “Excellent. Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be joined in wedlock to some lucky girl, is there?”

  Anselm cringed inwardly, every fiber of his being recoiling in protest. So this was the king’s plan, was it, to marry him off to some horse-faced harridan who was either too poor or unattractive to secure the favor of any other man?

  Reward? Hah. He should have accepted the swords and new horse and had done with it.

  As always, the wretched gift of foresight he’d inherited from his paternal grandmother proved to be no use whatsoever. Here he was again, neck-deep in another of those rare life moments when The Sight’s timely counsel might have had some real value but, instead, it had remained stubbornly silent. His so-called gift never failed to disoblige him.

  One thing was for sure. If Rodmar did plan on marrying him off to some overlooked shrew, Anselm vowed he would take the next boat overseas. And this time he would stay there.

  For several minutes the two of them sat without speaking, both quietly contemplating the fire. Surprisingly, despite the uncertainty of his current circumstances, Anselm found their shared silence to be a good deal more companionable than he might have otherwise imagined. There was something to be said for having a companion with whom to while away an evening, a fellow seeker of the enlightenment to be found at the very bottom of a tankard, oftentimes such a quiet, restful sort of place.

  “As the king,” Rodmar said, at last, addressing his words to the glowing flames in the hearth, “the task of protecting this realm rests squarely upon my shoulders. There can be no place for sentiment, not when it comes to defending our people.” His lips thinned in a bitter smile. “Make no mistake, there will always be those who plan on stealing what we have built, to take the bounty and keep it for themselves. The ambitious man can scent weakness just as easily as a hound reads the trail of a wounded boar. For now, at least, we are safe, but such security comes at a cost.