Duty: a novel of Rhynan (32 page)

I was torn between joy and fear. The love in his eyes
invited me to believe, hope. My heart wanted to step out on faith
that it would work out. However, my head kept listing all the
reasons I shouldn’t and all the possible ways this could go wrong.
The worst being that he died.

Please, Kurios, show me what to do.

He was my husband. I trusted him more than I trusted
anyone, except perhaps Loren. All we had experienced together in
the past month of marriage proved him a skilled soldier, great
leader, and a wise man. Above all he had been a friend who had yet
to lead me wrong.

“Go get dressed, love. We need to leave.” He brushed
my hair back from my face.

I obeyed. Twisting my hair into an acceptable form, I
tried to keep my worries at bay by counting all the ways Kurios had
delivered me in the past. He wouldn’t fail me now.

Please keep us safe
, I prayed.

As I adjusted the most ornate girdle about the waist
of a deep navy blue tunic, I turned to find Tomas bent over
Dentin’s parcel of paper. His dark brows bunched over his nose, but
when he finally finished reading, he nodded as though
satisfied.

“Presentable enough?” I rotated for him.

“Radiant. No one would believe you were playing a
warrior only a few hours ago. Come.” He held out his hand to me
while tucking away the packet beneath his overtunic with his other
hand. I grabbed my lined cloak and drew the hood up over my hair.
We plunged out into the noontime sun.

Melting sleet crunched beneath our feet the whole way
to Mendal’s camp.

As we passed through our camp, men appeared and fell
in behind us. Antano, Eirianware, Yerns, Polaner, Kuylan, and
Muirayven the healer were among the faces I identified when I
glanced back. By the time we reached the edge of camp and crossed
the narrow gap between camps to enter the king’s camp, we were
about thirty men strong. The cacophony of crunching echoed along
the spaces between the tents.

Sentries ran after us before we reached the center of
camp.

“My lord, you can’t march into Mendal’s presence as
an army,” the first man protested, his panic evident in his
flailing hands.

“The king summoned my wife and me to a trial. These
are merely witnesses I wish to call.” Tomas’ calm demeanor and even
tones did nothing to soothe the man’s agitation.

“But, my lord.”

Dentin appeared at the sentry’s side, tucking away
something into the front of his jerkin. “I vouch for their
peaceable motives, Ret.”

The man sputtered for a moment. “Very well, Lord
Dentin.”

He bowed and trotted back the way he came as fast as
he could. Perhaps he hoped if he put enough distance between him
and us, he wouldn’t be blamed should Dentin prove to be lying. The
others disbursed as well.

“You are late.” Tomas cupped my elbow and propelled
me forward again.

Dentin fell in step with us on my other side.
“Jorndar was more trouble than I expected.”

“You got what we needed, right?”

King Mendal’s personal guards blocked our way into
the great open space at the center of camp. Similar to the one his
camp formed outside of Wisenvale, it was large enough for a small
army. A single tree grew on a small rise at one end. Behind it, so
that the skeleton branches canopied the opening, the king’s
pavilion staked a large portion of the field. In any other season
it would have been almost picturesque. However, in my current state
of mind, I thought it looked as though the tree were the king,
grasping for the sky as well as his domain on earth.

Dentin spoke quietly with the captain of the guard.
He returned to our side.

“The three of us may approach the tent, but the rest
must stay here.” Silencing the murmurs of dissent among our escort
with a glare, Dentin offered me his arm. “My lady?”

I glanced at Tomas. As much as I trusted Dentin, I
didn’t want to walk into the lion’s den without Tomas’ support.

“I will be right behind you,” Tomas assured me as he
laid my hand on Dentin’s sleeve.

Dentin stepped forward and the personal guards parted
for us. He led me out into the center of the square to a circle
marked in the dirt. He guided me to the center of the circle and
positioned me to face the entrance of the king’s tent.

“Say nothing unless required and follow Tomas’ and my
lead.”

I glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead,
his face a mask of indifference. Striding a short ways away, he
turned to face the entrance of the pavilion as well.

I stood alone. Lifting my chin, I straightened my
back and pulled back my shoulders.

“Well done.” Tomas’ voice made me jump. I began to
turn, but he stopped me. “Face forward. Here he comes.”

The canvas rolled up and the court poured out. The
few women among the men looked very uncomfortable despite their fur
lined capes and headdresses. Their gaudy robes and stiff dresses
were woefully out of place among the austere surroundings of the
camp. The men didn’t appear much better. I recognized a few of
their faces from my last summons outside of Wisenvale.

Finally the king emerged, warmly dressed and
obviously more comfortable in his attire than his court was in
theirs. He still leaned on a cane. Two pages followed him carrying
a chair. He whipped his cane out to point at where he wanted the
chair to go. The lads hurried to comply and then retreated. A third
appeared with a footstool as the king eased down onto the cushioned
seat.

My knees ached as I watched him settle on the very
comfortable looking pillows. A few of the courtiers’ expressions
slipped into envy as well.

“Begin the proceedings.” Mendal waved to Lord Dentin.
But then he spotted Tomas standing behind me. “Lord Irvaine, please
join your peers.” His rings flashed in the meager sunlight as he
gestured toward the courtiers surrounding him.

“I humbly refuse, your majesty.”

“What?” Mendal’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward
to peer at Tomas.

“I wish to stand with my wife.”

“She is accused of treason!”

“She is innocent and my wife. I stand with her.”

Mendal’s face stilled except for his intent gaze
snapping from me to Tomas and back. Then his jaw tightened. “I am
your king.”

“You are.” Tomas’ voice carried firm and clear, but
the clipped words hinted at the tension underneath. “I am at your
mercy.”

Mendal’s eyes glinted and for a moment I feared he
would press the issue further. But he didn’t. With obvious effort,
he eased back in his chair. “I accept your argument. A husband
should stand with his wife if he chooses.” Lifting a finger, he
signaled Dentin.

“As ordered by our sovereign king, I have
investigated the accusations against Brielle Dyrease, Countess of
Irvaine and Wisenvale.”

“What evidence have you found?”

“I have discovered nothing to support the informant’s
accusations and plenty to undermine the validity of the
accusations.”

Mendal frowned. “I expressed my wishes very clearly
at Wisenvale regarding this matter and Lord Wisten’s fate.”

“You did, sire. You wanted Lord Wisten’s full
confession and him in custody. Circumstances did not provide
opportunity for us to capture Lord Wisten.”

“I understand he is dead.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“At your hand?”

“No. It was done at my order.”

Mendal’s face tightened as he peered at me. “Did Lady
Irvaine kill him?”

“No, your majesty, I did.” Tomas’ calm confession
banished all my hopes of him remaining free of blame.

The king blinked. “You, Tomas?”

“Lord Wisten threatened to take the life of a woman
with child. I chose chivalry.”

Murmurs passed through the gathered courtiers. A few
of the men smiled in satisfaction. They most likely hoped the
king’s favorite, Tomas, had gone too far.

“I expect nothing less of you, Irvaine.” The king’s
pursed lips spoke of displeasure despite his words.

One of the nobles standing at the king’s left hand
leaned forward. “What do you wish done about Lord Wisten’s title
and lands, sire?”

“Thank you for reminding me, Cilnore.” Mendal leaned
toward the clerk, but his voice carried so the whole gathering
could hear. “Hold Lord Wisten’s lands in trust to the crown until a
suitable time when I feel inclined to award them to a deserving
party.” He stressed the word deserving.

Cilnore flinched as though stung, and half of the
other nobles shifted uncomfortably in their shoes.

“Lord Irvaine, might I assume that the woman you
rescued was your wife?”

“It was not, my king. It was Kolbent Briaren’s
widow.”

Mendal’s eyebrows rose. “He left a widow? Who’s the
child’s father?”

“Briaren is, I believe. I would like to petition for
guardianship.”

The king’s face grew stormy. “That is a matter for
another day, Tomas. Beware. I will not be distracted from the issue
at hand. I will not look well upon any attempts to divert me.”

Tomas fell silent as my gut tightened like a lute
string. Dentin and Tomas intended to push the king much farther and
he was already voicing warnings. This boded ill for my fate.

Please spare Tomas,
I prayed.

The king continued questioning without pause. “Lord
Dentin, did the knight provide any further information when you
questioned him?”

Dentin summoned one of the pages with a single
finger. He handed the lad the bundle of pages that he had tucked
away when he met us and indicated they were for the king. “Sir
Jorndar bragged of taking Kyrenton vargar with only a handful of
men and wishes to lay claim to the title and lands of the noble
title of Irvaine upon his marriage to Rolendis Briaren, widow of
Kolbent Briaren, late Earl of Irvaine. He claims he was not party
to the plot to invade. That piece of foolishness, he professed, was
completely of Lord Wisten’s making.”

The king skimmed the pages and then handed them to
the man beside him, who noted every word spoken. “No mention of
Lady Irvaine?”

“None.”

“Fine.” The king nodded and waved a hand at the
scribe. “Note that Sir Jorndar’s claim has been denied. Draw up an
execution order for my signature, death by hanging. I can’t have
knights riding about causing trouble with peers of the realm.”

Unwieldy silence stretched as the scribe made notes.
Not even the nobles stirred.

“Back to the matter at hand.” Mendal cleared his
throat and gripped his cane. “I see no reason to spare the Lady
Irvaine. You have spoken no evidence in her favor, Dentin.”

“You have not given me opportunity, my king.” Dentin
pulled a completely new bit of parchment from under his over
tunic.

One of the courtiers cleared his throat pointedly.
“If you keep pulling documents from your clothing, Lord Dentin, we
will be led to believe you are nothing but rustling paper.” A few
around him laughed uncomfortably with furtive glances in the king’s
direction.

“Be wary Doritane, lest your name appear on one of
his lists,” another man responded.

Again the courtiers shifted and murmured.

Dentin waited without reacting until the rustling
ceased before speaking. “My lord king, I have collected a host of
witnesses who can speak to Lady Irvaine’s actions and companions
over the last month. I, myself, can swear to her movements since
our meeting in Wisenvale. Before that, I have corroborating sworn
testimony from two or more witnesses as to her location and actions
from the moment Lord Irvaine’s company entered Wisenvale until this
moment.”

“All on that piece of parchment?” Mendal tilted his
head and lifted his eyebrows in obvious disbelief.

“No, your majesty, this is simply a list of the
witnesses and the periods they witnessed. I have the detailed
statements under lock and key. I have arranged for a sampling of
the strongest witnesses to be available, should you wish to
question them yourself.”

The king motioned for one of his pages to fetch the
parchment. “Is that the army of men that escorted Lord and Lady
Irvaine into my presence?”

“They are a sampling of my witnesses.”

The king frowned over the list. “Most of these are
Irvaine’s own men.”

“Yes they are, your majesty.”

“Might they be stricken from the record based upon
their corruptibility? He is their superior.”

“Have you ever known Irvaine to choose a traitor to
serve in his ranks? He demands complete loyalty to you as the
primary requirement of service in his ranks.”

I could think of a traitor from Tomas’ men. Brevand’s
mutinous face danced before my mind’s eye. Tomas had chosen
unwisely in selecting him. Seeing his childhood friend, he had
employed a traitor. I tried to keep my features neutral as Mendal
studied first Dentin’s face and then Tomas’, directly over my
shoulder.

“You vouch for this woman, Tomas?”

“I do.”

Mendal’s scrutiny fell on me. I met his gaze for a
moment, then lowered my face and waited.

“Fine.” Mendal grunted to indicate it was nothing of
the sort. “I clear her of the charges.”

My head snapped up in surprise. I was free. I felt as
though a great load had fallen from my shoulders. My body was
suddenly so light I wanted to fly. However, one glance at the
king’s frown rooted my feet in the ground again.

In the king’s mind, I was not clear of suspicion. For
now, perhaps forever, I was compromised in his mind, a woman of
dubious lineage. My cousin plotted against him. He believed I would
do the same, given the chance. Strange considering how he
overlooked Tomas’ lack of a father.

But, it did explain why Tomas kept his true parentage
a secret. Should Mendal discover Tomas was sired by a western
baron, the king would never trust my husband again.

While I worked through the implications in my head,
the court formalities wound down. Tyront’s sentence was announced,
death by hanging, and King Mendal declared his intention to break
camp come morning and return to the capital. Now that there were no
more signs of revolt, he perceived no reason to stay.