Within the Hollow Crown (20 page)

Chapter
50: Bedroom Politics

“You’re going to Avonshire, aren’t you?” said Sarah, when Michael entered the bedchambers. It was, notably, the first time the two of them had been in the bedchambers together, as their wedding had been so rudely interrupted.

“Yes,” Michael said, “I have to.”

“You really don’t,” Sarah said. “Others can go in your place.”

“They could,” Michael said, “But I’m going.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight? Not even in the morning?”

“I’m sorry. This cannot wait.”

Sarah sighed.

“Don’t sigh at me,” Michael said, removing his noble regalia in favor of more durable travel gear.

“I wasn’t sighing at you, I was just sighing.”

“It sounded like--”

“It’s not your fight, Michael.”

“It’s not mine alone, if that’s what you mean. It’s everyone’s.”

“So let someone else go. You just recovered from death.”

“I was never dead.”

“You were to me, for a short while.”

Sarah was trying to confess something. And on an ordinary day, maybe Michael would have picked up on the subtle hints and clues. But his mind was racing with wars and Kings and history and he didn’t have room in his brain for subtlety.

“I don’t trust anyone else to do this.”

“You think you’re the smartest man in the world?”

“Of course not,” Michael said, “I could leave it alone. Hope someone else goes in and fixes everything. And maybe we would get lucky and somebody will. But if nobody does, then we will both die here. And I’m not taking that chance. I’m growing old, with you.”

“Not one man in a million would take it upon himself to save the Kingdom.”

“Then you must be a very lucky wife.”

Michael, realizing his voice had gotten a little louder, turned away and sighed as well.

“Now who’s sighing at whom?”

“I was sighing at myself.”

“Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Please.”

“I’m sorry. We’ll be together. Soon. But not tonight.”

Michael opened the door...

“Wait,” she said. “Just, please, wait for a moment.”

“What?” Michael said.

“Things are very… uncertain, right now. You almost died. Please, don’t go. Not tonight.”

“Sarah, I don’t want to go. But I feel I must. But here’s how you’ll know I’m coming back for you.”

“How?”

“I promise.”

“Men cannot keep such promises.”

“I can.”

“Not in these times.”

“I will.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Michael kissed her.

“Believe me.”

He turned and left the room, not allowing anything more to delay him. Sarah didn’t know why, but she did believe him.

---

Michael proceeded to the stables, where she found Lady Vye waiting for him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Michael asked, seeing that Vye was all geared up.

“With you, of course,” Vye said. “But we’re not taking horses.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know a better way.”

Michael stood for only a moment before he understood what she meant.

“No,” he said, sternly. “I’m not walking through that… thing.”

“Come on, Your Grace,” she said. “We don’t have time. By our best estimates, Avonshire and Brimford have been warring for almost a week. If we travel by horse, the fighting will be over, someone will have the throne, and about twenty-two soldiers will be alive.”

“Can you do the smoky… thing?”

“No,” Vye said, “But I know someone who can.”

Chapter 51: Another Path

Michael, Landos, Vye, and Gabriel went to the dungeon together. They walked in silence, only acknowledging each other with uncomfortable nods and rolled eyes. They stood outside Halmir’s cell while Vye unbound the prisoner and walked him to the others.

“Don’t speak,” Vye said. “Just listen.”

Halmir nodded. Vye backed off, and Michael stepped forward.

“Lady Vye says she trusts you,” Michael said. “Time was I would trust you too, just because she said so.”

Michael paused, but Halmir did not appear to have anything to say.

“Still,” Michael continued, “I can’t forget there is a large scar where my torso used to be, and you’re the one who put it there.”

Again, nothing.

“We’re in an odd situation,” Michael
went on. “A few hours ago, you told me about a plan that Argos set in motion. I think I know how to stop him from succeeding, but the hour is getting late, and I can’t do it without your help. I don’t know why you’ve changed your mind. And maybe that’s something you’re still working out in your head, but I don’t have time for second-guessing, and I need to know that you can help us. I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to conquer. I just want to stop all of this. Can you help me?”

“I can help,” Halmir said, “And I will. And if you need a reason to trust me, know this: Last night, I killed a member of my group, one of the Turin-Sen. Your Lady Vye can testify to that. As soon as my Master learns of this, I will be marked for death. I do want to help you, I really do. But if you don’t believe me, at least understand that I can’t go back, and I fear for my life.”

Michael nodded.

“Please wait here for a moment,” Michael said. He huddled together with the others, just out of earshot.

“He seems sincere,” Michael said.

“I’ve known some very good liars in my life,” Landos said.

“He’s not lying,” Vye said, “He killed a man of his last tonight.”

“Could have been staged,” Landos said.

“It wasn’t,” Vye said. “I’m the one who gave the final blow.”

“I don’t want to have matching scars,” Michael said. “And I think it’s ridiculous to bring him along.”

“So why are you even thinking about it?” Landos said.

“We need him,” Michael answered.

“I’ll vouch for him,” Vye said. “I’ve been in his mind. He’s not lying.”

There was a brief pause while the three men looked up at Vye. Gabriel seemed surprised, an emotion he rarely felt and almost never showed.

“I hope you’re right,” Michael said.

“Don’t take any chances,” Gabriel said. “I mean, any more than you have to. I mean, any more than you already are. Oh, never mind.”

“Right,” Michael said. He left the group and went to Halmir to talk further. Landos followed him.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Julia,” Gabriel said, quietly. “I think there’s something you’re not telling us.”

“There is,” Vye said. “And I’m not going to.”

“That’s fine. Just remember what we talked about.”

“We talked about a lot of things.”

“People can do crazy things...”

---

They escorted Halmir up to the northern courtyard, very close to where Halmir and Vye had finished their first fight. Someone was waiting for them.

“Flopson, what are you doing here?” Michael asked.

“I’m trying to keep him out of trouble,” Flopson said, pointing to Gabriel.

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Michael said, “But Landos is keeping a sharp eye out.”

“Where are you going?” Flopson asked.

“Avonshire.”

“Smelly place.”

“Wait ‘till we get done with it.”

“I want to come too,” Flopson said, doing his best impersonation of a three-year old.

“I thought you said it was smelly,” Michael said.

“It is. But not nearly as smelly as this place.”

“Very well,” Michael said. “Come along if you must. But we’re going to be in the company of some very important people, and I don’t want you to get us all in trouble.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Close enough,” Michael said, shrugging. “Landos, you and Gabriel will stay here and keep an eye on things.”

“Shouldn’t I come with you?” Gabriel said. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

“There are greater dangers than politics,” Michael said. “Though not many. The Prince was attacked while surrounded by dozens of guards and a couple of our better warriors. I want the Castle to be safe tonight.”

“I understand,” Gabriel said.

Michael and Vye stood beside Halmir as he began waving his arms about and chanting. Flopson edged up to the Turin warrior.

“I don’t know if we’ve been properly introduced,” Flopson said. “Flopson the Jester.”

“I remember,” Halmir mumbled. “You left quite an impression.”

“On the side of your head, am I right?” Flopson raised a hand for a high-five, but Halmir finished opening the gate instead.

Smoke rose from the grass, forming into the shape of a door. Vye stepped through first, to demonstrate her trust. Then Halmir, then Flopson. Michael followed. The smoke billowed and wavered, and then vanished.

Chapter 52: Off The Map

Jareld woke up and immediately regretted it.

He was bruised and winded, but nothing was broken. He peeled himself off the floor, opening his eyes to a small surprise: He could see things. There was a fire going, and Thor and Corthos were having a quiet discussion.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Thor said.

“Technically,” Jareld answered. He found that his muscles were stiff, but he was able to drag himself to the fire.

“What happened?” Jareld said.

“You fell,” Corthos said, not seeing the need to
add further details.

“And you’re alive?” Jareld said.

“Aye.”

“I thought I heard you scream,” Jareld continued.

“That was me opponent, a right rough fellow. Turin, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You killed him?”

“Aye, and one of his friends. But there were too many, so I fled.”

“He got to the same hole in the floor,” Thor continued, “But by that time, I had lit a torch. He saw the hole and climbed down.”

“You weren’t knocked out by the fall?” Jareld said.

“No, I fell on you.”

“Oh,” Jareld said, feeling a bruise in his ribs.

Jareld discovered that if Thor had to guess, he’d been out for almost a full day, but since there was no sun, moon, stars, or hourglasses in the Caves of Drentar, he had no way of knowing. Then, of course, came the ugly question:

“Do we know where we are?” Jareld said, timidly.

“In the Caves of Drentar,” Thor said.

“Yeah, I got that part,” Jareld said.

“Also,” Corthos added, “We’ve moved a bit since you were out.”

“Aye,” said Thor. “I mean, yeah. The Turin started shooting arrows at us through the floor. Or ceiling. Depending on how you look at it.”

“And when we tried to rest, we found we were near a scorpion pit. Nasty buggers.”

“After that it got more confusing,” Thor concluded.

“So, neither of you happened to keep a map of his own, did you? A simple record of number of paces and direction.”

Thor and Corthos shook their heads.

“So, what hope do we have of finding the Saintskeep?”

“Look at it this way,” Thor said. “We have only marginally less hope than we did when we started.”

Chapter
53: Men of the Kingdom

Traveling through the smoking door was not nearly as exciting as Michael had hoped. You see a door in front of you, suggested by smoke, and you step through. You’re immediately on the other side of the door, as though you had only stepped through smoke, except the world is completely different.
Also, you feel mildly dizzy, as though you had crossed your eyes for about a
minute
.

The dizziness is the result of a repositioning problem. Inevitably, your altitude and orientation are changed slightly by moving through the door, so the world makes you pay in the form of discombobulation. In this case, there was also a change of time zones, and it was now two hours earlier. There would be some smoke-lag.

“Well,” Michael said, “Here we are.”

By “here,” Michael meant several miles outside Anuen. They were at the limits of a city of tents, in which an army was scurrying about. Almost as soon as the four of them were through the gate, a small patrol came up to them.

“Stop there and declare yourselves,” said the oldest and most senior member of the patrol.

“My name is Count Michael Deliem,” Michael said, “And it is urgent that I speak to…” he looked at the patrol uniforms… “Lord Timothy, of Brimford.”

“There is a Turin man amongst you,” the patrolman said, “What business does he have in your company and in our land?”

“He is with me, and as you see fit, he can be bound for your safety,” Michael said. Halmir rolled his eyes and held out his wrists, for cuffing.

“You don’t seem too concerned about him,” the guard said.

“I’ve chosen to be worried about other things.”

The patrol did cuff Halmir, unaware that he could use magic, and that these restraints would be meaningless. They blindfolded him, and led him in front of the company, as Michael, Flopson, and Vye followed behind.

They were led into the center tent, where Timothy Brimford waited at a war table. On the table were maps, little figures representing armies, and little model ships representing the navies.

Behind Timothy, sitting in the corner in the only comfortable chair in the tent, was Emily Rone, the last of the royal family. She was dressed all in black, still in mourning for the loss of her family.

The patrolman approached Timothy and leaned across the table to whisper to him. Timothy looked over the table to Michael, sizing him up. Finally, he returned some whispers to the patrolman and stood.

“His Majesty, King Timothy, will see you now,” the patrolman said.

The patrolman left the tent. Timothy walked out in front of the war table and stood before Michael.

“Your Majesty,” Michael said, and bowed. Vye, more out of surprise, also bowed. Flopson did not.

“Why will your fool not bow?” Timothy said.

“One man’s fool is another man’s foil,” Flopson said.

“Is this your way of showing insolence?” Timothy said to Michael. “You bow, but you mock me with your jester? Have the clown removed.”

Guards dragged Flopson from under his armpits. He smirked all the way out of the tent.

“It is the fool’s prerogative,” Michael said, “To show us humility. But while I don’t share his level of insult, I do share his sense of purpose.”

“You are Count Michael, of Deliem,” Timothy said. “I don’t think we’ve even met before. Have you come to pay your respects to the new King?”

“No,” Michael said, “At least, not inasmuch as I don’t think there is a new King.”

“I could have you executed for treason.”

“With all due respect, Sir Timothy, so could I.”

“I am the King.”

“You’ve named yourself the King,” Michael said. “So has Castor Rone. Neither of you has earned that title.”

“You do not earn that title.”

“Neither should you take it by force.”

“There is no authority higher than the divine ascension.”

“There is the King James Standard.”

“Which is silent in the matter. I am the husband of the only living child of our previous King. Emily gives me the right to the throne.”

Michael paced around Timothy, coming to the side of the table, where he could face Emily. She looked up at Michael. Through her veil, he could see her eyes narrow.

“Your Majesty,” Michael said, bowing to Emily.

Emily stood. She was not used to being addressed. “Your Grace,” she said, curtsying back.

“I am sorry about your loss,” Michael said. “I knew your father, of course, and your brother. Both honorable men.”

“Thank you,” Emily said.

“You, I have heard, are an honorable woman.”

“I like to think so,” Emily said. “But flattery will get you nowhere.”

“What are you doing?” Timothy said. “Why are you speaking to her?”

“If you are going to use her to claim the throne, I think I’d like to hear what she has to say,” Michael responded.

“It doesn’t matter,” Timothy said. “I am the King. My word is law.”

“Your carriage is a bit ahead of your horse. You can’t claim the Kingship by rule of your own law as King.”

“There is no legal argument for the Kingdom. There is only the force of might. I am going to destroy Anuen, if I must, to defeat Castor Rone. Once I am unopposed, no one can deny me.”

“You’re right,” Michael said. “There is no legal argument. But neither do I believe that it was the intention of Rone the Great, nor King James after him, to allow the throne to go to the victor of a pitched battle. We are all men of the Kingdom, except of course, for those of us who are women of the Kingdom.”

Vye couldn’t help but smile. Emily, too, turned her attention to Vye, then back to Michael.

“We are men and women of the Kingdom, and we must fight. But not for command of the Kingdom. We must fight for the Kingdom itself. Lady Vye, if you please.”

Vye approached the table with the armies. She had led enough troops in her life to organize her demonstration quickly.

“You see what you have here? Your army in Dalton is going to be crushed by Castor’s cavalry, coming from the south. Yes, you can batter down Anuen, but both you and Castor will lose three or four full units. Your archers will be depleted.”

Vye
grabbed several dozen spare unit markers. She started placing them, one at a time, in Trentford, the heart of the Kingdom. She finally placed ten of them, all facing Avonshire and Brimford.

“This is the invading Turin army,” Vye said. “Thirty thousand strong, or so I’ve been told.”

Timothy and Emily couldn’t help but look at Halmir, who, though blindfolded, was clearly a Turin.

“If you and Castor Rone continue this fight for the next two days, you’ll come down to less than two thousand men. And those men will be weary.”

“This is some trick,” Timothy proclaimed. “Castor sent you. To get me to lower my guard. What has he promised you? I can make you a Duke.”

“As I’ve said before,” Michael continued, “You can’t. I’m not here for glory or titles. I just married a beautiful woman and I want to live in peace with her. I want this war to end. And I want us to win.”

“What do you propose?” Timothy asked, though his tone was still full of trepidation.

“We must be men of the Kingdom, you and I. We must do what is best for the Kingdom, not ourselves.”

“If we stop fighting this instant, I mean, if the orders went out within the hour, I think Avonshire and I have a combined force of twenty thousand, give or take.”

“With supplements coming from Ralsean, Arwall, and my own County,” Michael said, “We might be able to pull through this.”

“Even if I agree to stop fighting, what of Castor? He will not surrender.”

“I won’t ask him to,” Michael said. “I will tell him the same thing I’ve told you.”

“Which is?”

“We must be men of the Kingdom.”

“But someone must lead,” Timothy said. “Who will bring us victory?”

“If we are going to be men of the Kingdom,” Michael said, turning to Emily, “Then some of us must be Women of the Kingdom.”

“Who? Me?” Emily said.