A Crown Imperiled (38 page)

Still, thought Hal as they reached the apartment he’d be sharing with Ty, thinking of the past with more glory and beauty than it deserved was a common failing of conquerors, and it provided goals for dealing with the dark and murderous reality of today.

Rillanon might be the most beautiful city on the planet, but conquest and murder, betrayal and mayhem had made it that way.

Ty and Hal followed a servant to the Princess’s quarters where they were quickly admitted by Gabriella. Both young men were wearing clothing that had been provided by the palace: to their amazement it fitted well, right down to highly polished boots.

The Princess rose and said, ‘Please, come into the garden.’

Ty and Hal exchanged glances: in the late afternoon the garden would be quite hot.

Gabriella moved quickly around the perimeter of the garden, obviously looking for eavesdroppers. The garden presented one open side to the city and harbour below, perfect for watching the sunrise should one be up that early, and two low walls, behind which no one lurked.

Softly the Princess said to both Hal and Ty, ‘That man who greeted us?’

‘Yes?’

‘That’s Lord John Worthington.’

Both Hal and Ty looked at one another then back at the Princess.

‘I know you’ll think me mad, but you did meet Lord John at the reception after the Masters’ Championship. Don’t you remember?’

Ty and Hal again exchanged glances, but neither could conjure up a good memory of Lord John Worthington. Finally, colour rising in his cheeks, Hal said, ‘If I’m to be honest, Stephané, I remember little except being in a bit of pain; and seeing you for the first time.’

Stephané’s eyes widened slightly and a slight smile passed over her lips, but then her expression became serious once more. ‘I’m not jesting with you. If that’s not Lord John Worthington who greeted us, it’s his twin.’

Ty said, ‘I vaguely remember Lord John, but truth to tell, I was in much the same position as Hal . . .. without the pain, of course.’ He smiled.

Stephané didn’t. She looked at Gabriella.

Lady Gabriella said, ‘They are like twins, gentlemen. I’ve been the Princess’s companion for five years now, and I’ve encountered Lord John on dozens of occasions over the last three. They could be the same man.’

‘If they are twins,’ said Hal, ‘that begs many questions.’

‘Worthington is an Isles name,’ said Ty. ‘Cousins perhaps?’

‘More than that, I am certain of it,’ said Stephané. With a slight inclination of her head she instructed Gabrielle to take Ty to the far side of the garden so that she could have a moment alone with Hal. When they were as far removed from the other couple as possible, she said, ‘I wanted to thank you for everything.’

Hal found himself suddenly speechless, as flummoxed as he had been the first time he had met her. Now, as then, she was dressed in court finery, and although her hair was not set in some grand fashion, it was freshly washed and framed her face in natural waves. Her wide blue eyes stared at him in a way that made him feel amazed and disconcerted at one and the same time. ‘Ah,’ he began, ‘no need. I was only . . .’ He couldn’t speak.

She looked up into his dark brown eyes and stepped close. Putting her cheek against his, she said, ‘I know. I see how you look at me. I treasure that love.’

Hal’s mouth was dry.

Stephané whispered, ‘Until I return home safely, please do not leave my side.’

Trying to still his pounding heart, Hal spoke quietly. ‘I am your obedient servant, Your Highness. I will be but a call away from now until you are with your father.’

‘Thank you.’ Standing on her toes, she kissed him on the cheek. With her lips next to his ear she whispered, ‘I have never met your like, and I will hold you in my heart until death.’ Then she turned away, saving Hal further awkwardness.

So many things had happened since that first night Hal had seen her. His feelings were a jumble, and he was desperate to say more to her, but he knew that he never would. She would marry someone important to the Kingdom and he was, at best, years away from becoming a rural duke in the far west. Title and land he would possess, along with responsibility and obligation, but the sort of political influences needed to make him a suitor for the hand of the Princess of Roldem would be but an idle dream. The possibility that she might look upon him as something more than a loyal friend at one and the same time buoyed and sank his heart. He pushed down the ache that was growing and reminded himself that he had been raised to do his duty to king and country.

His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of a page who said, ‘Lord Henry of Crydee?’

Hal turned. ‘Yes?’

‘The King is asking for you now, sir.’

Hal glanced at the Princess, and she indicated with a tilt of her chin that he should go at once; she’d be fine in the company of Ty and Gabriella.

Hal hurried after the page who led him through a series of corridors so that they approached the King’s royal apartment though a side door, out of sight of the throng of courtiers waiting in the main hall of the palace for their chance to speak with the King.

Hal stepped through the door held open by the page and was surprised by how sparsely decorated the room was. There was a desk by a window that offered a lovely view of the harbour, a single ancient tapestry hanging on one wall, a small table with a pitcher and goblets on it, and a single chair at the desk. In the chair sat the King.

Hal bowed and the King rose, extending his hand. Hal gripped it and looked into King Gregory’s face. He was shocked.

In the few months since he had been presented at court, the King’s health had obviously declined. He was thinner, his complexion gone sallow, and his hair hanging lifelessly to his shoulders.

‘My boy,’ said the King. ‘We fear we bear grave tidings and wished to be the one to tell you.’

Fearing the worst, Hal said, ‘What is it, sire?’

‘Word has reached us from Krondor that your father was taken in battle. You are now Duke of Crydee, Henry.’

Hal was too stunned to speak.

The Princess, Ty, and Gabriella comforted Hal as best they could. While they waited for the summons to the royal dinner Hal recounted his boyhood in Crydee and the good times he remembered with his father, mother, and two younger brothers.

At one point he looked at the ring on his finger and said, ‘This will go to my eldest son one day.’

‘Your father’s signet?’ asked the Princess. ‘You will take that?’

‘It will be buried with him as is traditional, and a new one will be forged for me. My brothers will then give me theirs and will receive rings for whatever offices the Crown sees fit for them.’ He sighed and sat back. They were in the little garden next to the Princess’s chamber sipping iced drinks of fruit juice and white wine as the afternoon heat was falling away. ‘I knew this day would come, eventually, but to come so soon and . . . unexpected.’

Stephané took his hand and gripped it for a moment.

Trying to lighten the mood, Hal said, ‘Ty, why don’t you come to Crydee? You’d be the greatest swordmaster in history.’

‘You’re drunk,’ said the young man from Olasko. ‘Or you should be.’

‘Maybe later,’ said Hal. ‘I do not want to embarrass myself before the King in my first official act as Duke of Crydee. What about it? Care to train farm boys how to be soldiers?’

Ty laughed. ‘I don’t think I’m cut out for that life, Your Grace.’

Hal held up his hand. ‘Not yet, please.’

‘I’m an eastern lad, Hal. I love the cities and the dining, the gambling and . . .’ he looked at Gabriella, ‘the ladies too much.’

She fixed him with a slightly disapproving eye.

Hal went on, ‘Assuming there’s a Crydee to return to. The reports forwarded to me are not good. A great deal hinges on what sort of peace the King can arrange with the Emperor. I may be a duke without a duchy.’

‘I’m sure something good will come out of all this,’ said the Princess.

Gabriella smiled. ‘Her Highness has always had a far more cheery outlook on how life works than most.’

‘Not a bad way to be,’ conceded Ty. ‘Many get worn down by worry and fretting over things we cannot control.’

‘But you have to be prepared for all eventualities,’ said Hal, ‘including the most dire.’

‘Which is why you’ll make a wonderful duke and I will not,’ said Ty, lifting his glass.

A page arrived and announced the reception would be underway soon. Hal and Ty excused themselves to retire to their quarters and when they reached them, found that sumptuous court raiment had been laid out for them.

Hal was given a russet tunic with the ducal crest of Crydee over the heart, a golden seagull in flight, black leggings and boots adorned with what appeared to be real gold buckles. A finely-made chain sword-belt with a scabbard covered in matching russet velvet set with a line of black opal surrounded in gold completed the outfit. ‘Gods, what this must have cost!’ he said examining the clothing.

Ty was equally impressed with a powder blue tunic with a small insignia denoting the earldom where his father was reputedly a squire; a fiction created by the Conclave of Shadows for his father when he served them, but as far as the Kingdom’s heraldic office was concerned, young Ty was entitled to the rank of squire, even if they had no idea where he was from, or to whose service he was pledged. White hose and black boots and a silver chain sword-belt with a gold-topped scabbard in dark blue velvet studded with three diamonds completed his regalia.

Hal looked at it and said, ‘I see your title of Champion of the Masters’ Court won you the better scabbard.’

Dryly, Ty said, ‘Yes, Your Grace,’ as he began to change. That earned him a pillow thrown at his head. ‘Better get used to it, Hal. You’ll hear it a lot tonight.’

Hal was silent for a moment, thinking of his family, then he began to dress.

They entered the vast hall and a squire showed Ty to his place at a lower table, as befitted his rank, and then escorted Hal to his place at the King’s table. He found himself standing next to Lord Chadwick who quietly said, ‘Sorry to hear about your father, lad. He was a very good man.’

Between Chadwick and the empty chair next to the throne where the King would dine stood two other men who nodded politely. Hal recognized them as Lawrence of Salador and Geoffrey of Bas-Tyra. He returned their greetings and they waited until at last the Master of Ceremonies announced the King.

The King entered with his queen on his arm, and Hal was struck by the contrast. The Queen was a beauty to rival Princess Stephané, yet there was something about her that was . . . empty. She smiled and nodded to various members of the court, her behaviour bordering on the flirtatious, and Hal wondered if some of the rumours about her that had reached Crydee before he left were true. However, the rumours were immaterial as she had still not given the King a son, so questions of paternity were moot. And from what he had seen of the King’s deteriorating condition, it appeared unlikely there would be one.

Behind them came James, Duke of Rillanon, perhaps the single most powerful noble in the Kingdom. Behind him walked two other men, one whom Hal recognized instantly as Sir William Alcorn, and the other he reckoned must be Montgomery, Earl of Rillanon, the Duke’s second-in-command. Suddenly Hal began to understand what a dog-fight would erupt over power if this king died without naming an heir. The only other player who would matter was Prince Oliver of Simrick, who was absent. Hal felt his stomach tighten as he realized he would be concerned with none of this had his father lived.

Once the King was in his place, he waved for the assembled guests to sit. ‘My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, our first duty tonight is a sad one.’ He motioned for Hal to come and stand on the other side of the table, which the young lord from Crydee did at once. ‘I present to you Henry of Crydee, now Duke, upon the death of his father also named Henry, our most loyal servant in the west, and our beloved cousin.’ He motioned and a page brought over a cushion upon which sat a golden signet ring. ‘As is custom, the late duke will be buried with his signet and I have taken it upon myself to present the young duke with this new one, as a token of affection for my beloved cousin. Kneel.’

Feeling a little awkward, Hal did as ordered. The King stood up then declared, ‘Rise Harold, Duke of Crydee.’

There was a smattering of polite applause in the room and Hal received the new signet from the page. He felt the weight and realized it wasn’t gold over bronze as his father’s ring had been, but rather made of solid gold. He put his old signet in his belt purse, against the day he had a son to whom to give it, slipped on the new ring and found it a good fit.

As he came back to his chair and sat, Duke Chadwick leaned over and said, ‘That was a bit of an odd play, don’t you think?’

‘The table certainly made it awkward.’

‘No, not that. He could have waited until court tomorrow to invest you, but he chose to do it here, before all the members of Congress. He might has well have gone out to the archery range and fetched back a target to affix to your back, boy.’

Hal was still coping with the gravity of his new title and missed the point. ‘What? I’m sorry, I don’t . . .’

‘He named you cousin, before every lord in the palace. He’s tossed you in with me, Oliver, and Montgomery.’ Quickly the Duke added, ‘I pray to any god who’ll listen not to give me the job of king. Montgomery is not a man for the job, any more than Prince Edward in Krondor is. That leaves Oliver, but now there’s you.’ With a humourless chuckle, Chadwick said, ‘Be cautious, boy. You’re about to make a great many new friends, and enemies as well.’

Hal sat back, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

A few minutes later the squire announced Princess Stephané, who made her entrance as the entire company of nobles rose and bowed. Hal could barely breathe at the sight of her. It was the gala for the Masters’ Court Championship all over again. The Queen’s seamstresses had worked magic in creating a stunning lilac gown edged with embroidered golden pears. She wore a matching set of jewellery, as well as a gold embroidered shoulder wrap. Gabriella entered behind her in a shimmering gown of dark green that set her colouring off to good effect, as did as fine a set of emeralds as Hal had ever seen. He suspected the jewellery were on loan from the Queen’s collection.