Ambition and Alavidha (33 page)

Prince Crispin
of Leithe was twenty-eight years old, blonde, clear complexioned,
tall, straight limbed and athletic. He usually won his jousts in
the tiltyard.

He was also
very clever but he took great pains to disguise this fact here in
Murdoch, putting on a self-effacing face and a not too bright
intellect.

Empty-headed,
frivolous, over-fond of the good things in life most said. Of no
account, said others. But they were wrong, Crispin was the true son
of his father King Cadan.

Crispin had
selected his tower room for a reason. No-one could overhear what he
was about to say.

Under the
pretence of holding a card party he had arranged the evening,
providing wine and titbits. However, neither he nor his guests
would be playing cards. It was, in Prince Crispin’s considered
opinion, time to take his father’s plan on to its final stage.

As Paul Hallam
(and some others) had suspected, it had been a man Crispin had sent
who had persuaded the foolhardy Count of Markwood to set out for
Dagan under the misapprehension that a colony led by him would be
welcome there thus sowing distrust between Murdoch and Vadath. Not
knowing about the storm, the shipwreck, Crispin still lived in hope
that this part of the plan would succeed. His father wanted what
might be called ‘un-cordial relations’ to exist between Vadath (who
always supported the rights of the rtathlians and the other
northern continent) and Murdoch.

He now knew
that his father’s plan that the Dukes of Duchesne, Graham and
Charleson should declare their independence from the crown had not
succeeded. When he had found out about this, he had made a note to
dispose of the interfering Duke of Hallam as soon as it was
convenient. Paul, Duke of Hallam was in fact the third name on
Crispin’s death-list, the first being his mother-in-law Queen
Antoinette and the second being the Lord Prince Marshall.

Prince Crispin
of Leithe was rather a vain young man which was unfortunate for
both himself and his father’s ambitions. King Cadan had instructed
Crispin to wait for Erik Halfarm to bring him the power core before
he made a move in the palace itself. Crispin had decided not to
wait. Crispin did not like Erik Halfarm. This would be
his
success,
his
victory and he needed no help from an
illegitimate uncle.

One of four
brothers, all vying for the attention and approval of a largely
uncaring father, he wanted to prove himself, to prove he was the
best of his brothers. As de facto King of Murdoch he would have a
rank equal to that of his father, his brothers would be the
‘also-rans’, even the eldest, Catar, his father’s blood-heir.

Royal politics
were dangerously murky in Leithe (as in Murdoch). His father had
murdered his elder brother to become the blood heir of his father.
Perhaps he, Crispin would do the same to Catar and Lars and become,
after his father’s death Emperor of the Great Eastern Sea and
Murdoch both!

* * * * *

The entire
royal palace at Fort had always been a hotbed of intrigue and
sedition, not only Crispin’s tower room. This, the year of AL 808,
was no different.

Kellen Philip
Ross and Kellen Charles Karovitz left the office of Baron Peter
Taviston, head of the Bureau of Internal Affairs worried men but
with a task ahead of them.

“I didn’t
realise the full extent of Prince Crispin’s involvement until
today,” Charles said in a low voice.

“You and me
both,” his companion replied, “nor how far his plans have
progressed. I hope Daniel is all right.”

“You’ve had no
word from him then?”

“Only the
message that he had arrived in Markwood safely and that he intended
to present himself to the Duke,” answered Daniel’s father Philip
Ross.

“You think he
left with them?”

“He must have
or I would have heard.”

“Daniel is
quick and resourceful. When he realised the Markwoods were serious
and an expedition to Dagan inevitable he must have talked fast to
persuade the Duke to include him in the party. He made a choice to
go and I believe he made the right one.”

“Agreed and he
might not have had the chance to send me word. If it is as Duke
Paul and Peter Taviston thinks then he will have been watched. He’s
a sensible lad, he wouldn’t have taken the risk. My guess is that
when he realised what was happening he went anyway, to try and
negate some of the damage. Of course, the Duke of Markwood might
not have known anything about it.”

“You think not?
I must beg to differ. Stupidity may be the Duke’s middle name but
he’s not an unobservant man. He’s a brave lad your boy Philip. He
made the decision to go with them to keep an eye on them. That
couldn’t have been easy for him”

“And to put a
spoke in their plans if he can? Aye, sounds like my Daniel, but I’m
still worried Charles.”

“As I am, but
we can do nothing to help him at the moment. Is the Queen sending a
ship to Talastown?”

“A fast one,
yes.”

“Hopefully
they’ll be able to persuade them that Markwood is working on his
own and that Murdoch does not condone his actions.”

“I hope
so.”

“Meanwhile, we
have another task.”

“Aye, to find
out how far along Crispin’s other enterprises have got, elsewhere
and here at court.”

What neither
Philip nor Charles knew was that the department run by Baron Peter
Taviston had been infiltrated by one of Crispin’s adherents.

Charles
Karovitz and Philip Ross never got the chance to begin their
investigations. They were waylaid in a dark corner of the old
palace and brutally done to death. Their bodies were found a short
time later by a serving maid whose screams were heard outside the
palace walls.

Although Baron
Peter Taviston suspected the complicity of Prince Crispin in the
murders, he had no proof. He did however dismiss the three men in
his department who he suspected of having been bought, much to
Prince Crispin’s chagrin.

Baron Peter
Taviston Crispin added to his list of people to be disposed of when
he came to power.

* * * * *

The attack when
it happened erupted out of the blue in an orgy of blood and
violence.

Philip Ross and
Charles Karovitz were taken by surprise. The latter didn’t even
have time to draw sword from scabbard before he was dead, his neck
sliced open and his body falling on to the stone floor in a pool of
seeping blood.

Philip Ross had
the quicker reflexes although he was the older man. He fought back
but there were four of them to his one and he had no chance.

As he gasped
his last breath in life and his knees buckled under him, the four
attackers melted away.

Queen
Antoinette ordered an investigation but despite Prince Lord
Marshall Pierre’s best efforts and the efforts of others, the
perpetrators were not caught.

* * * * *

“It is time to
make our move,” whispered Prince Crispin the day after the murders,
“is everyone in place?”

“Yes My Prince.
We smuggled the last of our men in last night. They lie quiet as
rudtka in the deepest cellars of the citadel.”

“The Palace
Guard?”

“They will be
neutralised, I promise.”

“They’d better
be.” Prince Crispin mentally ground his teeth together.

“It would have
been much easier if their officers were in our pay,” said the man,
most ill-advisably.

Seconds later
and he was on the floor rubbing his chin.

Crispin, in his
anger had punched him.

As he scrambled
to his feet the man thanked whoever was looking after him from the
netherworlds that his employer hadn’t had a knife in his hand.

“Now remember,”
Crispin continued, “my wife must not be harmed.”

“The
Queen?”

“Her death will
be unfortunate, an accident. I’ve already been rehearsing
condolence speeches. Tomorrow night. Midnight candlemark. Go.”

Crispin watched
him leave. Soon, very soon, he would be de facto ruler of his
mother-in-law’s country, in accordance with his father’s orders and
if anyone tried to stop him, or rebelled against him when he
reached his goal, well, the power core would be in his hands soon
enough. He already had the instructions about how to use it.

* * * * *

With stealth,
Kellen Kenneth Stewart made his way through the dark lit corridors
to the chambers belonging to Kellen Robert Crawford. He was being
extra careful not to be seen. As one of Prince Crispin’s ‘closest
friends’ it was unlikely that he was being followed, but he kept a
wary eye open and his hand on his sword-hilt, just in case.

* * * * *

It’s set for
tomorrow night, midnight candlemark,” he informed Robert
Crawford.

“Crispin’s
men?”

“The lower
dungeon level,” Kenneth Stewart informed him. “They’ve been
gathering there this past tenday. He laughed. “T'wont be hard to
distinguish them from the loyal members of the Court and Royal
Guard. They’ll be stinking to high heaven.”

“Dungeon
level,” mused Robert Crawford, “how convenient. Good. I’ll make the
arrangements.”

“Not too soon I
trust,” said Kenneth, “I mean, you don’t want to alarm them.”

“They’ll be in
place at the right time and not before. Like you I don’t want to
alert our slippery little prince. You’ve done well Kellen
Stewart.”

“I’m a loyal
subject Kellen Crawford as I trust I’ve proved.”

“Of course.
Now, I need you to do one more thing for me. You’ll have to go back
to the Prince. Keep a weather eye out. Act normally at all
costs.”

“I’ve been
‘acting normally’ for a number of months now,” Kenneth answered
with a wry grin. “The Queen’s safety?”

“She will be
safe, I promise you.”

“And my
brothers, Malcolm and Andrew?”

“As I told you
before Kenneth, we shall do our best. It all depends on them in the
end though.”

And with that
Kenneth Stewart had to be satisfied.

* * * * *

The lower
dungeon level at Fort was dank and unpleasant. Water dripped down
the rough hewn walls and fell into stagnant pools which but slowly
seeped away.

Prince
Crispin’s followers complained but endured the discomfort, quietly,
echoes were wont to carry and the threat of discovery ever
present.

Some endured
due to misplaced loyalty to Prince Crispin. Others endured because
of the promise of payment or the prospect of a lucrative position
in government or at court when the coup was successful.

Prince Crispin
had been lavish with the contents of his purse.

That they were
traitors to their sworn liege-lady, the Queen, most gave no more
than a passing thought.

A few were
having second thoughts and were beginning to wish they had never
got involved.

One of this
minority was Kenneth Stewart’s brother Malcolm and the only reason
he was still a member of the prince’s party was to keep an eye on
their youngest brother Andrew, the most hot-headed one among the
three.

For the life of
him though, Malcolm couldn’t think of a single way he could
extricate Andrew (and by inference himself) from their predicament.
Perhaps Kenneth might know. Malcolm had a lot of faith in Kenneth’s
abilities.

Why had he
listened to Prince Crispin’s promises? Why?

But Malcolm
knew why, his gambling debts. The prince had paid them off but had
demanded his loyalty in return. Andrew had joined the plotters
because he was eager for adventure and excitement.

Malcolm lifted
his head as another sat down on the rough stone bench beside
him.

“Hi brother,”
said Kenneth.

* * * * *

-46-

THE DUCHY OF
HALLAM, KINGDOM OF MURDOCH, A LITTLE WAYS NORTH OF THE MANOR
HOUSE

“You’re a
cold-drake, aren’t you?” stammered Jill.

“That is a very
offensive term. I prefer dragon myself, more dignified somehow if
you won’t use the word Lai.”

“Are, are you
going to eat me now? I don’t think I’ll taste very good.”

Maru pretended
to consider this and eyed Jill up and down as if he was assessing
how tasty she might be.

“You
do
look a bit scrawny,” he admitted, “perhaps I should take you away
and feed you up a bit first.”

Jill decided at
this point that her adventure wasn’t turning out too well.

Maru
laughed.

“Maru is my
name and I am joking you young lady. You are?”

“”I am Contessa
Jill Hallam,” she declared, straightening her back.

“The daughter
of Paul, Duke of Hallam?”

“Why, yes,” she
said with a gulp. How did this Maru know this?
Does he know
Father? Surely not.

“A fine man. I
have heard only good reports of him,” said Maru, nodding his huge
goldy-coppery head, “now Jill Hallam, can you keep a secret?”

Jill nodded
with vigour.

“You must tell
no-one you have seen me here,” Maru instructed, “although you
must
tell your Father. But no-one else, not even your sister
with whom you have not hidden anything from before.”

Jill gulped
again. How did he know she had a sister she always shared
everything with?

“I
promise.”

“That is good.
Now, this is what you must say. Tell your father that the time of
the great event draws close and that one will come soon who will
make all clear. Can you do that?”

Jill gulped and
nodded.