Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (41 page)

“I ask only this of my people; be brave and trust me during these hard times.  And I promise you, Samaria will
never
again be ruled by the Noman people.  We fought for too long and too hard to be enslaved by them again!” 

Behind the Queen and the company of three hundred soldiers, of deep roll of thunder rumbled through Alumhy, vibrating the glass windows of the surrounding shops and even the platform on which Evangeline stood.  Dozens of people in the crowd glanced up at the sky nervously as heavy hanging clouds moved in fast on the wind.  The day had suddenly darkened, and the air had turned cold.

  Evangeline cleared her throat.  If she wanted her citizens to support her in this war, she needed to keep talking, coaxing, and convincing them of Olger Guttensen’s unsubstantiated reasons to attack Samaria.  She needed, as much as she
desired
, their unyielding faith in her as their Queen.  If only one sliver of doubt slipped into the mind of even one person, it would spread like wild fire, and its effects could possibly be her undoing.

Evangeline scanned the crowd, watching contentedly as their original solemn faces had turned into scowls of hate and disgust for the Nomans.  The Queen opened her mouth to continue her oration, but a flicker of movement in the farthest back reaches of the crowd caught her attention, rendering her silent.  Above the bobbling heads of her people, a concentrated mass of maroon and yellow moved quickly in towards her, rapidly gaining shape as it grew closer in her eyesight.  Already people were moving to the side, pressing their bodies tightly against the shops that lined the cobblestone streets so that this entity could move smoothly past them.

Evangeline felt her ire quickly ignite at the thought of someone interrupting her moment on the stage, and she wasn’t going to let some insolent protestor fill her citizens’ heads with hostile thoughts.  She was about to send a handful of Guards out to intercept the potential rebel but stopped when she recognized the family crest on the banners blowing in the rainy wind.

They were maroon with off-white edges and proudly displayed a bald eagle with its wings spread wide.  Those holding the banners were a line of five men, riding horseback, with a coterie trailing so close behind that Evangeline couldn’t tell how deep the rows of newcomers ran.  The riders wore little protective gear, only a hauberk covered by a purplish red surcoat emblazoned with the same eagle as their banners.  Capes were attached to their necks forming a pillow of fabric behind them, and small, flat hats were perfectly positioned on their heads. 

Evangeline immediately called out Brutus.  “General Bludworth!  Front and center.  Now!”  The bruised and beaten General came to stand before her.

“I insist on knowing how these unwelcome outsiders have managed their way into Alumhy, completely unchecked and unquestioned!  It is your job to secure our borders, is it not?  No one enters Samaria without my permission.”  Her hands were curled into fists and jammed into her sides.  She reminded Brutus of a child about to throw a temper tantrum.  But Brutus just stepped up obediently before the platform, an almost dismissible smile passing across his mouth before he spoke.

“My Queen, the Southwestern border is currently vacant,” he deigned.  “
You
ordered me to respond urgently to the threat of Noman invasion, therefore I was given no choice but to redistribute my men where they were needed most.  Captain Atwater himself claimed the eastern pass was undermanned, so that is where the squadron of men originally stationed along Rienne was relocated.  Besides,” he added flippantly, “Samaria is at peace with Rienne.  I didn’t see the need to have it guarded, considering other adversities we are facing.”  He stepped back to his position next to the stage after stating his case, knowing Evangeline would be unable to retaliate.

With her lips twisted into an ugly sneer, Evangeline did a left face turn and marched down the stairs to confront the group of foreign visitors who’d stopped just short of the barricade separating her from the crowds.  Already conversation was racing among the Samarians witnessing this spectacle, which infuriated Evangeline even more.  One of the leading men on horseback, who looked nearly double Evangeline’s age, jumped down to the ground and raised his hands into the air.

“Queen Evangeline!” Leonardo Santini cried.  “My dearest neighbor!  It has been far too long since I’ve been inside the mountains of Samaria and welcomed in this enchanting city.”  He stopped and looked around, frowning the whole time.  “Although I don’t remember it looking so dismal.”  Evangeline ignored the man’s insults as she shoved a barricade out of her way and came to stand right in front of him, the top of her head only coming up to his chest.

“How dare you come into my country UNINVITED, Leonardo, and toss aspersions around!” the Queen yelled.  “This is not the time nor place to pick at my nerves.  I demand you and your group of men leave these borders willingly at once, or I’ll have my Guard do it for you.”

She glared at him, but Leonardo ignored her, taking a second to readjust the hat on his head and flick some lint off of his velvet surcoat before addressing Evangeline’s threats.

“From my understanding, Evangeline, you don’t have enough troops as it is to secure even your most dangerous borders, so don’t be foolish enough to waste your resources on me. 
I’m
not your enemy.” 

Evangeline’s chest suddenly felt heavy and constricted.  She couldn’t fathom what the Chancellor of the Sovereign Alliance could possibly want with her, so much so that he would enter Samaria unannounced.  Evangeline closed her eyes tightly and breathed deeply before speaking again.

“Leonardo, forgive me,” she said to her peer.  “If it is shelter you seek, then of course Mizra will welcome you.  Let me have my men escort you out of the rain and inside to warm hearths.  Whatever your reason for being here, it will be addressed later this evening.  But now is not the right time.”

“But it is the perfect time!” Leonardo cried out gaily, lifting his hands towards the sky again.  “And to make things clear, I
was
invited to come here to Alumhy.  By one of those closest to you,” Leonardo disclosed.  All the color drained out of Evangeline’s face as the Chancellor of Rienne taunted her.  The crowd of anxious Samarian citizens had somehow grown more compact, pressing closer and closer to where Leonardo and Evangeline stood so they could here every word the two were exchanging.

Evangeline felt like she has a pile of rocks lodged in her throat, but she forcefully swallowed them before croaking out, “Who invited you, Leonardo?”

“I did,” a mousy voice responded from inside the well of Rienne soldiers.  The brick-like formation broke, allowing Arvil Pennington ride forth.  The knotted overgrown beard he’d left Samaria with was completely gone, and his sable hair was now slicked back on his head.  Evangeline’s eye’s widened in disbelief when she saw him, then narrowed in suspicion, wondering who could have conspired against her to help Arvil escape.  The small man rode up to the Queen and stopped, reaching inside his tunic and pulling out a large rusted key.  He hung it in front of her face.

“Perhaps you should recount those who are actually loyal to you, Evangeline.  Because obviously, it’s not as many as you think,” Arvil said, implying the drunken soldier he’d taken the key from.  He spun his horse around to face the multitude of Samarians who were watching the strange interaction between Evangeline and Arvil with eyes as keen as hawks.

“My fellow Samarians,” he began, “I regret to inform you that our dear Queen Evangeline is full of nothing other than deception and lies.  She stands before you today spitting out falsehoods about why Olger Guttensen, the Nomanestan tyrant, invades our country.  She uses these mendacities to play on your emotions and gain your support.  The truth is, Olger Guttensen invades our country and murders our innocent people all because of her.”  Arvil flung a chiding finger in the Queen’s direction.

“This woman consorted voluntarily with Olger, the violent descendant of a race who once had our people suffering in bondage.  And for helping Samaria, she promised to reward him with our very own Samarian gold. Gold that is mined by the bare hands and strenuous labor of
our
men, at a time when such precious metals are very hard to come by.  The little production that these mines were seeing was being promised to a foreign tyrant and not to those who make a living by it.  Then the Queen had the audacity to pledge him Samarian land that has been in our country for generations if she failed to make due on her payments.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” the voice of a concerned Samarian interjected  “We have no need of anything Nomanestan has to offer.  What would prompt the Queen to go to him at all?”

“Look around you!” Arvil cried out.  “The welfare of Samaria has been declining for years. She’s been lying to you about the condition of our food reserves.  These are the facts: there is no food. The very grains you eat in your homes was sowed and reaped by Noman hands.  But instead of humbling herself and going to the Sovereign Alliance when we needed food, the Queen instead turned to Olger Guttensen rather than allow others to see that Samaria was not the powerful, affluent country she’d made it out to be!” 

A din of upset voices had already started to waft through the crowds as word spread from person to person, repeating what Arvil had told them.  There were several shouts of debate and opposition mixed in with cries of outrage and incredulity.

“This is rubbish!” someone yelled over the ruckus of arguing, initiating a following of supportive cheers.

“How do we know he’s telling the truth?” someone else asked.

“I can see how some of you would question such an proclamation,” Arvil replied.  “But I have evidence in my possession that clearly points towards Queen Evangeline’s shady involvement with Olger.” 

Arvil reached inside his tunic and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.  Even from several paces away, Evangeline immediately recognized the letter as Ambrose’s.  She thought she’d confiscated that letter from the messenger boy.  How had he slighted her?

The letter Ambrose had written to his cousin, Leonardo, outlined everything that Evangeline had been involved in for the past couple of years: her contract with Olger, the terms of agreement including payment and collateral, the refusal of help from countries other than Nomanestan, and Samaria’s suffering economy and declining production from the mines.  Evangeline felt her mind begin to spin with the realization that all her secrets were about to be confessed to the world.  Whether the people of Samaria believed them or not didn’t matter, it still put doubts in their already weary minds.

  She looked up from the ground to see Arvil reading off of the letter like he was preaching a sermon.  The cries and responses from the crowd were so lurid, that they almost drowned out Arvil’s voice.  He pushed through anyway, his tone growing louder and louder with each word, driven by anger to read this letter in its entirety to Samaria’s people. 

“Enough!” Evangeline erupted when the noise became deafening.  Her outburst silenced Arvil’s reciting of the letter and quieted down the restless crowd.  She marched over to the small man and shoved him, as hard as she could, causing him to trip over his feet and fall to the ground.

“Who do you think you are?” she demanded as she marched towards him with a frenzied look of hostility in her eyes.  Arvil began to crawl away from the irate Queen on all fours, looking back over his shoulder like a scolded dog.  Evangeline turned to face the crowd.

“You all are going to believe him?” the Queen asked of her people.  “Arvil Pennington claims I’m the liar, but here he is, after a month spent in Rienne when he should have been here, assisting the Queen of Samaria in fixing the problems with the mines, like a loyal advisor should be.  He doesn’t care about Samaria, about the problems facing our trade or our borders.  You ran, Arvil, when Samaria needed you most.  You’re a traitor and a weakling who is full of falsehoods, conspiring with Leonardo to put my people against me.  To what end?”

“These people are too good and work too hard not to know the truth,” Arvil replied.  He had flipped back over and stood up to face her.  “They deserve to know that you’ve been allowing Olger Guttensen to raid our eastern borders for years now.”  He turned to face the crowd.  “She’s known about it this whole time!” Arvil yelled.  “She’s let innocent Samarians die under the hand of Olger Guttensen.  She favors the Nomans over her own people!”

“That’s a lie!” Evangeline yelled back.  “I would never knowingly put my people in danger!”

“Not knowingly, maybe,” Arvil sneered.  “But you still knew what was going on and you continued to let it happen.  Which is worse?”

“I didn’t know it was the Nomans who raided!” Evangeline tried to defend herself.  By now the crowd was bubbling and hissing like boiling water in a cauldron.  Their unsure eyes darted between Evangeline, Arvil, and Leonardo, while others yelled out curses of outrage, both for the truth and the lies.

“You knew it was the Nomans who killed along the Samarian border.”  A small voice spoke up behind her.  “You knew, yet you sent soldiers up to Cliff’s Landing anyway.  Ill prepared soldiers who had no idea what they were up against.” 

Evangeline whipped around to see who was so boldly speaking out against her.  It was one of the soldiers who’d been in Brutus’s company when the General had returned from Sugarpine Pass.  The Queen had no idea who he was, but he had stepped out of the soldier formation to confront her.