In Service Of The King (Book 2) (16 page)

“This is my trade, good sir!” he sputtered. “I know gems like I know my own hands.” Nodding slowly, Hezekiah looked once more into the crowds below. Gazetto pointed out two priests, another Senator and, last of all, the Countess Beckenridge.

“She had the largest of all the stones,” Gazeto said, firmly. “It was as big as a duck egg and finely cut, too... but it did not fool me.” Pondering this last information a few moments, Hezekiah clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“You have done well, brother,” the Marshal said, re-affixing his hat. “Be on the lookout for more. I will pass on the information.”

Smiling, Gazeto lifted his tray again in salute.

JOSEPH RODE Belator though his own gate, past the myriad of parked carriages

Even though he expected guests, he felt amazed at the number of carriage cramming his drive. At the entry of his home, he spied Dunner and Reeves--seated to one side of the doors--enjoying a late meal on platters. Seeing no-one nearby Dunner grinned at him and lifted a hand in greeting. Giving Belator’s reins to a servant Joseph ascended the stair, stepping aside to talk with the men.

“I see you managed to wash the soot off ya, lad,” Dunner said, merrily. “You look right proper.” Good food and wine had softened the aging sailor’s gruff manner a bit. Smiling, Joseph glanced around, making certain they were not overheard. He wore new, well-made clothing though they were by no means rich; the young man looked perhaps a successful tradesman in his Sunday best.

“Has Gazeto seen anything?” he asked, quietly. Dunner looked toward the door.

“I spied Hezekiah some minutes ago, hovering by the door as if he wished to see you,” the aged sailor said, lighting his pipe. “He be up on the second balcony. I’ve my men stationed on the second floor, so that none get through.”

Nodding Joseph clapped him on the back and moved inside. Hezekiah stood much where Gazeto had left him. Hearing footfalls, the Marshal turned, and smiled.

“Lord Asher,” the tall man greeted. “I see you’ve elevated your appearance from peasant, to merchant.” Joseph snorted though his eyes belied amusement.

“What news?” he asked, his eyes wandering over the crowd below. Hezekiah related to him Gazeto’s observances. They spoke in hushed tones for some minutes.

“I left Tyrus in my study earlier, writing orders,” Joseph said. A feeling of elation coursed through him; they’d attained some of the pivotal information already it was a good sign that the weeks of work had not been in vain. He was certain Tyrus would be pleased. “I shall go, and inform him of Gazeto’s findings,” he continued.

Hezekiah cleared his throat.

“Once our esteemed captain is informed, there is another matter you may wish to address,” the Marshal said, smiling. He pointed down, towards the far wall of the ballroom; looking where the Marshal directed, Joseph saw a familiar young woman in a green gown, sitting on a chair against the wall. She looked quite alone; her face appeared expressionless. Joseph gave Hezekiah a nod and hurried to the stair.

Smiling to himself, Hezekiah watched Joseph thread his way through the crowd below over to Elizabeth; the young woman gave her fiancé a look of relief and a smile. The sight of it made the battle-weary soldier smile a little, to himself.

“It has been some time since I attended a ball.” A calm voice spoke nearby. Turning, Hezekiah beheld Tyrus standing in the balcony doorway, looking quite different than in his usual Shamar cloak. The tall, gray-eyed man looked almost regal in the attire of his title; as cousin to the king, Tyrus was indeed royalty, though few knew of his position in the Shamar.

“Duke Chalamysh,” Hezekiah said, bowing a little. “We share that happy attribute.”

Stepping inside the darkened balcony room, Tyrus nodded back at the Marshal at his side. Looking out over the crowd the gray-eyed man spied Joseph, waltzing below with a pretty young woman; the young man appeared to be pleased to be so occupied.

“I am reminded of the first time I danced with my wife,” Tyrus said, unexpectedly. “It was one of the few times I actually enjoyed myself at a ball. That… and my daughters’ weddings.” Hezekiah nodded at this.

“I too, met my wife at a ball,” he mused, aloud. “She ate some poorly-cooked fowl, which unsettled her stomach, and she vomited all over my new boots.” At this, Tyrus looked over at the Marshal.

“How unfortunate,” he said, evenly.

“It was,” Hezekiah continued, “She has never recovered from being full of sickness.” Tyrus cleared his throat, looking out over the crowd below once more.

“Well, let us go down; there are a few people present that I wish to know better.”

Once they gained the entry hall, Tyrus nodded at his servants; one of them immediately went forth and spoke quietly with Harold as he stood in the ballroom doorway. Turning around, Harold took up the bell once more and struck it; the clear sound rang above the heads of the crowd and stillness descended upon the entire room.

“His royal highness, Hatyrus Chalamysh, Duke of Kyrios,” Harold announced, with reverence. “His highness has come to act as host tonight, at the request of my master the Lord of the Stone Mountain, whom has been called away on urgent business for the King.”

All eyes moved to the door as two richly dressed attendants appeared and moved away to stand by either side of the doorway. Tyrus emerged, his face calm as ever, his hands clasped behind his back; as he passed by guests bowed and curtsied to him. Behind Tyrus strode Hezekiah, his plumed cap on his arm. Tyrus’ attendants followed, carrying a jeweled flask of wine along with a silver platter bearing an ornate goblet.

A respectful hush and muted whispers sounded as Tyrus made his way around the ballroom; he did not speak to anyone but gave a brief nod now and then.

“A duke?” Mrs. Hays whispered, her eyes round. “I had not heard a duke would be attending.” The Countess Beckenridge seemed just as surprised as she.

“He is cousin to the King,” the lady said, leaning a little towards the general’s wife. “His family wealth comes from the stone trade; he owns many flint and marble quarries. Little else in known of him but it is rare indeed to see him at any social gathering! He must be great friends with the Lord of the Stone Mountain that he would agree to act as host for him. The Duke is a widower; he lost his wife three years ago, just after their last daughter married; a tragedy… she was a lovely woman.”

Mrs. Hays perked up at this information.

“Indeed? How sad... does he plan to re-marry?” she inquired, looking around for Elizabeth. She did not succeded in spying her daughter, the room was so full of guests. The countess looked at the woman by her side condescendingly, giving a soft snort of disapproval. Mrs. Hays took a cue from her and remained quiet.

The Count Beckenridge came to his wife’s side, watching as the crowd parted for the Duke.

“He is making to way to the fireplace,” the nobleman told his wife, keeping his voice low. “Let us go and pay our respects.” The countess nodded eagerly, lifting her chin as she took her husband’s arm. Mrs. Hays trailed along after them; as she passed her husband, she tugged sharply on the General’s arm. Seeing her object,General Hays came along, his back straightened tolerably well.

Tyrus stood by the fireplace, conversing quietly with Hezekiah. Awe and fear kept the other guests at a respectful distance. Only the Duke’s silent attendants stood nearby. Seeing a fine couple approach Tyrus paused speaking to the Marshal and let his gray gaze rest upon the Count and Countess Beckenridge. The man and his wife bowed deeply before the Duke, smiles wide and eyes aglitter. Here was real nobility and wealth, far beyond that of their own sphere.

“Pardon our intrusion, my lord,” the Count Beckenridge said, bowing a second time. “It has been too long since you bestowed your great presence upon us, your humble servants.” Tyrus regarded them in silence for a moment, then turned and accepted his bejeweled goblet from his attendant. The count and his wife appeared to be holding their breath, waiting for some acknowledgment from him.

“I thank you, for your kind words, Count Beckenridge,” he said, at last. The count and countess moved forward a step, visibly relieved at being recognized; Beckenridge nodded at Hezekiah, whom did not return the gesture. Mrs. Hays and the General stood a little ways off, uncertain of what to do. Tyrus’ gaze flickered to them a moment, then looked away. Leaning one arm on the white marble mantle-piece, Tyrus addressed the count one more.

“How goes the fine gold-smithing trade, Beckenridge?” the Duke asked, his countenance stoic. The count did not step forward; the nearness of Hezekiah’s severe figure did not allow him to do so comfortably.

“It is not very well, my Lord,” the man replied, adopting an air of importance. “The price and quality of Kingdom gold continues to drop. It has been some years since I turned my merchants to gemstones. I have recently entered into a contract with Bishop Sytel to supply all the province cathedrals with what jewels they require.” Tyrus nodded at this, but said nothing. Beckenridge pressed onward. “As I understand, my lord... the good Bishop attended Academy with you.” A nod from the duke confirmed this and effectively silenced the subject.

Taking a drink of his wine, Tyrus let his gaze fall upon the countess’ necklace.

“One can always weigh a nobleman’s wealth by the gifts he gives his wife,” he stated. “That is an enormous ruby.” The countess curtsied at this, smiling.

“Those stones are indeed rare,” the count put in, nodding. “Part of a special collection of my own.”

“Indeed,” Tyrus returned. “That hue is quite unique. I find myself interested in purchasing some, myself. Have your chief merchant contact my steward on the matter.” The count bowed again, twice.

Looking over at the General and Mrs. Hays, the duke let an attendant fill his goblet. “And, what are the names of your acquaintances?” he inquired of the Count and Countess. The couple turned slightly to look at the General and Mrs. Hays, hovering a few feet away. The long pause made a wave of nervousness wash over Mrs. Hays.

“My lord...” General Hays said. “Octavian Hays, chief steward of the Lord of the Stone Mountain.”

“It’s General Hays, actually...” his wife, put in, tittering nervously. All within earshot looked askance at the general’s wife. Tyrus raised an eyebrow at the General and his wife.

“My lord, please forgive this woman’s outburst...” the Countess Beckenridge said, giving Mrs. Hays a cold look. “They are hardly acquainted with noblemen of your caliber. In fact, their daughter is engaged to a local blacksmith...” The noblewoman related this information with no small amount of humor. “A peasant, as well… one by name of Joseph I believe, from the tiny village of Rishown.”

The Count Beckenridge jumped eagerly into the conversation.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “A disturbing report has reached us that this blacksmith vilely attacked the eldest son of the noble family Von Curtis.”

“Oh, my Lord...” Mrs. Hays blurted out. “It is not so. Our daughter is not engaged to any blacksmith. She is yet, unattached and if you...” General Hays looked at his wife in shock, and shook her arm a little.

Clearing his throat, Hezekiah spoke up, interrupting whatever Mrs. Hays was about to say.

“You are concerned with disturbing reports of blacksmiths, Count Beckenridge,” he stated, grimly; the man’s blue eyes were like stone as he put his hand to the hilt of his sword. “However, reports of noblemen dallying with the wives of other men do not seem to concern you at all...” The count took a step back, his face pale.

Tyrus reached over and put his hand on Hezekiah’s shoulder.

“I have heard the ill-begotten rumors that the family Von Curtis and others have spread,” Tyrus said, gravely. “I can assure you, that these rumors have no foundation in truth.” The Duke took one step forward. “Those whom conflagrate vicious lies risk losing their titles, even banishment.” Tyrus’ voice rose so that those nearby could hear this warning clearly.

Bowing low, the Count and Countess Beckenridge hastily withdrew from the Duke’s presence. General Hays guided his wife away from the scene as well.

Harold stepped through the crowd, bowing towards the Duke.

“Speak,” Tyrus said, nodding at the steward.

“My lord, the Bishop Ithycor has arrived.” Harold said, with respect. Tyrus nodded glancing at Hezekiah. The Marshal appeared calm again, at least for the moment.

OUTSIDE ON the grand balcony, Joseph and Elizabeth stood by the railing looking at the vast expanse of stars overhead. Other couples also strolled the large space, though far enough away to speak privately.

“I may have much work until summer,” Joseph told his fiancée. “I have to prepare my house for a wife.” Elizabeth smiled a little.

“I have seen your forge from the outside,” she said, smiling a little. “It is known that you keep it well. I will not be ashamed to live there with you.” At her words, Joseph smiled down at her with real pleasure.

A blue-uniformed guard walked up to Joseph, arresting his attention from Elizabeth; the newcomer spoke with him quietly for a moment. Standing a little to one side, Elizabeth could not hear what was being said. Joseph nodded at the man and turned back to his fiancée.

“I must go now,” he said; the tone of his voice was hard for Elizabeth to fathom. “I will be gone some months with work. I will write you in a week’s time, when I am able.”

“I will miss you,” Elizabeth admitted, feeling sadness well up in her.

“I will return in time for our wedding,” Joseph promised. Giving her a smile, Elizabeth let his arm go.

“This is the finest evening I have ever spent in anyone’s company,” she told him. Joseph smiled at her again; his brown eyes held an expression of heartfelt fondness. Moving slightly, he brought out a small, leather pouch from his tunic.

“I made this for you,” he said, in his deliberate way. “It will remind you of our promise while I am away.”

Elizabeth felt a slender, delicate ring drop into her hand. The gold appeared very plain, with no stone at all; she thought it was beautiful.

“I shall wear it,” she toldhim, returning his gaze. “And when my eye falls upon it, my thoughts will turn to you.” Joseph kissed her hand.