The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (32 page)

Despite there being no windows in the temple Tozaman knew when dawn was approaching and it was time for him to leave. It was as if the light changed in some way but he couldn’t have said if it was brighter or dimmer, only that it was different. He turned over to see if Nyte was asleep but she wasn’t. Instead she lay next to him, studying him with her pale green eyes and gently smiling. The blanket they shared had slipped down revealing the curve of her hips and the whiteness of her breasts, still bruised around the nipples where the two guards had misused her.

He leaned over and traced a line from the tip of her chin to the centre of her breasts and then kissed her, feeling his manhood rise in anticipation. It was no good, he had to go, however much he wanted to stay and fill her with his seed again. He was a brotherlord and he had his duties. Tozaman rolled over and stood, ignoring the look of disappointment on her face. As he dressed he could hear her moving behind him and just as he was finishing she put her arms around his waist, pressing her body against his and leaning her head against his back.

“Do you have to go?”

“Yes, I’m a brotherlord and I have my duties. I would be missed if I wasn’t there.” He eased her arms from around his waist and took a step forward so he could strap on his curved sword.

“Will you come back to me?”

Tozaman smiled but didn’t turn back to her in case he forgot all about duty. “How could I not?”

Still smiling he walked to the door which opened just enough to let him step through. The sun was just starting to light the sky and those houses which still stood tall glowed softly in its light. Elsewhere there were long shadows and the whisper of falling sand. Tozaman took a deep breath enjoying the coolness of dawn and ran lightly down the steps, the smile still on his face. He was still smiling when the four men grabbed him and forced him to his knees. One took his sword; two held his arms so that he couldn’t move and the other, the one with the thick, knotted cane stood behind him. Tallison, with Dravim beside him, stepped from between the two crumbling buildings, nodded at the man with the cane and the beating began.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Wrong Decision

It had seemed like a good idea when she’d told Malingar that she would go to King Vorgret and keep her promise to marry him. Now she wasn’t so sure. Malingar had told her that Vorgret didn’t have a good reputation and Lord Istan hadn’t been enthusiastic about the marriage agreement but surely they were mistaken? Vorgret was a legitimate king of the six kingdoms and therefore he had to be bound by the Goddess’s rules which governed a king’s actions. As soon as the thought came into her head she dismissed it as foolishness. King Sarrat had killed her father to take the throne and Borman, the king she was running from, was a murderer and a rapist. It seemed to her that something evil had swept across the six kingdoms and had broken the pact between those who ruled and Federa.

Tarraquin pulled the horse blanket tighter around her shoulders and wished she could put another log on the fire. She couldn’t though; the light might be seen and in the new Vinmore that would be dangerous. The new Vinmore! She wished they would bring back the old version. There a woman could ride through the countryside without being molested and a lone traveller could stop at any farm and brew house and be given ale, food and a bed for the night. The Goddess knows that was true, she’d done that every summer when she’d travelled from Leersland to Vinmore to attend the Princess Daun’s birth date celebrations.

Things were very different in the new Vinmore. The farms and the brew houses were either burnt to the ground or boarded up and she had already fought off two marauding men who thought she would be easy pickings. Thank the Goddess that she’d once been a rebel leader and had learnt to handle a sword and a knife better than most men. There had been others who she’d met on the road, mainly the dispossessed, and they had told her what had happened since Vorgret had become king of Vinmore. It wasn’t a pretty picture but she hoped that if she could become the King’s betrothed, then she might be able to use her influence to change things for the better.

Tomorrow she would reach Alewinder and would have to convince Vorgret that she was who she claimed to be and that he still wanted her for his wife despite her no longer being the queen. It wasn’t going to be easy. She’d given the royal seal of Tarbis, which Newn had entrusted to her, and most of her jewellery to Malingar, just keeping the pendant with Leersland’s crest engraved on the end. The only dress she had left, after leaving behind the remains of Tarbis’s camp, she’d given to Malingar as well and instead, she wore his spare set of clothes which were crumpled and grubby and far too big for her. What’s more she had managed to tear a hole in her leggings and two buttons were missing from her shirt. If she were one of Vorgret’s guards then she wouldn’t let her anywhere near the King.

That was the least of her problems though. If they were to marry quickly and consummate their marriage the same night and if the child she carried was born late and if it looked like her and not one of the three possible fathers, then she might get away with convincing him of his paternity. But there were just too many ‘ifs’. It would only take one of them not to turn out right for Vorgret to realise the child wasn’t his, which was likely to end up in incarceration for  them both or worse. No, that left too much to chance so she would have to tell him the truth. Only from what she had heard about Vorgret so far, that might end up in disaster as well.

Her choices were not good, but at least she was alive to have choices, unlike the man she had been going to marry who lay dead on the battlefield. It was the first time she had dared to think about him and the thought of what she’d lost finally opened the floodgate of her tears until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

When she awoke, the cold drizzle of the previous evening had gone and the early morning sun shone on her and warmed her through. It was strange how much more positive she felt with the sun shining. She took some time to straighten her clothes, brushing off the dried mud and pressing out the wrinkles with her hands as best she could. Sharman had given her a comb, although she wasn’t sure why an old man with a bald head would possess one.

After she had combed out all the tangles and knots and had her thick auburn hair flowing down her back she felt better. Finally she saddled her horse, a fine battle-trained animal which would have been too much to handle for most women, but not for the adopted daughter of Leersland’s High Lord and Horsemaster. Breakfast would have been good but all her provisions had gone. In any case she was too nervous to eat so she mounted and set off on the final part of her journey.

Alewinder had been a beautiful city with its tall spires and broad, open streets and she had loved it. Attending Daun’s parties had always been a chore but there had been compensations. Strolling through the city and stopping at a small square to investigate the goods on sale in a market, or visiting an inn and taking a pot of wine on an outside seat, watching people as they went by, had been more than adequate compensation. The Alewinder she rode through now was a different place. Of course the spires, broad streets and city squares were still there, but the wrong flags flew from the spires. Now the markets were empty and rowdy soldiers spilled out of inns and gathered in intimidating groups as the few people who had to be out hurried by on their business.

In all her visits to Alewinder she had never once been stopped at the city gates until today. Gone were the friendly city guards who were there to direct newcomers to the different parts of the city, or to advise them of the best inns and sleeping houses. In their place were armed guards who stopped and questioned everyone and extracted a toll in exchange for entry into the city. Whilst she waited for her turn to be questioned she had seen several families being turned away because they had nothing with which to pay the toll. One man had even been beaten and thrown into the moat because he dared to protest at having to pay to enter the city where he’d lived all his life.

Fortunately Malingar had given her a purse of coin so she was able to pay for her way in. It was an unpleasant experience though; the guards had leered at her and had made crude suggestions about what they could do if she climbed down from her horse and joined them for a pot of ale. One guard had gone as far as putting his hand on her thigh and would probably gone further if her battle-trained horse hadn’t bitten him in the buttock. In the confusion that followed she had ridden off towards the centre of the city and was now approaching the palace.

She had considered stopping at an inn and bathing before going to the palace. Alternatively she could have asked an innkeeper to take her horse in exchange for a room, a meal and the pot girl going out and buying her a dress. It soon became obvious though that the inns were full of soldiers and a dangerous place for a lone woman. What’s more, as not one single shop remained open or unlooted, the chances of purchasing a suitable dress would have been small indeed.

So instead she had decided to stick as close to the truth as she could hoping that Vorgret would be moved to compassion by the sad story she had to tell and would very quickly arrange for their marriage. When she pulled her horse to a halt outside the barred palace gates two guards hurried forward. One took hold of the horse’s bridle and smacked the horse hard on its nose when it tried to bite him. The other drew his sword and pointed it in her direction.

“What do you want here, lady? No one is permitted to approach the palace.”

Tarraquin did her best to look like a frightened woman seeking sanctuary, which wasn’t difficult. “Sir, I am Queen Tarraquin of Leersland and I have come here to seek the protection of the King of Essenland.”

The guard gave a loud bark of laughter. “And I’m the High Master of the Enclave taking a stroll in the King’s gardens. Now be on your way before I decide to put you astride something more exciting than a horse.”

Tarraquin sighed in frustration; this really wasn’t going as she had planned. “Guardsman, you will advise King Vorgret that his betrothed has ridden a long way in order to seal our agreement and to be his bride.”

For a moment the other guard scowled and looked worried. He’d heard a rumour once that the king was going to be married, but nothing had come of it, and why should it when the fat bastard could, and did, have any woman he wanted. However, if the rumour was true and he turned this one away there would be hellden to pay. Even if the rumour wasn’t true the King wouldn’t be pleased if he missed out on sampling someone as lovely as the woman in front of him.

The senior of the two guards must have had the same thought. “Madam, if you would dismount I’ll take you to the King’s steward who will consider your request.”

Tarraquin dismounted and patted the horse’s neck. She was reluctant to leave him with the guard in case she needed to leave in a hurry but she could hardly take the horse with her. She handed over the reins and followed the guard through the gate into the palace. He led her along several winding corridors until she was shown into the steward’s room where she repeated her request. The steward was only a little less cynical, particularly when he asked her for proof of identity which she couldn’t provide, but he too thought of the consequences of turning the lady away.

He quickly came to the conclusion that it was better to tell the King that she was here and let him decide what he wanted to do with her rather than throw her out. Hurrying her down a servants’ corridor he showed her into a small room, hardly larger than a cupboard, with two hard, upright chairs and a table where he left her. He locked the door behind him as if he thought she might run away with the palace silver.

It was several candle lengths before the door opened again. Tarraquin stood, ready to acknowledge the King, but instead the steward returned accompanied by two guards. These were huge men dressed in ancient battle armour and furs. They looked like something out of a child’s story of giants and dragons instead of the King’s personal guard, which she assumed they were. The steward waived her forward and the two guards took position on either side of her. They marched her away leaving the steward where he was shaking his head in disapproval.

Tarraquin recognised the royal apartments as soon as she turned the corner and started to walk down the long carpeted corridor with cream and gold doors on either side. She was a little disconcerted when they veered away from the reception rooms and climbed the stairs to where the sleeping rooms were located, but relaxed slightly when they stopped and one of the guards opened the door to a guest room and waited for her to enter.

“His Majesty has asked you to dress as befits what you are and then join him for dinner.”

Tarraquin raised her eyebrows at the strange address but the guard ignored her, closed the door and locked it behind him. She looked around the room and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It was one of the smaller guest rooms for a visitor who didn’t warrant a privy and a wash room of their own although it had been equipped with a bucket and a bowl of wash water.

The room didn’t qualify for a carpet either, just an old, threadbare rug which went well with the other basic furnishings. She crossed to the window to open the shutters to let some light in but they were firmly closed and she couldn’t find a latch with which to undo them. Instead she lit the other candles in the room from the one above the hearth, and slowly began to remove the grubby and torn clothing that Malingar had given her.

There wasn’t enough water to bathe fully but she did her best and by the time she’d finished she felt cleaner than she had done for days. Wandering over to the bed she frowned as she looked at the dress that had been laid out for her. She’d already looked for some small clothes and stockings, having washed her own, but the only garment in the room was the dress and some light slippers.