The Crown of the Conqueror (18 page)

  Feet dragging through the rotting straw, Aegenuis lurched to his ceremonial seat at the head of the table. With a lunge, he flung himself into the furs, dangling one arm over the back. His head pounded.

  Or perhaps it was thunder.

  The king looked up as light spilled through the door at the far end of the hall. Four men entered, their hair and fur cloaks soaked through, leaving trails of drips on the dirt floor. Aegenuis squinted against the sudden light.

  "It's morning?" he said.

  "Yes, king," said the first man. Aegenuis did not recognise him. Looking at the others, he realised he did not know any of them.

  "Who are you? Why do you come into my hall without permission?"

  "We were knocking, king, but you gave us no answer," said the man. "My name is Furlthia. I am here to help you."

  Aegenuis laughed.

  "Perhaps the four of you are from the spirits, eh? Men of the crow and the tree and the wind? You'll be stopping Ullsaard's armies on your own, then?"

  Furlthia looked at his companions and then back at the king.

  "We should come back later, when you are sober," he said.

  "No, no, stay," said Aegenuis. He heaved himself from his throne and waved them to the benches alongside the great table. "Be welcome in my hall. I've seen nobody but maids for many days. Do you want to be a chieftain, Furlthia? Is that it? It's not worth it. I'll make you one anyway, if you like. Why not? The Askhans can kill you as a chieftain just the same."

  "I don't want to be a chieftain, my king," said Furlthia. While the other men sat down, he approached Aegenuis and laid a hand on his arm, guiding him back to his chair. "I don't want to be an Askhan, either. That's why we're here."

  "The others all ran away, left me," said Aegenuis.

  "They were idiots, king," said Furlthia. "You are right. The peoples must unite if they are to turn back Ullsaard and his legions."

  "Can't be done," said the king. "Too late, even if it could. Half the tribes are dead, the rest are scattered."

  "That is true," said Furlthia. He took two cups from the table and dipped them into a water butt set on the opposite side of the hall from the fire pit. He handed one to Aegenuis and drank from the other. "But Ullsaard cannot beat the winter. He has only reached as far as the Daruin Hills and the weather turns on him. He will stop where he is and tighten his grip on the lands he holds already."

  "And we'll never take them back," said Aegenuis with a shake of the head. "Winter will be harsher on Salphors than Askhans. Our stores are gone; the tribes are foraging and hunting in the woods and hills. They will starve, and come the spring Ullsaard will sweep away those poor few that survive."

  "This is pointless," snapped one of Furlthia's group, an aging man with soft features and hard eyes. "He's drunk, and worse, he's given up!"

  "Never!" roared Aegenuis, pushing himself from his chair, hurling the cup of water to the ground. The king stopped, swayed for a moment and then broke into laughter as he collapsed back into the throne. "I'll just march off to see Ullsaard now. Maybe he'll stop if I ask him nicely."

  "Maybe he'll stop if you give him a reason to," said Furlthia. He looked around the hall, seeing the mess on the floor, the dirt in the fire pit, the squalor. "Go to your chambers, king. Sleep and don't drink. We will see you tonight, and you will hear things that will make you a lot happier."

  Aegenuis eyed the group dubiously and snorted.

  "You? You miserable lot are going to give me something all the chieftains and all their armies can't?"

  Furlthia nodded and waved for the group to leave. The king watched them file out of the door. The door closed, plunging the hall into the gloom of lamplight. Aegenuis looked around. He smelt the burning fat of the candles, the smoke of the fire, the shit of the dogs. He could smell himself as well, stinking of piss and vomit and grease and sweat. It was all a mess. Not just the hall, everything.

  He recalled Furlthia's words, like a shadow in a fog. The man had seemed very sure of himself.

  Throwing off his matted coat of furs, Aegenuis pushed himself to his feet and staggered over to the water barrel. He took a breath and plunged his head into the cold water. Rearing up with a gasp, droplets spraying from hair and beard, the king stepped back. Head clearing, he was intrigued by the visit.

  Someone had mentioned sleep. Nodding to himself, Aegenuis headed for the doors, one hand on the table to keep himself upright. Yes, sleep seemed a good idea.

 

A hand gently caressed Aegenuis's cheek, rousing him from doze to full wakefulness. It was dark outside the narrow window of his bedchamber. His eyes moved to the woman cupping his face. It was Aleoin, one of his daughters. She sat on one side of the bed, dressed in a heavy woollen gown, a shawl around her shoulders. Aleoin had her mother's green eyes and her father's dark hair. She also had much of her father's broad build, and his flat nose, which was another factor on a considerable list of reasons why she had not yet found a husband. Her saving grace was her royal status, which ensured a line of desperate if not entirely desirable chieftains who wished to court her.

  "Hello," said the king, sitting up. "Why are you here?"

  "I heard you telling mother that you had to be woken at dusk," said Aleoin. "It seemed very important at the time."

  "So why isn't she here to do the job?" the king asked. He pushed aside his blankets and swung his feet to the floor. The tiles were cold on his soles. Looking down at himself Aegenuis realised he was naked.

  "I undressed you as well," said Aleoin. "The servants are too scared of you at the moment."

  "Where's your mother?" Aegenuis found a washed shirt and trousers on a stool beside the bed.

  "She doesn't want to see you."

  "How so?"

  "You don't remember?" asked Aleoin as she helped her father belt his shirt around his waist. "You beat her, two days ago. Broke her jaw."

  "Oh." Aegenuis sat down on the bed to pull on his boots. "I was drunk. I'm sure there was a reason."

  "You accused her of sleeping with another man, to give birth to a bastard like Medorian. You've been drunk for a long time. Half the people in Carantathi have left to follow the chieftains. Nobody calls you the king anymore."

  Aegenuis detected more hurt in this remark than could be justified by what she was saying. He looked more closely at Aleoin and saw yellow bruising on her throat. There were scratches on her arms as well.

  "What happened to you?" he demanded.

  "Nothing important," said Aleoin, taking a step toward the door. Aegenuis grabbed her wrist and turned her back. He said nothing, but his intense stare repeated the question. "Last night, some men came for me on the way back from the market. They beat Cassuli and raped me. One of them said his seed would make a stronger king than any son of yours."

  Aegenuis's first instinct was to demand to know who had done such a thing, but he stopped. What would be the point, he asked himself. By the sound of things, nobody in Carantathi, probably all of Salphoria, considered him king any more.

  He corrected himself. The man who had come to him that morning, Furlthia; he had called Aegenuis 'king' and promised something that would stop Ullsaard and his Askhan dogs. Aegenuis could not remember exactly what had been said.

  "I have to go to the long hall," he muttered. "Not sure why. Something about Ullsaard."

  "You should eat first," said Aleoin.

  "Later. You should find yourself a priestess of the dove; make sure you haven't been left with something by those bastards."

  "I will, father." Aleoin looked uncomfortable. "It might not be Ullsaard that we have to worry about. If Medorian can get the chieftains to support him, he'll have you killed, maybe all of us."

  "Medorian's a fool if he thinks he can get the chieftains on his side at the moment," said Aegenuis. He cast about the room for his cloak but could not see it. Opening the door, he turned back to Aleoin. "Never mind the Askhans; it's the chieftains that are the worst enemies of Salphoria."

  Aegenuis left the house without looking for his wife or other daughters. Whatever he had done to them – and he could not remember any of it – his actions would take more than a swift apology to fix. He needed some air, now that his head was clearer than it had been for longer than he could recall.

  Outside was cold. It was always chill in Carantathi, even at the height of summer. Perched atop a mount at the coldwards tip of the Ualnian Mountains, the Salphorian capital was constantly swept with wind and rain, the bare stone leeching away any warmth from the day while trapping the cold of night. There was cloud overhead, blotting out the stars and moons, draping the settlement with gloom.

  Fires burned further down the hill and windows glowed with light, but there were dark patches where whole neighbourhoods had left with their ancestral leaders. There were even gaps in the areas where his own people, the Laeghoi, made their homes. Looking even further, the king could see warriors still patrolling the stone walls, passing through the glow of torches as they walked their rounds in small groups. At least someone still wanted to protect the city. The other houses arranged in a ring around the long hall stood empty. Looking down the spiralling street, no lights burned and no smoke drifted from chimney holes. Every other chieftain had left.

  Looking across the street to the great hall right on the summit, Aegenuis could see that the doors were open and bright firelight flickered within. Shadows moved across the glow and he could hear loud chatter over the quietness of the rest of Carantathi. Curious, he hurried through the mud and up the wooden steps.

  Within, the four men who had visited him earlier were sat at the table, eating and drinking. Platters of meat, loaves of bread and bowls of vegetables were laid out as if for a banquet. A few men and women were working at the fire pit, tending to half a roast pig and the great cauldron hanging over the flames.

  Aegenuis recognised Furlthia, sitting to the right of the throne, where the king's heir would normally sit. All four of the men looked up as Aegenuis entered.

  "So you think you can…" Aegenuis's rebuke died away as he saw the state of the hall. The dogs crunched fresh bones in the newly laid straw. The great chimney had been scrubbed; Aegenuis's embroidered banner had been strung between two poles behind the throne; the benches and table had been scoured clean and the gilded plates and cups gleamed in the light of a hundred fresh lamps.

  The men stood together, the benches scraping across the floor. Furlthia raised his cup and the others followed.

  "King Aegenuis!" Furlthia announced. "The blessings of the spirits upon this hall and its master."

  Frowning with suspicion, Aegenuis stalked along the hall and sat in his throne, eyes never leaving Furlthia. The man passed a cup to the king with a short bow. Aegenuis sniffed the red liquid within, smelling rich fruit.

  "Wine?" he said.

  "Askhan wine, king," Furlthia replied with a sly smile. "From grapes that were grown in Ullsaard's own vineyards."

  Aegenuis had to laugh. He took a mouthful of the wine and swilled it around his mouth before swallowing.

  "It's good," said the king. "I must remember to congratulate that cat-fucker when he gets here."

  "He won't get here," said one of the other men.

  Aegenuis had not paid much attention to the man that morning. He was dressed in a hooded robe, much like the ones worn by some of the hermits that had dedicated their lives to the worship of one spirit or another. The cloth was a flawless black and hung from bony shoulders. The hood was drawn back, showing a face with high cheeks and a narrow nose; typically Askhan features.

  The king balanced the cup on the arm of the throne, noticing as he did so that the grime had been cleaned from the deep grain of the wood and his lion's pelt cloak had also been freed from the muck and grime of drunken tumbles. He leaned towards his self-invited guests, hands in his lap.

  "Tell me all your names," he said.

  "I am Furlthia, as you know. The elderly man next to me is Serbicuis, a chieftain from the Altes hills. My companion in the robe is Leraates; an Askhan, as you have guessed. The last of us is Kubridias, until recently of Magilnada."

  This last name Aegenuis actually recognised, though he could not recall the man. He was one of the chieftains of the Free Country; or had been, until Ullsaard had started his invasion.

  A serf appeared at Aegenuis's shoulder, a bowl of chicken stew in hand. With a glance at Furlthia, he set the meal down before Aegenuis, brought a platter of bread closer and quickly retreated to a place next to the fire pit.

  "You run my hall better than me," said the king. "Think that you might run my lands better as well?"

  "Not at all," said Leraates. "It is because we want you to stay king, and Ullsaard to leave your lands, that we are here."

  "Go on," said Aegenuis, waving a spoon at the Askhan, mouth full of chicken.

  "Ullsaard does not have total support within Greater Askhor. His attack on Salphoria is against the wishes of many. We would rather the agreement of King Lutaar was maintained."

  "I'm not the one that broke the treaty," said Aegenuis, dunking a fistful of bread into his stew. "You can take that up with your oath-breaking king."

  "We plan to do better than that," said Leraates. He pushed his plate to one side and leaned his elbows on the table. "When Ullsaard is defeated in Salphoria, we will restore the true line of the Blood to its proper place."

  "You have Kalmud somewhere, do you? Or maybe Erlaan."

  Leraates was taken aback.

  "Don't mistake a drunkard for an idiot," growled Aegenuis. "And I'm not drunk at the moment. Carry on."