The Crown of the Conqueror (21 page)

  "My queen," said Anglhan with an extravagant bow. Allenya laughed, surprising herself that she could.

  "Governor," Allenya replied with equal formality. She darted a look at Laasinia. "I am sure our guest would like food and wine."

  Laasinia departed with a silent bow, leaving Allenya alone with Anglhan. She waved him to a seat and took up station next to the fire, one arm resting on the mantel.

  "Is this visit social or business?" she asked.

  "A little of both," replied Anglhan, sinking down into the low couch with a grunt of effort. The chair creaked under his weight, which had continued to increase dramatically since she had last seen him. "First of all, I wished to check on the wellbeing of you and your family. Also, as I have heard nothing so I assume that Noran's condition remains unchanged?"

  "What I know of my family, they are doing well," Allenya replied. "I am sure you hear more from Urikh, Ullsaard and Jutaar than I do."

  "I doubt that," said Anglhan. "I am sure that you are far higher in their thoughts than I am, and certainly much deeper in their affections. I have come here to check that you have heard from Ullsaard; that he will be back in Magilnada in the next ten days."

  "He sent a letter telling me as much, yes," said Allenya. "Do you have any better idea of when he is due to arrive?"

  "The weather to duskwards remains changeable, but I have heard nothing of any serious storms or other conditions that might delay his return. I trust that you and Meliu will be joining us when I welcome him back to Magilnada with proper ceremony?"

  Allenya nodded. Laasinia came back at that moment, followed by two servants; one carried a tray with a pitcher of wine and crystal goblets, the other a platter of meats and cheese. These they laid on the table. Laasinia lingered for a moment, directing a look of inquiry at her mistress.

  "You may leave us for the moment," said Allenya. "Please prepare a bath for me."

  "I must confess to an ulterior motive to my visit, said Anglhan.

  "If you confess it, it is no longer ulterior," replied Allenya. She walked around the table and sat at the other side. She poured wine for the both of them as Anglhan heaved himself out of the couch and sat opposite. "Forgive my pedantry. Carry on with your confession."

  "One of my aides informed me yesterday that you have been making certain inquiries of the city merchants; inquiries that suggest to me that you are planning to leave Magilnada."

  "Your assumption is correct. I will be returning to Askh in the spring."

  "I see," said Anglhan. He frowned as he took a mouthful of wine. "I am disappointed to hear that. What of Meliu and Noran? Will they be travelling with you?"

  "I do not think so. The surgeons do not think it wise to move Noran in his condition, and Meliu is bound to stay here with him. Why such concern for our whereabouts?"

  "Let me be frank, Allenya. I see that being here is difficult for you, and perhaps Askh may offer greater comfort, familiarity and support. Forgive me if I speak out of place, but I do not think Ullsaard will be happy with your decision. I am sure he feels the distance between you already, and to return to Askh will only make him feel worse."

  "You are right; it is presumptuous of you to say such things. If Ullsaard wishes to discuss the matter with me, he will do so."

  "Forgive me again, but I do not think he will. We both know that he loves you deeply, and he would rather increase his own pain than impose more on you. He will agree to your departure because it is what you desire and will be all the more sorry for it."

  "I do not see how that is any concern of yours."

  "To be blunt, an unhappy Ullsaard makes my life more difficult. One of the benefits of the current situation is that his visits to Magilnada are tempered by your presence here. I am worried that his mood for this place will worsen if you are not here. He faces a challenging time; the Salphors will not give in easily. The king needs every support he can get, and no support is more important to him than yours. If you return to Askh, he will take it badly."

  Allenya twirled her goblet and watched the wine swirling inside, red reflected against the gold. Ullsaard had shared concerns over Anglhan's ultimate motives before he had left, and warned Allenya not to trust him. She knew she could not take what he was saying at face value, though he made a good point.

  "You are right, of course," she said. "It is important to Ullsaard that he knows he has people he can trust here. I will consider what you have said."

  Anglhan stood and gave a shallow bow.

  "We have entrusted our lives to your husband's endeavours. It is in both our interests to see that he succeeds. If there is anything I can do, any service or comfort I can provide to make your time in Magilnada an easier ordeal, just let me know. I am, of course, your servant as well as the king's."

  Allenya nodded but did not stand up.

  "I will see you again when Ullsaard returns," she said. "Thank you for visiting."

  When the governor had left, Allenya finished her wine. She had never thought she would miss Luia, especially her venomous attitude to Ullsaard and her flagrant disrespect, but at that moment she wished dearly that her sister was around. She had a mind for the sorts of games Anglhan was playing, while Allenya did not. She would be much better at keeping an eye on the governor.

  Sighing, Allenya left the table and headed towards the bath chambers. Luia was not here; she would have to do the best she could to look after Ullsaard's interests. If that meant staying in this dismal city, that would be the price.

 

A pealing horn signalled the turning of Dawnwatch. Jutaar stayed in his bed, eyes closed, enjoying the privilege of his rank. It would be another hour before he had to get up, but nearly ten years in the legions meant that he could never get to sleep again after that wakening call. Sometimes he even still caught himself stirring at the change of Gravewatch, finding himself halfway out of bed before realising that it was no longer his duty.

  Being First Captain was nothing like he had expected. He had been Third Captain for most of his life, a deputy leader to the bodyguard company of Governor Allon. He had been responsible for the kit and drill of one hundred-and-sixty men; the taskmaster that ordered the watch rotations; the oft-hidden force that ensured meals were on time, latrines were cleaned, foraging was undertaken, and patrols walked.

  He had imagined that being First Captain was more of the same, in charge of companies rather than men, overseeing the human machine that was an Askhan legion. The reality had been far easier, yet somehow more disconcerting. He realised now that a First Captain only had work to do when things went wrong; while the Second and Third Captains were performing the duties, there was nothing for Jutaar's attention. He oversaw the punishments, signed the stores manifests, checked the paymaster's sums, but little else. He received his orders from his father, and his only job was to tell his subordinates to move the camp where it was needed. His legion, the First Magilnadan, had not yet been involved in a battle.

  On this morning, he wondered at this inactivity. Both of the Magilnadan legions had been kept back in the Free Country. His father had explained that he wanted them fresh and ready if needed, but Jutaar was not convinced. He received news from the other legions and had heard that there had been setbacks. Some of the new legions, the ones raised earlier in the year by the nobles, had proven their inexperience, allowing themselves to be beaten by coalitions of Salphorian tribes. Surely, Jutaar reasoned to himself, an established commander like himself was better employed in the fighting, rather than overseeing a glorified garrison spread out over hundreds of miles of Free Country.

  Jutaar knew that the supply route between Salphoria and Askhor was vital, but there was no threat to defend against. The Salphorian tribes of the Free Country lowlands had soon sworn allegiance to his father; any other attacks would have to come around or through the main Askhan advance.

  As he did most mornings, Jutaar lay in his cot and wondered if today would be the day he received fresh orders; instructions to gather the legion together and march duskwards to join the proper campaign. It was a distant hope, but Jutaar knew that one day it would have to come true. As Ullsaard advanced, it was inevitable that the Magilnadans would have to move up into the space left behind to protect the rear. If Jutaar was lucky, there might even be a foolish Salphorian tribe or two to test his men against.

  These thoughts, cogitations that occupied him every morning, were interrupted by the stamp of the sentries outside his pavilion. He jumped out of his cot and threw on a shirt. Belting his kilt around his waist, he strode into the main section of the tent just as the door flap was pulled back and a grubby-looking Salphor entered.

  Jutaar knew Kubridias well, much to the First Captain's distaste. His bearskin furs stank and his poorly braided beard was always thick with dirt. The chieftain tucked his thumbs into his belt, his long and grubby fingernails fidgeting with the colourful wool weave of his trousers.

  "I greeting you, First Captain," said Kubridias, in strained Askhan that made Jutaar want to wince. However, despite his efforts, the prince had failed to grasp all but the basics of Nerghian, the language of the lowland tribes.

  Before Jutaar could reply, another man entered. He wore the red sash of a king's herald over his bronze breastplate. The First Captain's heart skipped a beat; the messenger's presence could only mean fresh orders.

  Ignoring Kubridias, Jutaar took the letter offered by the bowing herald.

  "Do you need to wait for a reply?" asked Jutaar as he pulled open the wax seal.

  "No, prince," said the herald. "No reply is expected."

  "Very well," said Jutaar, unfolding the parchment, eyes fixed on the revealed scrawl. "One of the sentries will guide you to the first company's mess."

  "Thank you, prince," the messenger said with another bow.

  Jutaar did not notice the man leave. He was intent on the letter he had brought. Reading slowly, he took in the usual platitudes and form that started all official orders. Other officers would have skipped over them, but Jutaar read every name and phrase, committing them to memory, keen not to miss any important detail. Eventually he came to the meat of the orders.

  He was, by order of the king the letter claimed, to move his headquarters fifty miles to duskwards, to a town called Arondunda. The name was familiar, but Jutaar could not place it until he caught the whiff of flatulence from Kubridias; Arondunda was the chieftain's capital.

  He read on, and then re-read to ensure he had understood everything. The First Magilnadan and Second Magilnadan legions were to join forces at Arondunda. They were to prepare a march camp and stand ready to launch an offensive campaign. It was, according to the letter, likely to be a temporary posting lasting only a few days before further instructions would be sent.

  This is it, Jutaar thought. This is when we get involved in the conquest. He smiled to himself and read the letter again.

  "You come with me, eh?" Kubridias said with a grin, spoiling the moment. "You see how good my town be."

  "You know about my orders?" replied Jutaar, eyeing the chieftain suspiciously. "How could you know?"

  "I get letter from big man in Magilnada," said the chieftain. "He tell me come here. Show you way to Arondunda."

  "Governor Anglhan sent you?"

  "That the one." Kubridias looked perplexed, as if Jutaar has overlooked something obvious.

  The First Captain looked the chieftain up and down, and wondered what to do with him. Jutaar knew exactly where Arondunda was, he had no need of this ignorant Salphorian to show him the way.

  "Get someone to take you to Second Captain Allas. He will look after you."

  "No, not look after me," said Kubridias, shaking his head, the beads in his beard cracking together and slapping against his chest. "Anglhan say I stay with you. You prince, yes? I look after you."

  "I do not need you to look after me," snapped Jutaar. Kubridias's frown deepened. Jutaar held up a hand in apology. "I have a whole legion to look after me."

  "Yes, big man say that," said Kubridias. "But not good here. Some tribes, not like you. I make them happy, yes? Got gold."

  "You have gold?" said Jutaar, unsure where the conversation was heading. "Why do you have gold?"

  "Pay chieftains, yes? Some chieftains not like me. They stupid. Chieftains not want gold from king, get spear in arse from you!"

  Realisation slowly seeped into Jutaar's brain. It seemed a waste of money to bribe the Salphors when the legions could just as easily force them into line. Jutaar shrugged to himself; it was not his place to doubt his father's plans.

  "Yes," Jutaar said with a sigh. "I will have a sharp spear ready, in case the other chieftains are not as smart as you."

 

The sun was still burning off the morning haze that surrounded the camp. It was a little past the third hour of Dawnwatch and the legionnaires had already dismantled a third of the camp in preparation for the day's march. According to the maps – and the unasked-for testimony of Kubridias – they would come to Arundonda late in the coming afternoon.

  Most of the tents had been packed away already, the forges and kitchen fires quenched, the abadas harnessed to their carts and the kolubrid riders sent out on patrol. Everything was happening smoothly and quietly, a source of pride to the legion commander as he walked through the dwindling camp with his senior Second Captains; Luusin, Bariilin, Kasod and Daariun.