The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (19 page)

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“Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.” Anaxantis tried to sound indignant,

but the sight of Hemarchidas almost falling from his horse, shaking

with laughter, made that difficult.

Soon the both of them were bellowing with mirth.

“So, the pages are singing that behind your back?” Hemarchidas

asked when his laughing fit had finally subsided. “You know, even a

ribald song like this means that they like you. What was it? I’d give

my body and soul? They must like you very much indeed.”

Again he erupted in laughter.

“Hm, I suspect that the little liar was actually composing it while

on duty.”

“So, who was it? Rivrant? Yondar? Please don’t tell me it was

Iramid who forced the captain’s barrack. I don’t think I could stomach

that.”

“Iramid? Nah, he’s a bit too polished. Nice to look at though.

There would be all kinds of complications, what with his father being

a general in the army… But, what am I saying? Nobody. Nobody at all.

I’m not tempted in the least.”

“Easy for you to say,” Hemarchidas replied, suddenly serious.

Anaxantis looked at his friend.

“You mean because I have this easy, perfectly regular, normal

relation with my half brother? It has its minor drawbacks, you know,”

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he said quietly.

“Yes. I know. Sorry about that,” Hemarchidas said.

They rode on silently, taking in the landscape.

“Sometimes I wonder if those beautiful eyes in your head are

even connected to your brain,” Anaxantis eventually said.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, have you looked around? Not too far. Not into the

distant future. But close by and now.”

“Huh?”

“By the Gods, do I have to spell it out? Really? Didn’t you notice

a certain someone who worships the ground you walk on? Who

blesses every moment he is allowed to sit in your shadow? Who

would gladly lay down his life for you? Who moved heaven and earth,

just to be with you?”

“You can’t possibly mean who I think you mean.”

“Yes, I can and I do.” Anaxantis smiled. “It was crystal clear

from the beginning. From the very beginning. Remember how he

countered all my arguments? And yours?”

“But, that was to save his grandmother. It had nothing at all—”

“Yes it had. Yes, he wanted to save Athildis. He also wanted to get

away from under her all too protective, smothering wings. And then

he saw you and that strange glint in his right eye lighted up. From

that moment I knew that wild horses, even Cheridonian fourbloods,

couldn’t keep him away from you.”

“So at the spur of the moment you decided to play match maker

and you humored him?”

Anaxantis snickered.

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“When you say it like that, it sounds almost like a bad thing. I

merely agreed with His Grace that he was just the right person to

polish your boots.”

“His Grace. Right. He’s a duke. I’m — what did Athildis call me?

— a horse breeder.”

“So what? I’m a prince and I count myself lucky to have you for a

friend.”

“Still. You are different.”

“How so? I’ll create you duke, if that is what it takes.”

“Which would mean something if you were the reigning monarch,”

Hemarchidas scoffed.

“Oh, I think I could find ways to persuade father to do the honors.”

Anaxantis winked.

“You know very well that I have not the slightest ambition in that

direction. Besides, even then… I’d still be this pretentious upstart,

a parvenu. He, he has this enormous family tree with all those

forefathers.”

“Yes, that he has. He has a lot of forefathers. You, you are a

forefather.”

“Duke Arranulf LVI or something. Enough said.”

“Duke Arranulf XIV. Don’t exaggerate. And I have it on good

authority that he answers to Nulfie as well.”

“Nulfie? You’re kidding. Where did you get that? Your good

authority wouldn’t happen to be that weird kid, would it?”

“The weird kid, yes,” Anaxantis admitted with a sigh.

“Anyway, who says I’m interested in him?”

“You could do worse, my friend, a lot worse than falling for His

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Grace, the duke of Landemere.”

“Like falling for me. And why do I have that gnawing feeling that I

will regret driving you into someone else’s arms for the rest of my life?”

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“That was all quite interesting,” Baron Gerrubald of Damydas

said as he lay a stack of parchments onto the big table in the work

room of the high king.

“What do you think, Gerri?” Tenaxos asked in a neutral voice.

“A lot of things. Where to start? For one, it’s obvious that our

good friend Dem is out of his depth. Every word in every report of

his is steeped in doubt and uncertainty. Why did you send him of all

people?”

“Of all people? As if I had a few dozen to choose from,” the king

replied in a bitter tone. “I needed someone I could trust absolutely

and who would follow my orders to the letter. I was lucky to get him.

Did you know I had quite some difficulty to fill the commissions of

general in the Army of the North? None of my first grade people

would have anything to do with it. Not only did I have to promote

some second rate people, for lack of a better solution, the one who

filled the last open commission is a total non-entity.”

“I see. But old Dem isn’t exactly known for his ability to think on

his feet. Loyal as a dog, I’ll give him that, and about as intelligent.”

The king sighed.

“At the time it didn’t seem all that important. Ehandar and

Anaxantis were seventeen and sixteen. They had no experience

whatsoever and the younger was a sickly boy.”

“Some recovery he made, then.”

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“You can say that again. Anyway, I suppose I wanted them as far

away from the southern border as I could get them. Out of danger in

case war should break out.”

“Ah, I see. You kept an heir and a spare with you and you tucked

two additional spares safely away, in case things turned ugly.”

“Precisely. I also wanted this to be a learning experience for them.

As I said, at the time it looked fairly routine. I gave them nominal

command, gave Dem a superior, though secret, authority, threw a

toy army into the bargain, and sent them on their merry way. I fully

expected them to listen to Dem’s advice, damn it. I hoped to learn

what mettle they were made of, but that was about it.”

“And now you’re in deep shit.” Gerrubald of Damydas grinned.

“So you decided to deprive my grandsons of their daily fishing trips

with their dear, old grandfather.”

Like Demrac Tarngord, Gerrubald, Baron Damydas, was an old,

intimate friend of the high king. He had fought with them in the

war against Berimar IV. They had stood side by side in the Battle of

the Karmenian Hill. The outcome of the battle had resulted in the

replacement of the House of Chaldarina by the House of Tanahkos.

Later he had been one of the architects of the palace revolution

that had made Portonas III into a puppet monarch and the then

prince Tenaxos into the real ruler of Ximerion. He had single handedly

reformed the Black Shields into the highly efficient mixture of secret

service and intervention force that stood at the unconditional

disposal of the high king. Twice he had served as autarch. Five years

ago he had retired to his estates.

He had been surprised, and a little bit worried, when he received

Tenaxos’s urgent request for advice and assistance. Even from the

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obscurely worded message he gathered that a lot was at stake, and he

had promptly made the necessary arrangements to depart forthwith

for Fort Nira in the south.

Tenaxos had put him up in lavish apartments where he had spent

his first night reading and mulling over all the reports that had come

from the Northern Marches.

He made the royal wine cellar about six flasks the poorer in the

process.

“Things didn’t go exactly as they should have,” Tenaxos admitted.

“At first I thought Ehandar had done exactly what I expected him to

do. Everything pointed to him having eliminated his younger brother,

probably even having killed him.”

“And of course, being a Tanahkos, you let him have his way.”

“Yes, I did. Damn it. How else was I supposed to assess what

they are made off? Experience, knowledge, generalship… they are

nothing. They come with time, or they can be learned. They can be

bought even, if necessary. But leadership and strength of character,

cunning, fortitude, and equanimity under duress… those qualities

can’t be learned. I had to know, Gerri, don’t you see? I had to know.

As it turned out I was wise and justified to do what I did.”

The baron arched his brows.

“During the last year I’ve had occasion to observe my two

oldest sons. Tenaxos I can’t completely fathom and that worries me.

Portonas is a blockhead, a stupid, cruel, and vicious fool. May the

Gods prevent that Ximerion should ever suffer the rule of Portonas

IV. Which means, my friend, that I have an heir, maybe, and a deeply

flawed spare. So deeply flawed in fact as to be utterly useless.

Meanwhile in the north the roles were somehow reversed. Don’t ask

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me how, because I don’t know. The result is the same. One of my

younger sons has done the Gods may know what to the other.”

“Not to mention that he is bringing the kingdom to the edge of

perdition.”

“There is that, yes. You can understand why I felt I needed you

here.”

“Yes, I can. You fucked the devil in the ass and now your dick is

covered in his shit. And you want me to lick it clean.”

“Ah, damn it, Gerri, do you have to be so crass?”

“But I’m right all the same, am I not?”

“Of course you’re right.”

“Enlighten me. Why didn’t you take Anaxantis into your

confidence? You could have called him here, instead of me, and

explained things.”

The high king’s face contorted, he grabbed a bejeweled cup from

the table, flung it against the wall, and banged both his fists on the

table.

“Because I want him to obey me,” he shouted, beside himself

with anger. “Because I am the high king and he is my subject, prince

of the royal blood or not, and like any subject he will damn well do

as I damn well say. Because he is my son and I am his father and I am

still master in my own house. Because I will not explain myself to a

seventeen year old boy. You hear me? I will not. I will not. I will not.”

Gerrubald had looked impassively at the outburst.

“Equanimity under duress, did you say? My poor old friend.”

The high king took a deep breath.

“There are other reasons as well,” he said, regaining his calm,

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“but they’re not important.”

“That seventeen year old boy, as you call him, pissed all over

Athildis.”

“And a dangerous thing to do it was too,” Tenaxos bit at him. “Not

ten years ago and I would have had a full-fledged rebellion on my

hands.”

“No, you bloody fool. If that had been in the cards your boy would

have killed her. There would never have been a rebellion, can’t you see

that? For that matter, neither would there be a House of Landemere

anymore. That’s what I gather from the reports. He uses force when

necessary. Just enough force. Whatever the occasion demands. He

doesn’t seem to care if that amounts to a slight slap on the wrist, or

a deadly blow in the neck.”

As a snake leaping up out of the grass, the king turned to the

baron.

“You’re defending him now? Whose side are you on anyway?” he

roared.

The baron shook his head smilingly.