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“Oh, this must have been at least twenty years ago,” Muriel said at the end of a long story about a party she attended years before in Formacaster. It had been hosted by Flora Byrne, and Rohesia assumed the point was to try and convince everyone gathered for lunch that she and Flora were old, unshakably close friends. Rohesia had been at the party as well, and at the time, had also considered Flora a good friend.
She wondered if Muriel had been as surprised when Flora betrayed her as Rohesia had been when she had seen Flora’s banners fall in beside Broderick’s at the beginning of this civil war? Probably not. To have been surprised, Muriel would have needed to trust Flora, and Rohesia doubted very much that Muriel trusted anyone.
“Were you there, your grace?” Muriel asked Aldrick.
Aldrick had to put down his wineglass. His plate was still full of cold ham and peas, as his wine had occupied him most of the meal. “I’m not sure, your majesty. I might not have even been in Formacaster then.”
“You most certainly were,” Muriel said with a wink at him. She raised her own wineglass, but in toast to Rohesia. “You had been planning to leave, but your plans fell through.”
“May I get you more bread, your majesty?” Rachel offered, surely understanding Muriel’s reference and wanting to change the topic.
“No, thank you. That really was something you young people wouldn’t believe,” Muriel laughed and looked around the table at Rachel’s ladies and the knights of Aldrick’s retinue that had joined them. Some of the ladies were still trying to flatter the queen, in spite of all they had witnessed, and they gave her encouraging smiles.
Not that Muriel required encouragement. She would have continued on, no matter what. “Were you all aware that his grace and her majesty knew each other at Atherton? Knew each other quite well, in fact.”
Several young ladies gasped, and a few of the knights chuckled. Others appeared somewhat horrified that Muriel would find this acceptable lunch conversation. Considering Muriel had chatted with a bloody, tortured man at dinner on her first night, Rohesia felt showing surprise at such theatrics disingenuous. However, just as Muriel was about to launch into the story of Rohesia and Aldrick’s abortive elopement, a messenger was shown into the rotunda.
“What do you want?” Aldrick asked the man and then picked up his wineglass.
“I have a message for her majesty Queen Muriel Gramiren,” the man said. He was trim and good looking. Wherever he had come from, he had taken time to arrange himself.
Muriel held out her hand. “Very well. Give it to me.”
The man stepped forward, and only now did Rohesia see dust on his boots. And while he held himself erect, he had dark smears under his eyes. “I do have a letter for you, your majesty,” he said as he took a sealed letter from a pouch hanging across his body. “But I also have a verbal message from the king I believe you may wish to hear in private.”
Muriel snatched the letter from the messenger and slipped a sharp fingernail under the seal. “I’m not finished eating, and neither is anyone else. Just go ahead and say what you need to.”
“But, ma’am, I think the message better suited for a tete-a-tete.”
She flicked the letter open with a shake of her wrist. “Did his majesty instruct you to tell me in private?”
“No, but—”
“Then spit it out before I lose my temper.”
The man scuffed his boots on the marble floor and cleared his throat several times before answering. “His majesty says that he has indulged your whims long enough. He needs you back in the capital so that he might leave the seat of government in hands he trusts while he rejoins his army.”
“Is he going back to war?” Sir Oliver blurted out from much farther down the long table.
“Keneburg has finally gone to war for the Sigors!” a knight exclaimed.
“The other Sigors,” another knight added.
Muriel pushed back her chair, tucking the unread letter in a pocket. Her smile remained broad, but Rohesia thought it might have faltered slightly. “If his majesty calls, then I must answer. I will be ready to depart within the hour. Please have Sergeant Wyman sent up to my rooms immediately.”
Rohesia had never been so happy to see Muriel sweep out of a room. Joanna took the opportunity to bustle over to Rohesia’s side. Her pale face was so ashen, Rohesia wondered what she could have possibly missed. Muriel was leaving. This part of the nightmare was ending.
“What is troubling you?” Rohesia asked softly.
“You remember back when she first came, she said she might take Helena with her when she left?”
Rohesia did remember, but surely, that had merely been a threat to assure Rohesia’s good behavior. They were hostages enough here in Rawdon. Were they not?
Aldrick pushed himself awkwardly away from the table, rattling the glassware. “I’m not hungry. Anyone up for cards?”
Of course, some of his retinue followed him out, and the lunchers slowly began to disperse. Rohesia was happy to let them all leave ahead of her while she thought. If Muriel did take Helena, what would that mean for the war? The hope would be to keep Lawrence from attacking Formacaster, but Lawrence would surely not be leading troops or making decisions. She had no idea who Edwin had selected as his captain general, but Lawrence had no troops of his own, and Flora would never give him command of hers. And even if Duke Robert had been deferential to Lawrence during the Siege of Leornian, Rohesia did not think he was a man to submit to Lawrence again.
She found herself wishing more than anything that while Edwin had been with her, she had gotten the chance to advise him on his military leadership. She would have to pray that Caedmon would steer him and even that Elwyn had exerted some influence on him to select good leaders.
For now, though, she should go to the nursery and get Helena and Alice. If Muriel decided to send Sergeant Wyman to get Helena, she did not know what she might do to stop him, but being with the
girls now was better than not.
***
IN THE END, JOANNA and Rohesia had worried for nothing, thank Earstien. Muriel was in too great a hurry to take any notice of Helena. Less fortunately, Sergeant Wyman had been sent to gather a different prisoner for the trip—Sir Franklin Porcher would be going to Formacaster. It pained Rohesia to think of the tortures that awaited the man. For his sake and the well-being of all decent Myrcians, this new battle simply had to see Edwin and his forces prevail.
The palace was in something of a confusion after Muriel and her entourage left. Rohesia decided to take advantage of the chaos to slip into the tapestry room with Joanna and the girls, even though it was later in the day than they were permitted. The room was empty, though, so Alice and Helena spread out parchment and pencils on the floor and set to drawing together.
“Did you want me to go over her royal highness’s lessons later?” Lady Joanna asked, taking a seat next to Rohesia’s chair.
“I think we can let it go for the day, do not you agree?”
“I do, ma’am.”
Rohesia took out some embroidery she had been neglecting, and Joanna set out her zither on the table where she and Alice’s usually went over reading. They all carried on in this fashion more contented than they had felt in days for fully half an hour.
Then Sir Oliver George entered. “I’m so sorry ladies,” he said bowing all around. “I did not expect to find anyone else in here at this time of day. I will leave you.”
“You are welcome to stay,” Rohesia insisted. She tucked her embroidery away in her bag and walked over to the cushioned chairs near Joanna’s table. Once she took a seat, she gestured to another chair. “Have you heard Lady Joanna play the zither? She is quite accomplished.”
“I have not,” he answered with a polite smile. Finally, he must have convinced himself that Rohesia did not wish for him to leave and let out a long exhale and sat in the chair offered.
Joanna began to play again, an old Thessalian tune, and Rohesia took her embroidery back out from her bag. She also pulled out her copy of Claudius’s poetry in translation. She offered it to Sir Oliver, who accepted it with a smile.
Rohesia was entirely happy to have Sir Oliver for company. Yes, he was a loyal Gramiren soldier, and he was investigating Edwin’s visit, but Rohesia could not call him a bad person. She had also begun to have a great deal of sympathy for him, as Muriel and Sergeant Wyman had plowed their way into his command.
“I grew up in a cathedral orphanage in Haydon,” he said rather suddenly.
Rohesia sucked on the fingertip she had just poked with her needle. “I was not aware. I am sorry you had no family.”
“Well, not a family as such, your majesty.” He stopped staring into the middle distance and turned to smile at her. “But the monks who raised me were very much like family. And they taught me a great deal.” He turned Claudius over in his hands. “My translations from the Classical Immani would never be bound or printed, but I learned so much. When I turned 16, it became clear that I had two choices: became a monk myself or join the army.”
“And you chose the latter.”
“At 16 it seemed a great deal more exciting. And camp life has provided a sense of family much like the monks in the orphanage did. I feel very bound to my men.”
He shifted nervously, and Rohesia sensed that this was not idle conversation for Sir Oliver. She tucked her embroidery beside her on the chair. “It must be a very special connection to you.”
“It is.” He clenched his jaw and the scar on his cheek twitched. “Part of what is special, is being surrounded by honorable men. I have always attempted to act honorably. I hope you believe that, your majesty.”
“I very much do.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “That is a relief, ma’am. I would like to now be very frank with you, your majesty. We are to continue here in Rawdon together and it would be best, I think, if we were on the same page.”
Rohesia thought this sounded good in theory, but it really rather depended on the page. “I agree. Please go on.”
Joanna’s playing grew a bit slow and quiet, and Rohesia assumed she was listening. Alice continued to draw on the floor, far enough away that Rohesia doubted she could hear. Helena had fallen asleep.
“Before she left, Queen Muriel provided me with certain instructions.” He paused and glanced nervously at her. “She wishes me to continue investigating the night of the disturbance. I have been authorized to arrest anyone I suspect of having helped... your son.”
“If he was here, which I believe has yet to be proven.”
He nodded, but his frown made her wonder which part about agreeing with her made him sad. “That is true, ma’am. If I may admit it to you if no one else, I would have been just as happy to let the matter drop. One man has been killed and another will never be the same. And to what end? At this point, even if your son had been here, we could gather no actionable information now.”
“Then you need not continue to investigate, do you?”
Sir Oliver sighed and settled deeper into his chair. “I must continue. I suspect some of my men... answer to people besides me. Queen Muriel will hear if I allow the matter to drop, and well, I hope I do not sound like a coward, but even a man of principle feels fear.”
Rohesia wanted to reach out, offer a comforting hand on his arm, provide him with a bit of the maternal love and support he had never known. But even if he accepted the gesture in the spirit in which it was meant, he was still a Gramiren soldier and she was the mother of the dispossessed true king. More importantly, as he had said, Muriel still had her spies in Rawdon, and she would not take a report well of Sir Oliver accepting comfort from Rohesia. Any kindness, even this conversation, was dangerous for him.
“She also said that....” He paused to look at the girls. He lowered his voice when he continued. “She said that if I thought it would prove motivational, I could send either of the young ladies to Formacaster. I want you to know I will never choose to do this, but the choice may not be mine.”
“I appreciate the warning.” She supposed that she did, and yet it was such a hateful idea that she despised that she had to think about it. She must tell Robert Tynsdale at the earliest opportunity. Given time to plan, he might be able to sneak the girls out of the palace if it looked as though Muriel would try to move them. Or he could rescue them on the road.
Better yet, though, would be to somehow convince Sir Oliver and Muriel that the note alerting him to Edwin’s presence was a prank or in some way untrue. If she could close the investigation, the girls might be safe.
“Sir Oliver, would you mind showing me the note?” Rohesia asked.
Joanna plucked a sour note and stopped playing. Sir Oliver had to take several looks at Rohesia to make certain she had really asked what she did. She merely smiled pleasantly, as though she considered this a natural and reasonable question.
“The note, your majesty?” he asked.
“Yes. The one that started all of this chaos. It reportedly states that my son was running around the palace, which I feel gives me some right to see it. Evidence, surely, still matters to you, as well as a proper trial, should anything come of this investigation.”
“Well, yes, I suppose you are correct.” From the pocket of his trousers, he removed the note she had once seen briefly from a distance. He handed it to her. “I wanted to make absolutely certain nothing happened to it, so I thought it would be safest on my person at all times.”
Rohesia suppressed a smile at her good fortune in having the letter. Even if it provided no help with ending Sir Oliver’s investigation, it might very well answer her question of who had betrayed Edwin. As she at last opened it, Rohesia noticed Joanna at her shoulder. She saw no harm in the girl seeing it, so she held it so they both might read.
Edwin Sigor is in the palace. If you act now, you might be able to capture him. The king will surely reward you. Come at once.
That was all. Nothing more specific. And yet, the note proved Aldrick could not have been the traitor. If Aldrick had written the note, he could easily have contrived to keep Edwin with him. Or directed Sir Oliver to the tapestry room or the apartment, because he knew where Edwin would be. Also, the language was not Aldrick’s. Nor was the writing his hand, which she knew quite well. He had not betrayed her son.
That hand, though, looked familiar. Could it be—
“I am afraid I should probably ask for that back, your majesty.”
She smiled and folded the note back up the way it had been. “Of course. I appreciate you allowing me to see it.”
“As you said, ma’am, it’s only right and legal. Does it by any chance tell you anything about that night? If so, you should share it with me. No one wants to see what happened to Sir Alan and Sir Franklin again.”
“Indeed, we do not. But I am afraid I learned nothing.”
If she had added “nothing definitive,” it would have been more accurate, but she did not think that level of honesty would help the situation.