The Eagle’s Flight - Chapter 213

Thousands of troops entered the city. Most of them marched under the banner of Belvoir, and the rest wore the surcoat of the Order. With them travelled news of battles in Ingmond. The arrival of the soldiers and these tidings sent a shock through Middanhal. After the Adalthing, the common populace had been exuberant at the two blessings of a civil war ended and a king placed on the throne. In the memory of most people, the latest news concerning the outlanders had dealt with victories and the liberation of Tothmor and Polisals. To hear that the war had turned ill and foreign troops plundered through Ingmond seemed a nightmare become real. Seeing the defeated troops marching down the streets of Middanhal along with the wounded brought back only reinforced the dire tidings.

~~~~

“Two thousand experienced soldiers dead or captured,” William said darkly. He stood in the king’s chambers, facing his sovereign. “In one battle.”

Brand scratched the beginnings of a beard, seated in a chair. “We are not in a position to take such losses unless we get more reinforcements. We may be able to defend Middanhal for now, but not once their entire army arrives. Not even with Belvoir’s forces behind our walls.”

“Still no word from Heohlond or Vidrevi?”

“I suspect King Folkmar looks upon our plight with satisfaction,” Brand exclaimed bitterly. “As for King Brión, I have not heard word from Doran yet. It did not go well when last the highlanders marched to war for my sake,” he admitted. “The clans may be reluctant, and I cannot guess the king’s mind.”

“We are training every soldier we can,” the lord marshal said. “We have the mercenaries once employed by Jarl Vale, and most of the levies from both the North and the South. Along with Belvoir, I believe we will have the troops to defend the city, even against all their forces.”

“We may have the numbers,” Brand considered, “but do we have the food to feed such numbers? If this turns to a lengthy siege, that may prove another issue.”

“We have made all efforts to ensure provisions,” William declared.

“Let us hope that will suffice.”

“And should a siege develop, that will give us further time to train our recruits and the levies.”

“Sorely needed, given our losses in Ingmond. It seems your faith in Athelstan was misplaced.”

The lord marshal shifted his weight. “From what he has told me, I cannot imagine any to have done better. Especially not given his personal loss.”

“Is that your opinion or his?” Brand regarded his marshal with narrowed eyes.

“I can only encourage the king to question his captain in person if he wishes to cast judgement upon the captain’s decisions,” William carefully said.

“No. I have neither need nor desire to see him.” Brand stretched his neck. “You may leave.”

The lord marshal bowed his head.

~~~~

Each of the four jarls maintained a residence in Middanhal; even if they could always expect to be quartered at the Citadel, their rank and prestige demanded a mansion in the city. It also allowed them privacy from the countless eyes and ears at court.

The same held true for the jarl of Ingmond. He had remained in the city after the Adalthing, staying at his house. With the outlanders swarming across his jarldom, he could not return hence. Instead, he brooded in the rooms of his mansion, where his family had once resided with him. His disdain for the king kept him from appearing at court; that same disdain kept other nobles from visiting him, fearing the monarch’s displeasure by associating with the jarl.

The alderman of the guilds did not seem to share this concern; his carriage entered the compound, and the steward announced his presence to the jarl, who agreed to receive him. Led by a servant, Edwin crossed through the great house to the upper floors, entering the private chambers reserved for the family.

The servant motioned for Edwin to continue before making himself scarce. The alderman continued on his own until he found the jarl seated on a bed, staring at a portrait on the wall. He cleared his throat repeatedly.

“I hear you,” the nobleman snapped, though he did not deign to look at his visitor.

“Forgive me, milord.” Edwin licked his lips. “My arrangements are complete.”

“Fine.”

“I need not remind you that secrecy is paramount.”

“Yet you just did.”

“Forgive me,” he repeated. “I simply meant to point out that my lord jarl should consider carefully who to involve.”

“You have brought mercenaries into this,” Raymond sneered, whipping his head to finally look at the alderman. “My men are loyal to me, unlike yours, loyal only to gold.”

For a moment, the alderman’s eyes shied away until a change came over him. His servile expression disappeared, and he met the jarl’s gaze. “I have no doubt that Isenhart of Isarn thought the same until his own family tied him up like a hog and delivered him to the king on the platter. Loyalties are divided, my lord jarl, as evidenced by your own margraves deserting you at the Adalthing.”

Raymond rose from the bed, and his face grew red. “How dare you speak to me in this manner!”

“I dare, my lord jarl, because I am tired of pretence. I am a man of trade. I offer you a bargain, and you have accepted it. Same as I have offered those mercenaries a bargain. I dare speak to you this way, my lord jarl, because as I give those mercenaries what they want, I will give you what you want. That is why I have risen from an orphan on the streets to alderman of this city. I know what people desire, and I sell it to them for the right price.” Edwin looked with cold eyes on the jarl. His fingers fiddled with the ring on his other hand, touching the emerald. “Just as I know that you will hold to our trade because you desire what I offer more than anything. Yet I have worked far too long for some loose tongue to spill our secrets. You will choose your blades carefully, my lord jarl, as I have done.” Without waiting for a reply, the alderman turned around and left.

~~~~

“You have been informed, I assume.” Arndis had barely entered Brand’s chambers before she spoke.

“Of a great many things, but I cannot possibly know if that includes what you refer to.” The king stood in the other end, next to a small table with two chairs; a chess set stood atop. With one hand, Brand returned the pieces to their original position on the board.

“The news of Sir Eumund.”

“Yes, I heard. Thankfully, most of the knights initially sent to Hæthiod have survived, or I would have few at my disposal.”

She looked at him with a weary expression. “The loss of this particular knight has ramifications. We must change our plans.”

“We will find another suitable match for you, Sister.” Brand moved a white jarl to one corner.

“I can only think of one possibility.”

The king halted his movement to look at her. “You are looking beyond the House of Isarn, I trust.”

“We still need the alliance. Isarn has another scion, unwed, whose personal support will be invaluable in the war.”

Brand dropped the piece in his hand; it fell, disturbing several others. “Surely you jest.”

Arndis slowly shook her head. “Sir Athelstan is the perfect choice.”

“You are mad.”

“He would have been my first choice, except that left Eumund available for someone else to gain influence in Isarn, and it seemed more likely that Athelstan would continue to remain unmarried. Of course, I am sure he will reconsider his solitary state when requested by the king.”

Laughter born of disbelief issued from Brand. “What is this? The man is a villain, yet I am beleaguered on all sides to show him honour after honour!”

“He has made mistakes and repented, not to mention paid dearly. He betrayed his brother in order to make you king. He left his nephew to fight a hopeless battle to save your kingdom.”

Brand frowned. “How would you know such details?”

“As soon as I heard the news of Eumund’s demise, I went to offer my condolences to Athelstan.”

“Did he send you to speak on his behalf? Does he lack the courage to face me in person?”

“Brother,” Arndis exclaimed. “His courage is unquestionable. At least have some respect for his loss. Eumund was dear to him, like a son.”

“I once thought he had the same affection for me,” Brand retorted with bitterness as he rose to stand. “Seven long years I served as his squire in Alcázar. Yet no sooner had we returned to Adalrik before he cast me aside. Forgive me if I have little sympathy to spare for his loss.”

“You were both imprisoned in this very castle. He tells me that you forgave him.”

“Because I expected us both to be executed. I was hardly in the right state of mind,” Brand argued, as he began to pace back and forth.

In contrast, Arndis stood with calm poise. “Athelstan is your best commander. He represents a house and jarldom we must have close ties with. And he is someone worthy of your respect. I will marry him, Brother, for your sake and your kingdom.”

“How noble,” the king replied with disdain. “You do not seem particularly burdened.”

“It could have been worse,” Arndis admitted. “Yet in the end, this is the reasonable choice. My own wishes are not part of the calculation.”

“Convenient, given that you also presume to calculate my future. Using the same arithmetic.”

She stared at him without sympathy. “Yes. The gods have blessed us both with gifts, or we would not have come this far. Your gift is on the field, mine is in court. That is why you should heed my advice, Brand.”

“I am to trust in your benevolence?”

“You are to trust the blood and bond between us. I tell you the truth as the only one, Brother, because I am tied to you unlike any other. My fortune rises and falls with yours, completely in step. I have no hidden ambitions when I advise you because my goals are yours.”

Brand returned to his chess set, rearranging the scattered pieces. “I would have solitude.” Staring at his back, his sister complied with the command.

~~~~

Traffic through Saltgate remained high. Soldiers and provisions marched in; citizens went the other way while the roads remained open. Due to the extraordinary circumstances, the toll for entering the city had been waived, and Godfrey walked straight into the city.

He quickly took a sharp turn, entering Lowtown. Nestled between the southern walls and the river, the many neighbourhoods gave home to the poorest of Middanhal. Houses in various states of disrepair lay closely together, each providing a roof to several families.

Besides that, Lowtown held numerous taverns and temples, tending to the physical and spiritual needs of the citizens. With staggered steps, Godfrey reached a structure of the former kind. Little more than four walls around an altar, the shrine still had a blackrobe in attendance. Godfrey approached the priest, clearing his throat.

Once the blackrobe noticed him, Godfrey took another step closer. “Get a message to the king. Tell him he has less than a month. I’m too worn to cross the city.”

“I shall.” The priest nodded and disappeared into the throng of people on the street.

As for Godfrey, his business done in the temple, he continued a little further into Lowtown until he reached a tavern. News of war had not suppressed men’s thirst, on the contrary; the place seemed packed. The wanderer pushed his way through to reach the innkeeper, slapping three coppers onto the desk.

“The price is six,” came the surly reply.

“You try this every time. I have walked for a week straight. I’m not in the mood, Harold.”

Grumbling, the innkeeper filled a tankard and slammed it on the desk, swiping the coins into his pocket.

Godfrey emptied the mug in one drag. “I’ll be in your stable, sleeping,” he declared; before any protests could be made, he had already made his exit, lost in the crowd.