The Eagle’s Flight - Chapter 214

A table had been prepared with various kinds of fruit, bread, and small cakes in the chambers of the king’s sister, specifically the parlour. Arndis already sat, accompanied by Eleanor, her handmaiden. As the door opened to reveal Jana, they both rose.

“Please, do not hesitate. Join us,” Arndis told her. “I am pleased you would accept my invitation.”

“I am only happy to share your company,” the lady of Alcázar claimed. She entered and took the third chair, once Arndis had taken her own seat.

“I have been dying to hear more about the South Cities,” Eleanor declared, sitting down as the last. “I am told that veils are worn by the women. Though you… I see you do not.”

“It is an old custom that some still follow. In these northern lands, I see no need for it,” Jana replied politely.

“If I had your hair, I would not cover it either,” Eleanor admitted.

“You have a skilled handmaiden,” Arndis added, taking a cluster of grapes to her plate.

“I have no maiden as such, only hands,” came the jest from Jana. She carefully touched the edges of her intricate hair. “All done by myself, I fear.”

“That is outrageous,” Arndis declared, though her voice remained calm in spite of her words. “I will find you a suitable courtier, fitting for your rank. I cannot believe the king would overlook this.”

“He has other matters on his mind than courtiers,” Jana considered.

“You know him well,” Arndis continued. “How does he seem to you?”

“I would not presume to know the king better than his own sister.”

“I am sure you can provide insight.”

“The king is burdened by the burdens of a king,” Jana simply said. “Matters that are beyond me.”

“I worry for him, as any sister would,” Arndis claimed, looking away while her fingers tore a grape into pieces. “Enough of that. Eleanor, who would make a suitable handmaiden for a princess of Alcázar?”

~~~~

The door to the library opened, admitting one Dwarf. He found three youths inside, reading or writing.

“Jorund!” Kate exclaimed. “When did you return?”

“My patrol came in yesterday, late,” the Red Hawk explained. “No sign of outlanders yet.” He looked towards Inghard. “I didn’t think you were here, given the lack of thanes outside.”

“Not a prince anymore,” the nobleman replied.

“Right, I forgot. These past months have been mad,” Jorund declared. “One day I’m poised to fight the Order and this Dragonheart, as they call him. Next thing I know, he’s king and I’m doing patrols with Order soldiers.” He exhaled, letting himself drop down on a bench.

“Not to mention, we sat and feared Isarn’s army attacking us to the north. Now, we got to worry about outlanders attacking us to the south!” Kate wrung her hands together.

“I’ve had plenty to write in the annals, that’s for sure.” Egil waved his quill about.

“What is the situation?” asked Inghard. “With the outlanders.”

“Well, they’re not at the doors yet,” Jorund told them. “And I wouldn’t worry. The city is brimming with troops. They’re not getting past the walls.”

“Another reason I am satisfied to no longer be prince,” Inghard said. “I would rather read than have to fight this war.”

“Must be nice,” the Dwarf growled. The former prince only smiled and picked up his book again.

~~~~

“The lord of Belvoir awaits, my king.”

“Let him enter.”

With confident steps, Alois of Belvoir walked into the king’s chamber, and Brand rose to greet him. Close in height and age, their similarities extended beyond the physical; both had gained their titles in tumultuous circumstances, and both had been thrust into responsibility at a young age.

“My lord duke, you are welcome to Middanhal.” Brand bowed his head as deep as royal dignity allowed. “As is your army. I am grateful that you would heed the call to war.”

In turn, the duke gave a proper bow. “It is a pleasure to meet a true king, Your Majesty. Should the outlanders overrun southern Adalrik, they may threaten eastern Ealond. It is only right that all Mearcians band together.”

“Words of wisdom.” Brand gestured for the duke to be seated; another motion saw a servant step forward to pour a goblet of wine. “You may recognise the taste. It comes from your own lands.”

“A taste of home.” Alois took a sip. “Speaking of Belvoir. I hope Your Majesty understands that I have left those lands near empty to protect Middanhal instead. While I see the need for our armies to unite, I hope our strategy will not be entirely defensive.”

Brand shook his head. “That would be our last resort. I am still mustering armies from across Adalmearc. Once our full strength is marshalled, I intend to drive the outlanders back.”

“That is a relief to hear.” The duke took another cautious sip of his wine. “Especially given that while they threaten us to the east, the southrons attack us in the west. Your Majesty is aware, I take it, of Alcázar’s armies.”

“Quite,” Brand replied. “Though I wager your intelligence may be newer than mine. What is the latest you have heard?”

“They have begun their siege of Portesur. I suspect once they take it, they will march reinforcements directly north across the Langstan, rather than be forced to sail around the Teeth,” Alois considered. “Then, with all their ships at their disposal, their armies gathered, and Portesur as their harbour, they can threaten all of the Eylonde Sea, including Herbergja.”

“What of King Rainier?”

Disdain flittered across the duke’s face. “The king has lost the support of his vassals. He is unable to mobilise soldiers in sufficient numbers. Last I heard, he stays in Fontaine, leaving the defence of the realm to the Order.”

“A pity the gods did not see fit to place a better man on the throne in such times.”

“Fortunately, the king of Ealond is not the highest authority.” The duke focused his eyes on Brand. “May we rely upon Your Majesty to see our lands freed from Alcázar? I know many of my men are anxious at the thought of fighting in Adalrik when there is also war in Ealond.”

“Of course.” Brand nodded. “That is the Alliance of Adalmearc. An attack upon one is an attack upon all. As high king, it is my solemn duty to defend all the Seven Realms against all enemies.”

The duke bowed his head in response. “I shall pass Your Majesty’s words on to my men.”

~~~~

The orchard trees at the Citadel saw a variety of people each day. Gardeners tended to them, and courtiers enjoyed the sight and scent they provided. The king’s sister was among the daily visitors, usually accompanied by a group of noblewomen, vying for her attention. Today proved to be an exception, as she had a knight for her only companion.

“Thank you for attending me,” Arndis said with a smile that invited lingering looks from others in the vicinity.

“How could I refuse?” came Athelstan’s reply. “There are few people at this court whose presence could be more pleasant.” They walked at a slow pace, moving between sun and shade as the trees had begun their early bloom.

“Even so, you must be occupied at all waking hours.”

“While I am tempted to let you think so, in truth, that is only the case on campaign. Captain Theobald is organising the city’s defence,” he explained. “I have far too much time on my hands. I should be thanking you.”

“I have done nothing worthy of gratitude, as I recall.”

“When hands are idle, the mind turns endlessly like a millstone,” Athelstan said. “Your company is a welcome reprieve from the repetition of thoughts and memories less cherished.”

She took his arm as they walked. “Let me again express my deepest sympathies for your loss.”

He covered her hand with his. “I appreciate the thought.” He cleared his throat. “I have written to Isenwald and the jarlinna, telling them the news. I am ashamed to admit, a small part of me felt relieved that I would not have to do so in person.”

“Under the circumstances, none may blame you.”

A joyless smile appeared on the knight’s face, swiftly fading. “I must tell my brother. He does not know yet.” Athelstan swallowed. “I cannot defend simply writing a missive when we are in the same place.”

“Given his temper, I would not blame you for avoiding that conversation either.”

“He will be a father who has lost his son. If anger directed at me will help him in his grief, I shall not deny him that either.”

“Would you wish for me to accompany you? I understand that the moment itself would be private between two brothers, but afterwards, you might find a friendly face to be needed.”

“You are kind to offer. The truth is, I am not sure when it will even be possible to see Isenhart. Only your brother may grant permission for any to visit my brother, and he has yet to grant me an audience.”

“I can help with that,” Arndis promised, squeezing his arm.

~~~~

Brand sat in the large chamber serving as his parlour; the last audience of the day had been given, and he kept no company besides a goblet and a pitcher of wine. From time to time, he raised the cup to let a few drops past his lips.

“Am I disturbing your thoughts? Or perhaps you are studying the tapestry,” Jana considered.

Brand blinked, looking from his visitor to the wall opposite him, depicting the king Sighard hunting a boar. “I think I have gleaned all that may be learned. Which of my treacherous thanes told you to come this time?”

“Does the king assume I would only visit when requested?”

He gave half a smile. “The king does not know what to think these days.”

Jana sat down next to him. “Rest assured, I come of my own volition with no purpose other than your company.”

“That would certainly set you apart.”

“I can imagine. What troubles you on this particular eve?”

Brand scratched his stubbles. “Besides the war? My sister wishes to marry a man I despise.”

“Who?”

“Athelstan. You remember him from Alcázar?”

“To some extent. He always seemed kind in his dealings with both you and me.”

“He can be when he wishes, I suppose. The moment he no longer had need of me – when he was among his own kin again – he threw me away.”

“I imagine it is more complicated than that.”

The king emptied his cup rather than reply.

“I have come to know a little of your sister, Brand.”

“And?”

“She reminds me of my father’s wives. All of them adept at intrigue, each doing so on behalf of a son. Your sister gathers both knowledge and gold, makes alliances and learns the weaknesses of others at court. The only difference is, she does this to protect herself rather than any progeny.”

“You do not paint a flattering picture.”

“I say this without malice,” Jana insisted. “She grew up alone, Brand, exposed. She does all this to keep herself safe, which none could blame her for. I think in her heart, she is always afraid to suddenly lose everything and once more be at the mercy of others. Because even now, her position still depends on you. Thus, if you are strengthened, she is. Regardless of your misgivings about Athelstan, your sister is right to pursue this alliance.”

Brand exhaled. “Perhaps she should be king rather than me. She seems more adept at these games.”

Jana shook her head. “You have need of her to counsel you, but your people have need of you to lead them. You have faced death so many times, Brand, you have no fears left. And a fearless king is needed in times such as these.”

“If my sister’s counsel prevailed concerning you, do you know what your fate would be?”

“I can imagine.” She extended her hand to brush against his stubbles. “What is this? Has your servants only dull blades?”

“Rather, the blade is less steady than I prefer so close to my throat,” Brand replied dryly. “Geberic is getting old. That includes his hand. I could summon someone else, but another matter always awaits my attention, and I forget soon after.”

She studied his face with a critical demeanour. “Let it be. Leave the smooth face to your knights.”

He bowed his head. “I shall heed your counsel, Lady Jana.”