The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 11

  Maran met the eyes of the Council spokesman.

  “Yes, Lord Tuuvam?”

  “Does Glaive support King Arantur in his choice for Candidate?”

  Maran stared for a long moment at each Councillor then replied, “Glaive unconditionally supports this Candidate.”

  The spokesman, Lord Tuuvam nodded and pursed his lips, “Is she a maiden?”

  Maran nodded, “Aye, she has been examined…there is no doubt that she is maiden still.”

  Tuuvam sighed and turned back to the other Councillors, “Then we must vote again if we should support or not this new Candidate. My lord Archmage, will you again count the hands.”

  Maran faced the gathering, “Councillors of Andur, raise your hands if you do not support this Candidate.”

  Two hands were raised.

  Maran spoke again, “Councillors of Andur, raise your hands if you support this Candidate.”

  Six hands were swiftly raised.

  Maran carefully counted the hands, “We have six abstaining. It is a drawn vote. I am sorry Councillors, you must vote again. We must have resolution on this issue.”

  Aran gnawed his lower lip in frustration, dreading that the abstaining votes would go against Alissa.

  Maran faced the Councillors yet again, “Councillors of Andur, raise your hands if you do not support this Candidate.”

  The same two hands were raised.

  Maran spoke again, “Councillors of Andur raise your hands if you support this Candidate.”

  Eight hands were slowly raised.

  Maran carefully counted the hands, “We have four abstaining votes but this does not affect the count,” he said. “We have a majority decision in favour of the new Candidate.”

  Aran sighed in profound relief.

  Lord Tuuvam stood again, weariness etched clearly upon his face, “Then my lord King Arantur, the High Council of Andur formally recognises Alissa, daughter of Captain Taran of Andur’s Keep as our rightful and recognised future Queen. There will be no further Candidates, the betrothal will be arranged directly, and the marriage will be announced for six months time.”

  “In six months time I may well be on the battlefield, lord Councillor,” Aran replied quietly.

  Lord Tuuvam stood and bowed, “I am sorry Sire, we cannot unbend in this. It is ancient custom that there is a six month engagement. Even if you are on campaign you must still wed…that is the tradition and the law.”

  Aran nodded, “Very well I will accept this ruling.” He looked across at the Councillor, “When is the betrothal to take place.”

  Tuuvam glanced at Maran who nodded and stood, “The betrothal will take place this time tomorrow evening in the throne room.”

  Aran stood, a clear sign that the audience was at an end.

  “Archmage Maran, will you speak to my bondsman Alem and ask him to send to me Captain Taran and his daughter Alissa—once you have done this please return here.” The Archmage nodded, smiling.

  Aran turned to the Councillors, “Lords and ladies I thank you for your time and decisions. Please give my kindest regards to Lady Terea and tell her that she has no further obligation to me, and may with royal and parental consent, find a husband of her own choosing.” Aran smiled a tight smile at the overly ambitious Councillor Ordac and added, “For I believe truly that is how the best of marriages come about.”

  Councillor Ordac grimaced, and his normally florid face paled under the hard scrutiny of his king.

  “Councillor Tuuvam,” Aran continued. “I would ask you to wait with me, and add your voice with Archmage Maran as witnesses to the outcome of this meeting. The grey haired Councillor bowed and nodded.

  Aran raised a hand in dismissal, “Then you may all go. However I would ask you to refrain from relating to others what has happened here until first light tomorrow morning. I would rather that Alissa and her father learn what has happened from me, and not from rumour or hearsay.” Aran watched as the Archmage and the remaining Councillors filed out of the room and then sat back with an exhausted sigh. He passed a tired hand over his eyes then looked over at Councillor Tuuvam sitting quietly in the now empty circle of chairs,

  “Councillor,” he said quietly, “I thank you for your leadership and decisions. In all truth I had been dreading that meeting but I am so glad it has come to such a happy conclusion.”

  The Councillor smiled tiredly, “Ordac will long hold a grudge against you for refusing his daughter…but that is only a small thing to be borne by a man such as yourself.” He looked up at his king, “Sire, do you love her so greatly that you would dare all for her?”

  Aran stared at the ancient wall hangings and nodded, “I have not lied to you. Alissa will make a fine Queen and consort, but yes I love her. She is my best friend,” he added simply.

  The Councillor nodded, “Then I am glad that your Alissa was chosen. I have been married for over forty-five years and I still love my wife as dearly as when first we met. So many in the nobility marry to join together great houses, or for obscure political reasons. I know that many in those marriages seem to be happy, but in my mind there are few that are together for love or friendship.”

  Aran nodded and looked up as Maran came back in the door. “Sire, I have spoken to Alem. He will bring Alissa and Captain Taran directly.”

  Aran smiled, “Good, please sit Maran. Take your ease until they arrive.”

  Maran quickly moved the remainder of the chairs to their usual places around the table and up against the wall and brought a chair to its customary place opposite the fireplace.

  “Shall I light the fire Arantur?” the Archmage asked gently, seeing the lines of fatigue on the young king’s face.

  Aran shook his head and held out a hand, “No…let me, I need the practice.”

  Aran closed his eyes and concentrated, immediately his hand was suffused with a soft glow which loosened and sped to the waiting logs. Seconds later the logs were burning brightly.

  The Archmage shook his head, “As often as I see it I still find it remarkable that your power manifests itself that way. Can you explain it?”

  Aran shook his head whilst massaging his hand, “It’s just the way it happens. For some reason it always leaves my hand stiff…every time I practice it the muscles and joints lock up and it takes a while to free them.”

  Maran pursed his lips in contemplation, “Sounds like you still have a residue of a block. Remind me to teach you some more of the aids to concentration. There is a set that is strictly to be done by the hands and fingers. Performing them may help to loosen up and make your joints and muscles more flexible.”

  Aran grinned suddenly, “Thank you Archmage. I’d appreciate it…” Aran was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Alissa stuck her head in and smiled at Aran, “Father is only a few minutes behind me Sire. He was deep in discussion with the two company leaders.”

  Aran indicated a spare chair, and Alissa promptly sat herself down. Aran saw her eyeing off the Archmage and the Councillor and immediately shot Aran a curious look. Aran gave her a reassuring smile. A few minutes later there was a louder knock on the door and Aran called out again. The door swung open and Captain Taran stepped inside, “You asked for me my lord king?” he said questioningly.

  “I did Captain Taran. Please take a seat, this will not take long I hope.”

  Captain Taran frowned in puzzlement, but said nothing.

  Aran waited until all were seated, then smiled genially at Alissa’s father.

  “Captain Taran. I wish to ask a great favour of you.”

  The Captain of the Guards shot to his feet, “Lord King…my life is yours! Ask and I will obey.”

  Aran laughed, “Please man, sit down. This is not some onerous task I am to place upon you.” Aran smiled again, “Captain Taran I am asking you formally for the hand of your daughter Alissa in marriage.”

  The Captain sank back bonelessly into the chair, seemingly all breath pu
nched out of him.

  “Alissa,” he breathed, forgetting all formality.

  “Aye, if it pleases you?”

  Suddenly the Captain remembered to breathe again, “By Andur Sire! You want my little girl?”

  Aran nodded, “Just so, do you have any objections?”

  The Captain shook his head and Aran visibly saw him take himself in hand, “My lord I am overwhelmed. I knew that you two were good friends, but I never suspected that a stronger attachment…” He looked across at the Archmage and the Councillor, “There are no objections from Glaive or the Council?” he asked wonderingly.

  The two other men shook their heads and the Archmage smiled, “For the past hour we have all met in deep conference. At the end of much discussion the Council voted in favour of Alissa. Likewise there are no objections from Glaive…upon your consent the betrothal will take place tomorrow night and the marriage will be for six months time.”

  Aran caught Alissa’s sudden smile and he grinned back happily at her.

  The Captain was shaking his head in wonderment, then recollecting where he was stood up and faced his king.

  “Sire, I am beyond words. You do my house great honour. I accept and give to you my cherished daughter Alissa…there is not a finer woman in the Province.” Aran stood and walked up to the shaken soldier. Wordlessly they clasped hands to seal the agreement, for the moment equals in happiness. Aran turned finally to Alissa and said gently, “Alissa, daughter of Taran. Will you take me, Arantur of the house of Andur, High King of the Province of Andur, to be my love, my wife, my consort and Queen?”

  Alissa bowed deeply, “I accept your proposal Sire. I wish no other man to be my mate and husband. There is no greater desire in my heart and soul.”

  Aran smiled gently and returned to his chair, “then it is settled. We will all meet back at the throne room this time tomorrow night to formalise the betrothal.”

  The Archmage stood, “For a royal betrothal there must be many witnesses. I will bring six mages and the priestess.”

  Tuuvam stood also, “I will bring six additional Councillors.”

  Taran was still shaking his head in amazement; suddenly he looked up “I will ask the two company leaders to be my witnesses.”

  Archmage Maran turned to Alissa and Aran, “What about you two? You will both need a witness or witnesses.”

  Alissa’s mouth quirked, “I shall ask Kiaia for she is like a sister to me.”

  Aran laughed happily, “Of course I will ask Cody and Trevan…”

  Maran nodded to Aran and Alissa, “You will each need to have someone represent you to vouch for your worth and sincerity.”

  Alissa turned to her father and Aran saw her whisper, “Will you father?”

  The Captain smiled deeply and nodded.

  Maran’s gaze rested on the young king, “Who will be your mentor Arantur?”

  Aran sighed, there were so many he felt should have that honour but at the last he knew that he could choose only one man.

  “Master Cody,” he stated finally. “He is greatly responsible for my character and attitudes. It has been his skillful forging and shaping that has produced the King you now see before you.”

  “I agree,” the Archmage replied, “He would have been my first choice as well.” He gazed at Aran and saw the young man stifle a yawn, “It grows late my liege…” he added.

  Aran nodded tiredly, totally failing to stifle yet another jaw breaking yawn, “I believe we are finished here now?” he asked.

  Maran inclined his head.

  Drawing a weary hand through his hair, Aran pushed himself to his feet and placed his chair back in its customary position near the fire. The others rose to their feet too and with bows and smiles, exited the room leaving Alissa alone with Aran.

  “So it is done,” she said at last, “Was it difficult?”

  He smiled tiredly, “It went better than I thought it would. The majority of the Councillors were reasonable about the whole thing.” Aran contemplated the fire, “Perhaps I have wronged them all this time. They were surprisingly gracious and noble in their defeat.”

  Alissa’s eyebrow quirked upwards, “You obviously caught them on one of their better days. I understand there have been some fiercesome rows in the past between themselves and father.” She laughed gently, “Captain Taran is as stubborn as they come but to them Aran, he must seem as soft as buttermilk compared to you.”

  Aran frowned, “I am considered hard? I have always thought of myself as a mild man.”

  Alissa walked around and gently pushing Aran back down on the seat, and skillfully began to knead the knotted muscles in his neck and shoulders.

  “Hard, no…” she replied, “Implacable, yes, and fierce with it too. All I know go in awe of you.”

  Aran turned his face pressing his cheek into her hand. “Do you too go in awe of me?” he asked gently.

  Alissa smiled, “No…you are my friend. Besides I love you too much for that,” she added.

  Aran looked up and met her steady green eyes, “So Alissa, soon to be wife and Queen, have you any regrets?”

  Aran saw her eyes go distant, then she looked down and smiled at him, “No, but it will take a bit of getting used to. You see I’ve never been a wife or Queen before.”

  “Believe me Alissa, being king takes a lot of getting used to,” he chuckled.

  Then he stood and gently took her into his arms, pressing his lips chastely upon her brow, “Then I will embrace you this once then you must go. Although we are now blessed by the Council, mages and most importantly your father, we are however still not properly betrothed.”

  Alissa nodded and gently pulled away, “Until we are betrothed we are strictly bound by the customs of propriety.

  She walked to the door and turned and grinned mischievously, “There will be much talk in the Keep tomorrow, my King. It is a great shame that we are bound by these stuffy old conventions. I would like nothing better than to add to the stories that will be circulating.”

  Aran laughed at that and grinning, watched as she left the room with a flirtatious wriggle of her hips.

  *

  Up to his arms in dust and cobwebs, Aran had shed his kingly trappings and was helping Darven sort the weapons in the armoury. Already there was an impressive stack of swords, maces and spears off to one side. After they were finished here the weapons would be carefully packed on one of the four carts that had been removed from the storage building.

  Darven looked up from his labour and grinned through the swirling dust, “In Andur’s name, these swords have not seen light of day since the Serat war.”

  Aran looked at the one he was holding and nodded, “They are in remarkably good condition for their age. Whoever packed them long ago knew how to store steel…there seems to be almost no rust or corrosion on the blade.”

  “Aye,” Darven passed Aran yet another sword, “The Keep may be near the salt winds of the sea, but here in the armoury the air is dry and cool and the weapons store well.”

  Aran walked over and placed the two swords on top of the pile.

  “These two make it thirty-seven…how many more do you have to sort?”

  Darven looked at several other chests which he still had to open, “Oh, twice that number again I’m sure… I’m certain that we will be here for at least another hour or two.”

  Aran grinned and wiped his face, leaving a dust streak down his cheek, “Fine by me. If I go upstairs I am certain to be roped into more meetings.” He smiled grimly, “We are but a day away from leaving, and still the Council and mages want to talk about government matters.”

  Darven looked up and grinned at his sovereign, “You are the King, Aran. You can’t hide down here forever.”

  Aran bent down and picked up another sword to inspect, “Who says I’m hiding. I’m only helping you out with the preparations for war.” Aran glanced across at his friend and saw a broad smile on the Wolf Leader’s face, “Maran knows where I am. If he wants me then he can g
et someone to fetch me.”

  Darven took an ancient key and opened yet another chest. As the lid swung open he was momentarily enveloped in a cloud of dust. Coughing, he moved away to let the dust settle. “So how go the preparations for tonight?” he asked.

  Aran turned from the pile of swords, “Well…I have spoken with all concerned.”

  Darven snickered, “What I would have given to see Captain Taran’s face when you told him you were going to marry his daughter and make her queen.”

  Aran grinned in recollection, “He was surprised. I still find it amazing that he never guessed of our affection for each other. I hope that when I am a father I shall not be so blind to my children’s emotions.”

  Darven nodded, and then abruptly he turned away as redness suddenly and inexplicably suffused his normally serene face. Looking across, Aran frowned as he saw his friend’s out-of-character discomfiture.

  “What ails you Darven?” Aran asked, concerned. “Are you ill?”

  Darven pulled a face, “No…not ill. I just have some news I really ought to tell you, but…”

  Aran looked across at the Wolf Leader, “What?”

  Gnawing a lip Darven owned up, “Kiaia’s with child.”

  Aran stared at his friend in amazement, “Already? Is she certain you are the father?”

  He nodded, “She swears that I am the first man she’s laid with since last spring.”

  Aran tried to mentally count back the days and weeks, “It seems so soon. However can she tell?”

  Darven shrugged, “Women know these things, besides one of the Healermages has examined her. She is certainly with child.”

  Aran walked over and gave Darven a congratulatory slap on the shoulder, “Then I am happy for you Darven. You are to be a father.” Aran stared in puzzlement at his friend, “Whatever’s the matter? You should be ecstatic.”

  Darven turned away and bent to lift out several swords still swathed in their protective oiled wrappings. He straightened, “I know. I am, but I’m worried.”

  “What about?”

  Putting the sword down and dusting off his hands, Darven looked across at his king and friend, “That I shall most likely be away fighting when she gives birth. That I might well be killed and she will have to raise a child alone, without the security of the title of wife behind her.”