Disclaimers: Please see Part 1 for disclaimers.
Thanks to Nene for the fealty oath! Gods, that woman is a walking historical database! And wonderful, too!
Twenty
In contrast to Azrael's last visit, Shonal's audience hall was quite crowded
this evening. It seemed that every noble with an ounce of highborn blood was
on hand to witness her vow. She heard the herald announce her and stepped forward,
wishing it were all over.
She'd brought ten of her men this time, all in polished mail as they escorted
her to the dais, five before and five behind. Azrael was dressed in her armor,
as well, never much comfortable with the gowns of the feminine aristocracy.
It was far easier to move in breeches and tunic than the frippery of women.
Not trusting her cousin also helped in her decision; Azrael much preferred being
ready for action if it was deemed necessary.
As she made her way down the suddenly long path, movement caught her eye and
she glanced aside. A smile barely touched her lips at the sight of Ursula, cupping
her mouth to hide a grin. Amber eyes flashed above tan fingers, reflecting excitement
for her mistress. Azrael's eyelid drooped in the barest wink before she was
past but could spare no more attention. She was pleased to note Suma standing
just behind her slave, keeping her safe from wagging tongues.
While it seemed to take forever, she arrived at the dais in little time. Her
men came to a halt and knelt, leaving her standing amidst them. Azrael stepped
forward and past, stopping at the dais and kneeling on the bottom step. "Your
Royal Majesty," she said, her voice loud enough to carry across the crowd.
"I've come to swear fealty to you as my King and Commander."
Shonal rose from his throne, torch light shining off his golden cape. Beside
him, an elderly woman sat in the second chair - Gerina, the Queen Mother. With
an almost insolent air, he sauntered down the steps until he was just above
her. "I'll hear your vow, cousin."
Azrael quelled a shaky sigh, preferring to face a sword duel with the finest
of masters than all this attention. "I, Azrael, King's cousin and Duchess
of Wrendon, General of the Third Army, in the presence of all the gods, and
in the presence of King Shonal, King's Council and all gathered Lords and Ladies:
Be it known to all, present and future, that I do recognize that Shonal, King
of Barentcia, has granted me possession of the Duchy of Wrendon, which I shall
hold so long as I provide Shonal with the five hundred men in my company to
serve the Crown in time of war, or pay scutage for the same; and that if I break
this promise, all the aforesaid men shall hold directly of my lord, Shonal,
King of Barentcia; my duchy shall be forfeit and revert to the Crown in total,
but that my noble title of Duchess shall persist until such time as the Crown
shall have reason to take it from me."
Azrael bowed her head. "I will do liege homage to my lord, Shonal, King
of Barentcia, and I swear to keep faith with him against all creatures, living
and dead, without deception and with all honor; and that from this hour I will
be true to him with regard to his life and his rulership, and the members of
his body, and love all that he loves, and shun all that he shuns, according
to the law, and according to the world's principles. I swear that I will never,
by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to him;
on condition that he keep me as I am willing to deserve, and that I assume all
the rights and liberties of a peer of the realm. I further pledge to support,
uphold and execute the common law of the land, and to abide by all decisions
of the Crown in regard to this law."
There was a long pause and Azrael wondered if Shonal were playing with her.
Would he deny her fealty in this public forum, just to make a scene? Much as
she wished to look up and see his eyes, to ascertain what he was thinking, she
kept her head bowed, waiting obediently if not patiently. Relief flickered through
her as she heard her cousin respond with the proper words.
"I, Shonal, King of Barentcia: Be it known to all men that we have received
Azrael, King's cousin and Duchess of Wrendon, General of the Third Army, as
our liege woman. She has sworn on all the gods that she will aid us in good
faith, as her liege lord, against every creature, living or dead; she will uphold
our authority and come to the aid of the Crown in time of war. At her command
the following persons have sworn to us that they approve of this and will support
and aid her in keeping this oath: the King's Council and all gathered Lords
and Ladies. For our part, we do swear to uphold, protect and defend Azrael,
King's cousin and Duchess of Wrendon, General of the Third Army, for so long
as we remain sovereign of Barentcia, and for so long as Azrael, Duchess of Wrendon,
observes her oath of fealty to the Crown." Shonal's voice was smug as he
said, "Rise, Azrael."
The woman stood, noting her cousin's tone also reflected upon his face. Regardless,
she stepped forward as he leaned close. They kissed one another on the cheek,
sealing the pact. Shonal took Azrael's hand and turned toward their audience,
his cousin following suit.
"All are witness," he called.
"All are witness," the crowd repeated before breaking out into applause.
Azrael was glad when the king released her hand - it felt pudgy and sweaty -
and she resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her thigh. With a false smile,
she bowed deeply to Shonal. "What is your will, My Liege?"
"My will is to celebrate with a banquet, cousin," Shonal said, a wide
grin on his face. "And you shall sit with me at the highest table! To the
dining peristyle!" he announced loudly, the nearby herald picking up his
order and repeating it for the masses.
As her cousin led her out of the audience hall, Azrael glanced back at the dais.
The Queen Mother was still seated on her throne, apparently asleep. It occurred
to Azrael that the woman looked much more frail than the last time she'd seen
her. Shonal tugged on her arm and Azrael shook the disquiet from her mind. Now
was not the time to be woolgathering. The night was far from over and she needed
her wits about her.
Azrael wished fervently for this tedious night to be finished.
She drained her mug of wine, dark eyes watchful. Shonal lounged across from
her, no less than three body slaves keeping attendance on his royal personage.
Azrael wondered how much more of the fondling and ogling she could stand. His
ribald attentions were enough to put any sane person off their feed for a week.
The high table she sat beside was long, stretching the width of the dining peristyle.
All of Shonal's council were seated here, to include their wives, consorts,
and personal slaves. A handful of loyal officers peppered the politicos as well.
Several steps below was the main floor. Here several more tables were filled
to capacity with lords and ladies of the court. Suma was at the near end of
the closest table, Azrael's other men relegated to the lowest table and the
rear of the room.
Ursula refilled her mistress' mug from an available ewer. She knelt on the floor
beside Azrael, a cushion pillowing her still saddle sore behind. The slave was
careful to not look at the king despite an incredible urge to see if he and
her mistress resembled each other as much as Nils did. Azrael had carefully
instructed Ursula that afternoon on proper royal etiquette. It was all so much
different from the other functions the brunette had attended.
With a fond grin, Azrael caressed Ursula's cheek with the back of her fingers.
Her reward was a brilliant smile. Taking her mug, she drank, only then noticing
Shonal's attention.
"She's a beauty, cousin," he rumbled, eyeing Ursula. "Where did
you get her?"
Azrael swallowed her wine and reached for a roasted pheasant. "At our last
uprising in Theara, my liege."
"Really?" he asked, studying the willowy slave. "Then you've
not had her long, eh?"
"No. Only three or four months." She fed Ursula a piece of fowl, hoping
he'd change the subject.
Shonal chuckled, a knowing expression on his dark face. "She must be quite
the hussy to have your attention for that long. I hear you killed your own men
for touching her."
Azrael's eyes narrowed. That Shonal had even an idea of what had happened in
Theara could only mean one thing - there was a spy in Azrael's army. "Rumors,
Sire, mere rumors. I killed those men for disobeying orders in the midst of
battle, putting their fellow soldiers at risk, nothing more."
"Still," Shonal shrugged. "It was this little morsel that caused
the problem to begin with." Wiping grease from his face with his arm, he
leaned forward, upsetting the slave perched in his lap. "Stand up, sweetness.
Let's have a look at you."
Azrael silently cursed, looking into scared amber eyes. "Do as the king
orders," she murmured.
Swallowing hard, Ursula rose, keeping her head lowered.
"Turn about! Turn about!" Shonal exclaimed, waving his hand in a circle.
His voice carried, bringing the attention of other diners to the table.
Ursula turned in place, her olive skin flushing. She was wearing a green and
gold gown that accentuated her coloring and frame. When she finished her circle,
she stood still, hands clasped before her to stop their shaking.
"As I said, cousin, very nice," Shonal said.
"Thank you, Sire. Ursula, you may kneel." Azrael watched her slave
sink gratefully to her cushions. Hoping that would be the end of it, she looked
up to see Shonal's reaction. His grin was almost a sneer. A
chill wound through Azrael. It was the same expression he'd sported as a child
when he demanded royal prerogative over his 'lesser' cousins.
"She looks tame enough," he observed with a wink. "But knowing
you, I'll wager she's a tigress under the sheets, yes?"
Grinding her teeth, Azrael refrained from growling. "She has her moments,"
she finally agreed, racking her brain for a change of conversation.
Shonal continued to study the slave as he drank from his mug. "How about
a trade for the evening, cousin?" he asked. Tugging the arm of a redhead
at his feet, he continued, "Sallah here has many talents in bed. I think
you'll find her most pleasurable and I've a desire to taste your little niblet."
Azrael's thoughts raced. She could see Ursula's skin pale at the implication.
"Tempting as that may be to some, cousin,"
she said, leaning back on her lounger with a feral grin, "I've yet to tire
of this one and am not ready to try another."
Proper etiquette, even for a king, would be an apology and a regretful backing
away. But Shonal was anything but proper.
"I believe you misunderstand me," he said, his grin matching hers.
"I wasn't asking."
Azrael's eyes narrowed, her smile fading. "And I wasn't agreeing."
Tension filled their section of the table, rippling away from them. Though many
didn't know the reason, all seemed aware of a struggle of wills.
Shonal laughed, his hearty bark serving to ease the ill feelings. "I understood
you were infatuated with the girl, cousin, but not to what extent."
Azrael relaxed a bit, but not completely.
"It's been quite the eventful day for you," the king said. "I
understand your reluctance. You need a taste of home and hearth tonight to center
yourself. No matter."
Cautious, Azrael said, "I'm glad you see it that way, my liege."
Winking, Shonal said, "You'll deliver her to the palace tomorrow evening.
I can wait that long."
There was a long silence. "Excuse me?"
Shonal's tone was steel, the smile vanished. "I believe you heard me,"
he said. "As it bears repeating, however, I'm ordering you to bring this
morsel to the palace for my enjoyment tomorrow evening. Is that understood?"
"I comprehend the order," Azrael said.
He ignored the implicit threat in her voice. "Good. As you stated before
all these witnesses this afternoon, 'I will be true to his life and rulership.'"
Shonal sat back, smugness reflecting from his eyes. "I've already passed
word that you're not to leave the city. I'd hate for you to lose track of time
tomorrow."
Azrael paced her sitting room, agitation in every step. "I'll be damned if he'll get his way in this," she continued.
"Lord," Suma began only to be promptly cut off.
"No, Suma. You'll not talk me out of this. I plan total defiance in this
matter." Azrael stopped. "Wait! There is one thing I can do! Send
for a scribe. I can't very well send a body slave when I don't have one, can
I? I'll free her!"
The captain frowned. "I doubt that will stop him, Lord Azrael. He'll just
make her a slave once more, this time in his bed instead of yours."
"Milady," Ursula said from her place near Azrael's chair. "If
I may?"
"Yes, Ursula." Azrael attempted an encouraging smile, knowing the
girl was no doubt scared senseless. "Don't worry, sweetling. I'll not let
that royal ass of a cousin have you."
"Perhaps you should, Milady," Ursula said, her voice trembling. "He'll
feel he's succeeded and leave you be."
"Never, Ursula!" Azrael turned to glare into the fire. "You don't
know my cousin's appetites. It would have been better for those three to have
had you in Theara."
"But, Milady, he seeks to hurt you! If you deny him, he'll use it as an
excuse to renounce you and your title!"
"The girl is right, Lord," Suma agreed. "You said yourself he
thinks himself clever and sly. This could be the elaborate plot you feared he'd
create."
"No! Both of you!" the dark woman shouted, rounding on them. "Suma,
get me a scribe. I'll have the paperwork brought up to free Ursula. She and
one of the servants can leave the city in the morning."
Suma saluted. "Aye, Lord."
"I'll also be sending messages to Brahim and Neito. They'll know what to
do." She turned back to the fire.
"As you wish." Suma bowed and left the room.
For a time only the sound of the fire crackling and popping could be heard.
Azrael frowned, hearing something else. Slowly, she turned her head to see Ursula
shaking with sobs and doing her best to stifle them. A flood of emotion filled
her heart and Azrael went to the slave, kneeling before her and gathering her
into her arms. "Ah, sweetling. No worries. I'll see you're safe."
"You're freeing me?" Ursula asked, burrowing into the warm embrace.
"Yes, it has to be done. Shonal can't ask me to lend him a body slave I
do not have."
"If I'm free, I can make my own decisions?"
"Of course, love," Azrael held the crying woman close. "In truth,
I had planned on freeing you someday," she admitted. "Just not quite
this soon."
There was a noticeable hitch in Ursula's breathing. "Why?" she asked,
voice barely above a whisper.
Azrael sighed, feeling a lump in her throat and the sting of tears in her eyes.
"Because I cannot wed a slave." She pulled back to look into stunned
amber eyes. Chuckling, Azrael said, "I had hoped you would grow to love
me as an equal rather than a mistress."
Ursula sniffled, trying to comprehend what Azrael was saying. "You . .
. you love me?" she asked. "As your equal? Or a slave?"
Swallowing hard, Azrael wished a third time for this evening to be over. "I
love you, Ursula. And I would like to see that love grow."
She ducked her head. "But I will not force myself upon you. I'll free you and you can stay as long as you wish at my villa. Or, if you prefer to return home, I'll see you're safely escorted and handsomely paid."
"Did I not tell you what I wished this morning, Azrael?" Ursula asked.
"I meant every word. I only wish to be with you."
Heart thumping, Azrael fought back tears as she crushed Ursula to her chest.
"All the more reason to send you away now," she whispered fiercely.
"I don't want to see you hurt, Azrael."
"I know, love, I know." Emotions under control, Azrael pulled back
to look into Ursula's eyes. "As long as you're safe, nothing can hurt me."
A knock at the door interrupted them, the scribe arriving as ordered. Azrael
gave Ursula a hard kiss before rising, calling for the scribe to enter. It was
going to be a long night of transcriptions and missives.
The following afternoon found Azrael at her desk, eyes closed as she massaged her temples. Ursula had left two hours prior, dressed as a serving wench, with two other servants in tow. Presumably, the three were on their way to the villa in Wrendon to collect more personal belongings for their mistress' stay.
Azrael knew the biggest obstacle would be the gates. But the guard was looking
for her or her people. She'd been sure to disguise the trio in the livery of
another house to be safe. That and the increased comings and goings as errands
were run and deliveries were made hopefully covered Ursula's tracks well enough
for her to escape. No doubt Shonal had his eye on the house and yard.
Sighing, Azrael sat up and glanced out the window at the garden below. She missed
Ursula terribly; had begun missing her the night before almost in preparation
for the slave's real absence. No. Not slave. Freed woman. It had taken every
ounce of will to persuade the brunette to leave. She'd been afraid that her
new status would change her mistress' opinion of her. Despite the somber situation,
Azrael chuckled, knowing that was the least of their worries.
Among the many visitors to the house were no less than four messengers. Two
each for Wrendon and her uncle's estate. She'd had letters sent to inform them
of what was transpiring, asking her uncle to see to things in her absence. Brahim's
letters were more detailed as she explained where certain papers were and what
to do with them. If worse came to worse, Shonal would find a barren villa, all
the slaves freed and escaped from his potential anger at her refusal.
Her rooms were at the back of the house. Nevertheless, she heard the clatter
of horses in the courtyard echoing off the garden walls. A challenge was called
by the guard and she tensed, wondering if Shonal was too impatient to wait.
There was an answer and all seemed well. Azrael relaxed.
Several moments later, a gentle tapping at her door brought her from her mental
wanderings. "Yes, what is it?"
"You have a visitor, Lord."
Azrael frowned as she heard Suma's voice. She wondered why he was the one to
escort this guest. "Enter."
The captain eased open the door, his stern face graver than ever. Behind him,
Azrael saw another, slighter figure.
"Who is it, Suma?"
Suma stood aside and let the person pass.
The figure was somewhat familiar. When her identity registered with Azrael,
the general rose. "My Queen!"
"Hardly, child," Queen Mother Gerina scowled, her voice sounding wet
and rough. "You've never been one for social niceties. Don't start now."
Confused, Azrael indicated Suma should leave. As the door closed, she noted
the old woman slightly weaving and she hastened to bring a chair. Pouring a
cup of wine for her aunt, Azrael refreshed her own and sank into her seat.
A closer look at Gerina only served to verify what she'd seen the night before;
the woman had aged considerably. Azrael found it surprising since the queen
was of an age with her uncle and he was still quite vital. No longer the tall
and stern mother of the prince royale, she seemed to have shrunk in on herself
and was now only half her original size. Her breathing was raspy, a rattle in
her chest audible with every exhale. Gerina wore fine silks of blue and gray,
a scarf draped over her iron gray hair and a satchel hanging from a frail shoulder.
Azrael's study was halted when she noted the fiery blue eyes.
"O, how the mighty have fallen, yes?" Gerina asked, eyebrow raised.
Before Azrael could respond, she scoffed and waved her to silence. "No
need to be sensitive to my feelings. I don't have them anymore."
Azrael opened her mouth, closed it, and finally spoke. "Why are you here,
Your Majesty? Did the King send you to escort my body slave?"
Gerina snorted. "Hardly. I warned him to keep away from you but he rarely
listens to my counsel these days."
"Then why are you here?"
The wrinkled face creased into a smile. "Always the blunt one, weren't
you?" she asked rhetorically. "I was quite happy that you were never
one for court. I don't think I could have stood the scrapping between you and
Shonal for long."
Regaining her equilibrium, Azrael pursed her lips. "What's done is done,"
she said. "What brings you to my home now?"
Their eyes locked, blue and black, as the two women battled with their wills.
Eventually, though she didn't release their gaze, Gerina nodded in slow and
grudging respect.
"Your father raised you well," she said. "He succeeded far better
than I. I'll have to commend him when I reach the other side."
Azrael's eyes narrowed. "You haven't answered my question."
"Forgive me," Gerina said, her tone at odds with her words. "I'm
used to a more civil tongue." She heaved a sigh which resulted in a spasm
of coughing. Dry and shrill, it almost bent her double.
Unsure what to do, Azrael leaned forward and awkwardly patted the old woman's
back until her hand was batted away.
Gerina gained control and took a large swallow of wine before sagging in her
chair, face red, panting. Soon, the flush eased from her skin and she opened
her eyes once more. They no longer radiated fire but a dull regret.
"You ask why I'm here," she said. "Why would I come to the house
of my son's cousin, a woman who is strong and just, feared and loved by the
people?"
Rather than argue the description, Azrael nodded.
"I'm here because I need you to do something for me." Gerina leaned
forward. "I've spent my life devoted to my only son, seeing to his safety,
ensuring he had the best education to lead his people, to be a great king. His
father -" Gerina snorted again and looked out the window. "His father
had other ideas. A good king, not great. But I knew Shonal had the ability to
be the grandest ruler in the history of Barentcia!"
Azrael listened, unimpressed. She could recall with ease how much the woman
had doted on and spoiled her child.
"But something went wrong," Gerina said, shoulders drooping. "He
doesn't aspire to greatness. He's too busy playing with the members of his court
to be bothered with his people." Shaking her head, she returned her gaze
to Azrael. "Shonal enjoys power; he always has. Perhaps too much. I have
proof that he . . . he . . ."
Silence for long moments. Azrael finally begged the question. "Proof of
what?"
Blue eyes sparkled with tears, reflecting an emotion Azrael had never seen there.
Fear.
"Shonal is kin- and king-slayer."
The news shocked the dark woman to her core. She sat back with an explosive
curse. "You can't be serious!"
Gerina's tears began to fall in earnest. "I can. I've a witness I've hidden
in the north and a sworn deposition." The old woman fumbled for a kerchief
from her satchel. "My son killed his father for the crown," she whispered.
Unable to sit still, Azrael rose and began pacing the room. "Why didn't
you tell Neito?" she finally demanded.
"Tell Neito?" Gerina echoed, looking up from her misery. "If
Shonal even suspects I know, he'll kill me as well! His father was a strong
man and I . . . I am nothing but an old woman. Besides, Neito and his son have
been away from court for years. I had no opportunity to tell them."
Azrael paused and glared at her aunt. "But you'll tell me. What is this
thing you want me to do?" She was surprised when Gerina, ever the proud
and strong woman, shrank away from her gaze.
The Queen Mother pulled a parchment case from her satchel. "I have the
deposition here. If you could get it to Neito, find the witness. Perhaps you
can go to the council -"
"The council?" Azrael growled. "They're as terrified of my dear
cousin as you are." Resuming her pacing, the dark woman prayed to the gods
that she would wake in her villa with Ursula at her side. When that didn't occur,
she stopped to stare out the window rather than browbeat the old woman. "Why
do you think I'll do anything anyway?" she asked. "I'm in enough hot
water as it is with Shonal."
"Because I've instilled Shonal with a hatred for you," Gerina said.
"He'll stop at nothing to destroy you now that he is in control."
Azrael sighed and sagged against the window casement. "Why?" she asked,
voice soft. "I was never a threat to your precious son's destiny. I never
wanted to rule and am too far away in lineage to legally do so."
"Because you were everything I wanted him to be," Gerina finally said.
"Strong, forthright, proud. Give you a horse or weapon and you'd learn
it instantly. The other children at court always followed you. You were born
a leader." She trailed off. "You had their love and didn't even know
it. It was all so casual for you. Shonal had to work at weapon craft, broke
bones learning to ride. The children constantly picked at him." Another
pause. "I hated you for that."
A banging on the door interrupted further discussion. Azrael whirled about and
strode toward it, yanking it open.
"Lord Azrael!"
"Milady!"
The corridor held several servants, the steward and Suma. One of the servants
was disheveled, blood flowing freely from a cut on his scalp.
A chill soaked through Azrael's blood as she recognized the wounded man.
"Milady!" he said, voice slurred. "They came upon us at the gate!
They took her and killed Joram! They left me for dead, as well!"
"Who are they?" Azrael heard her voice ask, though She didn't need
an answer. She already knew.
"The King's personal guard, Milady!"