The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (32 page)

“No, they can't put Threnn in the dungeons, he is too old.”
Athildis panicked, at the same time irritated that this was the first coherent thought that came to mind.

“No, no,” she shouted at the impudent brat, seated on the Landemere throne, “you can't do that. You have no right to do that. This is an outrage.”

“I assure you, madam, that I am well within my rights.”

Steel-gray eyes looked impassively at Athildis, while a clerk began unfolding parchments on one of the long tables.

“I invite you to affix your seal to these documents,” Anaxantis said calmly.

“Why? What do they say?” Athildis said in a rebellious tone that made clear she wasn't going to surrender just yet.

“Essentially, they say that in view of the charter that has just been read, you invite me to take the regency of the duchy of Landemere upon me. I, of course, agree graciously to take this onerous task upon me.”

“Never,” Athildis shouted defiantly.

Anaxantis made a barely visible sign, and two soldiers took hold of Arranulf and dragged him before the dais. Lethoras drew his sword and with outstretched arm pointed it at the chest of the young duke, who visibly paled.

“Grandmother,” he cried, looking in her direction for help.

“Unhand the duke, you brutes,” she shouted.

“Madam,” Anaxantis intervened with a voice cold as ice, “it seems to me you have a choice to make. Either affix your seal to those documents as I have ordered you, or see the line of the Landemeres end forever before your very eyes.”

“You wouldn't dare,” she gasped. “Even you wouldn't—”

“Watch me, madam, watch me.”

Still Anaxantis showed no emotion, and his voice sounded devoid of all compassion.

“He is the reincarnation of Bordomach. Pure poison in a pretty cup.”

“You can't do this to us,” she cried in desperation. “You can't do this to me. I am a peer of the realm.”

“You are a traitor and a common thief,” Anaxantis roared. “You misrepresented the revenues of the duchy and withheld tax money that was needed for the defense of the border. You are a thief, and in the Northern Marches we hang thieves. Don't for one moment imagine, madam, that your age, your gender or your rank will protect you from swinging by the neck from the gatehouse of this castle. Your avarice and petty deviousness are partly to blame for the loss of fifteen thousand lives twelve years ago. I will not permit you to repeat your crimes. Now decide. Which is it to be?”

Athildis had cowered back as if every word had been a lash of the whip. Nobody had ever dared speak to her in this manner. Anaxantis raised his right hand to give the sign to Lethoras. Athildis almost fainted, and Threnn had to keep her upright by supporting her from behind by her elbows.

“All right, all right,” she cried in terror. “Stop that. I agree. I will affix my seal.”

Anaxantis nodded and Lethoras sheathed his sword.

“You cruel, evil, vicious... boy,” Athildis hissed under her breath at Anaxantis in powerless rage, while tears fell down her cheeks. “You... you... Tanahkos.”

She pressed her ring in each of the blobs of fast hardening wax the clerk had dropped on the parchments.

“So this is how it ends. Not amidst the turmoil of death cries and war, but with a few drops of blood red wax. Tricked by a demon child that doesn't balk at vile murder.”

When she had finished, she ran over to Arranulf who still was recovering from the shock of having a sword pointed at his heart, and took him protectively in her arms.

“Lower the sun and raise the dragon above the castle gates,” she heard the man who had kept the duke at his sword's point command one of the soldiers. So, it really was the setting of the sun.

Her shoulders stooped, her head sunk down.

“I will lodge a formal complaint with your father, the high king,” Athildis said after a few moments, righting herself and regaining some of her former strength.

“That is your privilege, madam, however you will exert it from the dungeons of Lorseth Castle, for which you will depart immediately,” Anaxantis said dispassionately.

“But I must prepare. I must pack... and my grandson...” Athildis stammered.

“You ‘must’ nothing, madam, except obey me. You will depart now. This instant.”

Arranulf took a few steps towards the dais.

“Your highness,” he said, “take me instead of my grandmother.”

For the first time since the Landemeres had entered the hall, Anaxantis's face showed some emotion. Surprise. With his almost fifteen years, Arranulf, looked still a child, but there was some visible inner strength there. He had a square, pleasant face, with a sensitive mouth that seemed always on the verge of smiling, accentuated by a strange glimmering in his right eye.

“Your grace,” Anaxantis replied, “I—”

“It makes perfect sense, Your highness, hear me out,” the young duke insisted. “My grandmother is old, and locking her up in a damp dungeon could be the end of her. The exertions of the voyage to Lorseth may kill her, as it is. And then you will be left with nothing. Take me instead.”

Anaxantis hesitated.

“As much as I admire your offer, your grace,” he finally said, “I'm afraid I must decline. The times could grow very dangerous very soon, and I don't want to be encumbered with the responsibility for children.”

“May I remind your highness,” Arranulf said smilingly, “that he is but a few years older than I am. I am sure I could make myself useful.”

“And again your grace has a point,” Anaxantis, who suddenly began to like this boy, smiled. “I agree that in ten years the difference in our ages would be so small as to be insignificant. However, at our present age that same difference means that I am the lord governor of the Northern Marches and that your grace has yet to come into his inheritance and is in the guardianship of the regent. Me.”

“All the more reason to take me with you, your highness. Surely, there must be a place for me among your pages?”

“Pages?”

“A princely court must have pages, mustn't it? I don't care to who or what you assign me. Just let grandmother stay here.”

Anaxantis now definitely was inclined to take the young duke up on his offer. He thought a few moments.

“Very well, your grace... I have no pages as I hold no court. Nevertheless you shall have your wish. You are aware that it is not customary to address pages by their titles?”

“I don't care. I accept.”

Anaxantis turned to Hemarchidas who immediately saw what was coming.

“Oh no, oh no, you don't. You're not going to fob him off on me, Anaxantis. I don't want a page. I don't need a page.”

“That ugly stain on your tunic says otherwise, Hemarchidas,” Anaxantis smiled.

Athildis had listened silently to the conversation with mounting disbelief.

“Sir, who are you,” she finally intervened, addressing Hemarchidas, mustering all her remaining authority.

“I am Hemarchidas of the Cheridoni tribe.”

“And?”

“And nothing. That's it.”

“You're a horse breeder,” Athildis said exasperated. Her world stood on its head. She turned to Anaxantis. “And you let him call you by your given name?”

“Yes, madam, I do,” Anaxantis replied irritated. “And you, madam, will keep addressing me as your highness. That should give you an indication of your importance in the grand scheme of things.”

“Anaxantis, come on, what am I to do with him?” Hemarchidas complained.

“Well, for starters he could polish your boots. It looks as if that hasn't been done for some time.”

“Yeah, well, you keep us rather busy, if you hadn't noticed.”

“Yes, I know, and that's precisely why—”

“You're insufferable. Look at him. He doesn't even
know
how to polish boots. He himself has people to do that for him. So don't you come and—”

“You're right,” Arranulf interrupted him. “But I am a quick study. Show me once how you want them done. Once, just once.”

Arranulf smiled at Hemarchidas insistently, imploring, yet with confidence.

“Anaxantis, I can't possibly take him everywhere on my horse. It will—”

“I have my own horse,” Arranulf said. “A Cheridonian Fourblood. Grandmother gave him to me for my last birthday. I take care of him myself. I can take care of your horse as well.”

Hemarchidas's mouth fell open.

“That decides it,” Anaxantis laughed. “Arranulf meet my friend Hemarchidas. Hemarchidas, I present you your page, Arranulf. And Arranulf... see to it that he is presentable in the future when he has to accompany me on official business.”

“OK, I know when I am beaten,” Hemarchidas muttered. “At least he has good taste in horses.”

Athildis couldn't believe her ears. Had the whole world gone mad? Tanahkos was giving the duke of Landemere as page to a horse breeder who, to add insult to injury, thought it beneath him to be served by a Landemere. All the while the duke himself begged to be allowed to clean his boots.

She looked behind her, at Threnn, for support and saw a man who had aged ten years in ten minutes.

“We are both too old for this. I knew it. I knew it. The only thing left for me to do is beg Tanahkos to keep him safe.”

Suddenly she noticed how very young the prince and his companions were.

Anaxantis had left the throne and was descending from the dais. Athildis went over to him and took one of his hands between hers.

“Your highness, I'm just an old woman, a grandmother and I beg you... He is all that remains. My husband is gone. My son is gone. My grandson is all that I have left. He is the last of the Landemeres. There is a war coming...”

Anaxantis looked her in the eyes.

“Poor woman. She is beaten and she knows it.”

“Yes, war could be upon us,” he said softly. “Arranulf may see some action, but I promise you that it will be from the very last line, and I will give orders that he is to be the first to be escorted off the field, should the fortunes of war turn against us. Have no fear, his life will never be in any danger. You have the word of Anaxantis, madam.”

“Thank you, your highness,” she whispered and turned around to join Threnn to seek and give comfort.

“And, madam...”

She looked back at him.

“You are under arrest. You will be escorted to your quarters. You are not to leave them, and you are to have no contact with anybody until we have examined all the records of the duchy. You have fifteen minutes to say your goodbyes.”

“Yes, your highness,” the old woman murmured.

Arranulf came up to Anaxantis.

“Thank you, your highness,” he said simply.

“My lord will suffice in the future, Arranulf,” Anaxantis replied, smiling, “and you're welcome.”

“Would you... would you... if grandmother hadn't...”

“Aren't you glad we didn't have to find out?”

The steward entered the quarters of the soldiers. Anaxantis's men occupied the whole first floor, while the ducal troops had retired to the second. Both captains sat beside each other on the stairs.

“The prince and the duchess have reached an agreement,” he said to them. “Shall I read it to you?”

“Give that here man,” the Landemere captain snarled. “I'll read it for myself.”

When he had done so, he nodded and gave the parchment to his colleague.

“It seems your master has become our master,” he said. “A good thing. I really didn't want to fight you.”

“Indeed, it would have been blood spilled for nothing. Well, it seems prince Anaxantis is regent of Landemere.”

“Prince Anaxantis is regent of Landemere,”
one of the cavalry men thought sadly.
“That should have been you, Ehandar. It should have been us, mounting this coup. It could have been us.”

From the great balcony at the back of the Temple of Astonema, the First Daughter looked at the city sprawled deep beneath her feet.

“We can come back from this. We can. We have to reassess our options and adjust our plans accordingly. We'll write this off as a necessary learning experience. We know more now than we did before. That should give us an advantage.”

She sighed. One more time she would have to convince her sisters. Well, it was nothing she hadn't done before, and she could do it again.

She went back into the great room, with its white marble walls and enormous windows. She had barely sat down at the head of the table, when the Second and Third Daughter came in through a door that gave out to an adjacent room. Something nagged at the back of her brain, but the First Daughter ignored it. When they had also taken their seat and exchanged some trivial niceties, the Second Daughter spoke.

“Sister,” she said to the First Daughter, “it can't be denied anymore. Your great plan has failed. Queen Emelasuntha has escaped the clutches of her husband, but she is not in our hands. All signs indicate that she is now aware of the fact that we have drugged her son for years. Doctor Maelar has vanished from the face of the earth, and we are fairly certain that Emelasuntha had something to do with it. Sister Sobrathi, who we had thought we had placed ourselves in the retinue of the queen, has proven to be a double agent. Our top operatives always arrive too late on the scene. Anaxantis himself, the cornerstone of your plan, has awoken from his weakened state and is equally aware of the fact that somebody tried to poison him. And everything we know of him indicates that he is a dangerous enemy... Need I go on?”