The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (48 page)

He took a step forward.

“I assure you”, he resumed, “that I will see to it that you all, to the last man, will fulfill your duty as nobles to the full extend. To be honest, there is much to be said for that alternative.”

He looked the duke of Yondar in the eyes.

“I will count it an honor, and indeed I look forward to, fighting the Mukthars in the first ranks beside your grace,” he bit at the surprised duke.

He took another step forward, which brought him side by side with Arranulf. Then he crossed his arms.

A deafening silence descended upon the banks of the nobility as they stared as a man at the lord governor and Arranulf, duke of Landemere, in his uniform of page of the prince. The young duke turned red as a beet under their stares, while he realized just why Anaxantis had placed him there. The nobles saw in their mind's eyes the lord governor, and lots and lots of those soldiers that stood behind them, arriving at their castles. After the first shock they began to throw each other shifty looks.

Sir Eckfred of Ramaldah stood up.

“Your mightiness, If you permit me to say so, I think your proposal is entirely reasonable. Frankly, I can't spare the men. In a few weeks time the ground has to be prepared for sowing and then there's celery to be planted. So I need all my men on the fields and not sitting in some tent at the border. I myself wouldn't mind to fight the barbarians, in fact, I would be proud to do so, certainly side by side with your highly self, were it not that meanwhile the whole of Ramaldah would go to pot. Can't leave things to the peasants, you know. They're good people and they mean well, generally speaking, but they're not too bright. Mind you, one twentieth of the Royal Taxes isn't exactly cat's pee, as we say in Ramaldah, but if I have to leave my demesne when I should be overseeing the planting, that would be a disaster and would cost far, far more. So, for me it's aye.”

He winked at Obyann, who feigned to not know him, and sat down again.

“Thank you, my lord,” Anaxantis said. “I'm very pleased to hear that one of the oldest Houses of Amiratha, with an impeccable record of service to the crown, sees it my way.”

He turned once again to the duke of Yondar, who had been pensively looking at his son who stood a few places to the left of Arranulf.

“Well, Your Grace, do you begin to see the advantages of my modest proposal, or shall I accompany you back to Yondar.”

“The further you stay away from my lands, the better,” the duke fumed inside. “The last thing I need is an arrogant royal busybody prying into my affairs.”

“I think I can see the soundness of your proposal, your highness. The duchy of Yondar has always been a firm buttress to the throne; and certainly in times like these we should each of us bear our share of the burden. If your highness deems it preferable that we should assist him with our treasury, instead of personally with our swords on the field of honor, which I hasten to say our House has done many times in the past, it is not my place to doubt the wisdom of that decision. You can count on my vote.”

“And the peasants and the villages will have a nasty surprise when, in my turn, I raise their taxes. By the three tails of Zardok, I'm not going to lose a copper sarth over this. It will be no skin of my nose. And as for you, Tanahkos brood, have your money, raise your Militia and ride to a glorious and painful death at the hand of the Mukthars, for all I care.”

The nobles looked around and saw in each other's eyes what they were thinking already themselves. If great and mighty duchies like Landemere and Yondar had to bow for the will of the young lord governor, young as he was, what chance did they stand? Better not to antagonize the prince and give him his money. So, first hesitatingly, but gradually faster and louder the ayes began to sound from the benches of the Amirathan nobility.

Anaxantis turned around to hide his satisfied, triumphant smile and, when his face was back to the disinterested, haughty expression he had adopted for the Council, he sat down.

“I declare the proposal of his highness, the prince and lord governor, duly adopted by the Council of Amiratha,” Tomar intoned.

A that moment the lord mayor of Dermolhea again took the floor.

“My lords, my colleagues,” he said, addressing both the nobles and the representatives of the people, “the Amirathan Militia is a fact. A new era in our proud history has dawned, and no longer do we need to rely exclusively on the might of the kingdom for our own defense. It goes without saying that the august person who has had the foresight and the vision to make this come true shall personally take upon himself the command of these, our newly to be formed, troops. In light of this, I put forward the motion that we revive the ancient title by which the commanders in chief of Amiratha used to be known.”

He turned to Anaxantis.

“Your highness, permit me to be the first to address you, in name of this Council, by that title.”

He raised his right arm and made a fist.

“Hail to the warlord,” he cried.

Carefully chosen friends of Fraleck who he had judiciously distributed among the representatives, took over the cry.

“Hail to the warlord,” sounded out of a dozen mouths and soon ever more and more representatives added their voices to the jubilant chorus. At first only a few of the nobles joined in, but nobody dared risk being the last to remain silent, for fear of being noticed by Tomar, who was studying both sides of the aisle and whose underlings were writing diligently, the Gods may know what.

Anaxantis stood up once again and let the ever more enthusiastic cries undulate over him with a contented smile. The noise was deafening.

“Hail to the warlord, hail to the warlord, hail to the warlord.”

From the back of the room Hemarchidas looked upon the scene.

“He's happy, thank the Gods, he's happy. Good for you, my friend. Look at the aplomb with which he accepts their adulation. As if it were nothing more than his rightful due. Another day, another title. And this one isn't even remotely ceremonial. This one carries with it the might and main of seven thousand swords. Yes, indeed. Hail to the warlord.”

Anaxantis and his train left the hall first. Once in the side chamber of the entrance hall, he turned around, unclasped his mantle and gave it to one of his guards for safekeeping. Then he turned to the pages.

“OK, guys,” he said, “you can all go and spend some time with your fathers. Report back at your lodging by this evening.”

The boys forgot all ceremony and decorum instantly and scooted away, looking for their sires. Except Arranulf, who stood hesitatingly, not knowing what to do or how to carry himself. His lower lip quivered slightly. When, through the door, he saw Obyann almost disappear in sir Eckfred's bear hug, his eyes became moist.

“Oh, Arranulf,” Anaxantis, who had seen his distress, said, “I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'm so, so sorry. And after I used you to intimidate the nobles, too.”

He took the boy in his arms.

“It's nothing, my lord,” Arranulf said, “I understand. You had to. I know that. I just wished... Should you do this? It seems... it seems not fitting for a warlord.”

Anaxantis looked at him and laughed.

“I don't give a damn. Come, you'll stay with me this afternoon. You'll sit beside me at the banquet the lord mayor is giving.”

He looked in the entrance hall until he saw Tomar and motioned him to come.

“Don't fear, warlord,” Tomar said smilingly, “the records will show that you were chosen unanimously, by acclamation.”

“Never mind that,” Anaxantis said. “I want you to prepare an order to the effect that the duchess Athildis and sir Threnn are given leave to write to and receive letters from his grace, the duke. See to it that your scribes have it ready for me to sign and put my seal upon by the end of the banquet. I want it dispatched by special courier, together with the first letter of his grace, as soon as he has written it.”

He turned to Arranulf.

“I know it's not the same, but it's the best I can do.”

“It's plenty, my lord, and more than I dared hope for. You're very magnanimous and I thank you,” Arranulf whispered.

“Well then, give us a smile and let's go see what the good citizens of Dermolhea are serving us. I for one could eat a horse. Shall we, your grace?”

Arranulf looked at him through still slightly teary eyes.

“Didn't you say that pages weren't addressed by their titles?”

“Ah, yes, but this afternoon your grace is my guest.”

“In that case, why certainly, your highness, by all means, let's go see what they have prepared for us,” Arranulf smiled.

“See, that's better. Oh yes, since you're sitting next to me, that means Hemarchidas will have to move over and you will be between us. I hope that will suit you?”

“That will suit me fine.”

“And I wouldn't take it amiss if you preferred his conversation to mine.”

“Yes, thank you... hey, what does your highness mean by that?”

“I may be many things, your grace, but being blind is not one of them,” Anaxantis said with a barely suppressed grin. “Come, I'll race you to the banquet hall,” he said, laughing, and darted away to the broad marble stairs.

“Not fair,” Arranulf shouted, running after him.

Not a few of the representatives and nobles reacted testily when they were jostled by two laughing boys running up the stairs. When some of them saw that one of the rascals bore an uncanny resemblance to the warlord, they shook their head in wonder.

“Should I intervene now or give him some more rope to hang himself with?” the high king pondered.

He squinted his eyes, cursing them for getting weaker, and read the two small pieces of parchment again.

“Poor Dem, he was left to rot in Lorseth while my youngest ignored him completely and went to mold the whole of Amiratha to his hand. All he can report is hearsay. Now, the other one has a lot more interesting facts to report. So, he threatened to call the nobility under arms, unless they voted him his money. That was dangerous, my son. Your grandfather and I have done everything possible to dismantle the military might and traditions of the old nobility, and you almost reinstated them. Our policies seem to have worked though, as they apparently preferred to fork over the money instead of taking the field. Still... it was a dangerous gamble. I wonder if you knew all this and whether it was part of your calculations. Equally surprising is that you seem to have made a covenant with the commoners, or at least with some of them, and used them against the nobility. Now that is a clever ploy, though a complex balancing exercise. And again, only a few people knew what you were planning beforehand, and I doubt you told even them everything. More likely you told each of them just enough to execute your orders and gave none of them the complete picture.”

He rubbed his eyes, wondering if it wasn't time to take his youngest son into his confidence and treat him on par with his brothers, Tenaxos the younger and Portonas.

“Maybe not just yet. Neither will I intervene. The spectacle is too fascinating and I want to see what your next move will be. However, I know already that you've got talent. But you are still very young and your old father might still be able to teach you a trick or two. Which I will do after all this is over. Tenaxos and Portonas will have to lump it.”

“Meanwhile, carry on. Refine your plans. Cast your nets wider. Build up your military strength. The more power you accumulate, the greater your devastation will be when I take it all away, warlord.”