The White Robe (18 page)

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Authors: Clare Smith

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Horror, #Dark Fantasy, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Epic, #Sword & Sorcery

BOOK: The White Robe
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“Traitor!” he screamed. “Seize that woman!”

 

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

  

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Challenge

 

Despite the fact that she’d been expecting this or something very like it and had rehearsed what would happen next, the Lord Keeper of the Key’s challenge came as a shock. She raised her hand to give the signal to proceed with their plan and felt it shake so she dropped it quickly back onto the arm of the throne before anyone could see just how afraid she was. From behind her Malingar took two steps forward and gave a single command. The two lines of soldiers moved smartly into their allocated positions and before the Lord Keeper of the Keys had a chance to say another word he was surrounded by a small phalanx of armed guards.

 

Another section of the guard had formed a formidable barrier in front of the throne room doors blocking the entrance and keeping the crowd at bay. Despite the ceremonial appearance of their weapons none of those outside the throne room felt inclined to press forward into the shiny, sharp tips of the polished blades so they milled around outside instead. The remainder of the guards had left the throne room at a run with their swords drawn, bypassing those trying to get into the chamber and engaging the surprised and unprepared palace guard. They had been summoned by the Lord Keeper of the Keys when over two hundred lords and worthy citizens had unexpectedly turned up at his door demanding immediate access to the throne room.

 

This was the tricky part. If the palace guard was at full strength then Malingar’s men would be overwhelmed and the few that were now left guarding the entrance to the throne room would be insufficient to hold the palace guard back; then the game would be over. If, however, the men who had been smuggled into the city the previous evening had been successful in disabling the off duty guards and those on patrol in the city the whole thing might just work.

 

Tarraquin sat and listened intently for the clash of steel and shouts of battle but all she could hear was the cacophony of voices of those waiting to gain admission to the throne room. If there was a fight going on, it was happening some distance away; not that that was any consolation. The plan had been to wait for word that the palace guard had been subdued before making the next move, but it seemed to Tarraquin that it was taking far too long and they were in danger of losing control of the situation. Without looking at him, Tarraquin raised her hand again and Jarrul stepped forward from his position at the rear of the throne.

 

“Lord Keeper of the Keys, you may step forward and address Her Majesty.”

 

The guards at the front of the phalanx stepped smartly to one side and then flanked the Lord Keeper of the Keys as he strode the length of the throne room to the foot of the dais where the queen sat. He was a tall and imposing man and the sound of his heavy boots and metal tipped cane hitting the floor echoed around the open chamber. When he came to a halt in front of the throne he ground his cane down hard into the polished marble and glared at Tarraquin.

 

“What is the meaning of this charade? How dare you invade His Majesty’s palace and sit on his throne. He will have all your heads for this insult.”

 

“Lord Keeper of the Keys, it is customary to bow before your monarch,” interrupted Jarrul sternly.

 

The Lord glared at Jarrul and then back at Tarraquin. “King Sarrat is the ruler of Leersland, not this girl. I will only bow to the rightful monarch.”

 

Malingar stepped forward from the other side of the throne to respond but Tarraquin held out a restraining hand. “My Lord Keeper of the Keys.” she said quietly. “I understand how difficult this must be for you, and that I’ve placed you in an awkward position. For many summers you have been a loyal servant to Sarrat, believing him to be the rightful king and now, it must be upsetting for you to find that you have been serving the wrong person all that time. Sarrat murdered King Malute, my father, and took the throne by force. As the true heir I am now taking back what is rightfully mine. I would ask you to see reason and to serve me as well as I am sure you served the usurper. Will you do that for me? Will you be my Lord Keeper of the Keys and share the keys of the kingdom with me?”

 

The Lord thought for a moment and then took a pace forward and showing his disrespect rested one leg on the first step of the dais.  “Madam, King Sarrat is the crowned ruler of this kingdom and I will only serve the rightful king. He has charged me with keeping the kingdom’s keys, crown and seals and that is what I will do until he returns to reclaim them.” He removed his foot from the step and gave a mocking laugh. “You and your claim to the throne are as counterfeit as that crown on your head and the seal around your neck. Once the people of Leersland realise that you are a fraud they will have your head and I hope that I’m there on that day to lead you to the headsman’s axe.”

 

Tarraquin sighed in disappointment. “I’m sorry you feel this way, I would have preferred to have you at my side rather than beneath my feet. Captain Malingar, you may have him taken away but treat him gently until dawn tomorrow. That will to give him the chance to reconsider his decision. If, after that time, he has not changed his mind, your questioners may do whatever is necessary to make him reveal where he keeps his keys and the location of the crown and seal.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“You cannot do this to me!” shouted the Lord Keeper in protest but Malingar had already signalled to the guards surrounding the Lord and they once again closed around him   marching him from the room still protesting. Tarraquin watched them go and then waved her two advisors to her.

 

“What now?”

 

“We use the backup plan and get Lord Istan to declare you queen, after which you take oaths of loyalty from those who have gathered.”

 

Tarraquin turned to Malingar. “Have we any news of the fighting?”

 

“No, but I am sure we will have soon.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure too, one way or another.” She frowned slightly as she considered the situation. “Then we proceed and hope for the best.”

 

They both nodded in agreement and Malingar gave the curt command to the row of men who guarded the entrance to the throne room. Slowly they pulled back and the guards on each side of the retreating line fell out and took up their previous positions along the sides of the room until only a single guard remained. He turned and bowed to the queen and then took up his own position at the side of the dais.

 

From the throne room doors, the crowd of supporters filed into the room led by Lord Istan and slightly behind him the huge figure of Guildmaster Jobes of the carter’s guild. When all of the supporters had entered the throne room, Tordray and two other guards followed them in. Tordray stood framed in the doorway until he caught Malingar’s eye and then bowed briefly. He turned and walked out of the throne room again leaving the two guards to close the door behind him.

 

Malingar gave a smile of satisfaction and leaned down close to Tarraquin’s ear. “The fortress is ours, my lady.”

 

Tarraquin nodded distractedly as she watched the crowd move forward and spread out to fill the throne room to about a third of its length. “And the city?” she whispered back.

 

Malingar just shrugged as the supporters milled about muttering amongst themselves. Most of those present hadn’t been into the throne room before or even into the palace for that matter, and they stared around in wonder at the rich carvings, portraits and tapestries which decorated the walls. The few lords who had been part of Sarrat’s court waited impatiently for their fellow conspirators to stop whispering and pointing out things to others who stood with their mouths open, gaping around them.

 

Once everyone had settled and there was silence, Lord Istan stepped forward, his dark tailored coat and blue sash with the royal emblem embroidered on it matching the one that Jarrul wore and making him look older than his twenty five summers. He approached the throne and bowed deeply to Tarraquin before turning and facing the silent crowd.

 

“My lords, guildmasters and worthy gentlemen, I present to you Queen Tarraquin, King Malute’s only child and rightful heir to the throne of Leersland.”

 

He turned back to the queen and knelt on one knee with his head bowed. Behind him there was absolute silence and no movement. Tarraquin looked out at the faces before her, some confused, some blank, one or two angry and a very few smiling. She kept her eyes fixed on the crowd as the guards at the edge of the room shifted nervously, waiting for a command from their captain.

 

“Your Majesty,” grunted Jobes as he went heavily to one knee almost pushing the man next to him out of the way as he made space for himself.

 

Around and behind him others fell to their knees naming Tarraquin queen until the entire crowd were on their knees with their heads bowed. Jarrul gave Tarraquin an encouraging nod and she stood with a small, relieved smile on her face.

 

“My lords, guildmasters, worthy gentlemen, the honour you have shown me is gracefully accepted. You may rise.”

 

She retook her seat on the throne as the crowd regained their feet, the older ones with stiff joints being aided by their younger neighbours. When everyone was standing and there was silence again, Istan turned back to the queen.

 

“Your Majesty, may I present the lords of the realm, masters of the principal guilds and worthy gentlemen of trade, accounting and law who have gathered here today to witness your accession to the throne and to give you their vows of loyalty and allegiance.”

 

“Thank you, Lord Istan, for your introduction.  I am pleased to accept the vows of loyalty and allegiance of those present. However, if there are any amongst you who cannot make their vow in truth and honesty they may leave now without any loss of honour or fear of reprisals.”

 

For a long moment there was absolute silence and nobody moved. Then the great door of the throne room opened and Tordray ran in followed closely behind by a cloaked man in dusty mercenary garb. Everyone turned to watch, muttering amongst themselves at the unexpected interruption, as the two soldiers marched swiftly along the length of the throne room until they reached the dais, where they bowed deeply to the queen.

 

“Your Majesty, Captain Malingar,” began Tordray breathlessly. “There’s an army approaching the city.” Behind him there was instant uproar as those who only moments before had been ready to swear their allegiance started to panic and demand to know what was happening. Tarraquin felt her heart drop and the little bit of confidence that she had started to feel that things might work out after all evaporated like mist in the sunshine. She looked to Jarrul for support but he too looked white and shaken so she turned back to Malingar with a questioning look.

 

“With your permission, Your Majesty, I think we need to listen to this news in private.” Tarraquin nodded numbly. “Silence!” yelled Malingar, instantly hushing the voice of the crowd and attracting their attention. “Her Majesty needs to consider this man’s report and decide what should be done about it. Whilst Her Majesty is doing so, you will wait here and when a decision has been made you will do as your queen orders. Guards! Close the doors and secure the room!”

 

Before the babble of voices could restart the guards rapidly dispersed to all the doors, closing them and dropping the locking bars into place. They lowered their halberds to prevent anyone trying to leave. Malingar led the way to a small door behind the throne which he’d discovered the night before and Tarraquin and the others followed. At the bottom of the dais, Jarrul waved Lord Istan over to join them, and as they stepped through the doorway into the small receiving room, Jobes followed him in. Jarrul went to protest but the look on the Guildmaster’s face stopped him dead. Instead he just shrugged and closed the door behind them all.

 

“Report!” commanded Malingar.

 

“There’s an army approaching the city. It is less than half a day behind me and should be here just past noon.”

 

“Did you recognise them?”

 

“No, My Lord, I didn’t get that close and in any case I’m not familiar with Leersland’s nobility or officers.”

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