The White Robe (55 page)

He had also thought of meeting in the throne room or the receiving room, but since the last time she would have been in them they were hers, he thought it a bit crass. Instead he had chosen his own private rooms, comfortable, but hardly intimate, with Callabris and his protector standing by the door looking stern and intimidating and Rastor giving Allowyn dirty looks, three places to the left. It could have been worse though; he could have invited Jonderill and his protector along as well which would have made a really happy little party.

However, as he had only invited them here to introduce them to the girl, they wouldn’t be staying for too long and then he would be alone with her with plenty of time to become intimate, which was another good reason to meet in his own rooms. He sat in one of the soft chairs, waved his hand and Rastor refilled his wine goblet, placing the silver pitcher back on the dresser before taking up his previous position.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he sat up in anticipation of meeting his guest, but when the door opened it was only Malingar, and he sat back with a disappointed sigh. Malingar, with a strange look on his face, crossed the room ignoring the presence of the white robe and his protector and bowed briefly to his king. Borman nodded back in casual acknowledgement of his presence, not quite certain what the captain was doing there. Then he jumped in surprise as Malingar took two quick paces to the left and grabbed Rastor by his throat. Fighting in his presence was unheard of but within moments Malingar had blooded Rastor’s face with his gloved hand, both had drawn knives and were rolling on the floor doing their best to stick each other somewhere where it would be fatal.

Borman screamed and almost immediately the room was filled with guards pulling the two snarling antagonists apart. The biggest of his personal guards, built like a tree, held Malingar by a thick arm around his throat and a blade at his ribs whilst the other guard, only a finger width shorter but equally as broad, restrained Rastor in an arm lock, fit to break his shoulder and with a knife at his throat. The two glared and hissed at each other as if their king didn’t exist. By the door Allowyn, who had made no effort to intervene, looked on with a slight smile on his face and a hand on his sword in case the fight moved in the direction of his master.

“What in hellden’s name do you think you are doing?” screamed Borman. “I’ll have your bloody heads for this you stupid buggers! Now tell me what’s going on.”

Malingar strained against the man with his arm around his throat, his teeth bared and his hands balled into fists. “This bastard has raped my sister and has murdered my little brother. If I get my hands on him I’ll rip his bloody balls off and stuff them down his fucking throat!”

Rastor smiled and eased back into his restraining guard easing the pressure on his arm twisted behind his back. “You would have enjoyed her yourself, My Lord. She was a bit skinny but still a good fuck, a pity the boy interfered and I had to swat him out of the way”

“You bloody well killed him you bastard!” screamed Malingar.

“Rastor shrugged. “It was his own fault, he shouldn’t have pulled a knife on me.”

Malingar screamed in rage again and almost broke away from his captor’s grasp. “If I ever get near you I’ll make sure you never stick your prick anywhere ever again!”

“Enough!” shouted Borman. “What in hellden’s name do you think you were doing Rastor? Malingar is my man, not some sort of pressed peasant who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“My apologies, Lord, but you said that anyone in my charge was mine to do with as I wished and as you placed them in my charge I took you at your word.”

“Bugger, Rastor, but you’re a thick sod, I didn’t mean them.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry Malingar, we’ll bury your brother with full honours and if your sister has Rastor’s bastard I’ll give it a title and some lands. You, Rastor, will pay Malingar a thousand gellstart in compensation.”

“A thousand gellstart! My lord, he wasn’t worth that, he was only ten summers old.”

“Oh, very well, five hundred. Now enough, both of you, I have more important things to attend to and I don’t need you hissing and spitting at each other. Guards, release them but if either of them makes a move against the other kill them both.”

The guards released their hold and stepped back leaving Malingar and Rastor glaring at each other. There was a knock on the door and the king smiled in anticipation and waved everyone into their places.

“Now behave yourself and try to act as gentlemen. I’m going to introduce you to my future wife.”

Despite all that had happened, Tarraquin was ready for the confrontation. Birrit had woken her just before the sun set with the news that she was to attend the king. The summons itself came as no surprise, only the fact that she had been given a candle length to prepare. She used the time well, washing off the grime of the road and changing into a plain green dress with galloping horses embroidered around the hem.

She would have liked to have worn her crown, but as that was missing she hoped that her use of Leersland’s symbol would not be lost on the usurper. With Birrit’s help she let her hair fall in long auburn curls and applied just enough cosmetics to highlight her brown eyes and to hide her paleness. When her escort arrived she was ready, the dull ache of misery inside of her replaced with determination. If she was going to die then she would die fighting.

A guard opened the door and she stepped through into a large sitting room which she knew well. She had expected to be lorded over, to be forced to kneel and beg for her life, but instead, everyone just stared at her without saying a word. It was as if she had unexpectedly interrupted them, and instead of looking threatening, her enemies looked distraught, smug or slightly amused. Her confidence increased slightly. The tall thin one with the amused smile walked forward and bowed briefly. She guessed who he was and held out her hand which he lightly kissed.

“My Lady, it’s a pleasure to welcome you back to Tarmin, although I regret that the place has changed hands whilst you have been away.”

“Thank you, My Lord. I hope you have settled comfortably into my home?”

He gave a little laugh. “Not quite yet but I’m working on it. Now let me introduce you to my councillors and then they can disappear and we can talk of more important matters. This is Guardcaptain Rastor who orders my military affairs.”

Rastor came to attention and she looked him up and down. She would take that smug look off his face. “So you are the bastard who rapes and murders defenceless women and tortures innocent people for your own gratification. You behave like an animal and dishonour your king.” She didn’t wait for an introduction but turned to where Malingar stood. “Yes, I know you. You have no honour either and are no better than he is. You pledge your support and then betray those who trust in you. Your king must be proud of having such a dirt crawler at his side.”

Borman smiled in amusement. “My my, you don’t mince words do you? Let me introduce you to Callabris. At least you will like him; he’s responsible for removing a beast from society and of course opening the gates of its prison to let you escape.”

“You, white robe, are the most despicable of them all amongst this pack of curs. You use your magic to do evil, creating abominations and monsters and hunting innocent men down like they were animals to be slaughtered. Your corruption of magic stains the name of your goddess.”

She turned back to the king and took another deep breath. “And as for you, Your Majesty, you think you are so high and mighty, and that by having powerful minions to do your bidding you are worthy to rule this kingdom. Do you really think that allowing the rape of defenceless women and the slaughter of innocent men is a noble undertaking and that the people will love and revere you for it? No, they will despise you, Borman, as do I. You have no idea of what it is to be a king, a leader of men and a protector of the weak.”

Borman burst out laughing, delighted by her outburst. “You’re right, My Lady, I don’t have those sensitivities which you seem to value so much. On the other hand I have no desire to be loved by the peasants, only obeyed, and I have my minions here to serve me and to ensure that it happens.”

“You’re mistaken My Lord. Those you have chosen to serve you are a pack of avaricious sly hunters who are better at serving their own needs than upholding your right to be the legitimate ruler of two kingdoms.”

“By the goddess’s tits, madam, you are something special when you’re angry and every bit as exciting as Malingar said.” He turned to the others and waved them in the direction of the door. “You can all go and Malingar, Rastor, remember what I said. Any fighting and you’re both dead.”

He turned back to Tarraquin, took her hand and led her to a chair. She sat whilst Borman poured her some wine feeling a bit breathless from her outburst and very surprised that she still had her head on her shoulders. Borman removed the cloth from the delicate array of food and indicated that she should help herself. Instead she sipped her wine trying hard not to grimace at the sickly sweet taste but failing miserably. The king laughed and took her goblet away pouring the expensive wine out of the window and replacing it with the deep red he preferred before taking his seat opposite her.

“You know, you and I would make a magnificent pairing, me ruling the kingdom with an iron hand, showing the people what manhood is about and you producing my heirs on demand.”

“I think you have it wrong, My Lord. If you wish to rule Borland well and have designs on the other kingdoms you need someone by your side who can offer you more than just heirs. You need someone who can curb your excesses, someone who knows about those things which never enter your mind like honour, fairness and justice. That’s how you get the best out of people, by valuing them, not setting your hounds on them to tear and rend.”

Borman laughed. “Hellden’s balls lady, but you are a feisty one. I hope you are like this in bed! Tell me, My Lady, will you be my queen and sit at my feet whilst I rule the six kingdoms?”

She shuddered at the idea. If she could she would rather bury a dagger in his unfeeling heart. “Do I have any choice?”

“Of course, there are always choices. In your case you can either marry me or entertain Rastor and my troops.”

“In that case, My Lord, I would be honoured to be your bride as soon as arrangements can be made.”

He smiled in delight and stood holding his hand out to her. “Good. We could seal our agreement now; my sleeping chamber is just through that door.”

She stood as well, trying to look stern instead of terrified. “As I said, one of the things I will bring to this marriage is an insight into those things which you may not have thought about, such as the lack of honour in sleeping together before we are wed. Now if you will excuse me, My Lord, it’s been a long and exceedingly difficult day and I would like to retire.”

Borman grunted in displeasure and poured himself some more wine. “Very well, you may go, but not back to those tiny, dingy rooms at the rear of the fortress. As my future wife you deserve better.” He called for the guard. “Take her ladyship to the special guest rooms, fetch her maid and see that she is comfortable.” He took her hand and kissed her finger tips. “I look forward to you and me joining together at the earliest opportunity.”

*

Tarraquin lay awake thinking about what she had done and wondered if Istan and Jarrul would have condemned her for doing the only thing she could do to save her own life. Malingar clearly didn’t approve by the look on his face when she had seen him after leaving Borman’s room, but that didn’t matter anymore. Any feelings she might have had for him had been extinguished by his betrayal.

The approval of Istan and Jarrul, had they been able to give it, was important to her, but even though they were dead she guessed they would have said that she had done the right thing. It was better that she lived and tried to change things rather than giving her life away, although she wasn’t quite sure if she would have agreed with them. Surprisingly, in the short time they had together, Birrit had supported her, reminding her of a whore’s first rule. Perhaps that is what she was, a whore selling her soul for a few more days of life.