David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“Aindreas?”

“I’ll go,” he said. “If for no other reason than to send them away myself.”

“Do you know why they’ve come?”

He shrugged, looking at her. “I refused the king’s summons to a parley. And I’ve yet to pay Kearney his tribute for the last three turns.” He gave a wan smile. “I’d think that has something to do with it.”

She nodded, her lips pressed in a tight line.

Aindreas turned to go.

“Can I come, Father?” Ennis asked.

“Not this time, son.” The duke mussed the boy’s red hair, drawing a grin. Then he left them, stopping in his chamber to retrieve his sword, which he strapped to his belt. Though the riders would reach the gate before he did, he still took his time. Let them wait , he told himself, the pounding of his heart giving the lie to his bravado.

Sheftam, his horse, awaited him at the castle gate, though he hadn’t ordered the beast saddled. Villyd, no doubt. It would speed his arrival at the city gate, and make him look even more formidable than he already was. The Tor atop the Tor, they called him, and with reason. Even before Sanbiri wine and the fine food in his kitchens made him fat, he had been a large man, broad and powerfully built. This messenger from the king would be merely the latest to quail before him.

He stroked the animal’s nose for a moment, then climbed into his saddle and rode out of the castle toward the eastern gate. The lanes leading through Kentigern city were choked with people who paused now in what they were doing to watch the duke ride past. They didn’t cheer. They only stared after him, their apprehension manifest in widened eyes and pallid faces. All of them could hear the bells echoing through the narrow streets, and by now word would have spread through the marketplace that the riders bore the king’s colors.

One didn’t have to be a minister in a noble’s court to understand that Aindreas’s defiance of the king had pushed Eibithar to the brink of civil war. And though the duke’s people would not have dared give voice to any doubts they harbored as to his judgment, they could not hide their fear. Nor could Aindreas blame them. His own hands remained unsteady, and he was thankful for the castle that loomed behind him, ponderous and grey, like some great beast called forth by the clerics in Bian’s Sanctuary.

When at last he reached the city walls and steered his mount through the massive gate, the duke found Villyd Temsten, his swordmaster, standing in front of more than half the army of Kentigern. Villyd had his arms crossed over his broad chest and his stout legs spread wide, so that he looked almost as unassailable as the castle itself. Before him, mounted still, their banners snapping in the wind, were nine men, all of them wearing chain mail and bearing short swords on their belts and bastard swords in baldrics on their backs. One of the men, who was clearly older than the others, wore a surcoat of silver, black, and red over his mail, the colors matching those of the baldrics. These were men of Glyndwr then, whom Kearney had brought with him to Audun’s Castle upon taking the throne.

The city bells ceased their tolling, the last peals echoing off the city walls and dying away. A moment later, the older man rode forward a short distance, his hand raised in greeting. When he reined his mount to a halt again, the horse nickered, cantering sideways nervously.

“My lord duke,” the man said, his voice ringing clearly over the wind, “I bring greetings from King Kearney the First, who commands me to ask that you shelter us and name us guestfriends.”

The duke gave dark grin. “And why would your king ask that, Glyndwr? Does he fear for your safety?”

“Yes, my lord, I believe he does.”

The smile fled Aindreas’s face, and he felt his color rising. “Is there more to your message?”

The man’s eyes darted past the duke to Villyd and the soldiers. “There is, my lord. But perhaps the rest should wait until we can speak in private.”

The duke briefly considered forcing the man to say his piece here, in front of all. A moment later, however, he thought better of it. His men knew that their duke and the king were at odds, but few of them understood how far the conflict had progressed. He didn’t want them to learn in this way that the duke was already considered a renegade in the City of Kings. By the same token, he wasn’t willing to name them guestfriends and allow them to stay in his castle. If there were Qirsi spies about, he didn’t want them to see that he had welcomed the king’s men onto the tor. He couldn’t very well make the men guestfriends if he intended to continue his defiance of the Crown.

“Very well,” the duke said. “You and your men may make your camp in the shadow of these walls.”

The man frowned. “My lord-”

“Make certain they’re properly provisioned,” Aindreas said to Villyd, ignoring Kearney’s man.

“Yes, my lord.”

Kearney faced the soldier once more. “I assure you, no harm will come to you here. My guards stand at this gate day and night.” He grinned again. “And I have little doubt that men trained by Gershon Trasker can defend themselves from brigands and wolves, should any approach the city.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said, clearly displeased.

“I’ll send for you when I’m ready to hear the rest of Kearney’s message.” He turned his mount and started back through the gate. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he called over his shoulder.

Crossing through the gate and emerging once more into the city, Aindreas thought he heard a voice call to him. Turning, he saw Brienne again, standing amid the vendors and their customers, gazing back at him sadly. She shook her head slowly and mouthed the words, “End this.”

Aindreas reined his mount to a halt, wondering if she meant for him to go back to the soldiers and welcome them into the castle.

“Brienne!” he called.

She began to walk away, drifting in and out of view as she passed the others in the marketplace. The people around the duke were staring at him, looking frightened and uncertain, but Aindreas was too intent on watching his daughter to speak to them. She glanced back at him once last time, then stepped deeper into the crowd around her and was gone.

He shouted her name again, but he couldn’t see her anymore, and with all the people and peddler’s carts lining the lane, he couldn’t follow.

He raised himself up, standing in his stirrups, but still couldn’t spot her.

“Are you well, my lord?”

He whirled toward the voice, nearly losing his balance. Villyd stood beside his mount, eyeing him with obvious concern.

“I’m fine,” Aindreas said, sitting in his saddle once more. He looked for Brienne one last time, then stared down at the swordmaster. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of the provisions?” he demanded.

“I have a man seeing to it, my lord. I wanted to make certain that you were quite yourself.”

“I just told you: I’m fine.”

“Yes, my lord. But I heard you call out. . ” He swallowed. “I heard you asking for Lady Brienne.”

“Yes. I was. .” He had raised his hand to point in the direction she had gone, but then let it drop to his side. Brienne was dead. Of course he knew that. But then who had he seen? “I think of her often, Villyd,” he said quietly.

The man lowered his gaze. “Yes, my lord.”

“I should get back to the castle. Ioanna will want to know about the riders.”

“My lord, shouldn’t we allow them to stay in the castle? Perhaps a gesture of friendship on our part will ease tensions with the Crown.”

“I have no interest in easing tensions, swordmaster. If it turns out that the king’s men have brought word of Kearney’s willingness to address our grievances, I can always welcome them onto the tor later. But until I have proof that they’ve come suing for peace, I’ll give no indication of any willingness on our part to surrender.”