Douglas Niles: Measure and the Truth

She didn’t turn, didn’t respond with the tender sigh that, a year earlier, would have been followed by a swoon into his arms. When she spoke, her words were controlled and aimed like darts at the window.

“I am a person, like any other. I wonder sometimes that I should be here simply because you find me beautiful.”

“Why should that make you wonder?” His left hand found her other hip; he moved close behind her.

“I wonder if it was ever my beauty that attracted you. Or was it the fact my father is lord regent, that he controlled the treasury of Palanthas-and of all Solamnia?”

He shrugged, giving no indication of offense. “It was a useful circumstance, true. But did you not come willingly into my arms? We chose each other, don’t you remember?”

Finally she turned to stare at him with pain in her eyes. “Then why are things so different now? Why do I feel so different?”

Jaymes grunted, dropping his hands. “I don’t know,” he replied. “And I have to be going.” He started toward the door, then stopped and turned back to her. “One more thing. I want you to stay in your chambers until I return,” he said. “There are too many threats abroad for you to venture out safely. You will be safe here and well cared for. Marie has a bed in your anteroom, and I’ve ordered a full platoon of guards to stand by, to make sure that you want for nothing.”

“Want for nothing? I want to walk around the palace-the city!” she retorted angrily, crossing to him. “What kind of threats are out there that can’t be stopped by an escort of your personal guards?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, his expression maddeningly serene. “I don’t want any chance of exposing you to violence-or the gods know what else. Illness, pestilence-they’re all about the city these summer months.” With a meaningful look downward, he placed a hand on her stomach. His touch made her flinch, but he didn’t seem to notice her reaction.

“Remember, it’s not just your own health at stake,” he cautioned.

With that, he gave her a perfunctory kiss, turned, and marched out the door. The sergeant of the guard did not even glance at her as he closed the door behind Jaymes Markham, Emperor of the Solamnic Nation.

Soon after, Jaymes left the great city with the bulk of the Palanthian Legion: a force of five thousand men, some four hundred of them mounted knights. In the wake of the column rumbled heavy wagons hauling three bombards, the last surviving cannons from the six that had been employed in the Battle of the Foothills more than two years earlier. At that time Jaymes Markham had commanded the four armies that broke the half-giant Ankhar’s invading army and dispersed the fleeing remnants into the wilds of Lemish. The outcome of that war had solidified Markham’s control over all the realms of Solamnia. He had ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity for Solamnia.

The army passed through the city’s Crown Gate, with the rugged Vingaard Mountains and the narrow cleft of the High Clerist’s Pass beckoning on the horizon. It had been more than two years since the soldiers had waged battle, and that was enough time for the wounds to heal and the grim memories to fade. They were men of Palanthas, loyal to their captains, generals, and emperor. They would serve with dedication and courage.

To be sure, the time since the end of the war had not been spent in mere recuperation. Once the Lord Marshal had assumed control of all Solamnic Knighthood forces in the lands of the Old Empire and claimed the mantle of emperor, he had announced his goal was nothing less than the restoration of the ancient regime. While he had maintained the overall structure of his military-the forces were still organized into three armies, augmented by a legion of troops in Palanthas devoted to the emperor’s personal service-he had tinkered with longstanding traditions in armor, weaponry, unit organization, and tactics.

The campaign they embarked on would put his improvements to the test. Most significantly, the regiment which had been the standard infantry formation for more than a millennium was broken into four, or sometimes five, companies of about two hundred men each. The companies allowed the army commander to maneuver his troops with greater precision than ever before. The ratio of light cavalry in each formation had been increased, often at the expense of the heavily armored knights that had traditionally been the backbone of the Solamnic Knighthood. Flexible, light, and fast, they would outmaneuver, rather than overpower, any foe.

The emperor had also encouraged the employment of the Clerist Knights, priests who were trained in magic at the ancient Solamnic centers on Sancrist and would cast their spells in the service of the cause. Under the overall command of Lord Templar, clerists were assigned to each regimental headquarters, and at least one apprentice accompanied every company on the field. By dint of their magic, the holy knights facilitated communications between the army commander and his individual units.

Another fundamental change in the way the knighthood waged war was evidenced in the personal command style of the army leader. No longer was he seen, resplendent in a bright uniform, gilded epaulets gleaming as he rode a strutting, prancing charger. The modern emperor wore a woolen riding cape that was drab compared to the scarlet tunics worn by his footmen. He rode behind the advance companies of light cavalry and was surrounded by a staff of couriers, together with his chief clerist-Lord Templar-and a half dozen of the Freemen.

Such was the force of the Emperor’s determination, and his authority, that the changes had been implemented with very little resistance from the officers and the ranks. For more than a year, his army had trained and studied and experimented. Finally, for the first time, the new style and tactics would be tested on the battlefield.

That was, if the rebellious inhabitants of Vingaard Keep did not immediately recognize the error of their ways.

The people of the city stared as the army marched off to war. Their mood was somber, with a few offering cheers for the troops and many shouting best wishes to individual soldiers-husbands, brothers, and sons-in the ranks. The emperor himself the citizens regarded warily, not so certain of the impending conflict as they had been of his necessary campaigns against the barbaric Ankhar. The troops looked straight ahead and marched in perfect cadence.

The emperor rode a nondescript roan mare with the casual ease of a natural horseman. His personal guard of Freemen, a hundred strong, rode white horses and looked alertly around as they rode close by their leader. Even as the party passed beneath the arch of the city gate, Jaymes could be seen talking and listening to his aides, confirming the order of march in the column, receiving detailed lists from the quartermaster regarding the provisions in the baggage train, and having a word with Lord Templar about the most recent auguries regarding the Vingaard rebels.

As the column, and the command party, headed around the first curve of the encroaching mountains, there were those among the emperor’s men who noted that their commander had not once raised his head to glance back at the city they were leaving behind.

Lady Selinda Markham looked out the clear, glass window of her lofty chamber, conscious that the glass alone had cost the equivalent of a half year’s pay for one of her nation’s ordinary citizens. Though she had grown up with such luxury, only recently had she taken to considering its relative value. She knew that glass was a precious commodity, rare, valuable, and beautiful.

Yet it was only with great effort that she resisted the impulse to drive her fist through the expensive glass, to shatter the pane into a spray of shards tumbling to the courtyard so far below.