Michael Sullivan - The Crown conspiracy

"So, the letters you had were correspondences between the Marquis of Glouston and the Nationalists?" Saldur asked.

Archibald looked at the bishop surprised. "That's an amazing guess, your grace. You are very close. No, they were love letters between his daughter and her Nationalist lover Gaunt. I planned to have Alenda marry me instead to spare Victor the embarrassment of his daughter being involved with a commoner."

Saldur chuckled.

"Have I said something funny?"

"You had more in your hands than you knew," Saldur informed him. "Those weren't love letters. Those were coded messages from Victor Lanaklin carried by Alenda to Gaunt. The Marquis of Glouston is a traitor to his kingdom and the Imperial cause. With that treasure you could have had all of Glouston and Victor's head as a wedding gift."

Archibald stood silent and then swallowed the rest of his brandy in one mouthful.

"But you won't be able to obtain additional letters. There will be no more meetings at the Winds Abbey. Regrettably, I was forced to ask the archduke here to teach the monks a lesson for hosting such meetings. The abbey was burned along with the monks."

"You killed your fellow shepherds of Maribor's flock?" Archibald asked Saldur.

"When Maribor sent Novron to us it was as a warrior to destroy our enemies. Our god is not squeamish at the sight of spilled blood, and it is often necessary to prune weak branches to keep the tree strong. Killing the monks was a necessity, but I did spare one, the son of Lanaklin so he could return home and let his father know the deaths were on his hands. We can't have Monarchists and Nationalists allying themselves can we?" Saldur smiled at him. The elderly cleric took another sip of his drink, the moment passed and once more Braga observed the persona of the saintly grandfather returned.

"So, you were after Glouston, Archibald?" Braga said, refilling the earl's glass. "Perhaps I misjudged you. Tell me, my dear earl, were you more upset you lost the land or Alenda?"

Archibald waved his hand in the air as if he was shooing a fly. "She was merely an added benefit. It's the land I wanted."

"I see." Braga glanced at Saldur, who smiled and nodded. "You may still get it." Braga resumed speaking to the earl. "With me on the throne of Melengar, I will want a strong Imperialist ally guarding my southern border with Warric."

"King Ethelred would call that treason."

"And what would you call it?"

Archibald smiled and drummed his fingernails on the beautiful cut-crystal of the royal brandy glass, making it ring with a pleasant song. "Opportunity."

Braga sat back down and stretched out his feet to the fire. "If I help you obtain the marchland from Lanaklin, and you throw your allegiance to me, Melengar will replace Warric as the strongest kingdom in Avryn. Similarly, Greater Chadwick will be its most powerful province."

"That's assuming Ethelred doesn't declare war," Archibald warned. "Kings often frown upon losing a quarter of their realm, and Ethelred is not the type to take such an action without retaliation. He enjoys fighting. What's more, he's good at it. He has the best army in Avryn now."

"True," Braga said, "but he has no able general to command it. He doesn't have anyone near the talent of your Sir Breckton. That man is gifted when it comes to leading men. If you broke with Warric, could you count on his loyalty to you?"

"Breckton's loyalty to me is unwavering. His father, Lord Belstrad, is a chivalrous knight of archaic dimensions. He beat those values into his sons. Neither Breckton nor his brother-what's his name, the younger Belstrad boy who went to sea-Wesley, would dishonor themselves by opposing a man they have sworn their allegiance to. I do admit, however, their honor can be an inconvenience. I remember once a servant dropped my new fustian hat in the mud, and when I commanded Breckton to cut off the clumsy oaf's hand in punishment, he refused. Breckton went on for twenty minutes explaining the code of chivalry to me. Oh yes, my lord, he is indeed loyal to House Ballentyne, but I would rather have a less loyal man who simply obeys without question. It is entirely possible that should I break with Warric, Breckton might refuse to fight at all, but I'm certain he would not oppose me. Personally, I would be more concerned with Ethelred himself. He is a fine commander in his own right."

"True," Braga acknowledged, "but so am I. I would welcome him engaging me personally. I already have a standing veteran army and a number of mercenaries at the ready. I will be able to muster superior numbers should that prove necessary. The result will be that he would lose all of Warric, and that could provide me the keys to the rest of Avryn and, perhaps, all of Apeladorn."

This time Archibald chuckled. "My, but I do appreciate your ability to think big. I can see there would be many advantages to my joining with you. Do you really have your sights on the title of Emperor?"

"Why not? If I am poised to conquer, the Patriarch will be eager to throw his allegiance to me just as the Church did with Glenmorgan. If I promise certain rights to the Church, he may even declare me the heir. Then no one will stand against me. In any case, this is for another day. We are getting ahead of ourselves." Braga turned his attention toward the bishop. "I want to thank you, your grace, for arranging this meeting. It was very educational. But now it is nearly midmorning, and I think it is time to get Arista's trial underway. I would, however, like to invite you to stay, Archibald. As it turns out, I think I may be able to offer you a gift to show you my commitment to you as a newfound friend of Melengar."

"I'm flattered, my lord. I'd welcome the opportunity to spend time with you, and I'm sure whatever gift you may have will be a generous one."

"You mentioned the thieves who spoiled your move against Victor Lanaklin called themselves Riyria?"

"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it appears we share a common interest in these two rogues. They have also been a rather painful thorn in my own side. As you already discovered, they pay no respect to people who hire them and are willing to turn against their employers. I, too, hired them for a task and now find them working against me. I have reason to believe they may be coming here today, and I have set plans in motion to capture them. If they do indeed make an appearance, I will try them along with Arista. It is quite possible all three will be burning at the stake by early evening."

"You are, indeed, most generous, my lord," Archibald replied, with a nod of his head and a smile on his lips.

"I thought you might enjoy that. You mentioned when you arrived that Alric is dead and that is indeed the notion I've been circulating. Unfortunately, it is not so…that is not yet. Arista actually arranged for those thieves to smuggle Alric out of this castle on the night of Amrath's death. I believe he has hired them and they will attempt to save her. Evidence indicates they used the sewers to exit the castle so I've taken extra precautions there. The grate in the kitchen has been sealed, and Wylin, the castle's master-at-arms, waits with his best men hidden to close the river grate behind them. I even failed to post guards near there to make it more enticing. With luck, the fool of a prince might actually play the boyish hero and come with them. If he does-checkmate!"

Archibald nodded with obvious pleasure. "You really are very impressive."

Braga raised his glass in tribute. "To me."

"To you," Archibald drank to Braga's health.

There was a loud pounding on the door. "Come!" Braga called irritated.

"Lord Chancellor!" One of Braga's hired soldiers burst into the room. His cheeks and nose were red, his armor dripping wet. On his head and shoulders a small bit of snow remained.