Michel’s first impression of his new kingdom was a not unfavorable one. For all of its violent history, it was obvious Calei remained a wealthy kingdom. Michel had been in enough capital cities to know to look beyond the well-kept streets and store fronts, the fine ladies dressed luxuriantly, with their coiffed hair and jeweled necks. No, the true judge of a city’s prosperity was to be found in how the lowliest among the inhabitants lived.
As they rode along the paved streets, Michel could see no sign of beggars or orphans forced to rely on the generosity of strangers for their daily fare. None of the children he saw were dressed in tattered rags, or in desperate need of a bath or a firm parental hand. Unless such unpleasant sights had been swept from the streets so as not to detract from the somberness of the occasion.
Closer now, Michel could see the intricate details decorating the façade of the castle. The distinctly, mostly light stone appeared to have flecks of gold embedded in it that caught the bright sunlight and reflected it back into the sky like a mirror. Scenes had been painted on the stone surrounding the entrance depicting, he assumed, various important moments in Calei’s long history. Seeing them Michel felt a whisper of a memory sweep across his soul, accompanied by a cold shiver up his spine. Chiding himself for his foolishness, he immediately suppressed the shiver and rationalized away his fanciful thoughts. He’d never been in the city, had never seen the keep, nor did he participate in any of the dramatic scenes depicted on its thick walls.
“Raulf’s men.” Timothy passed along the information in a pointed tone, indicating the men who lined the steps leading into the main entrance of the keep.
Michel nodded but offered no verbal response. He understood from the prominent position of the baron’s men that while the question of the royal succession had officially been set aside in order for the citizens of Calei to mourn their lost king, for all intents and purposes Baron Raulf had taken control of the keep and presumably, the affairs of state. Though there was a long line of mourners in front of them waiting for their turn to view the departed king, seeing Elena in their company, they gave way before them. Michel was aware of their hushed whispers and their curiosity at seeing Elena in the company of strangers.
Michel dismounted and passed Arden’s reins to one of the stable boys who hurried forward to take charge of their horses. He turned to assist Elena to the ground, and noticed how pale her complexion had gone in the space of the distance they travelled from entering the city to where they stood preparing to ascend the gleaming marble steps of the castle. She raised haunted eyes to his and he gave her slim waist an encouraging squeeze before releasing her. When he would have turned to climb the stairs with her in his wake, she reached out to grip his arm. He paused and turned back in her direction, and the eyes she raised to his face held his in a glance of barely suppressed panic.
“You remember your promise?” She asked tearfully, her nails digging into his arm revealing the extent of her fear.
He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Yes, I remember my promise both to you and your uncle. I will not leave you behind, nor will I allow anyone to hurt you.” Michel was aware of the start of surprise among some of their company at his revelation that he’d been in contact with the former king. He had not shared with his supporters Barnabas’ request to be introduced to him. “Trust me, Elena. Raulf will not risk a challenge to his authority on a day set aside to honor your uncle’s memory. It will only lessen his stance in front of the other noblemen and the common populace.” The assurance with which he spoke seemed to calm her fears and she allowed her hand to fall to from his arm.
A hushed silence stilled even the quiet whispers that could be heard among the mourners as they entered the great hall. Michel took in the crowd arrayed there, noticed the majority were ordinary citizens with tears in their eyes as they paid their last respects to the popular king. Surrounding the casket were representatives from the noble families of Calei. Michel could see the speculation in the glances they cast in their direction, noting their noble compatriots in their company and the fact that Elena made up one of their number.
Michel, followed by Elena, and with the others filing in behind them took their place in line. The silent mourners in front of them stepped back from the king’s casket to give Elena a private opportunity to pay her final respects to her uncle. Michel and the others waited while she knelt beside the casket and raised her uncle’s cool hand to her cheek and then kissed it gently before returning it to its resting place. She bowed her head in silent prayer then regained her feet and proceeded silently towards where Gabriel stood quietly speaking with his brother.
In her wake, Michel approached the casket of the dead king and looked down with fondness and regret at the still face he’d seen only once in life, glad to observe it was no longer wracked with the pain it had born in his final days.
“Farewell, Barnabas, my friend. May you rest in peace with your royal predecessors. Give my greeting and my love to my grandfather, and may you both guide my steps along this path destiny has seemingly laid out for me to follow.” After his whispered farewell, Michel bent his head and offered a silent prayer, then joined the others where they had gathered near where Elena stood silently flanked by Gabriel and Amele. He raised an inquiring brow in Elena’s direction, silently asking if she was ready to leave. At her assenting nod, he took her arm, and with a silent gesture towards the others to follow, began to make their way to the exit.
“Wait.” The loud command echoed harshly in contrast to the respectful hush that hung over the hall. Michel felt Elena stiffen at his side and needed no further confirmation of his guess as to the identity of the man who hailed them. Turning to confront Elena’s beast, Michel’s eyes swept over him, taking his opponent’s measure in a swift, discerning glance. The maid’s description was a bit harsh in Michel’s opinion. Baron Raulf was a man after all, and not one he thought the ladies would find particularly unpleasing to look upon. His features were not gentle, but nor were they scarred. Dark eyes stared out of a thin patrician face, but Michel recognized the impressive breadth of his shoulders was not due solely to the cut and padding of his luxurious cloak.
But for all of the baron’s noble bearing, Michel noted his powerful hands were clenched in tight fists at his side. Michel suspected one of those hands would even now be reaching for his sword if the circumstances did not forbid such an unpardonable breach of manners. No, not a beast, Michel felt confident in concluding, but certainly a man who would not look kindly upon another man challenging his authority over a woman, nor his claim for a kingship.
“Yes?” Michel responded to the other’s command.
“Who are you?”
Michel took in Raulf’s haughty glare and the disapproval and askance at the way Michel’s hand rested possessively on Elena’s arm. He felt the slight shiver of fear that passed through her and he gently squeezed her arm in a gesture of reassurance before replying in a courteous voice. “We are friends who have come to pay our respects to the king.”
“Elena, who are these men?”
Elena’s eyes sought his, seeking permission to respond to Raulf’s arrogant inquiry. Michel nodded his assent and allowed his lips to curve upward slightly at Raulf’s bristling outrage at her gesture.
“Surely, Baron, you know Barons Timothy, Paul and Gallagher and their men.”
The baron regarded her as if he conversed with a slow-witted child and made a sweeping motion with his hand. Michel was forced to bite down on his lip to suppress a grin at Elena’s silent outrage at the baron’s dismissive gesture and condescending tone when he replied, “I am aware of the identity of those you speak and they are welcome here, but I think it is not a time to bring strangers among us to disturb our grief.”
Elena ignored Michel’s warning squeeze on her arm and replied boldly. “These strangers you speak of saved me from malicious kidnappers and have provided for my protection when I was unsure who I might trust.”
Michel observed the ri
pples of shock across the faces of those gathered in the room at Elena’s claim of her abduction and was aware of the surreptitious glances that were being cast around the hall as each of the various contenders to the throne wondered who had dared such a bold step.
Recovering quickly from Elena’s disclosure, Raulf rebuked her, “You should have come to me.”
At Michel’s silent warning, Elena clenched her lips closed to stifle the sarcastic laugh he could feel threatening to erupt at the baron’s obscene suggestion, and obediently offered in its place, “There was no opportunity to do so. I was kidnapped from my bed and taken from the city. Were it not for these men, I shudder to think what may have happened to me. Given the great service they have rendered me, I no longer consider them strangers. They have been my saviors.”
Michel had to give the other man credit. He barely paused for breath before responding in a tone one might judge almost friendly in its courtesy, “Then we of course owe them a debt of gratitude for their intervention. But the risk has now past and it is time for you to return to the safety of the palace.”
“I think not, Baron,” Elena did not hesitate to refute Raulf’s suggestion. “Until the question of my uncle’s successor has been resolved, I have no plans to return to the keep.”
One autocratic brow arched over the baron’s piercing glance but it was in a condescending tone of almost gentle regret that he responded to Elena’s challenge. “Forgive me, my dear, but you have no choice other than to obey me. With your uncle’s death, I am now your legal guardian and responsible for your welfare. You will return to your chambers in the keep immediately.”
Michel witnessed the color drain from Elena’s face at Raulf’s claim. Her arm he still held clasped in his shook noticeably, but Michel couldn’t help but admire the way she stood her ground in the face of the baron’s assured proclamation. “You lie. My uncle would never appoint you my guardian.”
Amusement lit Raulf’s expression now at her spirited challenge. “And why not? I was his closest friend and most trusted advisor. Who else would Barnabas appoint to see to your welfare?”
Elena raised desperate eyes to Michel’s face. He met them, willing her to remain calm with a slight pressure on her arm. He cast a mild glance in the direction of the man who no longer appeared amused by the way Elena looked to Michel to rescue her and the way she was now clinging frantically to his hand. “Do you have proof of your claim, baron?”
“I do not answer to you, boy.” Raulf’s calm demeanor slipped a little in his outrage at Michel’s query.
Keeping his tone mild, as much because it served to further enrage his opponent as because a display of his own temper would not serve his purpose, Michel asked innocently, “But surely you answer to the friends of the king gathered here. They must be aware of the king’s great affection for his niece. Do they not act as her guardians in the king’s stead?”
“The stranger speaks the truth.” A voice called out from among the previously silent, but deeply interested witnesses to their exchange. “Do you have proof, Baron Raulf that King Barnabas appointed you Lady Elena’s guardian?”
Raulf swung his enraged glance on his new target. With obvious effort he forced himself to reply calmly to the other man’s challenge, while at the same time his expression promised a day of reckoning for his insult. “Barnabas spoke the words with his dying breath. His thoughts were ever on his beloved Elena’s future.”
“So there were no witnesses to the king’s proclamation?” Michel prompted in a voice of feigned innocence, then added as Raulf’s glance swung back to duel with his, “Was there no one else in the room at the moment of the king’s passing?”
“No. We were alone.”
“Convenient for you,” Michel commented and knew he only gave voice to the implication the others were unwilling to.
“He wished to speak with his closest friend in his final moments.” It was obvious Raulf did not care for being put in a position of having to explain his actions.
“You say the king’s main concern was for his niece?”
“Of course.” Though Raulf clearly felt on firmer ground with this line of query, he was obviously restraining his impatience with an effort.
“And the king had been ill for some time?”
“What business the answer to your question is to you, a stranger amongst us, who seeks no doubt to profit from our grief and that of Lady Elena’s innocence, I cannot fathom.”
Michel bowed his head, aware of the scrutiny Raulf’s comment was now rendering him. “Lady Elena tells me the king had been ill for some time. It seems to me if she was his most pressing concern, he would have made more formal provision for his beloved niece’s future.”
He could see his argument struck home among the witnesses to their exchange and Raulf was once again forced to defend his claim. “Barnabas was hopeful he would recover. It was not until the very end he was forced to accept the truth.”
“Forced by you, Baron?”
Raulf took a threatening step forward. “Be careful of your tongue, boy. I do not care for your implication.”
“I imagine the king did not care for it either.”
“Get out! You have no rights here.” Raulf’s hand instinctively reached for his sword and Michel guessed he would have issued a challenge to settle the matter between them then and there had not his hand come up empty.
Eyeing his frustration, Michel proffered a rather mocking bow in Raulf’s direction. “As to my rights, Baron, that is a matter to be decided upon another, more appropriate occasion.” Michel then turned his attention to his silent companion. “Lady Elena, have you completed your farewells?”
He smiled at the expression on her upturned face. She was regarding him with shining eyes, her relief evident, and a stunned astonishment of his defense of her reflected in their dusky depths, as if she did not expect him to champion her, as though she had expected he would simply hand her over to the beast. “Yes, my lord, I am quite ready to leave with you.” Her voice was clear and rang out around the hall.
Michel sent another mocking bow in Raulf’s direction and did not bother to attempt to temper the great satisfaction he took in leaving him seething in his wake. He gave Elena’s hand a quick squeeze where it still rested in his and was aware of the amused sparkle in Amele’s glance when they passed by his side, though his old friend maintained an appropriately reserved expression when they turned away from the gathering and strode confidently from the king’s hall. Michel had little doubt their passage through the gates of his new kingdom would give rise to significantly greater interest than had their arrival. He also suspected there would be a few hastily assigned spies to follow in their wake.
Elena paused on the steps to greet some acquaintances who hailed her to offer their condolences. Michel could see by her reception Barnabas had not exaggerated the citizen’s affection for his young niece. She kept her exchanges brief and quiet, and then as if unwilling to keep him waiting any longer, she allowed Michel to assist her onto her mount and sat staring down at him with an expression that implied he was the beginning and end of her entire world. A light blush stained her lovely face and Michel witnessed a riot of conflicting emotions chase themselves across her expressive features… relief, gratitude, admiration, and a new deeper emotion he was hesitant to put a name to.
Wary of it, he quickly inserted into the silence between them, “I believe you would be safe now if you chose to remain within the city. I imagine you are not accustomed to sleeping on a rough pallet on the cold ground.”
Elena did not hesitate to deny his suggestion she remain behind. “At least I find the comfort of slumber on my rough pallet and do not lie awake dreading what is to come when night falls.”
He nodded, and then turning to retrieve the reins of his own mount, gained Arden’s back in a single, graceful movement and as one, their company turned and rode down the streets, aware of the whispers that followed them as they did.
Chapter Nine
&n
bsp; Finalizing the details of their plans took on greater urgency after their confrontation with Raulf and his supporters. Michel comprehended Raulf would not rest idly with the knowledge his ascension to the throne and his rights to Elena would not be accomplished without a challenge from a source he had been previously unaware of, and consequently unable to prepare for. The baron would not have missed the significance of the presence of Barons Timothy, Paul and Gallagher among their company and would have concluded that some of the noble families would not support his claim for kingship and had aligned themselves with a stranger to Calei.
Michel comprehended Raulf was not the only one of his future subjects speculating as to his identity. He imagined everyone present in the hall today had their own theories, but that the majority would rightly conclude he must be one of King Nathaniel’s grandsons. Why else would three of the kingdom’s noblemen be in his company?
The other impetus for pushing forward with their plans was the increasing restlessness of his men. After long months and years in training to be so close to their goal and be forced to wait around shirking in the mountains would only lead to trouble and dissent among them. They were primed for a fight. Michel did not want his men to waste their deadly skills on each other.
Still he hesitated to give the order to attack the city. Was he some enemy marauder that sought to steal Calei’s rich throne? Was he not the rightful king? Did a just man attack his own people?
“Perhaps it is time you revealed your presence to the people, my prince,” Amele spoke into the silence that had fallen among those gathered to debate their next move, interrupting Michel’s inner debate.
Baron Paul agreed. “There is already a great deal of speculation among the citizens as to your identity. There were a few present in the great hall this morning who remember your grandparents. The majority of the servants at the keep have outlived their kings. The news of a stranger who was not afraid to openly challenge Raulf’s authority and whose striking blue eyes bring to mind Queen Alyssa’s own must be even now spreading like wildfire through the city. The people will not be slow to conclude rightfully that one of the true heirs to the throne has at long last returned to Calei to restore the royal line.”
Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 Page 9
