Ambition and Alavidha

by Candy Rae

  “I hadn’t quite worked that one out yet,” Chad admitted.

  “Drellor won’t take along any duplicated goods,” Nonder warned, “says it helps keep disharmony at bay, his word, not mine and he won’t budge on that no matter how much coin he’s offered. He doesn’t take bribes either. I’d suggest something like jewels or the like, not heavy you see and you wouldn’t require a wagon, just a pack-horse. Drellor provides tented accommodation. It’s part of the service.”

  “I need a place on that caravan Nonder. How much to arrange?”

  Nonder named a sum and Chad winced.

  “I don’t have that much on me,” he temporised.

  “My fee and Drellor’s fee. That’s what it costs. Your trade goods you purchase yourself.”

  “If it’s jewellery the merchandise will be expensive and I won’t be able to afford that and the fees.”

  “Steal it.”

  “Not this time my friend. This time, much as it gnaws at my insides I think I’ll have to buy the goods. Don’t want the law-enforcers dogging my every step.”

  He stood up, “no, it’s too much, I’ll find another way.”

  “Oh, don’t be so hasty Chad. We might be able to come to an alternative arrangement to our mutual satisfaction and you need me if you really intend to reach Gtratha unsuspicious like.”

  He looked at Chad.

  “How much you being paid for the job?”

  “Enough,” growled Chad who most definitely did not want to disclose the amount to Nonder, thinking, quite rightly, that his fee would rise correspondingly.

  “Is it theft or delivery?” asked Nonder in an interested voice.

  “Theft,” admitted Chad with reluctance.

  “How much?” Nonder pressed.

  “Two hundred crowns,” lied Chad.

  Nonder nodded and at least gave the appearance of believing him although Chad well knew the old rogue was probably doubling it in his mind.

  Nonder also knew that Chad Smallhide was the best in the business. If he executed a theft, he would be successful.

  “I’ll get you on the caravan,” he offered, “and buy your trade-goods, I know where I can get my hands on some good stones and jewellery, for sixty percent.”

  “Thirty,” countered Chad.

  “Fifty,” countered Nonder in turn.

  “Forty.”

  “Forty-five, net of my expenses and let’s shake hands on it,” offered Nonder.

  “Done,” said Chad, “and remember that it’s me taking the risk.”

  “That’s why I’m not asking for anything up front,” smiled Nonder, “fair’s fair after all. However, there is one other condition.”

  “What’s that?” asked the wary Chad.

  “You’ll be taking someone along with you, at my expense if you insist, call it a protection on my investment. My nephew.”

  “I work alone.”

  “Not this time my friend. Zeb goes too.”

  “Zeb?” queried Chad, “don’t think I’ve heard of him.” As a Master Thief, Chad made it his business to know or know of, every thief ‘on the game’.

  “He’s not all that well known yet,” Nonder replied, “he’s only ten.”

  * * * * *

  -9-

  AL 808

  THE ROYAL PALACE AT FORT - KINGDOM OF MURDOCH

  Kellen-Heir Daniel Ross was grooming his horse Firefly when his friends Malcolm and Edward walked into the stables. Most men of his rank left this chore to the stable hands but Daniel liked to care for his own mount as often as he could.

  “Daniel!” the former greeted him with a cheer, “you’re back!”

  Daniel turned at the voice and his face broke into a smile. Margrave Malcolm Smith and Kellen Edward Tanon were two good friends. He had rather wondered if he would see them now that he had returned to Court.

  Malcolm half-ran at him and the two young men embraced in the way young men do, in the manner rather embarrassed in case an onlooker might think the greeting rather silly, but they hadn’t seen each other for a long time. Daniel was being kept very busy by his father who believed that too much free time was not good for a young man. They broke apart. Edward, the more reserved of the three contented himself with a joyful clap on Daniel’s back.

  Firefly nudged Daniel’s shoulder and dutifully, Daniel began his curry-combing again.

  “We got in late last night,” he informed his friends.

  “You might have looked us up,” chided Malcolm.

  “It was late,” Daniel reminded them.

  “Not too late for us,” boasted Malcolm with a significant look at Edward. Both Malcolm and Edward laughed.

  “I suppose you were out at the borders with Baron Karovitz again,” said Edward, “it’s a long way and you were too tired to come looking for us.”

  “Right on both counts,” agreed Daniel, continuing to brush. Firefly leant into him, whuffling his joy at the nice feelings the brushing was producing. Daniel hadn’t been at the borders this time but he didn’t think the location of his last journey was any of his friend’s business.

  “I wish your father didn’t keep you so busy,” complained Malcolm, quite as if keeping busy was a bad thing. “I suppose that’s the trouble when one’s father works for the Queen.”

  Daniel made no comment. “So what have you two been up to?” he asked.

  “This and that, here and there,” answered Malcolm, “but you’re here now. Why don’t we ask Crispin if Daniel can get an invite for tonight Edward? I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

  “Prince Crispin?” queried Daniel.

  “The very same,” answered the exuberant Malcolm, “he’s holding another of his evenings.”

  “What sort of evening?” asked Daniel, his eyes on Firefly’s neck.

  “Just the usual,” grinned Malcolm, “wine, women and song and all that. His evenings are always fun.”

  “Doesn’t sound much like my sort of party,” temporised Daniel but he found himself wondering if he might enjoy it, even a little. Daniel had had little use to date for courtesans but the wine and song sounded okay.

  “I can’t persuade you to come with me to the Duke of Hallam’s town house instead?” he asked. “The Duke isn’t here, he’s recovering from an accident I believe but Duchess Elizabeth is here and she’s invited me to a soiree.”

  But this alternative, Daniel soon realised, held little appeal for Malcolm and Edward. An evening making polite and decorous conversation would be boring for the two, especially when they compared it to the enticing pleasures of a raucous evening with the prince.

  “Definitely not,” said Malcolm, “but I’ll ask Prince Crispin anyway. You might change your mind.”

  “I’ve already accepted Duchess Elizabeth’s kind invitation,” Daniel answered, “maybe next time.”

  * * * * *

  The twenty-eight year old Prince Crispin, husband to the Kingdom of Murdoch’s heir presumptive, Crown-Princess Antoinette usually held his gatherings in a previously little used tower room in the Old Palace. He liked it because it was situated a considerable distance away from the staid and to his mind boring, rooms and apartments in the New Palace where his mother-in-law, Queen Antoinette lived and held her court.

  Crispin was a handsome man, with even features and carefully tended blonde hair. His figure too was good; perfectly proportioned; a fencer’s body. Only if you looked close at his face did you see the signs of discontent; the downturned edges of his mouth and the lack of real laughter lines round his eyes.

  He was however great fun to party with and in recent months a number of noble scions had gravitated to him, in search of entertainment in order to fill the candlemarks of their days and of their on the whole, empty lives.

  Not every father behaved like Daniel’s father. Most did not make sure that their sons were gainfully employed on the Queen’s business or kept busy running their estates, however small.

  The ‘coterie’ that gathered in the tower room that evening was made up
of these unemployed and bored young men

  The prince was not best pleased when Malcolm told him that he had failed to persuade Daniel to attend.

  He had his own reasons for wanting Daniel to join his group. Daniel’s father Kellen Philip Ross had an important position on the Lord Prince Marshall’s staff and Crispin believed Daniel would be a ‘useful’ person to have in his circle. If he could captivate Daniel as he had the others there would be no knowing how much information he might be able to pick up.

  “He has a prior engagement,” Malcolm Smith apologised. Everyone who wanted to keep on Crispin’s good side apologised, even if the reason for the apology wasn’t their fault, “but,” he continued, lying smoothly, because he did want to keep Prince Crispin’s friendship, “I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade him to come next time.”

  “Do that,” commanded Prince Crispin, hiding his disappointment and changing his frown of displeasure into a smile that could have lit up an entire mountain. “I’d really like him to join us Malcolm. He works too hard and he’s far too young not to have some fun in his life.”

  “All work and no play makes Daniel a dull boy?” a relieved Malcolm forced the joke from his lips. It wasn’t very funny but Crispin laughed. Malcolm wasn’t experienced enough to realise that the laugh was feigned.

  “Precisely. Invite him to join the next hunting trip I’ve planned for next tenday. Now go get yourself a drink and start enjoying yourself.”

  The party progressed much as Crispin had planned after his conversation with Count Malcolm.

  The servants were dismissed, they all proceeded to imbue a great amount of alcohol, started singing songs and began to make use of the young courtesans Crispin had provided.

  Crispin didn’t drink that much; he never did; the singing and the carousing stayed the same though.

  Crispin refused to let his inner disappointment at Malcolm’s failure with Daniel to show.

  Most of the young men getting progressively drunk in the tower room were young men of lower noble rank, Kellens and Thanes and the like with the occasional Baron or Baron-Heir thrown in. Most of their fathers had little influence or power. True, there was Margrave Malcolm Smith who was a member of the Smith Ducal House but he came from one of the cadet branches and was empty-headed to boot. The Stewart boys, the two youngest were rather similar to Malcolm in brains and character. The eldest Kenneth, well, Crispin wasn’t a hundred per cent sure of his loyalty. He appeared sound enough, he said the right things but the ‘well’ bit worried Crispin.

  He sipped at his wine. Despite his misgivings. His plans were progressing along nicely. His father would be pleased.

  * * * * *

  Daniel spent his evening in the town-house of Paul, Duke of Hallam. Duchess Elizabeth was a fine hostess and of more importance to Daniel, her unconventional youngest daughter was present.

  Why Daniel was attracted to Contessa Jill Hallam he didn’t quite know. He did realise however that his interest in her would in all likelihood come to nothing. He would become a Kellen when his father died, true, but she was the daughter of a Duke of the Realm.

  There was a slim chance. Jill’s father was one of the few senior nobles in the kingdom who respected a son or a daughter’s wish before he would start arranging a marriage match.

  So it was with a pang of misgiving that Daniel noticed that his cousin Philip appeared to be paying a great deal of attention to Jill’s older sister Judith. Even Duke Paul Hallam could not be expected to permit both of his younger daughters to marry into the same dynastical baronage.

  Despite this, Daniel spent an enjoyable few candlemarks in Jill Hallam’s company. One never knew what life had in store for you and there was always hope.

  * * * * *

  A tenday after Daniel’s return and two men were standing deep in conversation in one of the antechambers of the New Palace.

  They were discussing some problems that had come to their notice.

  “What do you think of Prince Crispin?” asked Kellen Robert Crawford.

  “A quiet and unassuming young man,” replied Lord Prince Marshall Pierre. Although reputed to be a martinet on the parade ground, he was always prepared to give people the benefit of the doubt.

  “He has hidden depths, I wonder if he is as innocent about all this as he professes?”

  “You think the King of Leithe is behind this? Dangerous thoughts,” said Lord Prince Marshall Pierre, raising an elegant eyebrow, “and even if he is what proof do you have and that Prince Crispin is aware of it?”

  “But what if it is true? We all know that Cadan of Leithe is ambitious and Prince Crispin is his son. The Dukes of the Western and Eastern Isles are worried and so is the Earl of Galland; he’s so worried that he’s building extra defences along the more vulnerable parts of his coasts. The Kings of Randall and Eilidon are scared stiff and that’s with their sons married to Cadan’s daughters.”

  “Perhaps that’s why,” suggested Lord Prince Marshall Pierre. “And how do you know so much about what’s going on out-kingdom? I would have thought you had enough to be going on with regarding our internal problems.”

  “I am concerned when the external threatens the stability of the internal,” Robert Crawford answered, “just as you are.”

  “I like to be aware of everything,” said Prince Pierre, “I have responsibilities to keep our kingdom safe.”

  “Of course, My Lord Prince.” Robert Crawford had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, a sense of foreboding. He was sure that the Lord Prince knew more. He was right.

  “And just to add to your worries Kellen Crawford, perhaps you should be aware that we’re sure King Cadan has made accommodation with the sea pirates,” said Prince Pierre.

  Kellen Robert tried to assimilate this piece of news and how it might affect the situation.

  The Lord Prince Marshall placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder.

  “Robert, I believe the time has come for you to go see Paul Hallam. I think he needs to know about this. Me, I’m going to take three regiments into the southerly duchies. I have a feeling in my guts that if trouble is going to happen it will begin there.”

  * * * * *

  In the event, Kellen Robert didn’t travel to see Duke Paul Hallam on his own. There were a number of people travelling that way, nobility and their attendants and Robert joined them. His fellow travellers were returning to the manor from Fort where they had been attending the christening of the new Prince-Heir.

  * * * * *

  The Royal Chapel at the Palace of Fort was ablaze with colour and light. Candles in sconces had been set at intervals along the walls and illuminated the paintings that decorated them. These were the finest icons and religious depictions in the kingdom, painted in bright colours, reds and blues predominating but there was an abundance of gold and silver gilding too. The columns that held up the decorated, vaulted roof were also bright, swirls of red and amber, blue and green. Even the carpets were of thick red weave.

  Queen Antoinette’s guests were gathering for the baptism of her grandson, the baby Prince-Heir Elliot. One day he might, should, become His Most Royal Majesty King Elliot the Seventeenth.

  Queen Antoinette had, only the previous tenday, decided to hold the ceremony in the Royal Chapel rather than in the Cathedral. The Cathedral was, admittedly large, if the ceremony had remained there she could have invited a great number of guests but it was cold and forbidding, she didn’t like it and in her view it was not a suitable place for Elliot’s naming, however important he was and would become.

  The size and coldness of the cathedral was not however the only reason the Queen had changed her mind.

  * * * * *

  She had countered the arguments against the change in venue with many counter-arguments. Elliot could be shown to the populace after the ceremony she had decreed and the Dukes had noisily subsided. Indeed, the Lord Prince Marshall had been against using the cathedral in the first place. Effective security would have been near nigh impossib
le there he had insisted and his counter argument had most effectively quietened the continuing ducal rumblings of discontent.

  The Queen’s real reason was more complex. It was also a person. It was her son-in-law, Prince Crispin of Leithe. She didn’t like him. She didn’t trust him.

  Queen Antoinette had perused the original guest list for the cathedral venue drawn up by the Head of Protocols with a heart full of disquiet.

  She had made a mental note to dismiss the present Head of Protocols and replace him with someone not in the Prince’s group.

  There are far too many. What is the term? she had frowned as she had perused the seating plan. Yes, that was it, there were far too many of his ‘cronies’ in advantageous sitting positions dotted down the main apse.

  There were rigid rank protocols for occasions such as these and they had been put aside with impunity. It, she decided, would simply not do.

  Those planning the seating arrangements hadn’t dared overturn the conventions for the front three rows she had been relieved to see. They hadn’t dared. These rows were always reserved for the royal family, for the dukes and members of their families and for important foreign dignitaries and representatives. Further back however, conventions had been flouted with a vengeance. Barons and Kellens had been placed in front of Counts and Margraves and one or two who held the lowest of the noble and gentle rank, that of Thane had been placed in the fourth row from the front.

  Queen Antoinette had pursed her most royal lips together and had made her decision. She didn’t intend that there be any more unpleasantness than possible but her son-in-law must not be allowed to get away with this. That was the real reason why she had informed the Dukes at Conclave that she had decided that the Chapel Royal would be the venue. The Archbishop had been placated with the promise that he would still officiate and for the others who would be disappointed she had delved deep into her privy purse and provided a series of court entertainments and processions.