“Or to another country,” said a man to the prince’s right. “Galdina, Partholonia.”
The prince spoke with resolve. “We will find her. We will not give up.”
“Surely the war faction is also looking for her,” said an older man.
“Of course they are!” Exasperation laced the prince’s voice. “Do you suppose I haven’t thought of that? We must find the princess before the war party does. We all know they want to assassinate her.”
One of the men spoke with hesitation. “Sir, is it absolutely necessary that you marry Princess Allegra? There are other–“
”No! I want to unite my house with that of Dorsay. That would be best for Fomoria.” He looked from one man to another. “We must find the princess and we must defeat the traitors. Only then can we bring peace to Fomoria. The war with Elegia went on far too long and accomplished nothing. Just when we have achieved peace, the warmongers plan to renew hostilities.
The gold mines in the disputed territory present a temptation almost too great to overcome,” continued the prince. “If–when–I become king, I would strive to present a better plan for the development of these mines. As it was, King Corvell and the Elegian king reached a truce that really didn’t accomplish anything. To say that neither country works the mines is no solution. It only offers a temptation too great to resist, for anyone desperate to search for gold. No, there must be a better way.” He tapped his fingertips on the table. “I have ideas on how to solve control of the mines, but first, we must defeat the war faction. And in order to defeat them, we must raise money and bring people over to our side.” He smiled. Why, he was almost convincing himself.
One of the advisors sat forward. “Sir, I believe that most of Fomoria stands with you. The people are tired of war. They want peace as much as any of us do. Still–“
”Still, the war faction is powerful,” he said. “If we can find divisions among them, we can bribe those individuals away from the others, bring them over to our side. Or blackmail them, if we can find anything to use against them.” His eyes lit up, his voice infused with enthusiasm. “Once we defeat these assassins, I can marry Princes Allegra. If only we knew her location. . .” He paused, his gaze going from one man to the next. “You all know this is a dangerous game we’re playing. If any of you betray me, you will suffer the most severe punishment.”
“Sir, you can count on us.”
* * *
After riding to the palace at Emain Macha and back to Mag Bregha, Allegra and Rowan stopped to rest by the Nantosuelta River. Today was Sacred Day, he’d explained, one day free from his duties at the Hall of State.
He helped her dismount, his strong hands around her waist, a look of anticipation in his eyes, or was that only wishful thinking on her part? A spark of desire rendered her weak, wanting this moment to never end. She sighed inwardly as he set her on the ground, wondering why he had this effect on her. Don’t lose your heart to this man.
Sunlight sparkled on the water, the sun at its zenith. A warm, pleasant breeze rustled through the trees and bushes, bringing the sweet scent of earthberries. Squirrels scampered across the grass and munched on acorns.
Almost one nine-day had passed since Queen Keriam’s party, and this was hers and Rowan’s second outing, a time she treasured in getting to know him better. She knew nothing would come of their friendship, and that’s all it was, just friendship. Still, it was a new experience for her, a welcome change from her years in Elegia, where her activities were so closely monitored. She recalled when a chaperone always accompanied her, even during her horseback riding lessons. Why did she enjoy these outings with Rowan so much? she wondered, wishing they could spend more time together. Surely it was because she wasn’t supervised; surely that was the only reason. Too bad his duties at the Hall of State demanded so much of his time.
Rowan found a spot on the grass and flipped a blanket out, then spread it on the ground. He glanced her way, a teasing look in his eyes. “I’ll wager you’re hungry, my lady.”
She laughed. “All this riding whets my appetite.”
He knelt on the grass. “Well, sit down and I’ll see what my cook packed for us.” He reached inside his saddle bag; the sweet aroma of apples floated through the air and teased her nostrils. Yet a melancholy reminder nudged her, the memory of her home in Fomoria, where dozens of apple trees thrived on the castle grounds.
Slices of ham followed, which he placed on pewter plates, besides oat rolls and cinnamon and raisin cakes. Cutlery followed. First instructing her to hold on to her pewter mug, he poured them each corma from a stoppered pitcher, and that completed their repast, a simple but appetizing meal.
With a fork and sharp knife, she cut into her slice of ham, her mind busy with all she wanted to ask him. “Something I’ve wanted to know. . .”
He glanced up. “Yes, my lady, ask away.” He drank his corma, keeping a steady look on her. She liked his eyes, deep brown, flecked with gold.
“Doesn’t it bother your wife when you spend this time with me, or doesn’t she know?”
An expression of sadness crossed his face. “I’m not married now. Was once but she died of the black fever.”
“Black fever?”
“A plague that swept through Avador several years ago, caused by fleas on squirrels. You may recall that I told you about the queen’s father, who was . . . assassinated. Our queen–Princess Keriam, at that time–was taken prisoner but escaped. Later, she had a dream about a plague that would strike Avador. Disguised as an ordinary person, she tried to warn shop owners and others about the plague that might strike this country, but no one believed her. When the plague did come to Avador, these same people recalled her warning and blamed her for causing this disease. She was caught and put on trial, where a tribunal of druids declared her guilty of practicing witchcraft.”
“Why witchcraft, when all she did was warn them?”
“Because she’d had a prophetic dream, and that in itself was considered sorcery.” He paused, frowning in thought. “On the day of her scheduled execution, a good witch cast a spell that put all the spectators who had come to witness the execution to sleep. Then Roric, who had loved her for so long, took her to safety in the forest. Much of this tale still remains a mystery, but it is enough to know that as queen, Keriam has charged the druids with codifying magic. So it is permissible to practice good magic, but employing dark magic is punishable by death.”
She shuddered. “So different from my country, where magic isn’t even recognized.”
He raised his eyebrows. “But what if someone casts an evil spell on an enemy?”
“I’ve never heard of that happening,” she said with a shrug. “This magic you speak of is unfamiliar to me. In Fomoria, we just accept whatever happens as a natural event.”
“Well!” A long pause ensued, as though he was reflecting on her words. “My lady, now I must ask something of you.”
“Ask then, but I don’t know if I can or will answer.”
“What if war breaks out again between Elegia and Fomoria?” He spoke quickly. “You really must consider this possibility.”
She turned away for a moment, staring off to the distant Orn Mountains. “That must not happen! We must have peace between our two countries.”
“My lady, that is my dearest wish, also. But you must–should–think on this. If hostilities resume, it may be years before you can return, if ever.”
Her heart pounded with fury. “Don’t say that!”
He gave her a level look. “Let us hope there is a powerful peace faction, one that far outnumbers the warmongers. Possibly this distant claimant you spoke of is striving toward that very goal. But any settlement may take years.”
“Years!” Tears filled her eyes. She brushed them away, refusing to show any weakness. She spoke with determination. “All the more reason why I must return to my country and work toward peace. Until this distant cousin is found, I am the rightful ruler. I would do everything possible to bring
a reconciliation between my country and Elegia.”
“A noble goal, my lady. But remember that the war faction doesn’t share your sentiments. Indeed, your life is in danger if you return. The warmongers would be only too happy to. . .” The sentence remained unfinished, but she knew what he meant.
“So I’m to spend the rest of my life in Avador and never see my country again? No, I won’t accept that!”
He reached over to clasp her hand, then quickly released it. “Forgive me, my lady. I forgot myself. It grieves me to see you in such distress. If there was anything I could do to ease your sorrow, believe me, I would do it.” He tapped his fingers on the ground, looking off into the distance. “Is there anyone in your country who might be contacted, someone whom you could write to, to encourage them to overthrow the war faction and work toward peace?”
Hope rose inside her. “Yes! I know several leading families, people who support and desire peace. But how would we get the letters to them?”
“While we’ve been talking, I’ve been thinking. If you could write a letter to any acquaintances whom you trust, I would try to see that the letters reach their destination. We could let them know that you still live, for many may wonder where you are, or if you are still alive. Possibly just knowing you are well would be a rallying point for those who want peace. Understand, this enterprise would need the permission of the Minister of State. I wouldn’t act without his agreement.” He sighed. “And it’s a long ride to Fomoria.”
“Rowan! Here’s what we can do! As I said, there are many leading families–most, I would say–who are tired of war and who want continued peace. My father worked so hard for this! We could get messages to them. You don’t need to include my address, so no one will know where I live. Unlike Avador, the only city in Fomoria is the capital of Maligigi. The rest of the country is composed of forests or villages. Each village has a messenger service, trustworthy people who will deliver messages to the poor people in their huts or the rich people in their castles. The sender pays for the delivery of these messages. So if you have the money it will be easy enough to send the letters..”
He nodded. “If the Minister of State agrees, I believe he’d provide the money. We must wait and see. Don’t get your hopes up until I talk to the Minister, and I’ll do that as soon as I can.”
A glorious optimism burst inside her, a certainty that conditions in Fomoria would go her way, if only she exerted every effort to make things happen. She finished her cinnamon and raisin cake, delighting in the spicy taste.
She looked over at Rowan as he drained his mug of corma. All her hopes, all her wishes for herself and her country, she saw embodied in him. She liked watching his hair lift in the breeze and noted his strong, expressive fingers wrapped around his mug. Dressed more plainly now than when they had attended the party, he was as handsome as ever, his trousers pulled taut around his muscular thighs.
Suppose her dearest wish came true, that a lasting peace would come to her country, she would never see Rowan again, she realized with a depressing sense of finality. How she would miss hearing his bass voice, watching the play of emotions that crossed his face whenever he spoke to her. A courtly gentleman, so different from the men in her country, who often looked down on women and treated them unkindly. I will miss him.
He spoke, ending these sweet moments of reflection. “We’d better go back to the palace now, then I’ll return your horse to the stable and ride mine back to the capital.” He began to gather up the dishes and utensils, then wrapped them in a linen cloth. He stood and reached for her hand. “Shall we leave?”
Chapter Seven
“What makes you think this plan will work, and just what is it supposed to accomplish?”
Several days had passed since Rowan’s ride with Princess Allegra, a time in which she’d given him the letters to distribute to the leaders in Fomoria, and he had fine-tuned the steps for the enterprise. Now he tried to convince the Minister of State of the plan’s value. He hoped to inject enthusiasm into his voice, but disillusionment sank his spirits. Was the plan feasible, and would it accomplish anything?
“First of all, the princess and I both think this is a good starting point, to let the leading families know she’s still alive. Just knowing that fact would serve as an effective rallying point for the people of Fomoria. But aside from that, we hope to encourage the people–starting with the leading families–to overthrow the war cabal. I don’t need to tell you, this is to Avador’s benefit, too. If hostilities resume between Elegia and Fomoria, we may well suffer, since we will no longer be able to trade with either country.”
The minister nodded. “That’s a good point, one I’m well aware of.” He frowned. “Still, I fear for your safety. You’re a good man to have. Don’t forget, I’m hoping you can succeed me in this position.”
“Donat, I see no reason to expect anything perilous to happen to me. No one will know who I am or my purpose for being in Fomoria. Just think of all the times I’ve been to that country in the past. I speak their language fluently. Princess Allegra has already given me the letters to distribute.” Convinced now of the plan’s feasibility, he spoke with more assurance. “It’ll take several days for me to journey to that country, deliver the messages, and return. Let me explain. Best for me to go to each individual village, closest to each leading family, and hand the missives over to a messenger there. Better that than to give one messenger all the letters. Less suspicious, don’t you see.”
Stroking his chin, the minister remained silent for long moments. When he spoke, Rowan released a pent-up breath. “Very well, then. I’ll expect your return within one nine-day, no more than that. Now, about the money. This department has a certain allowance for similar endeavors. How many letters to you have?”
“Twelve.”
“Twelve!”
“Listen, I know from past experience that all the leading families are clustered in the northeastern part of the country, near the capital. That’s the only city in Fomoria.”
“I am aware of that.”
“Sorry, I’m only trying to show that it should present no difficulty that the princess’s letters reach their destination.”
The minister sighed. “I hope I’m not making a decision that I’ll later regret.” Silent moments passed as he stared out the window, then turned back to Rowan. “Surely one silver for each letter should be sufficient, and Fomoria accepts our coinage. Besides that, you’ll need money for hiring a horse and staying at inns along the way.” He opened one of his desk drawers and drew out a bag of coins. He tossed the bag to Rowan. “This should suffice for all necessary expenditures. That’s all. Good luck, and I hope to see you again very soon. Report here when you return.”
“Yes, and may I say ‘thank you’.”
Donat Fand smiled. “Yes, you may.”
After Rowan left the Hall of State, he headed for his apartment on Granno’s Way, a short walk. Working quickly, he packed the necessary clothes in his saddle bag and slipped his sword in his scabbard. Most important, the princess’s letters. He coughed as he packed, hoping he wasn’t getting a cold. He scooped a few extra coins from a dresser drawer and dropped them in his money bag, knowing it was a good idea to be prepared from any emergencies. Certain he had all he needed, he strode toward the city stable a few streets away. There, he hired a sturdy mare, capable of maintaining long distances. Thankful for the crisp spring air with no rain, he headed northeast for Maligigi, the capital of Fomoria.
He rode for hours, stopping to rest and feed his horse at an inn, where he ate a filling noontime meal. He continued on his journey, and as darkness fell, he sought another inn, both places he remembered from previous journeys.
His trip went on for several days, the temperature falling as he rode north, the forests thicker. He slowed the horse to a canter, then a walk, well aware the terrain could prove treacherous as he wove his way among the thickets of pine and birch trees, where scarcely any roads existed. He breathed deeply of the fragra
nt pine scent, the forest flowers that bloomed among the understory. Here and there, he connected with a road, but much of his riding took him through woods.
Not too long before I reach the capital, he mused, stopping to rest himself and the horse at another tavern. He set out again the following morning, grateful he would soon reach the capital and could leave the princess’s letters with the messengers who would deliver them.
The land became steeper, the forest darker, with a thick overhang of vines. Soon, he should be–
He heard a rustling in the bushes and a bear emerged, growling and showing sharp teeth. Neighing with terror, the horse lifted her forelegs and pawed them in the air. “No!” Rowan gasped, the blood pounding in his head. Despite his skill in the saddle, he couldn’t maintain his perch. The horse threw him to the ground. Stunned and hurting in every part of his body, the last thing he saw was the horse trotting off through the forest. He closed his eyes as darkness descended over him.
* * *
Morfran Gwernach walked along the brick walkway at the palace in Mag Bregha., swearing to himself, kicking at stones in his way. As one of the guards here, he resented his lowly position. Why had Medr Trahern been promoted as head guard, when they had both been employed at the same time? He smirked, thinking about when he was hired. He’d bribed one of the men who had hired him, telling him to ignore the years he’d spent in prison for robbery.
Four guards warded the palace, two by day and two by night. Hired by the Ministry of State, he and the other guards had been told only that a wealthy widow lived here. Also told that her life might be in danger–hence the reason for the guards–he questioned that explanation.
On this overcast day, he didn’t see any evidence that she was in danger. But wait a minute. What about that stranger who had stopped by less than one moonphase ago, a man who had asked him who lived in this palace? Why would the stranger want to know? Could the man have something to do with the danger that supposedly threatened the widow? He intended to find out all he could. If any stranger came by again, he’d tell him whatever he’d learned. He jingled the coins in his pocket, wishing he had more. He’d lost several silvers in a recent card game, so if anyone offered him money for information, he wouldn’t refuse the extra coins. Not on your life.
Allegra's Dream (Avador Book 4, a Books We Love Fantasy Romance) Page 4
