by Robert Brady
“So did a Wolf Soldier, I am told,” she said.
“Yes, that wasn’t the disaster that it could have been,” I said. “For which I am grateful. But he still thinks that he has to drink to do his job and not miss his wife.”
“I haven’t seen him do any job,” Shela said.
“Drunks never realize that, unfortunately,” I said. “In his mind, he probably thinks he’s working harder than the rest of us.”
“What is your plan for his children?”
I thought about that for a few minutes. I had put a lot of work into that and hadn’t gotten far for my effort.
“Tartan, I think, should learn something of the military,” I said. “I need to find an Eldadorian commander who can train him. Alekennen needs a husband, but I’m going to settle that tomorrow. There isn’t a lot we can do with Averee and Terran. When they’re older, we’ll get the girl a husband. I don’t know how Terran is going to turn out, but I would hope to get him at least a barony.”
Shela nodded. “There is nothing wrong with being a common, you know,” she said. “I’m informed repeatedly that, call me what you will, I am one.”
I sighed. “I’ve been looking for a way to broach that with you,” I said.
“You want so much for me to be your equal,” she said. “That is neither my place nor my desire, and it never will be. I am a slave, White Wolf. I am your slave. I would cry it from the tops of every tower in the city if you let me, but only if you let me, because I am yours.
“I have no desire to be anything more.”
I gave her a squeeze and she kissed the skin on my arm. “I think ‘mother of my children’ is a pretty important role for you,” I said.
“As do I,” she said. “And I know that my children are free to choose a life in this city as prince and princess, or free on the plains of Andoran. Just marry Lee well and teach our sons to be men.”
“Maybe not so cruel as I am,” I said.
She lay quiet, and then she said, more softly, “So it did bother you, what you did today,” she said.
I sighed again. “I would be a monster if it didn’t,” I said. “But the traitors had to be purged, and the purging had to strike fear into the heart of anyone who would follow them.”
“I think that it will be a brave Bounty Hunter indeed who crosses The Conqueror next.”
“They do tend to end up dead,” I said.
“And not nobly,” she added.
We were quiet for a moment, and then she said, “The palace is in fear of you because of what you did.”
“Just for that reason?”
“The palace cook calls you, ‘The Demon with Angel Eyes.’ The former Eldadorian Captain of the Guard used to call you, ‘His Excellency, Death.’ Right now, the house staff won’t invoke your name, for fear you will appear.”
“Wow,” I said.
“It seems to me a trend is forming, White Wolf.”
“Hard to argue with that,” I said.
She settled in next to me, moving Lee to a pillow at our heads. We had a lot to do the next day, after all.
Listening to my girls breathe, I thought that this might be one of those rare, best portions of my life. I had wealth, power, security – not bad for a guy who’d been looking at twenty-five to life for manslaughter if lucky. War’s price might be high, but worth paying.
No, he didn’t own my soul yet, but he’d put a down payment on it. The man named ‘Randy’ who’d come here couldn’t have done what I had done today. He wouldn’t have even considered going after someone’s family. If he’d thought to threaten it, he’d have never actually done it.
Lupus the Conqueror formed his morality from a certain knowledge of what his god wanted of him. He could do these terrible things because he knew that there would be no punishment for it.
The cost of proof, instead of faith.
I sat at court in Eldador the city, the gallery thick with courtiers. I had personally made sure that they had all of the blood and teeth and whatnot cleaned off the flag stones in the palace courtyard. This meeting meant a lot.
“His Grace,” the herald said, “Duke Groff, of Andurin.”
Groff entered with a purple cape flowing from his narrow shoulders down to his heels. I remembered him as a tall, thin man, with gray hair flowing straight back from his forehead down his back. He had an angular, severe nose and pointed chin, with dark brown eyes set back in his head. He took long, purposeful strides down the carpet to the dais. Behind him, obviously hurrying to keep up, were a dozen guards, their swords clanking at their sides.
I didn’t think people could bring swords before me, but I had worn mine to meet King Glennen, and been made quickly glad of it.
I’d stationed one hundred Wolf Soldier guards within charging distance of the throne. They served the dual purpose of guarding me and keeping Glennen from stumbling in here, but they were armed.
He stopped at the stone circle before the dais, where Shela had once killed a Bounty Hunter, but didn’t enter it.
“I came to speak to his Majesty, the King,” he said.
Well, the gauntlet lay down before me. The question being would I pick it up or let it lie there.
I doubted very much that he would stop if I didn’t react to him, so I took the bait.
“I sit for the King,” I said, looking directly at him. “Glennen has a schedule, you don’t merit changing it.”
Gauntlet back to you, you muther.
He looked stunned. Clearly he knew I needed his support and thought he would get some sort of explanation or apology. If I did that, then I would be at a disadvantage to him.
“I can return when he is less busy,” he said, his words clipped in anger.
“You will find you have apartments ready for yourself and your family,” I said. “Your men can be billeted in the house of the Eldadorian guard, outside the palace. We had sought to thank you for your excellent support of the Eldadorian state against the Free Legion, but if you would rather have that from the King, I can ask him for his time on your behalf.”
“I thank you,” he said, “but I can have my own conversations with the King.”
I nodded. “As you will. You are dismissed.”
That earned another look, but he turned on his heel and left.
At least that went as planned.
Groff, of course, rated an invitation to dinner that night. We sat him at the King’s left hand, where an Oligarch usually sat, and scooted the Oligarch down three seats to be next to his eldest son. Groff attended with his wife, and had tried to bring his own guard in as well.
“Your man J’her is an excellent officer,” Oligarch two commented to me. “He had Duke Groff believing he’d be safer without them.”
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. I needed to learn his name some day. “It was a pleasure to elevate him, and I see great things for his future.”
“Has he been with you long?”
I opened my mouth to answer, to be interrupted with, “I know where it is, damn your ass,” from down the hall.
“Of course, your Majesty,” Oligarch one told him.
“But perhaps you would like to go this way first?” Oligarch four added.
A moment later, Glennen rounded the corner to the main hall and saw Oligarch two and me waiting for him at the door. He had on clean clothes and someone had shaved him and combed his hair, at least, but a yellow stain of mead had already marked the front of his blouse, and I could still smell the pee on him as he approached.
“Your Majesty,” I said, lowering my head to him. He barked a laugh and slapped my shoulder.
“Where are th’ kids?” he demanded, looking past me to the door.
“Within, awaiting you, per your custom, your Majesty,” Oligarch three said.
“Well, are we going in, or what?” he asked.
Oligarch two rapped the door, and two Wolf Soldiers within opened it. They stood at attention and announced, “His Majesty, King Glennen Stowe, of Eldador!”
<
br /> Glennen staggered in, bumped into a Wolf Soldier, then into the back of one of the barons’ chairs, pushing him into it. The embarrassed baron scrambled to stand back up as Glennen used the backs of the chairs from there to his seat at the head of the table to support himself as he took his place.
He sat before I and the Oligarchs could find our positions, so we scrambled into them as the rest of the guests sat. Groff raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Mead!” Glennen demanded. A porter brought him a bowl immediately. I refused any and took water instead. Shela had a small glass.
Glennen drank from his bowl, then held it out to be refilled. He looked owlishly around the table, then his eyes landed on Shela, or rather her chest.
“How have you been, lil’ girl?” he asked, a grin on his face.
“I have been well, your Majesty,” she said, looking down demurely.
“Still with this great oaf of a man?”
She smiled. “I prefer him,” she said.
Glennen looked at me. “I need to send you as my emissary to Andoran to get me one of these,” he told me. His breath reeked from rotting teeth and booze.
“Perhaps if we let it be known that you prefer Andaran females,” I said to him, “then they will come to you as is befitting a King.”
He grinned to himself. “Yes, that is good,” he said, and took a long drink of his mead, spilling a portion of it down his shirt.
The servants brought the platters, and everyone adjusted himself or herself to let them pass. There were two females, but both stayed at the far end of the table.
“You, girl, come here,” the King called. Groff, I believe, caught the look of dread on her Uman face. She curtsied and brought her platter to the King, for him to choose from.
She unwisely held it at the level of her stomach, which of course let him get a clear shot as her breasts. He reached out with a hand greasy from the meat he handled and gave the left one a good squeeze.
“Ah, there you go, girlie,” Glennen rasped. She blushed crimson and made another mistake and turned instead of backing away. He took a handful of her backside through her skirt, making her squeal, as she tried to escape and clobbered the back of Groff’s head with the tray.
“Your Grace, I am so sorry,” she said.
“You are pardoned, of course, my dear,” Groff said, placing a hand on her waist to guide her to his other side, where Glennen couldn’t get a shot at her. “Please, if you would set your platter down here.”
“Oh, you don’t have to take that from these Uman,” Glennen snarled. “Girl, you apologize to Duke Groff.”
“I apologize most humbly, your Grace,” she said.
“From your knees, girl,” Glennen demanded.
“Your Majesty, that is not necessary,” Groff said, shocked at the idea.
“Oh, ho! Yer telling me now,” Glennen said, slamming down his bowl of mead. The spray from it showered Groff and his wife. “I s’pose you think yer King now?”
“Your Majesty,” Groff said, “you know that my loyalty is –“
“Your loyalty,” Glennen interrupted him, “is and has always been to what suits Groff. Do you think I forgot about when you left me in the Aschire forest? Turned tail? Ran away?”
“Your Majesty, I did not,” Groff began.
“And now you call me liar?” Glennen demanded. The rest of the table sat quiet now. Glennen normally had a temper, but Glennen drunk and challenged might do anything.
Glennen’s eyes found the girl, already on her knees, and he pointed his finger at her. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Don’t do that here!”
She arose, held her hands in front of her, and looked down as demurely as possible.
“Lupus!” Glennen roared. “Where is he, damn him!”
“Right here, your Majesty,” I said, from the first chair to his left.
He turned as if I had popped out of the air. “Lupus, Rancor, whatever yer calling yerself,” he said. “I want you to take this liar out and cut his head off.”
“Cut his head off, your Majesty?”
“You heard me,” he said. “You torture people around here all th’ time. You think I don’t know it? If I tell you to cut someone’s head off, you cut it right off, damn you!”
I nodded. “Shall I do it now, or after dinner?” I asked him.
“Well, are you hungry now?” he asked.
“I could eat,” I said.
“Damn you, Lupus, I have to do all of the thinking here. What use is having you as Heir?
“Eat, let him have his last meal, then take him out and kill him.”
I nodded. “Very well, your Majesty.”
Groff looked at me, alarmed. I met his eyes, then shook my head slightly, and went back to my meal.
His wife had been so flustered she could barely keep her seat. I hoped that it didn’t occur to Glennen that she would soon be available.
Dinner went no differently from its beginning. The food came slowly because the female servants weren’t helping. Glennen grumbled about that, how slow the mead flowed, and how hard his life had become. Tartan tried to ignore him and talk to Groff’s son. The court barons avoided conversation of any kind, and Hectar, who had been warned and not brought his family, only leaned over and talked to Groff once.
Dinner ended with a final round of drinks for all of us. Glennen wanted to tell some story that seemed to be about four Aschire and a whore, but he kept losing his place in it. After ten minutes he took a long swig from his bowl, fell out of his chair and puked all over Groff’s boots.
Six Wolf Soldier guards and an Oligarch removed him from the hall while the Court Barons beat a hasty retreat and the rest of us pretended nothing was wrong.
“Your Grace,” I said to Groff, finally, “would you be so kind as to accompany my wife, Duke Hectar and I to another room?”
“I would be honored, your Highness,” he said. He patted his wife’s hand and motioned for his son to follow. An exiting court baron, seeing that I clearly didn’t intend to kill Groff, took the opportunity to offer to escort Groff’s wife back to her apartments.
We walked quietly back to the throne room and from there to an anteroom where guards often waited in attendance. Shela lit its one torch, hanging in a wall sconce, and I leaned against the back of one of its four chairs, while the other men sat at the table and Shela stood behind me. Oligarch one had joined us uninvited while the other three attended to the King.
“Your Highness, shall I fetch your sword?” Hectar asked me.
Groff looked sideways at him.
“He almost earned the pointy end of it this morning,” I said. I met Groff’s eyes directly. “What were you thinking at court?”
“I had come to see the King,” he said, lamely.
“Do you think we have him at court in his condition?” Hectar asked.
“I am surprised you have him at table,” Groff said.
“He’s still the King,” I said. “If he wants to eat at dinner, he eats at dinner.”
“Mostly, he wants to drink until he pukes, rape servants and tell us how hard his life is,” Hectar said. “You will make an enemy of me if you pursue your intentions with Lupus here. I do not want his job, and I think you don’t, either.”
“What intentions?” Groff said.
“Hiring the Free Legion to help you break off from Eldador?” Hectar said.
“You could not have believed that they would not report that to a fellow member,” the Oligarch said.
“They approached –“ Groff began, then looked at Shela, who smiled at him.
I wouldn’t have needed her for that one.
“The Free Legion doesn’t go out to sell their services,” I said. “They receive requests for employ.”
“Yerel was a friend,” Groff said. He looked at Hectar, then at the Oligarch, then at me.
“Yerel, Hectar and I have been with Glennen since before Eldador was a wild land,” he said. “I owe my life to him, and he to me, more t
imes than I can count.”
“Don’t forget that Glennen ordered this newcomer to shorten you less than two hours ago,” Hectar said.
“And Yerel wasn’t paying his taxes,” I said. “He used the money instead to grow his army.”
“Clearly, the man was about to revolt,” the Oligarch said. “I must be emphatic with you, your Grace, that the nation of Eldador can survive a drunken king, but not the loss of its major cities.”
“Under Glennen, I was free to pay my taxes when I chose, if I chose, and to renegotiate them,” Groff said. “Now comes this man, and I am supposed to pay on a new schedule, no talk about it, as some lackey.”
“And under this man,” Hectar said, “my duchy isn’t supporting the entire Eldadorian nation, the troops are paid on time, we can cross the Straights of Deception as we chose, and can actually build a navy worth a damn.”
“And let us not forget,” the Oligarch added, “that the schedule that you desire, you would never consider for those in your fealty.”
That quieted Groff down.
“What I propose is two-fold,” I said. I turned slightly, so that they could all see my face.
“First, no more actions against the Eldadorian nation, and you pay your taxes on time, and in the amount agreed upon.”
Groff looked at me directly, waiting for me to continue. When I didn’t, he nodded his head slightly.
“Second, Alekennen is of a marriageable age, and I propose there is none better than your son.”
“You wish to make my son the Heir?” Groff asked.
I shook my head. The Oligarch said, “The Heir is named, your Grace. Even were he not, it would fall to Tartan then Terran before Alekennen’s husband.”
“However, it ties your family to the name Stowe, and the name Stowe’s prestige shall survive past this King, regardless of who succeeds him,” I said.
“Your word on that?” Groff said. “Because it would be more expedient for you to succeed and then to name them all commons, and then there is my son in a useless marriage.”
“My word,” I said. “No less than a duchy for Tartan. I don’t know about Terran, but some nobility.”
“Hectar, you are well with this?” Groff asked him. “Your son is younger than mine, but not much.”
