“Aldonai!” gasped Amalia.
“What happened?”
“She was shot. We didn’t get hold of the murderer. The arrow pierced her lung. The countess lost a lot of blood, she is not well. Tahir said that it is unlikely she will survive past the dawn. My Lady, she implored me to bring you and the count. I beseech you.”
Hans dropped to his knees, and Peter hastily lifted him.
“Why does she want to see us?”
“Because of Miranda, My Lady. Lilian cannot die in peace until you come. She knows that you will look after the girl.”
Hans was inspired by his own lie, under the effect of adrenaline. His words sounded so genuine. Who else would Lilian ask? The old viperess? Alicia is the last person Lily would trust with her child.
Amalia sighed.
She didn’t want to go and couldn't refuse such a request at the same time.
“Maybe in the morning.”
“My Lady! The countess is extremely unwell!” Hans dropped to his knees again. Big tears came down his cheeks. How else? He banged his knees against the marble floor very hard, and it hurt. In all fairness, Hans was firmly convinced that no one would follow him anywhere, but that was just what he needed. His aim was to make the Ivelens believe in his lie and make them host him and his people for the night. So it happened.
Hans suffered. He implored the Ivelens to go with them and was promised that they would leave first thing in the morning. Once everyone went to sleep, the Virmans dispersed over the territory. It wasn't difficult for the five professional soldiers to open the large gate and let the firing squad in.
***
Leif looked around. Hans’ people were put in the stable. Well, at least not in the pigsty. All the warriors sighed and wiped their manly tears, telling of the countess’ suffering. She was supposedly dying and had asked them to bring her relatives to say farewell. The men looked genuinely frustrated, although they didn’t have much of an audience—only the stable boys. Leif waited until all the lights went out in the big house and then signaled to his people.
“It’s time.”
The stablemen plunged into a deep sleep, having each received a blow of the fist to the skull. The fist of a Virman was as large as a pumpkin. Even the horses didn’t stir. There weren’t any fatalities, blood, or screams—nothing. The only difference was in the number of people awake, which reduced from nine to five. Nothing critical, the stablemen would come to their senses.
It wasn’t difficult for the three wolf-shadows to silently slip into the yard, look around and quietly get rid of the sentries. Contrary to popular belief, the Virmans weren’t a wild screaming crowd with axes who smashed anything that moved. Not quite. Leif’s team was exceptional at spying, sneaking up, and slipping through. Such skills were useful both on Virma and on the continent. Erik would have done a better job, but he was away at sea.
The four sentries were shot in the twinkle of an eye. Two of them were killed without a drop of blood, the other two, who stood further away, were stabbed with throwing knives. A couple of quiet rales and all was silent again. Two men slipped into the barracks where the Ivelen soldiers slept peacefully. The Virmans contemplated whether to kill them or wake them up and allow them to putt up a fight. Their aim was to keep everything quiet and peaceful.
When Lily had realized what she was dealing with it made her curse the day she was born. The countess was contemplating.
Datura, maldonaya seed, something else…
The Virmans held the secret recipe precious. It was stored on Virma. It was something like sleeping gas, although it couldn't put a healthy person to sleep, it would make a sleeping man fall into the deepest of sleeps. Even a cannon wouldn’t wake him. The side effects were horrid—drowsiness, vomiting, and nightmares.
Why make noise if the Virmans could just put a couple of burning clay censers inside and let the guards take in the smell? What a lasting impression!
Moreover, the barracks at the estate were built traditionally, out of wood. The roof was low and heavy, with only a few windows on top. They only had to wait a little while, and the whole room full of guards was defeated.
Three Virmans slipped out to the side gate. Opening the central gate with a military alarm wasn't necessary; the squad fit perfectly through the little side door. The Virmans’ manly pride didn’t suffer from a little walking.
Twenty people were enough to capture the Ivelens. This was a small capital residence where the family stayed before their visits to the king. It would have been much harder to capture the familial castle. Nobody thought it necessary to overprotect the small estate in the suburbs. According to Loran’s logic, if the king found out about the plot, nothing in the world would save them from his wrath and vice versa; the Ivelens trusted the king to protect them from an enemy. They didn’t consider riots and rebellions, for they were too rare and unpredictable, like avalanches in the summer.
With this in mind, the Ivelens had built a big house with two wings and a balcony. The cries of children directed them to Peter and Amalia. As a rule, the younger children had to be in the opposite wing. The shadows slipped into the patio and dispersed themselves according to the plan. Hans Tremain was already waiting for them on the porch.
Two people went to Loran Ivelen, the other two went for Peter, one to Amalia and another two went for the children. Hans wasn't going to leave anyone out. He would capture everybody and take them to Stonebug.
If their suspicions about the plot proved correct, they had to handle the operation with great care. All youngsters, including the infant twins, had to be captured. They should be able to find them a wet nurse there. No one would die of hunger. As for Hans himself, he would exchange a couple of words with Loran, something like a cross-examination. Everything went smoothly. The Ivelens were taken aback. Wearing only nightgowns, they weren't able to put up a serious fight. Peter was hit on the head with a heavy fist as a safety measure. Even the sick girl had her hands tied.
Cruel but necessary. There had already been cases where such tender creatures had stabbed a soldier in his throat, and Hans forever remembered that lesson.
Each in their room, the servants remained as quiet as mice. One of the Virmans had prudently blocked the doors to their room with two massive tables, one on top of another. Only one butler tried to escape and got hit on the head. He resolved to quietly rest in the corner and refrain from violent language.
Hans took out a dagger and approached Loran Ivelen.
“Where are the papers?”
“Do you have any idea of what you're doing?” whispered the aristocrat. “I will—”
His later words weren't of much interest. Hans had regularly received hundreds of similar threats. Printing them on parchment would have made the biggest library in the kingdom. A nod to Leif, a gag, and the flash of a dagger—the ear of one of the noblest of aristocrats and most famous of dukes separated from his skull. There was a lot of blood and Loran crouched in pain. Hans waited until Loran regained his senses and waved his ear before his eyes.
“I won’t stop at this. I will go down. I will cut your fingers and toes. I will cut your wiener in three goes. Do you not understand? Lay your cards on the table.” Hans borrowed this expression from Lilian. “We know everything. If you are stubborn, I will order your grandchildren killed. I will cut them before your eyes—slow and sure.”
Ivelen tried to put on a proud expression but miserably failed. Hans reached for the crib.
“I am talking about your real grandchildren—not the bastards. Do you think that we don’t realize whose children they are?”
Those words touched him for real. Amalia went so white that it seemed that her black hair separated from her skull and floated above it. Peter was still slow to follow the events; they had hit him hard. Loran looked worse than a dead man.
“I will take the gag out. Don’t you dare make a sound! Remember that this is about the safety of the Crown. The law is on my side.” He thrust the golden badge into Ivelen�
�s face.
“I could hang you if I wanted to and set your estate ablaze with Maldonaya’s fire.”
Loran barely managed to lick his lips. One could tell by his eyes that the duke was contemplating something. Hans outdid him and spoke first.
“Leave your vulgarity. Don’t offer me money. The only thing we can bargain for is your quick death instead of a slow and painful one. Or do you think I won’t dare to burn your infants with a hot iron before your eyes until they meet their death?”
Hans was frightening. He stepped over the superiority of the rank and rose higher than the duke. Ivelen broke down after they cut off his second ear and three fingers. As a result, Hans got hold of all letters, receipts, contracts and, most importantly, the marriage certificate of Amalia Earton and Edmund of Ativerna, who had gotten married seventeen years earlier. Everything was proper—the pastor, the stamps—and another paper with a handwritten testimony from the same pastor, describing the marriage ceremony and naming of children. Both Edmund and Peter had given their consent.
Hans sighed.
The mad countess was right all along. How did she find this out? Only Aldonai knows, although the child is a copy of Imogene. Lilian is smart, but only when it comes to business. Alas! There are certain things she doesn’t understand. She stayed with the king in the castle and ensured me that everything was under her control. On the other hand, what if she really did have everything under control? No, it cannot be…
Worried so, Hans could not wait until morning and took the whole party to Stonebug that night. The Ivelens were simply loaded onto horses like bags of grain, except Amalia and her children, whom the Virmans watched closely. It was impossible to escape. They reached Stonebug by dawn.
***
Edward winced and rubbed his chest. It hurt. The pain was severe, sharp and recurring. It surged and retreated, and it wouldn’t let the king sleep. How did I overlook it? How did I not notice? How? My daughter! Although she thinks I am her uncle, we are a family! How could she hurt her relatives? What did she lack? Money? Power? Or was it maybe to avenge Edmund?
The pain only intensified at the thought of his son. He was his firstborn, his own child. The king could barely think of incest. Edward blamed himself. Who else do I have to blame for my carelessness? Jessie? Being a queen was hard labor. She was only allowed to see her children once a quarter. Jyce? Although he had done everything he could, he remained a bad keeper of maiden secrets and didn’t have any authority in the eyes of Edmund. It seems that Jess doesn’t have any secret marriages, but one can never be sure, thought the king. I will need to check.
The thought of Lilian Earton made the king frown. Does she know about the plot? It’s unlikely. Hans isn’t a fool and won’t tell a lot to a woman—even a woman like Lilian. Although she is clever and serious… No, he wouldn’t.
The king had no idea that it was Lilian who had solved the conspiracy.
What do I do with Hans? There are a lot of traitors and very few loyal people. The king wasn’t going to get rid of Hans. Why would I? Hans is a clever lad fit for his job. He will bring a lot of good to the kingdom, if not now, then during Richard’s reign. His ideas go in line with my thinking. No, it would be a mistake to kill a person like him. The aching in his chest got worse.
There was a slight creaking of the door.
The old valet quietly walked around the bedroom. He put out the candlelight and saw that the king was not asleep.
“Your Majesty? Do you want anything?”
Edward paused.
“Walk quietly to Alicia Earton and invite her in if she is not asleep. Do it quietly. You shouldn't be seen or heard.”
“I’ll do it now, Your Majesty.”
The faithful servant disappeared behind the door. The king rubbed his chest. It was better to talk than to lie and think—a sure way to lose his mind.
***
When someone tapped on the door, His Majesty was already in his dressing gown sitting in a chair.
“Come in.”
Alicia Earton looked empathetically at the king.
“Your Majesty?”
“Do come in. Sit down.”
Tair, bring us something—maybe wine?
“Would you like me to call Lilian Earton as well?”
“Is she at yours, Countess?”
“Yes. She came this evening with Leir Tremain.”
The valet left.
“Is it because of the plot?”
“That’s right, Your Majesty. Hans took all the guards with him and didn’t think it safe to leave the countess at the estate alone.”
Edward thought and concluded that Alicia was one of the very few people who saw him as a human being, not as a king. As for Lilian Earton, it seemed that she saw him as a human being only and often forgot that he was a ruler who could execute her at any moment.
“And Miranda?”
“She is at August Broklend’s.”
“Perfect. And the countess—”
“She is sleeping. She said that she wants to use the opportunity to get a good night’s sleep while she can.”
“What about at home?”
“At home, there’s her child, her work—it sounds strange.”
“Why strange?” It wasn't that Edward was particularly interested, but he wanted to distract himself.
“She talks about the child and about her work with an equal amount of pride. Your Majesty, what will happen to Amalia now?”
Edward sighed.
“Interrogation first.”
“What next? Execution?”
“If our guesses are correct, her future will depend on her loyalty. You know what I mean, Countess.”
“I understand—either execution or the nunnery.”
“To the nunnery only under constant watch.”
“What about the children? Sessie? Jess? They haven’t done anything!”
“That’s right. Therefore, I am sending her to the nunnery and nothing else! Incest and plotting against the state!”
“Will you make it public?”
“No!” Bellowed Edward. A sharp pain pinched his heart. “No promulgation or other nonsense. Edmund didn’t have any wife or children. If anyone decides otherwise, I’ll introduce them to the hangman!”
Alicia nodded.
“Does Lilian know about my children?”
“She knows about the plot, but she doesn’t know about your children.”
Alicia wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but she did not intend to betray the woman either. What does it matter if she knows or not? She is clever enough to keep silent. If not, she would be the first one to suffer. There is no need for him to know.
“Are you sure?”
Alicia didn’t flinch when she met the king’s gaze—nothing of the sort.
“Only Aldonai could be truly sure. I am only a weak woman.”
Edward smiled. Alicia thought that Lilian was perhaps the only one who tried to give her at least some warmth. Jessamine was constantly jealous of the children—Amalia and Jess—and preferred to take care of them herself. Alicia didn’t see her grandchildren often. Lily, on the other hand, accepted her unselfishly, and so did Miranda. For the first time in her life, Alicia felt part of the family. There was always August Broklend.
No! I will fight for my happiness. Even with the king!
The conversation seemed calm on the surface, but in reality, both of them sat on pins and needles. They weren’t surprised to hear the quiet knock on the bedroom door. It was the valet.
“Your Majesty, the secretary wants to see you…”
“Let him in.”
The secretary was pale. He himself was not involved in the conspiracy but rather was in line to be killed—for being one of the king’s closest servants. Being aware of this, the man was somehow agitated and dreamed for the plot to fail.
“Your Majesty, Hans Tremain sent a pigeon. They are in Stonebug. Everything is well.”
Edward sighed.
There was no way
to let the prisoners be released from Stonebug, but his Majesty wanted to question the villains personally.
“Order a coach. I will go there with a minimal escort.”
The secretary bowed and disappeared behind the door. Alicia looked at the king and decided not to ask stupid questions like “why?” She was clever and took her leave.
Edward sighed, looked around the room and called the valet.
“Get dressed, immediately!”
***
Stonebug—a gray stone spire-tower. The people said that it was built by one of the first kings and it had served a distinctive purpose. He had wanted to imprison his wife, who had cheated on him. Since the man did not waste his time on trifles, he built a massive tower before realizing that his wife didn’t deserve such honor. Therefore, he resolved to put the tower to use and expand the field of activity.
Its first residents were, of course, noble-blooded. He couldn’t put dukes in the same catacomb with thieves, beggars, prostitutes, and murderers for they would be cut to pieces. Therefore, he made sure that Stonebug had individual cells, an excellent cook, affectionate commandant, and the best executioners, who were all deaf and dumb—skilled above hearing.
The elder Ivelens were handed straight to those guys. Amalia was treated with some care for she was a noble lady. As for the rest, Hans ordered them to be treated harshly. The executioners of Stonebug knew working methods for exposing the truth.
Hans sent a pigeon to Edward and began looking through the papers. He needed to know who he would execute and pardon. The commandant of Stonebug happily let the royal representative use his private study. He owed him for clearing his name from the murder case of a rich relative. Hans asked for wine and water, or an herbal brew and started working. The pieces of parchment piled up in separate sections. Contracts, obligations, promissory notes, letters, and the structure of the plot crystallized into something concrete.
Avesterra is heavily involved! Bastards! Why can’t they be happy with what they have? They always wish to ruin their neighbors! Richard made the right decision when he didn’t marry their ratty daughter.
The Price of Happiness: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 5) Page 9
