by Anna Thayer
The Gauntlet marched from the city, each man bearing his red jacket and banners. One by one, the captains and first lieutenants brought forth their standards and laid them on the great mound, forming a sea of red about the hearses.
As Eamon stood and watched them, Feltumadas stepped quietly to his side.
“First Knight,” he whispered. The Easter lord held in his hands a spread of black. At once Eamon recognized it – the torn tabard that had been bestowed upon him by the throned.
In silence Eamon took it from the Easter. As the last of the Gauntlet laid down their colours, he stepped forward. The mass of red before him was overwhelming. The river of emblems flowed ceaselessly about the mound where throned, Nightholt, and Right Hand lay.
Eamon carefully set his tabard down over the colours then stepped back to join the ranks. The whole of Dunthruik had followed them.
Hughan took a torch from one of the King’s men and carried it to the sea of red.
“In flame did Edelred come to Allera.” Hughan’s voice carried across the plain. Eamon felt as though the whole world might hear it. “In flame does he depart.”
The King turned to the pyre. For a moment he stood and watched it. Then he leaned the torch forward against the tabards and the banners.
It was not long before the flames caught. Hughan stepped back as the great ribbons of fire streaked upwards, reaching for the two hearses.
As he watched the flames, tears stung Eamon’s eyes. Since he had first come to Dunthruik his fate had been bound to the throned and to the Right Hand. Now their hold had been loosed, their power renounced, and both men were circled with fire. Memories of Edelred’s affections, Ladomer’s laughter, and Arlaith’s cruelty danced in the flames.
With the hearses went a part of Eamon also. Though it had been tainted – by treachery, by lies, by wiles, by hurt, by anger, by pain, by abuse, by words and deeds wrought against him and against those whom he loved and served – he realized that he had at times loved both men; and he had loved Ladomer most of all.
Hughan came to his side. Though they exchanged no words, the King met his gaze with compassion.
As the sun struck over the crests of the mountain, flooding Dunthruik with light, and the flames slipped up towards Arlaith’s still form, Eamon knew that he would never see Ladomer again. Edelred’s pyre would burn long, and many would stay to watch it die in dark embers on Dunthruik’s plain. Some would stay until nothing could be recognized of either throned or his Right Hand before they returned to the city.
But Ladomer Kentigern’s was a lost face, not even to be consumed by fire. None would give it vigil.
The smoke stung at his eyes and the pain at his heart. Bravely, and with the King at his side, he forced himself to face the pyre. But as he did so, Eamon wept.
Later that day Hughan assigned groups of men to take responsibility for the quarters. Still in a daze, Eamon stood and listened as Hughan directed Feltumadas and a mixed group of Easters and wayfarers to the North, while Leon and a similar group took charge of the South.
“Lord Anastasius,” Hughan said, “I would have you take the East; it was ever the place of your people in this city.”
Eamon’s heart sank as the words were spoken. He had hoped to be assigned there, for the East was the nearest place to a home he had in Dunthruik.
“I will take it, Star,” Anastasius answered.
“First Knight, I would have you take the West,” Hughan said.
“Yes, sire,” he answered. The smell of smoke clung to him.
“There are some who would serve you,” Hughan added. “I will take you to them in a moment.”
Eamon nodded silently. After a few more minutes the King dismissed the others. “I know that the North shares responsibility with the West in the matter of the port,” he said. “The port is going to need particular attention. Zharam says that the damage is still severe, and that we will have trouble getting food to the city and out into the rest of the realm until that is handled.”
“Who is Zharam?” Eamon asked, struggling with the pronunciation of the strange name.
“He was in charge of the fleet that attacked the port,” Hughan answered. Eamon’s heart filled with his memory of that day, of the smoke in the air… “He’s an ally from the southern merchant states.”
“It was a violent attack,” Eamon told him. “We lost many men that day.” The image of burning ships and quaysides, of Manners being brought down from the wall, of the pile of bodies lying desolate on the wharf lingered with Eamon still. “Including Lord Dehelt,” he whispered, and his heart churned. He looked up, feeling a touch of anger. “Did Zharam order that?”
“The order was to attack the port,” Hughan answered gently, “not to kill particular men.”
“Why did Dehelt have to be killed?” Eamon retorted.
“Men are killed in battles, Eamon,” Hughan replied quietly.
Eamon remembered the Hand’s face and supportive words… “But Dehelt might have turned!” he cried.
Hughan’s face softened. “Eamon,” he said, “Dehelt had been a Hand for a long time. He had long years in which to turn, yet he did not.”
“But he might have done, had he lived,” Eamon answered angrily.
“He might have done,” Hughan conceded, “but in his long years in Edelred’s service he did not. You may have been the last reminder of that sent to him, but still he did not turn.” Eamon sighed. Hughan looked carefully at him. “His death does not lie on you,” he said, “and that he did not serve me when he died does not make it wrong to mourn him.”
The King took him from that room to another. Quiet voices filtered through the doors as they approached.
“There will be a lot to do in the next few days,” Hughan told him, “and a lot of it will need to be done in the West. I am afraid that you will be very busy.”
Eamon nodded. “I don’t mind it, sire,” he said. He knew full well that running a city was hard work at the best of times. When that city had also to prepare for a coronation and wedding, and adjust to regime change, as well as feed and protect itself while power changed hands, that work would be nearly doubled.
It would keep his mind from other matters, and that was not unwelcome.
The doors opened before them.
“These are some of the men who will help you with the West Quarter,” Hughan said with a smile.
Surprise washed over Eamon. A number of King’s men stood to one side, most of whom he recognized from the storming of the North Gate. Giles was among them. But it was not the King’s men that surprised him; rather, it was the group of plainly dressed men who stood on the other side of the room.
One was Anderas. The second was Manners. And by them stood the man who had been Edelred’s doctor. Beyond them stood three other men who had once been Edelred’s servants.
Eamon gaped in amazement, then looked back to Hughan.
“They all asked to serve with you,” Hughan told him. “I granted them their requests.”
In a daze, Eamon greeted each of the two dozen men in the room. Giles was gruffly pleased to see him. Eamon embraced Anderas and Manners fondly. When he came to the doctor he felt a wry smile coming over his face.
“You asked to serve with me?”
“Yes, sir,” the doctor answered. “I surrendered with the palace servants. They offered me a choice.”
“Did they offer your leeches a choice, too?”
“I am afraid they were pressed into service before then,” the doctor answered with a small smile.
“I’m sorry if this next question seems rude or blunt,” Eamon told him, “but… why did you ask to serve me?”
The doctor watched him quietly for a moment. “I was no less shocked than any other man to discover who you were,” the doctor replied, “but you were kind to me those few times that we met. Kindness was a rare thing among the hearts of the men whom I served,” he added quietly, “and so your kindness stuck with me.”
Eamon smiled.
“I am sorry to have forgotten it,” he said, “but I hope you will answer when I ask… what is your name, doctor?”
“Leander Doveton,” the doctor answered.
“Then I thank you, Dr Doveton, for asking for me,” Eamon told him. “I must introduce you first of all to Andreas Anderas. He has the habit of getting stuck with arrows, and so I must ask you to keep him under your particular notice.”
Anderas pulled a face but clasped hands warmly with the doctor.
Last of all, Eamon went to Edelred’s former servants. One of them was the man who had first served him breakfast, and all three of them smiled. Eamon clasped each of their hands in turn.
“Welcome,” he said. “I do not know how to say it with my hands,” he added, “but I will learn.”
The first servant smiled. “You will gesture well,” he said.
Eamon’s jaw dropped. “You can hear – and speak!”
The servant nodded. “I can now,” he said. His voice was thick, as though he had to concentrate on forming the words. “Some could not speak,” he added, gesturing to the third servant with him as an example, “but many of us were silenced by the red light. It does not silence us now.”
“This man never spoke, even before?” Eamon asked, looking to the third servant.
“No.”
Eamon paused. “How may I thank him?”
“The Master did not thank us,” the servant explained slowly, “but we always touch our hearts – as you did, before.”
Eamon turned to the third servant. The man looked attentive, his eyes wide as they darted around the room. Eamon stepped towards him, touched his hand to his heart, and bowed low.
“Thank you,” he said.
The servant stood uncertainly for a moment. Then he echoed the gesture, and bowed. It filled Eamon’s heart with joy.
As Eamon stepped back he looked to the first servant again. “Will you teach me to speak with him, and the others?”
The servant nodded. “I will,” he said. Then he stood for a moment, simply watching Eamon. When Eamon offered him a quizzical look, the servant smiled. “You have a wonderful voice,” the servant told him. “It is good to hear it.”
“It is better to hear yours,” Eamon answered, laughing.
Eamon proceeded to introduce each of the men in the room to all the others, and was pleased to see that there seemed to be no animosity between any of them. Giles was a little reserved but hid it well for a man of his bluntness. Eamon dared to hope that the formal show of reconciliation at the Four Quarters, the paying of blood money and renouncing of oaths, was already having some effect.
As the men gathered their things together and prepared to go with Eamon to the West Quarter, Eamon looked to Hughan again. The King had stood quietly to the side, a smile on his face. The King laughed.
“There is a lot of work to do,” Hughan replied. “You deserve to work with men you love.”
Eamon looked back at the men in the room and smiled. In that moment, the morning’s pyre was forgotten.
The days that followed were perhaps the busiest of his life and Eamon was swiftly glad of the number of men Hughan had assigned to help him. The wayfarers were divided among the quarters, and Eamon oversaw repairs to the port, as well as the feeding and re-housing of many of Dunthruik’s people, some of whom returned to the city from their places of exile as news of the throned’s fall spread.
Eamon was glad that the work kept him occupied, for when the darker hours came, his thoughts grew dark with them. Working hard all day ensured that he fell asleep swiftly at night.
Having Manners and Anderas, even Doveton and Giles, with him was a constant joy, and he delighted in their company and passion for the work, even the most menial things, that needed to be done. Eamon slowly learned how to communicate with those who could not speak. Some of the wayfarers outside Eamon’s immediate staff were suspicious of the former Gauntlet officers – and more so of Doveton – but most seemed content to let their suspicions be overridden by Eamon’s own confidence in the men.
It was from the doctor that Eamon first learned that although the vast majority of the palace’s servants had surrendered, the most senior had all been killed. The doorkeeper, as Eamon had seen himself, had died when the palace fell. He learned that the taster had been struck down shortly after Edelred’s death by one of Hughan’s own guard, and that the throned’s secretary had been caught among fleeing Hands at the port.
Hughan sent messengers out to every part of the River Realm speaking of Edelred’s fall. Word slowly trickled back from the provinces and regions of the land, from distant towns and Gauntlet divisions; each sent tokens of their surrender and gave their allegiance to the King. Most advised that they would send men to witness the forthcoming coronation, and as news of that event spread, work for the coronation quickened its pace.
Four days after Edelred’s pyre, a group of men arrived at the palace, carrying a simple but broad casket. When he later spoke to Hughan on the matter, the King told Eamon that the men were the last of the bookkeepers. They had brought with them the surviving copy of the King’s Covenant and were to preside over the coronation.
Though word of the surrender and disbanding of the Gauntlet arrived in a steady stream to the palace, news also reached the city of a particular Gauntlet captain in the northern borders. The man had not believed news of Edelred’s fall, had refused to surrender, and having fought his way out of Galithia against enormous odds, had led his men to a fortress near Dunway, north of the city. The group held there.
“They’re saying now that the captain won’t give his surrender until he has seen the King himself,” Anderas told Eamon. They walked back to the palace together after a long afternoon at the port, and the story, as it grew day by day, was a welcome distraction. “He seems to be awaiting further instructions.”
“He certainly has courage,” Eamon granted.
“His name is Roe.”
Eamon looked across at him, startled. “Roe?” he repeated.
“Yes. By all accounts a most tenacious man,” Anderas said, smiling. He looked back to Eamon. “I think you’d like him, if you met him.”
“We’ve met his wife,” Eamon answered.
Anderas looked at him in surprise. “Oh?”
“The singer from the Crown.” As Eamon thought of Ilenia he wondered how she fared. He had not yet had the time to go and find her, or Shoreham, or any of his servants in the East Quarter. “Hughan will send someone to parley with Captain Roe. Probably someone formerly of the Gauntlet, whose word he may trust.”
“We must only hope it isn’t me,” Anderas jibed.
“Because he’d shoot you?”
Anderas grinned. “Something like that,” he said.
That afternoon Eamon went to see Hughan. As he gave his report on the work at the port, the King followed him attentively.
“If the wind holds fair, the first grain ship should come tomorrow,” he finished at last.
“We shall have need of it,” Hughan answered.
“We still have quite a broad store of the Ravensill wines,” Eamon added. “Giles was taking stock of them this morning. They will set us in good stead for trade for a little while yet.” He flicked through his notes. “A few more former Gauntlet came in as well, about half a dozen of them, asking for service. Manners and Anderas are vetting them.” He looked up. “I heard that Leon had some news on Captain Roe?”
“Captain Roe,” Hughan said with a smile. “His is becoming a good story indeed. Leon tells me that the captain has sent a delegation – one in which he includes himself – to come and see if Edelred has fallen. They are likely to arrive in two days. When the hobilars advise that the delegation is close enough, I will send Anderas to meet it.”
“Not Waite?” It seemed to Eamon that Waite would be the obvious choice of ambassador.
“No. Waite did not feel ready to serve me in such a way.”
The news saddened Eamon.
“I know Roe’s wife
, sire,” Eamon added at last. “If we were to send for her when he comes, I think he may more swiftly give his surrender. It would also ease her heart.”
Hughan nodded. “Thank you for everything you’re doing, Eamon.”
Eamon received the thanks with a tired smile. “Is there a date set for the coronation yet?”
“Oh that I might enact a tax upon every man who asks that question, the city’s repairs would already be paid.” Hughan smiled. “Maybe when we have cleared this situation with Roe,” he answered at last.
“This city has awaited you for a long time,” Eamon told him. “It will wait a day or two more.”
“Waite has asked for leave to go from the city,” Hughan told him. Eamon looked up in surprise.
“He’s leaving before the coronation?”
“I will not make him stay.”
Eamon pursed his lips together and looked up. “I will speak to him.”
“You may,” Hughan told him, “but I do not think that he will change his mind.”
“He’s a good man, Hughan,” Eamon persisted.
“I know. But he is also a weary one, and he has borne much.” Hughan paused for a moment. “They’ve finished clearing much of the rubble from the palace corridors. I’ve been told that the way to your old quarters is passable again. You may wish to go and recover some of your things when they clear the rooms.”
“When do they mean to do that?” Eamon asked.
“Tomorrow morning. The carpenters will probably go up very early, but I’ll ask the men to wait for you in the Round Hall.”
“Thank you.” Eamon drew a deep breath. “Where is Febian being held?”
“When I was last informed, he was being held with the last of the belligerent knights, in the lower East Wing corridors.”
Eamon frowned. “But he surrendered,” he said. Following the dissolution of their oaths, many of the Gauntlet and infantry had been given leave to go. Some had returned to their own regions, though many waited in the city to see Hughan crowned before starting the long journey home. If Febian had surrendered, he was entitled to that. “Isn’t he as free as any other man?”
