by Katie Roman
Grace let them discuss their grand matters of state. They gave no thought to the commoners who would be caught between the prince and the king's warring factions. That was why Marcus gathered his own council meeting on the Dawn.
Kay, Grace, and Marcus gathered in Kay's cabin to discuss what they would do next. Donald was sleeping in the healer's tent, and Grace's request that they go for him was rebuffed.
“I have been wasting away, moving stones for far too long,” Marcus said, sliding into a chair Kay brought in for him as the two women sat on the bed. “I've been endlessly plotting how I am going to make the Duke of Escion pay for falsely accusing me of killing Duke Brayden.” He held up his cut and bruised fingers. “Look what he did to my beautiful hands,” he added with a smile and a wink.
Kay lounged backwards on her bed. “Will His Majesty want to sail for Glenbard with all haste?”
“In a few days. Can you navigate the winter storms?” Marcus said.
“It will not be easy, but the Dawn has weathered worse things than winter storms.”
“Now we must decide what happens next. His Grace of Actis has offered me a great deal of coin as payment for being wrongfully accused of murder…or so he says. I think he is trying to buy his way into my good graces. They're planning to make a base in Glenbard, and they want the people on their side.”
“By giving you gold?” Grace asked.
“I suppose they think all us in the dregs are motivated solely by coin,” Kay growled. Grace looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. “I do have other motivations, Miss Hilren,” she replied sheepishly.
Marcus shrugged. “So I suppose I must decide what to do with my bag of coin.”
“Buy weapons for Rogue's Lane and arm them for when His Highness turns Glenbard into a battlefield.” Kay sat up again. “Let them take back their city.”
“And what of everyone else in the city?” Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “Or do you plan to let the merchants and the fishermen and everyone else who calls Glenbard their home go defenseless?”
“Grace is right. We can’t just look to Rogue’s Lane. Most of the city was affected by Robert’s martial law. If we have any hope of driving him out, we need help from elsewhere. We’ll even need help from Prince Drake.”
“Will they fight for Drake?” Grace looked to Kay and Marcus for an answer since they knew the city better than she. She had seen how citizens, especially those on the Lane, responded to nobility. They felt they were viewed as less than human, disposable; and the fact that Drake and Elanor were at that very moment holding a conference that a prominent commoner like Marcus wasn’t invited to just reinforced the belief. Glenbard wouldn’t be allowed to exist unless it heeded the laws of Cesernan’s king. If they fought to remove Frederick’s lackey, they’d eventually have to back the prince. However, if Drake turned a blind eye to their troubles, why would they bother fighting for anyone?
“The merchants and some of the guards could be pressed to back His Highness.” Marcus reached for a glass of wine Kay brought for him and took a long sip before continuing. “But even with my word backing Drake, the Thieves’ Guild will not look kindly on the idea. They will think I’ve turned on them.”
“You just need to give them something to fight for; something lasting,” said Kay. She looked down to inspect her nails as she continued. “Who has always run Glenbard? Five magistrates. Who picks those magistrates? The king. And where does the king find them? Among his courtiers. Every city across Cesernan is run similarly. The king appoints a few magistrates among the noble houses, and that noble does as he pleases with the king’s consent. Not every one of them is terrible. Duke Brayden was a tough but fair man, but for every Brayden there is a Robert; a man consumed with a need for power and control.”
“What are you suggesting?” Marcus leaned forward in his chair.
“Tell Drake you’ll convince the people to support him if he gives them power,” Kay said, speaking as though this was the most obvious solution. “Have each of the five districts elect their magistrates. Merchants, guards…anyone the city districts decide can speak for them, you make him sign his name to this. Then when we land in Glenbard ahead of him, send word with every merchant caravan in and out of the city. The people will rise against Frederick, and in doing so, they’ll show Drake how strong they are. He won’t be able to back out even if he wants to. The people are given a voice to keep the king from declaring martial law as Frederick has done, and Drake gets the backing of the masses. Wars are costly things, and even if Frederick surrenders without a fight this spring, Cesernan will still owe coin to her allies for food and to fix any damage done. The people will still need to be fed and clothed. If Drake withdraws on his end of the deal, he’ll risk bankrupting the crown to put down a rebellion among his people.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open and Kay reached over and closed it. “I used to serve in a magistrate’s household, and I learned a great many things there…including how the nobility like to punch down because they don’t think anyone will punch up.”
“It is a good plan,” Grace managed to sputter out. “Drake will need every bit of support he can get, and if he can secure the favor of the commoners, he will be in a much better position than his father.”
“He’s already off to a good start by trying to provide food from Sera.” Marcus took another sip of his wine. “But will he hand over power from his nobles to commoners?”
“Even if he does, will his noble supporters still side with him?” Grace asked. “They are vain and selfish more often than not.”
“Put it before the prince,” Kay said. “If he agrees, we sail to Glenbard and spread the word, gathering support along the way.”
Marcus nodded his approval. “If he doesn’t, we sail to Glenbard, appraise the situation, and find a way to take back the city ourselves. Grace, you know the prince better than us. Can you bring him our terms?”
“At first light tomorrow,” Grace said, nodding.
Her heart soared at the idea of returning to Glenbard. She would see Ridley and Thom again and she would finally get to be with Jack. She couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought. She would be home soon.
~*~*~
“’The people of Glenbard will pledge their support for His Highness, Prince Drake of Cesernan, if and only if he allows for the autonomy of their city,’” Nicholas read aloud.
Grace and Marcus had stayed up late to compose a term of agreement pledging their support to Drake. Kay let them work out the specifics while she had food and wine brought in and made suggestions based on her own observations. At dawn, Kay had David escort Grace to the prison to deliver their terms.
The Serish lords and their queen, the Duke and Duchess of Actis, Drake, and Tristan were all present. The knights of Actis and Charlotte were noticeably not present.
The warden’s quarters included two bedrooms and a moderate-sized meeting room. In the center was a large round table with seats for ten. The assembled nobles sat in a half circle across from where Grace stood, but all eyes were on Nicholas as he read.
“’The Prince will allow for the election of magistrates by the citizens. Each district will be responsible for voting their magistrate onto the city’s council. Should a district fail to do so, the king may appoint one for them. The magistrates will perform the same duties and be subject to the laws of the crown, as has been tradition since the founding of Glenbard, but they will be from amongst the common people. In exchange for this, the people will rally behind His Highness, Prince Drake of Cesernan.’”
“No! Absolutely not!” Tristan yelled. “This is a trick so that she can lead the people in open rebellion against us!”
“Peace.” Drake held up his hand to silence Tristan. “We are already in open rebellion. Let us consider this for a moment before accusing our allies of deception.”
“You will never be able to control your people again,” Elanor replied with a sniff. “They will think they can get anything they wish from the cr
own without working for it.”
“Your Majesty,” Grace said, without caring that she was still masquerading as a military leader only. “The people of Glenbard – nay, the people of Cesernan – have long toiled and gone hungry and been bullied by their king. We thought it only fair they be given a voice for their troubles, to ensure that no king may ignore the suffering of his people due to pride or petty revenge again.”
“Then you expect this offer to extend beyond Glenbard? That I might allow for election in any of our cities that have magistrates?” Drake asked.
“Your Highness, think of the strength it will provide your reign. I have lived as a commoner for over two years now. They look upon the finely dressed nobles and see men and women who eat at sumptuous banquets while they starve. They have no love of your father’s court, and they’ll have no love for you if you come through with your foreign allies and ignore them.”
Grace felt the blood pounding in her ears and clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking noticeably. Everyone regarded her as though she were an exotic animal to be gawked at.
“I think it is an interesting proposal.” Nicholas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “As Henry of Egona always liked to say, ‘What is a kingdom without her common people?’ But how can Marcus guarantee the people will follow him? Surely he can't speak for everyone.”
“As Your Grace is aware, Marcus is revered among the citizens of Rogue's Lane-”
“He's a thief!” Tristan growled. “A thief, Your Highness. You would put our futures in the hands of this disgraced woman and a thief?”
“Sir Tristan is right,” Elanor said quietly. “You cannot bow to the demands of a woman who made a fool of herself and dragged her family name through the mud, and a man who is a leader among thieves. You will alienate your nobles if you turn over power to low-borns such as this 'Marcus' character.”
Grace moved her eyes to a fixed point behind the table. She watched a torch's light flicker, casting shadows all over the wall. She couldn't believe she had once admired this queen! Grace said nothing. She just kept staring at the wall, waiting for someone else to speak.
“Consider elevating some minor, poorer knights instead.” Elanor folded her hands together on the table and turned to look at Drake, pleased with her compromise.
Grace took a moment to take in each of the assembled nobles. To her surprise, Katherine was giving Elanor an annoyed, sidelong look.
“I think it's a good idea to consider a new chain of command in our cities,” Katherine said after taking a deep breath. “We will be able to secure the merchants, the land-owning farmers, and the small shop owners if they are allowed a voice. I think it would be unwise to ignore this request. This ‘Marcus’ fellow may just be a voice among the lower classes, but once word spreads, others will join.” Nicholas nodded in agreement with his wife.
“Thank you, Grace,” Drake said. “We will discuss this and let you know our decision.”
Grace curtsied and was shown out by one of the silent Serish soldiers.
~*~*~
The next morning, Lord Jestin came aboard the Dawn. Marcus, Kay, and Grace met him on the deck. The Serish lord looked annoyed to have to set foot on the pirate ship and looked around him in distaste, curling his lip.
“My Lord.” Kay cocked her hip saucily and put her hand on it. “Do you require assistance this morning?”
“Captain, I came to give this to Marcus Hunewn.” Jestin handed over a scroll.
Marcus took it and immediately handed it off to Grace. She unrolled it and smiled. “It's our terms, and His Highness has signed it.” She looked it over and saw that he had made one adjustment. “The people of Glenbard can vote for all the district magistrates, save the one representing Golden Road. The king reserves the right to appoint someone to the fifth magistrate position.”
“A fair point,” Marcus said, looking over Grace’s shoulder. “Nobles live in that part of the city and will want their own to have some power, no doubt.”
Jestin kept his scowl up. “His Highness understands you wish to leave as soon as possible to return to Glenbard, however, he asks for one more conference with Marcus before you do so. His Highness, my Lord Aeron, and myself would like to discuss plans for our arrival in the spring. Her Grace, the Duchess of Actis, also asks that you bring her maid with you when you sail for Glenbard.”
“I will await His Highness's call, and I’m sure no objections will be raised if Charlotte joins us.” Marcus put a hand to his chest and bowed to Jestin, who nodded curtly and left the Dawn.
Kay looked around. “We can be ready to sail in a few days, but we'll need provisions. Donald will need to be strong enough to go, and I am sure you will want to speak with the freed prisoners. I can take none of them on board, but they may wish to join the offensive in the spring. I will see to our provisions.”
“Grace, see what kind of support you can muster among our former band,” Marcus instructed. “See if they might sail in the spring.”
Grace nodded and went off to speak with the liberated prisoners.
Twelve
Jack lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, watching the dust motes dance in the pale morning sunlight that streamed in. The bars from his window cast their shadow along the floor so it seemed there was a cage everywhere. He wrapped himself in a wool blanket to keep warm. The fire consisted of nothing more than glowing embers now, and he had no logs to add to it. No one had come by in days to see how he fared, so he could only surmise he was being left to die.
Robert said he would have company soon, but the promise was not kept. Truthfully, Jack was surprised his father would let him die a lingering death. He always figured if Robert was going to kill him, he would do so in a fit of rage or under the instruction of the king. Yet no food had come through in three days and no water in two. Jack saved up his firewood, only using it in the dark of night, but he had already depleted his supply. Now, he waited.
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He licked his chapped lips, though his tongue felt like sandpaper over the already irritated flesh. His stomach grumbled and his teeth chattered against the cold. He pulled the blanket completely over his head, thinking he’d spare whatever servant who found him the trouble of covering his corpse.
All his thoughts turned to water. If he could just have some water, he could find the will to fight on. Nothing else mattered to him. But somewhere in the back of his mind, something tugged at him. He ignored it.
“Jack,” a quiet voice said. He flung back his covers, but found himself still alone. He pulled the blanket over his head again. “Jack.”
This time he sat up, and standing before the window was Grace. The shadows from the bars did not touch her. She wore the plate mail of a knight with the winged star of Diggery painted on the breast plate, holding her sword in one hand as she reached out her other for him. Her fingers beckoned him.
Jack sat, transfixed on the cold floor. He watched as the sunlight cast a golden glow over her hair and gave her whole body a brilliant aura of light.
“Jack,” she repeated.
He reached out his hand, straining to reach her. “Grace,” he rasped. He pulled himself from the floor, hand outstretched.
Just as quickly as she appeared, a cloud moved over the sun and she was gone. Jack sat in the center of his cell, dumbfounded. He tried to swallow and found his throat too dry. He coughed, feeling like fire was flowing up his throat and out his mouth. His limbs shook.
My mind is playing tricks on me, he thought. An ache grew in his chest and steadily flowed through his body. He carefully eased back down and covered himself with his tattered blanket. He folded his hands together, rested his forehead against them, and prayed for everything and everyone he could think of.
Sometime later, he heard keys jingling and scraping as someone unlocked his cell door. The door creaked and booted feet crossed the floor. He stayed down under his blanket, not moving an inch. For all he knew or cared, h
e was dead and the gods had come to carry him home.
“Are you dead?” Gillam asked, nudging Jack’s ribs with his foot.
“Isn’t that the plan?” Jack slowly pulled the blanket away from his face and his vision swam. He could barely make out Gillam’s features.
“Not right now.” Gillam bore a tray with a pitcher and a plate. “This isn’t much, but it’s what we got to spare.” He placed the tray down next to Jack’s head.
The plate held one meager slice of brown bread and a bowl of brown water. Jack sniffed it. It was broth and nothing more.
Gillam helped him sit up. Jack dunked the bread into the broth and let it sit while he picked up the pitcher. He took a few small sips from it, letting the water wash through him slowly. As the cool liquid flooded through him, he began to gulp the water down. What didn’t make it in his mouth ran down his chin and the front of his shirt. He drank so fast, the water sat like a stone in his gut. He gagged, causing much of what he’d wolfed down to come back up all the empty tray. He put the pitcher down and heaved in a lungful of air.
“You’re just going to make yourself sick,” Gillam said.
“I figured my father planned to starve me.” Jack picked up the broth and sipped at it. It was lukewarm and salty, but it filled him with new life. The bread helped give it some body, but it did nothing to help the taste. He put the bowl aside to take another drink of water, but he only took in a mouthful this time.
“Nah, we haven’t got enough food to feed everyone every day. His Grace put me in charge of rationing our food so everyone gets a little something every few days.” Gillam sat down on Jack’s bed to watch him eat.
“And I suppose he still plans to launch his spring offensive, even though he can’t keep his soldiers fed.” Jack looked up at Gillam.
Gillam looked down at his feet but said nothing. No. Of course the soldiers were fed. Jack picked up his bowl again and slurped a little bit down.
