With the companies dispersed, I went to join the Eithlisch in his vigil. He greeted me with a wordless blink, and I was content to stand and gaze upon the recently turned earth for a time. Once again, the stone feather surprised me by conjuring no ghosts this night, something that brought a pang of guilty relief to my breast. Had every tormented soul who perished here lingered, I felt sure I would have greeted the dawn a madman.

  It was the Eithlisch who broke the silence with a softly spoken question: “Is this how it was? The Ealthsar, all those many years gone?”

  “I expect so,” I said. “From what I’ve seen of it.”

  A twitch passed over his features, eyes dark with memory. “She told me it would come again,” he said, and I didn’t need to ask who he spoke of. “When we parted long ago. I didn’t believe her. Even though I was old even then. Now I realise I was but a child angered by the departure of his only friend. I spoke many foolish words. Accused her of seeking to make herself a god to the superstitious savages beyond our borders. It was the only time I ever saw a tear fall from her eyes. Just one. Still, she refused to rebuke me, though I surely deserved it. She kissed my brow and said, ‘When it comes, and it will, brother, neither of us shall be spared the worst of crimes.’ Still, my anger lingered and I shouted after her as she walked off into the night, never again to be seen in Caerith lands, ‘I will sully myself with no crime for your pestilent imaginings!’”

  He paused, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. “But I have, Alwyn Scribe.”

  “The Paelith,” I said. “Corieth. You killed him.”

  The Eithlisch’s head dipped lower, wide shoulders slumping under an unseen weight. “I did not, but that does not absolve me. I sought out all the Paelith clans, carried on the back of a paelah to ensure they could not deny the truth I spoke. The clan elders were divided, bitterly so. Some heard my truth and were willing to muster their warriors for a northward march, others were fully under Corieth’s sway. The division grew ever more ugly, and I soon came to understand that if it were not resolved there would be war upon the plains. Caerith would spill the blood of Caerith.”

  The Eithlisch knelt, resting a hand upon the loose earth covering the grave. “Your kind kill each other with such constancy it seems a custom, a ritual almost. But it has not happened among the Caerith since even before the Ealthsar. Such a thing could not be borne.” He scooped up a handful of earth, letting the soil run through his fingers. “A great gathering of the clans was convened, supposedly so that all could hear the words of Corieth and the Eithlisch, thereby deciding this matter for once and all. But I had orchestrated this gathering with another purpose in mind, for I knew as long as Corieth’s words ensnared so many hearts, the Paelith would never ride to war. And so I invoked the only power left to me, I called upon the paelah themselves. I exhorted the gathered warriors that it should be for the paelah to judge the merits of Corieth’s words. And judge him they did.

  “He was so certain of his own wisdom, standing there with arms spread wide, expecting that great herd to submit to his will. But the paelah submit to no man. By the time the last of them had galloped across his corpse there was little left but rag and bone. After that, no Paelith dare speak against war, for the will of the paelah cannot be denied.”

  The Eithlisch opened his hand, allowing the remaining soil to cascade on to the grave. “I knew, Alwyn Scribe. I knew what the judgement of the paelah would mean. Corieth had the right of it, in that if nothing else. In allying with the Ishlichen, we sully ourselves.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  We remained at the Lady’s Reach for another five days, an inescapable delay to allow for rest after the arduous march through Alundia. It also enabled Roulgarth to gather more recruits from the surrounding country. Walvern Castle possessed a stable filled with well-fed and tended horses, all of which were swiftly placed in the hands of a newly minted company combining my scouts and Wilhum’s riders. Intolerant of inaction, the Paelith had gone off ranging across the southern banks of the Crowhawl River. In need of speedy reconnaissance, I sent Wilhum east with orders to scout the ford which provided the only nearby crossing point into Alberis. Juhlina returned alone two days later, sagging atop the back of her paelah. I could read the nature of her report on her grave but exhausted face.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “We only saw the vanguard,” she said, groaning as she climbed down from the saddle. “Three full companies of knights, approaching from the east.”

  “The east?” I had hoped Evadine would be busying herself in the Shavine Marches, but there had always been a chance she would abandon her vindictive mission to come against us here. The rapidity of her march surprised me, but so too did her line of attack. “Why bother circling around to the east?” I wondered aloud.

  “The banners were unfamiliar to me,” Juhlina said. “But Wilhum knew them. Apparently, the Duke of Dulsian has mustered his host for war.”

  By dint of some hasty organisation, I was able to get the Crown Host marching east within a day. I set a punishing pace, keeping them on the road for all the hours daylight allowed. I forbade the pitching of tents at night, forcing them to sleep clustered around fires. At the first glimmer of dawn, sergeants and captains set about their ungentle rousing and the march resumed its grim routine until the ford was reached. By then the Paelith had begun to return in large numbers, enabling me to send them across first to hold the northern bank while the host crossed in strength. Once Uthren bore me free of the river, I was surprised to find no sign of the Dulsian army anywhere in sight. Even the least astute commander would know that attacking us here afforded the best opportunity for victory. Yet, as the day wore on their standards failed to appear above the low hills to the east.

  With the sun beginning to dip, the captains gathered atop a stretch of raised ground where I had drawn up the army. “The Duke of Dulsian is famed for his greed above all,” Roulgarth commented. “A greedy man is often also a coward.”

  “Then why bring an army against us?” I asked.

  “To bargain,” Leannor replied. She was mounted on the finest horse to be found at Walvern Castle, a tall, grey mare with a long white mane that, despite its striking appearance, had a far from regal habit of constant fidgeting. Leannor didn’t appear to mind, however, stroking the beast’s neck as it continually bobbed its head, her own gaze fixed on the eastern horizon. “I’ve known Duke Lermin since girlhood, and he never comes to any meeting without something to sweeten the deal.”

  “You believe he intends to parley, then, Majesty?” Ehlbert enquired.

  “Unless his fear of the False Queen has compelled him to risk combat for the first time in his life.” Leannor turned to Ayin. “My lady, be so good as to have the larger of the treasury chests brought forth, and let’s pitch the tent and standard over there.” She waved a hand at the flat ground below the rise. “Where we shall await the duke’s herald. I doubt he’ll be long in coming.”

  In fact, the sky had darkened considerably by the time the duke’s herald arrived, obliging me to stand the Crown Host down from full battle order. They remained in their companies but were free to light fires and cook their evening meal. On the flanks, the Paelith milled about in confused agitation. I had attempted to explain the concept of parley to their clan elders, but they found the notion of speaking to an enemy on the eve of battle mystifying. Still, they agreed not to launch an attack until the Eithlisch gave the signal. The prospect of the great horde of Paelith warriors hurling themselves headlong into a clash with a strong contingent of armoured knights loomed as a large and unanswered question in my mind. I had no true picture of the likely outcome, except a tall mound of corpses.

  To my surprise, the Dulsian herald proved to be a pleasingly familiar figure. It wasn’t that I recalled finding the company of Lord Therin Gasalle particularly edifying. Moreover, the ease with which I could read his moods spoke well for gauging his duke’s intentions.

  “How gratified I am to see you alive and unburnt, my lord,” I greeted him as he reined his horse to a halt before the princess regent’s tent. “I trust the escape from Couravel wasn’t too hazardous.”

  Lord Therin’s features betrayed only the arch dislike of the noble for the churl, sparing me the briefest glance before bowing to Leannor.

  “My lady, on behalf of his grace, Lord Lermin Aspard, Duke of Dulsian, I offer greetings—”

  “Majesty,” Ayin cut in, the sharpness of her tone bringing Therin’s flow of words to a halt. She stood to Leannor’s left, straight-backed and composed in her ermine-trimmed cloak and dress of silver embroidered, pale blue cotton. Such finery seemed to sit far more comfortably on her these days.

  “What?” Therin snapped with a scowl. Ayin had the appearance of a lady-in-waiting, but still retained the voice of a commoner.

  “The correct form of address for the princess regent is ‘Majesty’,” Ayin told him. “Mine is ‘my lady’. Be so good as to correct your speech, good sir. And get your arse off that horse and pay proper obeisance while you’re at it.”

  Receiving only a look of bland expectation from Leannor, Therin expended a moment in impotent glowering before consenting to dismount. “Majesty,” he said, forcing a smile and bowing again, “it is my honour to extend to you an invitation to dine at Duke Lermin’s table this night. There, it is his fervent hope, fulsome and friendly discussion will obviate any current misunderstandings that might lead to unnecessary conflict.”

  Leannor merely raised an eyebrow before providing a succinct response. “No. Go back and tell him to get his bloated carcass here within the hour. If he is too craven to face me in parley, he can try to summon the courage to face me in battle. And, should I ever have the misfortune to encounter you again, Lord Therin, any disrespect shown to the members of my court shall be punished by a sound flogging. Now, get you hence.”

  In acquiescing to the princess regent’s summons, Duke Lermin prudently brought his army with him. It was fully dark by the time the torches appeared out of the gloom, spreading out to form the long, glittering line of a sizeable host. I guessed the duke had ordered many more torches lit than were strictly required, so as to create an impression of greater numbers. For my part, I commanded that half the Crown Host’s campfires be doused and prevailed upon the Eithlisch to pull the Paelith back behind the rise. Should tonight’s proceedings descend into a battle, it would be best not to allow our foe a clear indication of our strength.

  Duke Lermin proved to be a far more robust and hardier looking fellow than his reputation supposed. He rode forth atop an impressive white charger flanked by a full company of knights. When he reined to a halt, I beheld a large, bearded man of broad stature wearing a long cloak trimmed with the yellow spotted fur from some exotic animal of far-flung origin. It was not his only display of ostentatious wealth. As he dismounted, I saw torchlight glimmer on the heavy gold chain about his neck, his wide torso clad in a dark leather tunic embellished by silver filigree and inlaid garnets.

  “You’d be the Scribe then?” he asked, voice both gruff and brisk, not troubling himself to return my bow.

  “Alwyn Scribe, my lord,” I said, standing aside and gesturing at the open flap of Leannor’s tent. “The princess regent awaits you.”

  “Bit small isn’t it,” he grunted, squinting at the tent. “Is the royal purse so light?”

  “The tent may be small,” I said, allowing an impatient edge to creep into my voice, “but the standard still stands tall as ever. As does our army.”

  The duke shifted his appraising squint to me, huffing in restrained annoyance. “Therin said you were an impudent gutter scrape,” he muttered, stomping past me and ducking into the tent. Besides Ayin, Leannor had chosen to receive the duke with only myself present. Even Ehlbert had been excluded, I suspected because Leannor worried over the champion’s temper, which had grown short of late. She was also the only one seated, having opted not to provide a chair for her visitor. I watched him make note of the insult as his narrow gaze roved the tent, presumably seeking threats. Apparently, he saw none in either myself or Ayin, which spoke much for his lack of observance, and he afforded much of his attention to the open chest positioned to Leannor’s right. For a greedy soul, a sight such as this was irresistible.

  Crammed into the chest were the choicest items from the treasure found at Castle Dreol. Jewels gleamed in silver and gold settings amid a mound of pearls and antique coinage. When Duke Lermin sank to one knee before the princess regent, I couldn’t tell if he was paying homage to her or to the exposed riches.

  “Majesty,” he said, all gruffness gone now, “please accept my most humble apologies for not attending you sooner. And know, the king and your most honoured self have my loyalty, for now and always.”

  I exchanged a glance with Ayin, the amused contempt I saw in her face a mirror of my own. Here was a man who considered himself already bought. He might have bargained a bit first, I thought.

  “I must confess, Lord Lermin,” Leannor said, “I find your pledge of loyalty surprising. Lord Alwyn, did we not receive firm intelligence that the Duke of Dulsian had sworn fealty to the unholy pretender Evadine Courlain?”

  “That we did, Majesty. In fact, our intelligence was that he had journeyed all the way to Athiltor for the purpose, prostrating himself before the cathedral altar and swearing his oath of undying service in the name of all the Martyrs, no less.”

  “Are you so quick to throw off your allegiances, my lord?” Leannor asked the still bowing duke. “If so, what surety do I have that you will not do so again the moment I slip from your sight?”

  “I will swear any oath before any witness, Majesty,” Lermin promised, his demeanour one of grave assurance now. “Command me and let me demonstrate my fealty. You will not find me wanting.”

  “I’m afraid that’s a bird already flown, my lord.” Leannor fell silent, extending a hand to the contents of the open chest at her side. “I see my trinkets have aroused your interest. There’s a fascinating story behind it all, but I’ll not trouble you with it now. Especially since you will never lay one finger upon any of this.”

  A loud clatter sounded as Leannor slammed the chest closed, the duke giving a visible start as the iron lock rattled.

  “I do not believe,” Leannor went on, “it was your famed avarice that brought you here, my lord. I believe it was fear. For you have met the False Queen when you grovelled before her. It is my belief that in doing so you understood that, should she triumph over me, she will next turn her attentions to you. She looks upon you and sees much to despise, as do I, but I have never wanted to kill you for it. Nor will your head be the only one to fall. By my best reckoning you have no less than six legitimate children and a dozen or more acknowledged bastards born to your stable of whores. Have no doubt, the False Queen will kill them all. My son, on the other hand, will not. He will, in his grace and magnanimity, allow you to keep your duchy, your lands, your castles and your whores. But you, my lord Duke, will receive not one bauble of this treasure. In fact, for the remainder of your life you will pay to the Crown one-tenth of all your personal earnings. That, my lord, is the price of abasement to a pretender, and I consider it lenient.”

  She stood then, stepping forward to loom over Lermin’s crouched bulk. He dared to meet her eye, just a quick darting look before dipping his head even lower. “As for surety,” Leannor said, “I’ll take your army. Don’t worry, I shan’t require you to lead them. You have my leave to return to your duchy. And when this war is won, you have my leave to stay there for I find the notion of having to ever endure your presence again distinctly unappealing. Lord Scribe, escort the duke to his horse and prepare to take over leadership of his troops. Unless—” she angled her head, staring hard at the crown of Lermin’s head “—you would like to voice an objection, my lord? In which case, we shall settle this on the field come the dawn.”

  For the most part, Duke Lermin’s host were a sorry lot. A few hundred hardy veterans formed the three companies of his household guard and the four score sworn knights who rode under his banner were well armoured and mounted. The rest were a collection of pressed churls, many of whom had already begun to melt away even before their liege lord announced his second change of allegiance. Lermin’s speech to his troops was brief and lacking much in the way of inspiring oratory. Before scurrying off to the safety of his own borders, he appointed a thoroughly miserable Lord Therin Gasalle to command his host in his stead. The appointment failed to raise much reaction from the ranks save a few muttered curses and disparaging whistles.

  Come the following morn, Ayin counted little over a thousand Dulsians remaining and we lost more than half to desertion over the course of the succeeding week. With Lord Therin proving a predictably negligent commander, I set Duke Gilferd over what was left, forming a third cohort to the army by merging them with his Cordwainers. To my surprise, Lord Therin accepted his tacit demotion without demur. In truth, I continually expected him to follow the example of most of his soldiers and take to his heels, yet every day he would stoically, if unhappily, mount his horse to plod along with the others.

  One piece of good fortune came in the form of the copious supplies the Dulsians had brought with them, a long train of carts laden with all manner of victuals. With so many of them fled, the rest could be distributed among the Crown Host to sustain them on the journey to the coast. I ordained a line of march that kept us close to the northern bank of the Crowhawl River, sending the Paelith and Wilhum’s riders out to screen our right flank. I harboured little hope that our presence hadn’t already been noted and swiftly communicated to Evadine. The question of what she would do upon hearing the news loomed with unanswerable constancy. Had I been commanding her host, I would have counselled an immediate march south. Better to confront and eliminate this new threat before those who had suffered under the Ascendant Queen’s misrule could rally to the Algathinet banner. Evadine, however, had always been unpredictable and, I fancied, would be even more so now.