Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 (12 page)

When she stopped straining against him, but contented herself with expressing her outrage at his manhandling of her with the seething glance she regarded him with, he merely bent his head to brush his lips across hers and admonished her to be mindful of Baron Timothy’s instructions before abruptly releasing her and striding through the entrance of the tent with a wide smile curving his lips.  He was beginning to think Elena had more in common with his twin than he previously realized; a thought that both pleased and alarmed him in equal measure.

Elena barely caught a glimpse of Michel the following morning as she was awakened shortly after dawn and hurried from the camp under an escort of Baron Timothy’s men.  There was an air of anticipation riding along the chill air as they passed the soldiers hastily consuming their morning meal and preparing themselves for the day ahead.  Most of the soldiers sported wide smiles on their usually stoic and intimidating faces, as if a highly anticipated treat was about to be bestowed upon them.  Elena was unable to reconcile their excitement and high spirits with what she knew the day might hold.  Michel had warned her he could not take her along with him into what might very well prove to be a battle for control of the city. She supposed her fear of such an eventuality was what was responsible for the soldiers’ high moods. 

As she rode from the camp, she cast a last glance over the gathered forces, wishing for just a single glimpse of the man who’d been a stranger to her short weeks ago, but who now held her heart and her every hope for the future in his grasp.  She was denied her wish and was forced to content herself with sending up a silent prayer to her maker to watch over Michel and his men when they rode off to a potential war against Raulf’s followers.  Once again she silently bemoaned the fate of women which required her to point her mount in the direction of safety rather than in the direction of the place she most wished to be…at the side of the man she loved.

Michel refused the armor Amele urged on him.  “We are riding to a conference, not a war, my friend.  If we arrive arrayed for battle, then we would only precipitate its advent.”

“No doubt, my king, but the failure to array ourselves for war is unlikely to prevent us from ending up in the middle of one.  In such an event, the armor will provide you better protection against an enemy sword than the justness of your position.”

Michel grinned in response to his friend’s ironic observation and merely waved his squire from the tent.  “Ah, my friend, I cannot imagine what enemy you speak of. Surely all of the noble families of Calei wish only for the rightful king to ascend to the throne of their homeland.”

Amele rolled his eyes at his continued obstinacy as Timothy entered the tent in the wake of Michel’s squire.  “If only that were true, my king, I would not blanch at the sight of you riding with your person so exposed into the lion’s den.”

But Michel merely laughed off his companions’ concern.  “Assemble the men. I will speak to them before we ride off to meet our common destinies.”

“As you wish, my king,” Timothy bowed in Michel’s direction and retreated from the tent to see his command carried out.

“Do you trust him?”  Michel asked.

“Timothy?” Amele echoed astonished.

“Yes.”

Amele considered and admitted cautiously, “I do not know him well enough to make such a judgment.  Gabriel trusts him and insists he is loyal to our cause.  Frankly, I was relying on your easy acceptance of him to guide my own. Why?  Does your heart trouble you in regards to Timothy’s fidelity?”

Michel shook his head.  “No, but I sometimes wonder why it does not trouble me more.  As you stated, neither of us know him well enough to have placed such trust in him and though I don’t dispute Gabriel’s greater familiarity with the baron and his aims, I do marvel at the ease with which he has insinuated himself among us.”

“You entrusted Lady Elena’s care to him,” Amele reminded him.

“Yes and my heart tells me she will be safe with him.  He is old enough to be her father and I think counted Barnabas a true friend.  I believe he can be trusted to do his best by her.”

“But not by you?” Amele countered stunned. He was obviously growing increasingly uneasy at the direction of their conversation.  Baron Timothy was in their deepest confidence and was familiar with every detail of their strategy to claim the kingship for Michel.

“Do not fear, my friend.  All will be well, but I think Baron Raulf is not the only contender we will be forced to defeat before Calei will be ours.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Amele agreed, not without bitterness.

So it was clothed only in a fresh linen shirt and close-fitting breeches, with his sword riding low on his hip and a rich, violet, fur-lined cloak depicting his noble status with the royal family’s crest emblazoned in gold upon his breast, that Michel faced his mail-clad army, more than four decades in the making.  The sun speared through the low hanging clouds, its rays striking the bright armor the soldiers wore and reflecting it back into the sky where its light was muffled by the clouds, preventing the guards on the parapet walls of the castle from seeing the evidence of their deadly intent.

Each of his soldiers wore a cloak similar to his, proclaiming their loyalty to their cause. They were lined up in three long columns in accordance with their assignments that day, and assembled in rows of six across at the head of each column, their mounts restless beneath them. It was an impressive sight, worthy of a king, and Michel felt a fire ignite in his breast at the knowledge this long awaited day was finally upon him, and upon them all.

His squire held Arden’s lead in his hand, the boy’s excitement and apprehension etched across his young face in equal measure. Michel gave him a reassuring smile, took the lead from his outstretched hand and gained Arden’s back in one fluid motion.  A king for a king.  The fanciful thought whispered through his mind and Arden shook out his mane, as if in agreement with his silent conclusion.  Turning Arden to face his men, Michel signaled for silence and a hush immediately fell over the soldiers as they trained their eyes on him.

“Today is the day we have trained all of our lives for.”  A large cheer rose from the ranks.  Michel raised his voice to carry over the din of a thousand voices.  “Today we remove the stain of dishonor and the blood of traitors from the throne of our homeland.”  The men yelled even louder. “Today is the day we take back what is ours!!!”

Fury erupted over the mountains as with one voice the soldiers roared their purpose and clapped their swords against their shields, the din loud enough to shake the still sleeping foundations of the city.  When the noise quieted, Michel added in a voice of deadly intent, “Our long vigil is at an end.  The time for reaping our destiny is finally upon us.  Let us make the most of it.”

The columns of soldiers fell silent as each man accepted the weight their young king laid upon them. They moved in silence through the mountain passes and met with no resistance from the seemingly non-existent outer defenses responsible for guarding Calei from marauders.  Apparently those in temporary charge of seeing to the city’s defense had concluded the greater threat to the peace would come from within its heart, rather than prey upon them from outside the city’s intricate gates.

When the passes diverged, the three columns of mounted men diverged as well according to their respective purposes.  Two columns would flank the city and hold their positions until the order was given to attack.  Though it was his sincere hope that the transition of power would be accomplished peacefully, Michel was prepared to re-take his grandfather’s throne by force if necessary.  The third column, with Michel at its head, included Barons Timothy and Paul as well as the core of their most experienced forces.  Amele rode at Michel’s right as they passed through the gates, unchallenged by the astonished guards who could do no more than present their swords in a show of loyalty to the colors of the royal family that had never been so openly displayed in the course of their young lives.

As the noon hour approached and they took the main road through the center of the city towards the keep, Caleinians came out of their shops and their houses to view the spectacle of an army of mounted men bearing the royal colors and to see for themselves the handsome, young man who led them. Rather than cower in fear at the threat of impending war about to break apart the tenuous peace that still held sway over the grieving and anxious inhabitants, they cheered loudly the promise of the return of the true king hinted at by the livery of his men.  Michel exchanged a surprised if somewhat amused glance with Amele at the warmth of the reception afforded them, thinking to himself an invading army had never been so fondly welcomed by the city it was intent on conquering.

Amele remarked over the cheers of the gathering crowd, “Did not King Barnabas predict the people’s hearts would awaken at the return of their true king?”

Michel acknowledged his point with a somewhat self-mocking nod and Amele was seemingly unable to resist the urge to remind him, “I believe at the time you accused your predecessor of succumbing to the mystical nature of his kingdom.”

Michel refused to rise to his friend’s teasing, merely shaking his head and grinning in response. Then as the castle’s imposing entrance came into view, both men turned their attention to the more serious matters awaiting them.  It was decided that only eight of their company would attend the gathering.  Along with Michel and Amele, were Barons Timothy, Paul and Nicholas, all heads of noble Caleinian families, accompanied by their commanders. 

The discordant conversations echoing among those already assembled for the meeting to decide Barnabas’ successor fell silent at their entrance and all turned the focus of their attention in their direction as soon as they entered.  Michel took in the expressions of the men gathered in the grand hall, most of whose attention was focused squarely on him, the majority of which did not bother to hide their curiosity and/or disdain at the presumption of a stranger, dressed in the colors of the royal family, to insinuate himself amongst them at a meeting called for the exclusive attendance of Caleinian nobility to decide who would be king. 

Michel knew they were aware of the speculation surrounding his identity, but he was in no hurry to confirm those speculations just yet. In his mind, and in the minds of his supporters, there was still some uncertainty as to the alliances of the remaining contenders for the throne and he wished to discover as much as possible before revealing himself.  He was not surprised, however, when Raulf appointed himself the spokesman for the gathering he had not called and hailed their company in an arrogant voice.

“Barons Timothy, Paul and Nicholas you are welcome amongst us but as I have previously made clear this is not the time to have a stranger in our midst while we decide the important matters confronting the noble families of Calei and the future of this kingdom.”

It was Paul who responded to Raulf’s challenge. “We have brought no stranger to this gathering. This man is of Caleinian descent and he has proven his noble status to me and my companions.”

A slight murmuring spread through the crowd, but for the moment Raulf’s focus turned to the omission of one of their company, rather than Michel’s inclusion among them.  “Where is Lady Elena? Why did she not accompany you?  We only entrusted her care to this stranger on your word he was worthy of our trust.”

Timothy offered in response, “Lady Elena is under the care of my family until the matters under consideration here today have been decided.”

Raulf nodded his reluctant approval.  “You reassure me of your judgment, my friend.  I had not thought you so careless as to allow the king’s niece to be under the supervision of our noble guest.”  The title he afforded Michel was done with a good deal of mockery.

“It was the guest you refer to who asked me to see to the lady’s protection,” Timothy replied, his own voice laced with amused mockery.

“And what right does this stranger have to make any requests in regards to Lady Elena?” With a respectful nod in his direction, Timothy deferred to Michel the answer Raulf’s challenge.              

When Michel was certain the attention of the entire gathering was focused on him, he announced into the silence, “I am the lady’s guardian and therefore the only one with the right to make any requests or arrangements in regards to her future.”

Michel was not surprised by the astonished reactions to his assertion, nor when Raulf immediately challenged it.  “Ha! Your noble stranger certainly does not lack a vivid imagination.  And do you possess any proof to substantiate your ridiculous claim, boy?”

“But of course, no reasonable man would make such a claim without sufficient proof to substantiate it,” Michel responded, referring rather mockingly to Raulf’s attempt to do just that at their previous confrontation.

“Well then, for the benefit of the king’s loyal friends who must all concern themselves with his niece’s welfare and act as her guardians in his stead, please produce this proof you speak of,” Raulf challenged, his voice indicating he had no doubt whatever proof Michel might produce would be easily dismissed as a fabrication.

Michel turned to Amele who removed the scroll he had hidden beneath his cloak.  He indicated with a gesture for Gabriel to approach from his position near the entrance to retrieve it from his outstretched hand.  No one questioned Gabriel’s role in the proceedings.  Even with the king’s death, he remained captain of the soldier’s assigned to see to the security of the throne.  Any of the men among the gathering who held aspirations to ascend to the kingship would need his support and the loyalty of the men under his command in order to solidify their position as the new king. 

So the gathering waited in silence as Gabriel crossed the hall and with a guarded, unrevealing expression and a slight but respectful bow in Michel’s direction, accepted the scroll from his brother’s outstretched hand.  He turned to face the gathering and asked its representatives.