The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy (22 page)

“I agree…”
Aran mumbled against her lips, “Some customs are just a pain in the
…”

Then things
got a little heated and complicated, and suddenly there was no time
for words. No time except for heady emotions and the immediate
moment…

*

“My lord
king!”

The voice came
again from behind the shut door, and Aran looked up dazedly from
Alissa’s naked breasts.

“My lord,
Captain Taran and Archmage Maran require your immediate
presence”

“Hell!” Aran
sat up, his hair and tunic dishevelled from Alissa’s hands. “Can’t
a man have some peace round here?”

Alissa sat up
and readjusted her robe.

“The price we
pay,” she whispered enigmatically.

Aran got to
his feet and called out, “I won’t be long, tell the others I will
meet them in the hall.”

“Yes, lord
king,” the voice replied.

Listening,
Aran could hear the messenger walk away down the corridor. Aran
turned to her with a long suffering sigh, “Perhaps the interruption
was not a bad thing after all. I mean we didn’t…” he gave up in
some confusion.

Alissa stared
at her betrothed with new eyes, “Was this your first time with a
woman?”

Aran quickly
shook his head, “No, of course not, once a very long time ago I lay
with one of the easy women of Leigh.” Aran coloured, “It was quick
and fumbled, and I really didn’t understand much about what
happened.” He turned to her, “You don’t seem too upset. Can we try
again later? Tonight maybe after everyone has gone to bed.”

Alissa smiled
at that, “I only wish, however I have been lodged with Terea and
her father. If I skipped out tonight the word would be all over
Haulgard by morning. No, we must be patient and wait my love.”

Aran nodded
and going to his clothes pulled on his hosen and boots. Turning he
saw Alissa lie back on the bed and stretch dreamily.

He shook his
head at her indolence, “Alissa, if I was any other man, nobody, I
repeat, nobody could take me from this room right now.”

The young
woman looked up at her man, and her lips quirked, “I may be maiden
still my love…but Kiaia and I have talked long of these things. I
wait with eager anticipation for you.”

Aran laughed
at that, and shook his head at her fancies, “You are a hot blooded
woman Alissa, and I promise you that next time there will be no
distractions.” So saying he pulled her to her feet, “But right now
you must tidy yourself and return to your chambers. If anyone finds
you in here the story will be all over the province and our
reputation will be in ruins.”

*

Before leaving
Andur’s Keep, Aran had deliberately failed to pack any sort of
tunic which may have been described as a state robe, so returning
to his room he eyed with some misgiving the ornately embroidered
one now laid out on the bed for him. Belatedly he remembered the
silver circlet Maran had urged him to wear, the same circlet now
lying unheeded on the table beside his carefully unpacked
saddlebag. Aran guessed that this formal tunic had also come from
the Archmage’s wagon, and he wondered, a little bitterly, what else
the Archmage had neglected to tell him about.

Picking up and
studying the dark blue tunic with the oak leaf pattern worked in
gold thread at hem, cuff and neck, Aran realised that tonight he
must been seen to be at his most kingly. Shaking his head, Aran was
beginning to realise that the Council and Old Families of Haulgard
were not yet ready to respond to royal command, however if he were
to adopt the full panoply of kingship, then perhaps sheer awe alone
might earn their respect and a grudging admiration.

*

“Are you
dressed yet my lord Aran?”

Aran turned
whilst making a last minute adjustment to his sword belt.

“Aye Darven, I
am almost done.” He looked up from his task, “Have you seen Alem?”
he asked, “He’s supposed to help me with this.”

Darven came
into the room and eyed Arantur with a grin, “You look very
beautiful my friend.”

Aran grimaced
and straightened the circlet which had slipped from his carefully
plaited hair, “Don’t you start Darven,” he replied. “I get the
impression that this is how Maran believes I ought to appear before
the nobility of Haulgard…blind them with my magnificence as it
were.”

“Aye and it
might just work,” Darven grinned and gave his friend a long
considering look. “The total effect of kingly robe plus that ornate
tunic and leggings and finally the circlet, this is the closest yet
I’ve seen a Guardsman resemble a king.” he replied with a straight
face.

Aran grinned
at Darven’s joking manner, “That’s because I am one you idiot.”

Darven
chuckled and turned towards the door, “Then are you finished here
Aran?”

Aran nodded
and made as if to go, then with a start remembered he had left the
King’s Sword upon the table. Hastily he retrieved it and sheathed
it in the sword belt.

“Better not
forget that…” Darven added dryly.

*

After
seemingly an endless walk through a veritable maze of halls,
corridors and rooms, the Council Hall was eventually reached.
Darven and Aran paused outside the great wooden doors, the age of
which predated even Andur’s Keep. Waiting by the great bloodwood
doors, the two men could hear the steady hum of conversation from
within.

“Where are the
others?” Aran asked.

“Coming,” the
Wolf Leader replied. “We will lead them in. They won’t be long…” he
looked up at the sound of footfalls. “Ah here they are now.”

Aran turned at
his words to see a small group of men appear from an open doorway.
Scanning heads he saw Archmage Maran, Captain Taran, Bear Leader
Caldor and a representative from each of the mage disciplines. With
a nod he acknowledged them and hastened to ask, “Where are Alissa
and Alem?”

Captain Taran
stepped forward, “Alissa will be joining us shortly, Sire…she was
just finishing dressing when we left.”

“And Alem is
sleeping lord,” one of the mages replied, “He was feeling unwell
and went to see the Healermages. He had a severe reaction to some
food or water he ate, so we Healed him and have sent him to bed
with a herbal draft.”

Aran frowned
at that, “Will he be well enough to travel on the morrow?”

The mage
shrugged, “If he travels slowly and with the carts, then he should
recover well, although I would not advise any swift travel on
horseback.”

Aran nodded,
“I will arrange that… What about Trevan and Master Cody?”

“Both resting
lord,” Maran came forward to adjust the slipping circlet. “They are
not needed for this Council meeting. We few shall be the
representatives of the mages and Guard.”

Aran nodded
and looked up to hear swift footsteps, almost immediately a blue
gowned figure appeared around the corner to arrive breathless at
their side.

“Am I late? I
hope I have not kept you waiting long…”

“Come here
Alissa,” Aran said holding out his hands.

Alissa smiled
at her king and went to his side. Immediately his hands engulfed
hers and a tide of emotion and pleasure suffused his body at that
small contact.

Maran stepped
forward, and from the voluminous pockets of his robe took a narrow
silver circlet. “Alissa…even though you are not yet queen, here of
all places your identity and future rank must be clearly known.
This was made for you; please wear it here, just as Aran wears
his.”

Aran took the
circlet, “Let me Archmage.” Turning he faced Alissa and gently yet
firmly placed the circlet upon her golden head, “Alissa, my queen
to be…”

Wonderingly
Alissa reached up to touch the circlet and Aran caught the flash of
the enamelled signet ring of the Andurian line upon her finger. For
a moment he stood there just lost in the quiet contemplation of her
pale beauty. For a moment he wished that he and she were anywhere
else but in this place. Just the two of them to resume what had
begun earlier on that afternoon. Soon Alissa would be Queen in both
name and deed, Aran mused to himself, the only pity being that day
was not now.

“Hhhmmmpph,”
there was the sudden sound of embarrassed throat clearing.

Aran looked up
and saw the others grinning at him.

“My lord
King,” Maran said looking at him with an odd expression on his
face, “We all know how beautiful Alissa is and how much you love
her, but really this is neither the time nor the place. Besides we
have work to do,” Maran added, gathering his robes about him like a
shepherd herding his flock. “The Council sits within, and even
though many of us here outrank them, it would be indeed ill-done if
we kept them waiting.”

Aran nodded,
and watched as the Archmage went to the doors and opened the doors
inwards. Standing at the front of the knot of men from the Keep,
Aran gazed into the Council chambers and immediately saw a large
ring-like table at which were seated over a score of men and women.
Behind the table were small groupings of chairs and bench seats,
most of these additional chairs were occupied. The large middle
ring table had two entrances into the empty centre. This open
section contained at least two or three busy servants and clerks
whose duties seemed to be centered on the activities of the
Councillors. Looking directly across, Aran saw three empty chairs
at the main table nearest to the doors, and behind them an empty
grouping of bench seats and stools. Almost immediately the group
was noticed and the Councillors moved to their feet with a clatter
and scrape of chairs on the tiled mosaic floor.

Directly
opposite the door a capped and gowned man put up a hand in
greeting.

“My lord King
Arantur, welcome to our hall and deliberations,” Tuuvam’s greeting
was both immediate and genuine. “There are seats made ready for you
all…my lord King, Archmage, and Captain of the Guard, will you now
join us at the Table of Deliberation.”

Aran nodded,
and with the others only a step or two behind him, took their seats
with the Council.

Once they were
settled Tuuvam indicated that everyone else should resume their
seats. It took only a moment or two for the room to regain their
seats and for the quiet hum of low conversation to die away.

“My lord
Arantur,” Tuuvam began, “First of all we of the High Council would
like to welcome you and your party to Haulgard Port. It has been
many generations since an heir of the Andurian line of kings sat at
this table, and we are honoured by your presence here. We hope that
it will be the first of many joint deliberations between Andurs’
King and Council.”

Aran nodded,
his gaze locked with the spokesman of the Council.

“Although you
may have already met some of our Council,” he continued, “Most of
the men and women here did not go to the Keep but are
representatives of Haulgards’ foremost families and merchant
houses.” He paused as if to scan the faces in the hall. “Tidings of
the great happenings at Andur’s Keep have already been circulated
within Haulgard, and couriers have been sent with dispatches to the
southern cities and towns.”

Aran smiled
wryly at the Councillor, “I am indebted to your efficiency
Councillor Tuuvam. As you know our energies have concentrated only
upon preparing for the defence of the Province against the Thakur.
If the Council can continue to coordinate Government whilst we of
the Keep and the Legions do battle, then you would have our
gratitude.”

Tuuvan nodded
and sat down, “That goes without saying, liege. The Council will
continue to oversee the day to day running of the province…in truth
it is only what we have been doing since the loss of High King
Alexi and his family.”

“Even though I
am new to my throne,” Aran stated clearly, “I understand well the
duties and responsibilities that go with that office. I may be
young in years but I stand here before you bearing the ancient
blood heritage of Warleader Andur and his descendants. Even though
I am now your King and Liege lord, yet I do not forget my childhood
years in Leigh when I was brought up by kind peasant folk, and of
my early apprenticeship with an intelligent and honourable
mastercraftsman. These are the years and experiences that have
crafted my character, so if you find me perhaps a little blunt or
lacking in diplomacy, then please excuse me, for I have had little
experience in dealing with the nobility.”

An elderly
Councillor with elaborately curled hair stood and bowed, “My lord
King, time and experience will smooth any of your rough or
unfinished edges. We of the Council have had many generations to
craft words to a precision edge. Do not be dismayed if you cannot
yet match us in phrase, these skills will be attained in the
fullness of time.”

Aran frowned,
not yet certain if he had been mocked or not.

“Councillor,”
Aran addressed his reply to the man with the curled hair, “I am no
wordsmith, and can only speak as a soldier to you all. Yet I would
have you know that we now face the greatest threat since the coming
of the Serat. The Thakur are the descendants of those who once held
hostage our people and land. Any other issues or considerations
must fade away against that. Nothing else matters than the
destruction of their massing armies and the death of their
Warleader.”

Tuuvam stood,
“Of course liege. We of the Council fully support the military
preparations taking place across the Province. We would be
mean-spirited indeed if we cast obstacles before this
undertaking.”

Aran smiled
slowly, thankful that he had at least the Council spokesman on his
side.

“We thank the
members of the Council for their continuing support,” Aran replied,
and then he looked across at the Council members. “It is no secret
that in the past there have been problems between Haulgard’s
Council and Andur’s Keep. Power plays and petty differences have
plagued this communication…”