Secrets of the Night Special Edition, page 33
The sun sank low in the east, the last of daylight fading. The first faint stars glowed in the heavens like dim candles, gradually brightening as darkness deepened. She stood in night's blackness as frantic thoughts rampaged through her head. Where was Fergus? Had evil befallen him?
Keriam agonized over what to do about Aradia. Ah, the answer was clear. She must send her back to Mag Bregha. Thoughts of the sorceress churned in her brain, of her evil spell on the palace grounds and her ritual slaughter of an innocent raven, her unkind remarks to the dwarves and Maudina. Goddess! She had to get the witch out of Emain Macha! Anger burned inside her, an onslaught that built within her, growing stronger, more vicious. Her pulse pounded; red spots flashed in front of her eyes. She clenched and unclenched her fists, a vein throbbing at her temple. She wanted to kill the witch!
A table vase shattered, shards flying onto the rug. She looked at the broken pieces in dismay, telling herself again she must learn to control her emotions.
Her prophetic visions plagued her relentlessly. She saw a man falling--
No! She shuddered.
The railing! Fergus!
A scream gutted the night silence.
Too late!
Chapter Eight
"An accident," Tencien said to Keriam after his return from Sligo the following day. "A horrible, sad affair, but an accident, nonetheless."
"But Father, the railing--"
"I know what you told me, but it still remains an accident." He rose from the chair in his office and paced the room, then turned abruptly to face her. "Fergus reeked of spirits, did you know that?"
"No, I didn't." Taken aback for a moment, she rallied. "You know as well as I that Fergus never drank to excess."
"What are you saying, daughter? That someone pushed him off the balcony, then poured spirits on him?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. Whose word do we have about the liquor? Who saw him fall? If the druids have prepared him for burial, they would have removed his travel clothes and dressed him in something finer. There are too many unanswered questions here."
Sighing, Tencien returned to his chair and sank down, looking as if he had aged ten years. "Questions or answers won't bring Fergus back," he said in a choking voice. "But he is now in the land of Truth and Eternal Life, a time for joy, not grief."
Keriam brushed a hand across her eyes. "You're right, but I miss him, just the same. No one can replace him." She sat in silent misery for long moments, reliving all the happy times with the steward.
"Yet we must replace him, and soon," Tencien said, sitting upright. "I've given the matter much thought, just in this short amount of time." He fingered the ink bottle on his desk, then returned the bottle to its place. "After consulting the druids, I've decided on Major Roric Gamal."
Roric Gamal! Mixed emotions vexed her. An inexplicable spurt of happiness warmed her, but she wanted no entanglements. Yet their mutual care for the king's safety would bring them together, for she intended to confer with him about a capable spy. But what if the major discovered her preternatural powers?
"He's a dependable, intelligent servant," her father continued. "Up to now, I've employed him as a courier, a position far below his capability. He's served me for years and I know from past experience that I can trust him. Indeed, I've placed him in delicate situations before, and he has acted with discretion. He'll serve the country well as the palace steward, too, not that anyone can truly replace Fergus Morrigan. Sometime before the funeral, I'll speak to Gamal."
"And when is the funeral?"
"Three days from now, but we'll have a mourning period for three days after that." He glanced away for a moment, then turned back to her, his eyes sad, the facial lines and wrinkles pronounced in the early morning light streaming through the window. "He deserves that much, don't you think?"
"Oh, yes." She plucked at the folds of her dress, a sick feeling in her stomach. "What about his widow?"
"Aradia is welcome to stay here, but I should think she'd want to return to her family. We'll provide for her, of course."
Despair gripped her stomach. Father, we must rid the palace of this evil woman.
Her mind worked hard as she searched for a way to switch the topic to her father's safety. She decided that the direct approach was best. "Father, I'm still concerned about you. Have you considered that Fergus's death may be related to a conspiracy against you?”
He sighed again, a faint rebuke in his expression. "So we're returning to that subject, are we, Kerry? Do you see schemers behind every tree, in every shadow? How can Fergus's death--a mishap!--possibly be related to a plot against me?"
"I don't know! I've thought about it again and again. In the first place, I still don't think the steward's death was an accident--No, let me finish. I kn--" She thought quickly, remembering Roric's warning not to reveal him as a source of information. "I suspect General Balor may have designs on the throne. Father, remember I mentioned about the plot and Balor."
"Hmph! Balor has ever had ambition. What kind of ruler would I be if I saw a plot in all those who serve me?"
"A prudent one, and one who's alive instead of dead."
A pensive look came over his face as he fingered his quill pen and rearranged several papers on his desk. He switched his gaze back to her. "I'm not as trusting as you may think. There are always those who want power. I told you that once, remember?" At her answering nod, he continued. "As the kingdom's ruler, I must work toward helping my people. If I have to continually look over my shoulder to see who has a knife at my back, I can't accomplish much."
He pointed a finger at her. "Mind you, I'm not dismissing your concerns, but correspondence and business with King Barzad has kept me too busy to deal with other matters. However, I'll have Balor investigated. Does that satisfy you?"
Relief lifted her spirits. "Very much so. What do you intend to do?"
He scratched his chin. "Despite what you may think–and some things I may have said-- the problem of Balor has occupied my mind a good deal lately. But I need time to put my plans in place. Now, let's have no more talk of conspirators and no more questions. I have enough problems to deal with as it is."
"You have relieved my mind." But what would her father discover about the general? A clever one, that Balor. Of all the times she'd spied on the general at night, she'd found nothing incriminating.
* * *
After Keriam left, Tencien stood before the window, hands clasped behind his back, his mind working. He looked out over the palace grounds, to the green fields and woods that stretched beyond. Goddess, how he loved his country, how he wanted to protect Avador and all it stood for, keep his people safe and content. If he were killed, what would happen to the kingdom? To Keriam? Talmora knew he had enough concerns now--build new bridges and repair the old, construct secure silos for storing grain, provide for the people's defense. How could he do all that if he must constantly remain alert for assassination?
What if Keriam's suspicions had merit? Would Balor go so far as to kill a friend from childhood? Tencien rested his hands on the windowsill. To think Balor planned to murder him! If true, that threat hurt more than anything.
The safest thing for him would be to stay secluded at the palace, never make any public appearances. But such was not his way. He had to show himself to his people, let them know he was king, else others might attempt to seize the throne. Then Kerry's fears of Balor's machinations would surely come to pass.
Long thoughtful moments ensued before he spun away from the window. He would turn the problem over to the most capable person he knew, one he would trust with his life.
* * *
At the palace entrance, Roric saw a cluster of dwarf children kneeling on the stone floor, their excited oohs and ahhs an indication that something aroused their attention, but what? A summons from the king had brought him to the palace, but this tableau was unexpected. He strode closer, looking over the children’s heads.
A brown rabbit.
Oh, how cute!" one of the children cried.
"How come we never seen it here before?"
"It'd make a tasty stew, I'm thinkin'."
"No! Don't even talk about hurtin' it."
Pressing his hand against the wall, Roric took deep breaths, waiting for his panic to subside. As the rabbit gazed up at him, he saw Radegunda's eyes.
He'd heard a new woman had been hired, but for what reason? Could this new person be Radegunda? He wouldn't bother King Tencien about the witch, but he'd speak to Princess Keriam at the first opportunity.
For now, he could at least see that no harm befell the woman. He opened his mouth. "Children . . ."
They all looked up, throwing him questioning glances.
"Leave the rabbit alone. You mustn't harm a helpless animal."
One little boy piped up. "Nah, sir, we wouldn't really hurt it. We was only talkin'."
"Yeah, just funnin'."
"We wouldn't hurt no rabbit."
Roric nodded. "Good, see that you don't."
Chills raced down his back as he walked across the main hall to the stairway that led to the king's office. His steps slowed as he ascended the stairs, his booted feet scraping on the stone. Had magic already gained a foothold in the palace, and was it destined to soon spread throughout the kingdom? Memories of his wife and baby son--both dead at a witch's hands--strengthened his determination to obstruct the practice of witchcraft, no matter where or how it revealed itself. His jaw tightening, he headed for the king's office and announced himself to the sentry. . . .
"I hope I will be worthy of the trust you've placed in me," Roric said after the king explained his new position as palace steward. "Believe me, sire, I will perform my duties to the best of my ability and help you in every way possible." He meant every word; this promotion from king's messenger to palace steward was quite unexpected, more than he'd ever hoped for.
Tencien nodded. "And I feel sure you'll do well, major, which is why I have entrusted you with this position in the first place." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Now I have another matter for your consideration. Word has reached me of a plot against my life."
Roric's heart jumped. Should he tell the king of his infiltration of the conspiracy? No, he quickly decided. Then the king would want to know the names of the plotters, and he wasn't ready to divulge a list yet. Such a list would compromise his investigation.
"I've been told that Balor heads the plot," the king continued, "difficult as that is to accept. I've known the general a good part of my lifetime. I'm aware of his flaws. He has ever had ambition--not necessarily a fault, you understand. But I also know there are many who would discredit the general to enhance their own position, hoping to replace him," he said, tapping his fingers on his desk. "I must know the truth of this plot, must have evidence, else there can be no accusations against the general. Find out as much as you can about the plotters, then convey your findings to me. That is all for now." Tencien smiled. "Oh, and I'll inform the princess. I fear she has worried about me."
Roric rose and bowed. "Very good, sire. I shall do my best." He paused. "And I must say it saddens me that there are those who would conspire against you."
Leaving the king's presence a short time later, he congratulated himself on his appointment as palace steward, certain he could meet the challenge but regretting the circumstances that had created the position. How he missed Fergus Morrigan, a friend for so many years.
Ideas and plans dominated his mind, ways in which he could aid the king in his new employment, but more important, ways he could garner evidence against Balor. First, however, he must return to his room in the officers' housing and clean out his quarters. Whenever possible, he intended to familiarize himself with the primary rooms in the two-hundred-and-five room palace and the dungeon below. Seldom used under Tencien, the dungeon might take on a new life if Balor--Goddess forbid!--became ruler.
A growing suspicion breached his thoughts. Had Fergus's death been an accident, as everyone thought? If not, was his murder connected to the plot against the king? Who would benefit from both? No matter how demanding his new status proved to be, he'd investigate these questions and find answers.
About to go downstairs, he heard footsteps on the flagstone floor and turned to see Princess Keriam approach, her steps quick and purposeful, her dress fluttering around her ankles. A look of pleased surprise captured her face, quickly transmuted to an expression of studied nonchalance.
Bracing himself against an onslaught of fierce emotion, he stopped by a wooden bench. How lovely she looked, a woman any man would desire. Yet, thoughts of his wife intervened. He cleared his throat. “Princess Keriam, if you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you."
"And I’ve wanted to speak with you. Let us go somewhere private." She motioned for him to follow her along the hallway. Several steps behind her, he noted her firm buttocks, her upright posture, the flow of her dark hair down her back. They passed several stone statues of gods and goddesses, the most majestic one being of Talmora, the earth-mother Goddess. The Goddess looked confident and serene, an iron spear enclosed in her right hand, The Book of Laws in her left.
They reached a small antechamber adjoining her bedchamber, both rooms part of her spacious apartment. After closing the door, she gestured toward a chair and took one opposite.
The sun was sinking below the eastern horizon, and the brass oil lamp on her desk glowed in the fading light, casting a mellow tinge to the room.
“Please close the door and sit down,” the princess said. In her pale blue linen dress–beautiful in its simplicity–her long dark hair flowing down her back, she looked quite regal, every inch a royal queen. Her dangling silver earrings swung with each movement, catching the lamplight. A sweet-spicy scent clung to her, a fragrance vaguely familiar, redolent of country gardens. He admired her hand movements as she rearranged papers on her desk, those long, supple fingers, the purple ring flashing on her right ring finger. With her ivory skin, dark blue eyes, and rosy lips, she was pleasing to look at, a balm to his troubled mind and a temptation he must defeat.
A hodgepodge of books, papers, and knickknacks cluttered her desk, a disarray at odds with her neat, concise manner. A small statue of Talmora adorned an oaken table.
He settled into the chair, giving her an expectant look.
“I need someone to spy on Balor,” she said without preamble.
Shock tightened his stomach. “How do you know about him?” Delbraith, no doubt. “If I may ask.”
“Someone warned me about the general.”
“And you’re wondering why I didn’t tell you when I found you outside the library in Moytura.” He changed his position and crossed his legs, increasingly aware of the dangerous game he played.
“Yes, I have wondered.”
“Madam, I wanted to wait until I had more names, so we could move against all the conspirators at the same time. I wasn’t withholding information for any devious reason. It seemed safer this way.”
“I understand. In any event, I need someone to discover who visits him and whom he visits. Do you know of any officers or men we can trust to do this?”
I’m ahead of you, he wanted to say, having already considered several likely candidates, spies he could rely on. “Madam, there are a few officers I trust, men I’ve been close to for many years.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh. “I’ll speak to them in the coming days, as soon as possible.”
“Them?” She flipped her long hair over her shoulders, sending her earrings swinging again.
“We’ll need at least four men; five would be better. The ones I have in mind are quite skilled in espionage. They’ve spied for the king, truth to tell. I suggest they spy not only on Balor, but also on those he contacts.” If that’s possible, he thought, well aware of what a cunning person Balor was. Things did not always work out the way you expected, a lesson he’d learned long ago.
“Very well. And another thing–surely you are aware of Aradia, her close relationship with the general. I fear very much those two have formed an alliance.”
“Madam, I share your concern.” Aradia was nothing but trouble. He’d seen evidence of her troublemaking already in the short time since she’d arrived at the palace. “We must rid the palace of Fergus’s widow. I suggest you send her back to her family.”
“I intend to.” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. "I strongly suspect she had a hand in Fergus's death."
"Do you have proof?"
"No proof, only suspicion. But I will do everything I can to find proof. Now the other men involved in this plot–you refuse to tell me their names–“ She held up a hand–“and I understand your reasons. But would any of them act on their own, without Balor’s direction to . . . to get rid of the king?”
“I doubt that very much, Princess Keriam. Balor holds a tight rein. He and he alone heads the plot.” He paused, marshaling his thoughts. “I do know of two wealthy merchants the general has contacted. But Balor doesn’t know that one of them is on our side.”
“Thank the Goddess!”
Roric nodded. “He hates Balor as much as you and I do. In return for their financial support, the general has promised them important positions in the government he intends to form with . . . your father’s demise. Of course, the other one loyal to Balor will deny knowledge of the plot. I agree that spying on the general will yield the most favorable results, for now.” He leaned forward, his hands clenched between his knees. “We must have evidence. Sooner or later, the spies should find incriminating information we can use.”
“Let us pray so.”
Before it’s too late.
“Very well, Major Gamal. That will have to do for now.” She hesitated. “But you had something you wished to speak about.”
