Book 5, Chapter 25: Supper
The great hall was not packed. Only the head table, up on its stage, was full. The other two lessor tables sat just over half as many people as they could, with everyone sitting near the front. I guess they wanted to be close to the nobles.
“There are more children than usual.”
“Well, we have space for them here because the army has left.”
“I’m going to assume they’ll sneak adult beverages.”
“For sure they will. It’ll make them go to bed earlier and then the adults can-”
“Please don’t finish that sentence unless you’re going to say, ‘hang out and chat,’ Brin.”
She squeezed my hand, smiling, “Come on, let’s get to the table. And give a short speech before you sit down.”
I sighed. “A speech?” And Brin’s mom was sitting beside my chair. I sighed again.
“Don’t sigh in your speech. And don’t be so negative. Straighten up, shoulders back. Come on, be the princess.”
“Yes, Mistress Brin.”
“That’s better! Now, deliver.” She gave me a little push, then squeezed my arm while turning me around to face the hall.
I felt like a puppet. Probably not an uncommon feeling among heads of state. I did not sigh, took a deep breath, and said, “Good evening everyone. It’s wonderful to be back. Please enjoy your dinner.” I half-turned to sit down, but Brin gave my arm a stronger squeeze, didn’t let go, effectively holding me in place. More speech, right. “Unfortunately, this will have to be a short visit only as we will be leaving for Earl Carlisele and the army tomorrow.”
Brin leaned in and spoke quietly but fiercely, “Uplifting!”
I quelled the nasty look I wanted to give her, slowly and deliberately picked up a red wine glass that was patiently waiting on the table, held it up, saying, “And we will remove the Laemacian threat on our borders.”
Cheers from the audience, but with the hall half empty, it sounded like my mood. Sparse and melancholy. Brin let go and I pulled the chair out, sat down. She sat next to me, her mother across from her, Tread to her right, the big man to Brin’s left. No archbishop, which was a relief but also felt strange.
“And how will we remove the Laemacian threat, Your Highness?” She wore light purple, black trim, almost matching my eyes.
I stared into my wine, not knowing what to say to the countess. “I’ll have to show you later.”
“Also, congratulations on successfully retaking the Barclay Duchy. And good to see you in good health, of course.”
“Countess Carlisele, a pleasure.”
“Yes, countess still.”
Ignoring her remark, I asked, “You received messages from General Brundle?”
“Two so far. One regarding the battle for Barclay. An overwhelming victory for you, but a pity the family continued on their traitorous path.”
“I shouldn’t have marched on them. Maybe we could have solved this diplomatically.”
“If only betrayal could be solved diplomatically. The Barclays wanted the throne and left you no choice but to march on them.”
“Maybe she would have listened. I should have sent letters explaining the situation.” Or maybe, I thought, not gone in person. Maybe Saph wouldn’t have figured out I was an imposter. But the military, being who they were, would likely have executed the family in my absence for their rebellion anyway.
“The dowager had no interest in listening to you.”
“I was thinking of Sapphire.”
Brin put her hand on mine.
I looked up and smiled. Just then, servants set a plate of roast beef in front of me, potatoes, gravy, then each guest in turn.
Brin was about to say something, but her mother continued, “The message regarding the Breadamont battle is, I have to say, a little confusing. Here you are without your army. Did you win or lose?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? You won and lost?”
“Yes, I should have listened to you, Countess. I should have made Hafthon duke from the outset.”
She narrowed her eyes at me.
I continued, “I seriously expected you to keep your husband on track. I’m told his army still doesn’t have fully armored heavy cavalry, nor many crossbowmen regiments. Why didn’t he expand the new weapons production?”
“He’s accomplished much since you left to destroy your army and imperil the kingdom.”
“Mother!”
“Do tell.” Pushing my plate away and into my wine glass, almost tipping over the damn thing, I folded my fingers together, set my hands on the table, and waited, looking into her eyes.
She nodded tensely, but somehow without the disgust she surely felt, “He continued making sarissae, quadrupled the armor smithies apprentices, and had the entirety of the cavalry make their own saddles, plus additional ones for future purposes.”
“Saddles? Alright. Why didn’t he have the entire military making their own weapons, as I did?”
“Resources. Perhaps you weren’t aware, but you ran through our stock faster than it could be replaced. After you left, well, there was only so much.”
“And what did he do to procure more?”
“There’s only so much that can be done in spring. The ground . . .”
I breathed in deeply and stopped myself from sighing. Honestly, I was getting tired of this dance, this fear to step on other people’s egos. Their frailty! So worried about admitting fault. I clenched my fist and . . . closed my eyes. Pushed the rage down. Here! Here I could not let loose the violence. These were my people and their children. Damnit.
It was tempting. I could reduce this castle to molten rock. Renew it, give it back to the land, let nature shape it as she would with wind and water.
Morry spoke up, “Pikes can be converted to sarissae, chainmail to plate mail.”
“Oh, we did so, but you must know that-”
The countess continued, but I didn’t listen, feeling disgusted in myself and what I was becoming.
“Cayce?” Brin squeezed my hand. “Here, have . . . have another glass of wine. This is a new batch, from this year, a mix of grapes and no sweetness. You’ll like it.”
I shook my head, “Sorry. I’m sorry.” Lines and lines around this area of the table, each from a year in the tree’s life as it developed, bringing up water to break up carbon dioxide, produce sugar. Each representing a year in this tree’s life, with smaller ones indicating hardship, thicker ones the good years, as if the wood were calling to us, reminding us, ‘Before you cut me down and turned me into a table, I was a living being and supported a vast community of insects and gave you air to breathe.’ Its circles pulling me in, holding my focus, were strangely calming, though they half reminded me of the geometric puzzle on my back.
Maybe it was a maze and I was trapped within. Which path in the rings would be my exit?
Another squeeze from Brin and I looked up, then spoke to her mother. “You’re right, my lady. I should have exalted your husband, too, to duke. I’ll rectify that mistake on the battlefield. And I’m sorry. Despite my toast, my speech, and the new weapons, I have difficulties seeing us best the Laemacian army.”
She gave me a dour look, held but did not drink her wine. “It’s too late, you’ve given this duchy to Hafthon.”
“I’m sure there’s space in the kingdom for one more duchy.”
“I want the Treleal Duchy.”
“Mother! You can’t ask Cayce to take back an exaltation.”
“Treleal and his sons are dead. No living male heirs remain.”
I closed my eyes. I wasn’t surprised. It made sense. So many were lost that day.
“His wife remains a duchess. She will likely remarry. What do you want Cayce to do, cloister her and her daughters?”
“Yes. Or move them to Breadamont, take them on as advisors or whatever you wish.”
“Why do you dislike Lady Treleal so much?”
“And they no longer have an intact army. Brundle has conscripted those who survived to protect the west. Their repulsive church is likely rebuilding. You need a strong ruler on your eastern flank.”
“You have a deal. I’ll exalt your husband on the battlefield.”
“Cayce, you can’t! This will undermine your position. A ruler’s word must be kept.”
“Brin.” I shook my head. I almost didn’t care who ruled that cursed duchy, but better the devil I knew. And Carlisele at least didn’t believe in their religion. And was a coward. He’d curtail the church for fear they’d challenge his position.
I hated what I was about to say next, though Brin herself would likely be happy. God, this world, what it was doing to me. “You’ll remain my mistress of the bedroom. I trust your father and I don’t know Treleal’s wife, except that . . .” Gun, it was Gun who warned me against her. If only I’d gifted him the duchy and ignored Brundle, he’d be alive. And the outcome of the battle wouldn’t have changed much. Maybe the beginning, though.
“Cayce?” Brin opened my hand, pushed the stem of the wine glass into it.
“I don’t know her. Lady Treleal. I know your parents and I trust that I know them.”
The countess restricted her smile to her mouth. “Carefully spoken, my lady. You are learning to rule.”
I tried not to scowl and likely succeeded, but since there weren’t any mirrors in the great hall, I couldn’t be certain. Though it’s possible I smiled, instead. I took up the glass Brin had exchanged for her soft hand, “To you, future Duchess Carlisele. If we survive, that is.”
She lifted up her own, “To surviving.” Sipped. “And, Princess, could you now explain the more confusing parts of the message? General Brundle wrote about you abandoning, excuse me, leaving your army, and the army reduced to a third of its force. Why did the mages turn on you? And how did you survive the encounter?”
“Mother! Quit pestering the princess.”
“No, it’s fine. I want to see those messages.”
“Brundle reports that he is rebuilding the army at Breadamont. By this time, he’ll have bested or lost to the Ketzillian army.”
“Hafthon explained the same.”
“And that you loosed magic upon the Ketzillian mages.”
Morry leaned forward, “Perhaps this isn’t the time or place to discuss such matters.”
“It’s an open secret at this point. Countess, the magical battle that followed Wizard Tye’s betrayal tore the battlefield apart, killing most men on both sides.”
“Who was the grand magister fighting?”
Brin gave her mother a fierce stare, pushed my ignored plate toward me, then signaled the serving girl to refill my glass.
I held the countess’s gaze, “Me. The mages were all fighting me. I tore the Ketzillian army apart attacking their mages. Melted the very ground they stood upon. Turned them into ash. Everyone and everything that was around them.”
“Princess Cayce, am I to understand-”
Morry glared at nearby guests until they looked away and again said, “This is not a conversation to have now.”
“Yes, and then I killed a few more of the mages, driving them off. Hell, I vaporized one with an enormous energy beam. Aisu, her name was. Perhaps you knew her.”
“Cayce!” Brin said in a fierce whisper, “Perhaps you should listen to Morrentz! We’re at the supper table!”
“Princess, we don’t want a repeat display. Not here, not now. Countess,” his voice lowered both in tone and volume, “it is not the sharing of secrets I’m concerned for.”
“I won’t become violent. Morry. I’ve . . . I’ve got it under control. For the moment. Perhaps all night.” Stared again at the pattern in the table, tracing its rings in my mind, wondering what it would be to walk along them. If they were connected, if it were a maze, you could seek either the center or the outside. Though if you chose the latter, you would evermore wonder what the center held.
As I raised my head, those further down the table quickly looked at their food. A few even ate some. The countess’s face was pale. Observing me closely. Perhaps a new topic was in order. “The archbishop seems to be missing.”
“He accompanied my husband to stand against the Laemacians.”
“Can they block magic as the Seclazrin can?”
“Mainly to aid with the treatment of the injured.”
I wondered, then, if they could block my magic. Oh, I did not like that thought! But if they could, they’d either be a danger to me or a safety net. “How many priests did he take with him?”
“Perhaps forty.”
“Have you had messages from your husband regarding the Laemacian army?”
“He only just left, but scouts arrived before. Their force outnumbers ours by almost three to one. He conscripted men and is heading for a mountain pass that will restrict the enemy attack.”
“Hafthon told me of the conscription, but he got the size of the army facing us wrong.”
“Better size estimates arrived later. If they don’t have mages, perhaps you could-”
“Not a conversation we’re having. I’ll speak to Carlisele at the encampment about our plans.”
“I don’t understand why you-”
“Nor do you need to, Countess” said Morry.
“You’ll allow me to worry over the kingdom, surely, General.” The countess moved her focus back to me, “Can you stop them?”
“I’m going to talk to their emperor. Otholos. He wanted to marry me. Perhaps he still does and I can convince him not to attack. The kingdom would fall under Laemacian rule, but the people would survive.”
“If you can stop him yourself, we’d all survive. Why are you reluctant to commit yourself to battle?”
“Mother! That’s quite enough.”
“You destroyed the Ketzillian army and drove off all the mages. You could end the Laemacians.”
“Yes, easily.”
“Easily?”
I stood. She continued speaking, even grabbing my wrist, but I shrugged it off and walked away, down the steps into the main part of the hall, heading toward the doors. I’d had this conversation one too many times and the last, as Morry pointed out, didn’t end well. No need to further subject myself to questioning.
A few of the soldiers I passed were still wearing their chainmail. Of course, they wouldn’t be wearing plate mail. That’d be rare and soldiers outfitted so richly would be at the battle. If only I’d introduced guns or some kind of powerful distance weapon. I stopped in my tracks.
Morry almost passed me, but wheeled on his foot, “Princess? Are you ok?”
“What? Yeah. We only have one night . . . wait. It’s doable.”
“You don’t look ok. What is doable?”
“Get Tread! And Brin! And come with me, we have work to do!” I headed off, quickly, toward the doors.
“I can’t follow you and get them. Where are you going?”
“To the smithies! Just hurry up!”
***
“Can we make the beams an inch think? You know, they can be round, too. It doesn’t matter. Flat or round.”
“An inch is a lot of steel. Perhaps half an inch? Or a quarter?”
“How much stress can a quarter inch thick steel beam take? You know what, it doesn’t matter. How many can you make overnight?”
“Overnight, my lady?”
“We leave at dawn. Overnight!”
“Three feet long?”
“And two inches wide. Yeah, a half inch thick. Maybe make some a full inch just in case they break from the stress.”
“Uh, between twenty to forty, depending on,” he looked at the other master smiths I’d forced here – the saddle makers, armorers, crossbow smiths and even the lance guys – then back at me, “how well everyone follows my directions.”
“Best get started then. As many as you can. More than twenty. Two thousand would be ideal. Forty would work. Use all the metal available.”
“Even that ready for armor?” asked the master armorer in a higher-than-normal pitch.
“All of it.”
He shook his head, “For what purpose?”
“We’re going to make ballista. Ballistae, sorry, that’s the plural. They can kill rhinos and a lot of men in one go.”
The master weaponsmith asked, “Bal-list-a. Excuse me, ma’am, but what are they?”
“Like the crossbow. Only bigger. So, the metal bars will need rope attachment sites. Notches, I mean. When we get to the battlefield, we’ll need frames strong enough to hold these and the force they produce when bent, strong ropes and pully mechanisms for them. To hurl giant logs at the enemy. With points. Sharpened, giant logs. If we had time, we’d put steel on the pointy ends, but we don’t.”
The weapon smith nodded as I spoke, with the crossbow smith saying, “I can see it. Yes, I can see it. Maybe we can loose some of the spears we were converting to sarissae.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“We can break them in half, they don’t have to be so long. Maybe a third . . .” He stood up, shouted at his drunk and sleepy apprentices, “Wake up, boys! We have weapons to build!” The head smith for all these masters moved off, yelling at them, smacking a few of the younger boys on their shoulders, and getting everything started. The master armorer shook his head but stood up and accompanied him.
I’d rounded up all the smiths. Drunk. Tired. Angry. Didn’t care. They had work to do and I needed these, the kingdom needed these, when we set out the next morning. We’d build the frames when we got there and train the peasants on them.
“Wait!”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Get some people making lead balls. Shot. Some of the ballistae can take out their soldiers.” A part of me felt sick to my stomach thinking about what I was doing. “Those ones will need netting or sliders in the wooden frame to propel the balls.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Brin was busy getting the apprentices to warm up their fires, telling the saddle makers to shut up and be the weapon smith’s apprentices for one night, and generally organizing everything. With the head smith telling her what he needed. Tread was rounding up as much metal as he could find, and having other servants – stableboys, serving girls, everyone and anyone – bringing it here.
It was impressive, seeing the castle grounds come to life so quickly.
“Morry, I’m going to help out. But maybe with some tea. Can you have someone get it?”
“Princess, it’s late in the day to be designing new weaponry.”
“Late in the day is all we have left.”
Comments (0)
Please login or sign up to post a comment.