Reign of the eagle, p.60
Reign of the Eagle, page 60
Caedmon, sitting to the queen’s right, was one of the few council members who looked pleased. “A good scheme, gentlemen,” he said. “And as this is a purely defensive measure, if you happen to encounter obstacles on your dig, you should feel free to call on me.”
This clearly thrilled both Grigory and Alfred, who now explained the theory and practice of building earthworks against walls to buttress them. Grigory pulled out a map of the city, indicating places where he would like to dig. Several were places special to him and Presley. A little green space along the southern wall where they had liked to picnic when they lived in Leornian years ago was one. Another was a small grove on the university campus. Under one of those trees, they had shared their first kiss.
Dr. Stark asked several technical questions, and suddenly Grigory stood a bit straighter and sounded like a schoolboy. Presley tried not to chuckle, but Grigory was too adorable not to.
How did I get so lucky to find such a brilliant, handsome man to spend life with? If this city, my city, the place of my birth and the birth of my great love, survives, it will be thanks to Grigory. Not because of some Myrcian general or politician or noble. But because of a Loshadnarodski exile who somehow loves me enough to do all of this. Bless Earstien.
A WEEK AND A HALF INTO their earthworks project, it became clear that they could not work fast enough. Out on patrol, Robert Tynsdale had taken a prisoner. The man had been far closer to the Sigor lines than anyone had expected, and rather than putting him to the sword, Robert had been very careful to bring the man in for questioning. With assistance from Intira and her arm that Presley did not care to consider closely, they had learned that Broderick intended to move on the city within a month.
They discussed it all later that evening over wine in Presley’s office. It was dark and cool outside after a sunny, but chilly day, and all of them—Presley, Grigory, Intira, Robert, and Alfred—huddled close to the fire. Intira, warm wine in hand, wrapped in a blanket Presley had found in a cupboard one day when searching for parchment, began explaining the situation, not that they hadn’t all realized the situation had grown dire.
“I thought he was lying,” she said. “The one thing all our intelligence has said is that Broderick won’t move without Duke Lukas and he won’t be rushed again.”
“But our source in the Gramiren camp has confirmed what the prisoner said,” Robert continued. “Broderick is anxious. And he doesn’t trust his own people, apparently, and wants to strike while his alliance holds.”
“Given the fact you have a spy in his camp, he’s not wrong to be mistrustful,” Alfred said, raising his glass.
“But less than a month,” said Grigory, shaking his head. “The earthworks will not be done in less than six
weeks. Not how I want them. Not all the way around the city.”
Alfred leaned forward. Presley thought he looked more exhausted than ever. The real question, Presley now realized, was if they would be mentally ready to face battle in under a month, the city be damned.
But Alfred tightened his jaw. “We’ll get it done. Or get it good enough.”
“I would like to make a complete inspection of the city tomorrow,” Grigory said. “We can make decisions then.”
The next day when Grigory and Alfred were ready to set out on their inspection, they were called into the council meeting to provide an update. The council had already heard Robert Tynsdale’s report, and now they wanted to know if the city would be ready for this imminent attack. When Alfred explained this was just the question he and Grigory were headed out to answer, Duke Robert and Lawrence both insisted on accompanying them. Eager to hear Grigory’s assessment of the situation, and knowing no one would object to his presence, Presley grabbed his cloak and joined the party in the courtyard.
Sadly, it appeared as though Grigory’s assessment of the night before was accurate. They headed west from the Bocburg, and when they reached the wall, the earthworks sloped up from about eight feet behind the wall and reached perhaps four feet up. It was oozing river mud, reinforced with timbers and old bricks. Buckets of dredged up mud continued to arrive on Finch and Sons barges as the group stopped and watched the work.
“Well, this looks like excellent progress,” said Lawrence. “I don’t see why you two are so worried. This will be done in a week or two.”
“But if you will forgive me, captain general,” said Alfred. “The attack may well come before that.”
“And this is where we have made the most progress,” Grigory added. “The rest of the earthworks are not as far along.”
“How far along are they?” Lawrence asked, his voice now something of a perturbed growl. “Show me.”
They walked the perimeter of Leornian, Alfred and Grigory asking the workers astute questions, and Presley taking notes of what supplies they required. In most places, work on the earthen ramparts had at least started. South of the university, however, the local landowners had built sheds and barns and warehouses against the city wall for centuries, and these had to be cleared away before the real work could begin. Worse, it seemed that in places, the wall had been undermined, weakened, and stripped of its inner face of masonry in the construction of all these outbuildings.
This created a whole new risk, since taking the sheds and barns away would actually make the wall temporarily weaker. But there was no other way, in the long run, to make it stronger. They would just have to work as quickly as they could.
Duke Robert made some good suggestions for places to dig up more dirt and rock, based on his superior knowledge of the city, as well as where to find more manpower. Lawrence, however, fluctuated between frustration over the work not being further along and sulkiness.
“I feel we could all use lunch,” Duke Robert suggested after Lawrence grumbled at a workman at the last worksite. “Does anyone know if the food at the Swangate Inn is as good as it was in my youth?”
Presley doubted anyone’s food was as good as it had been a year ago, thanks to dwindling supplies. But they were all hungry, and the Swangate was only a couple of streets over.
“I would be happy to go on ahead and ask them for a room,” Presley offered. “I’m sure it will be a respectable meal.”
“I will go with you,” Grigory said, and in a moment, it was settled they would hurry ahead while the other three came on at a more sedate pace.
Once Presley could be certain they could no longer be heard by the others, he asked Grigory if he was alright. “It’s been a long day, and I know you are disappointed with the progress.”
“It seems as if nothing I can think of will be enough. This...man, who wanted me dead, who killed others to promote himself, who has started a war and told vicious lies to take a throne that is not his.... I do not want to see him succeed. I do not think Earstien wants him to rule this blessed kingdom. But how may he be stopped?”
Presley rested a hand on Grigory’s shoulder. “You’ll find a way. I know you will.” I have to believe that.
They were in luck at the inn. Most people had already finished lunch, so a private room was available. The innkeeper informed him that he didn’t have much food left, but he would be able to manage five trenchers of stew and a little cheese. Presley thanked the man, and he and Grigory settled in at the table in the private room to await the others.
“It is very nice,” Grigory said, “that you have faith I will help save Leornian. I could do nothing good without your love.”
Presley squeezed his hand. “And I’m nothing without you.”
“But there is nothing more I can do.” His handsome blue eyes looked desperately at Presley. “I love Leornian. It is where we met. We fell in love here. It is a good city, and I don’t think I can save it from Broderick.”
Presley brought Grigory’s hand to his lips and kissed it fiercely. “You are the best man I know. Leornian is so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky to have you.”
Grigory’s smile was so tired and shy and beautiful, Presley couldn’t help himself, and he leaned forward and kissed Grigory. “Together, you and I can do anything. Look what we’ve already done with our lives.”
Grigory smiled again, and they leaned together and kissed once more. Then, without warning, the door opened.
Perhaps they were tired or used to life in the Empire where men loving one another was accepted, but they did not pull apart quickly enough. That left Alfred, Duke Robert, and Lawrence to see more than they probably wished to. Alfred sighed softly and turned away, but Presley thought that had more to do with his own continuing heartache over Elwyn than with any discomfort. Duke Robert, on the other hand, turned bright red, clearly not as openly enthusiastic about Presley and Grigory’s relationship as his father had been. Lawrence was also obviously uncomfortable, and just as obviously tried to appear as though he was not.
“Thank you for getting the room,” Alfred said, trying to act as if nothing had happened.
“Not a problem,” Presley said, trying to ignore Grigory fussing at his side, surely embarrassed. The poor man doesn’t like to kiss me in public in Presidium, where most of the city’s residents attend multiple orgies a year. He must be dying a bit here. “The innkeeper will be bringing trenchers of stew and cheese soon.”
Everyone nodded, but then fell into an awkward silence.
“I was looking through the Bocburg library the other day,” Lawrence suddenly said with a pinched voice. “Saw a nice copy of Hippolytes Dynastos. Good poet, don’t you think? Not everyone’s cup of tea, of course. But I think it’s very important to read things that, er...challenge and broaden the mind. And if I can appreciate Adler even if I’m not Odelandic, why can’t I appreciate Dynastos, even if I’m not personally, well...um...you know?”
During this little speech, Lawrence couldn’t meet Presley’s eye, which made his attempt to show how comfortable he was with Presley and Grigory’s relationship all the more embarrassing. Presley and Grigory both well knew Dynastos. He was a famous 2nd Century Thessalian poet who wrote on ‘Thessalian’ themes, which was to say he celebrated passion between people of the same sex.
The volume Lawrence was referring to was most likely the one where Presley had first read Dynastos as a teenager. Before he had worked for Duke Brandon, his father had, and the duke had always allowed Presley free rein in his library. The volume had been bought by Duke Brandon. Presley could remember finding it among a stack of recently delivered books when he was about 15.
To have Lawrence reference the book, however, was painfully awkward. Still, Presley needed to say something. “Yes. Dynastos is a master of meter. So, Alfred, what is your estimate on the earthworks between Bast and Wellard Streets?”
Chapter 29
Alfred spent his days in endless visits to construction sites, checking on progress, and reassigning work crews where they were needed most. Presley thought they could finish the earthworks in ten days, if everything went well. Grigory was more cautious and said it would take at least two weeks.
Two weeks. That would mean the end of April. Would Broderick and his army really hold off that long? The intelligence from Robert Tynsdale and Intira said no. Broderick wanted to move soon and when they would least expect it, and winter had been gone now for weeks. Yes, there had been a few big spring rainstorms, but they hadn’t washed out roads or caused massive flooding. So, why hadn’t he attacked yet?
Alfred was afraid to say it, even to himself, but with every day that passed, it seemed more and more likely Broderick had decided to wait for Duke Lukas’s return. Could the Sigors and the city of Leornian really be so lucky? Only Earstien knew for certain, and Alfred wouldn’t have wanted to bet either way. You never knew with Broderick.
All the people in Leornian could do was keep reinforcing the walls as quickly as they possibly could. That was the safest option. For Alfred, it also had the benefit of keeping his mind off Elwyn. Almost four months had now passed since the Solstice when he had asked her to marry him, and she still hadn’t given him a straight answer. Maybe she was waiting until Midsummer, as well. You never knew with Elwyn.
They saw each other at the castle frequently. Her eyes would light up when she saw him, and she would smile, but she always had some excuse why she could not stay and talk. They went riding occasionally, but she would always bring her brother, the king, along and make Alfred explain the earthworks and battle plans to him. Every encounter left Alfred seething and frustrated, because it seemed to him that she was not frustrated at all by the situation. It seemed to him as if she would have been happy to keep him waiting forever.
Several times, after council meetings or inspection tours of the earthworks, Queen Rohesia would sidle up to Alfred and try to find out how things were going with Elwyn. “I saw you riding with a certain someone yesterday. Do you think she’s coming around?”
When Alfred told her the disappointing truth, she would sigh, take several long deep breaths, and say things like, “Patience is a virtue, Sir Alfred,” or “I am told one mustn’t rush these things,” or “We must let her find her own way in her own time.” The queen often sounded as if she were trying to convince herself, though, as much as Alfred.
On April 15, after a long, exhausting day at the worksite near the Wellard Street gate, Alfred returned, sweaty and streaked with mud, to his office, where he found a small note on his desk, written in lilac-colored ink on pink paper.
My dear Sir Alfred,
We are having a small party for my wife’s birthday tonight in the third floor gallery. I would be honored if you could attend. No gifts will be necessary, though as always, we will be taking a collection for the refugees.
Yours most sincerely,
Sir Nathan Peel
Peel was the fellow who had married Melanie Searle, Elwyn’s old flame. If this were a small, intimate gathering of friends, Alfred wasn’t sure why he had been invited. He didn’t really know Sir Nathan or Lady Melanie all that well.
Alfred frowned at the note. The handwriting didn’t look like Sir Nathan’s, but it did look familiar. Suspiciously familiar, in fact. His heart raced, like he had heard alarm bells in a peaceful camp on a quiet night.
He had already promised to bring the queen certain documents that afternoon—requisitions from local merchants and lists of civilian volunteers for the work parties. So he added the little pink note to the pile of papers and ledgers and went down to the queen’s study on the first floor.
Her majesty’s eyebrows shot up when she opened the message. Clearly she recognized the handwriting, too. She bit her lip and drummed her fingers on her desk. “Ah. So that’s what she’s been planning.”
“Her royal highness is the one who planned this party?”
“Duchess Elena told me Elwyn requested the use of the gallery tonight. Elena was happy to oblige her. We both thought perhaps she was getting ready to announce.... But then, of course, you would have known....” The queen cleared her throat. “But that is neither here nor there. Writing invitations and finding a venue for a party are tedious chores. No doubt she was trying to help.”
“Do you think I should attend?”
“I think that might be best for all concerned.”
He thought she was probably right. After leaving her study, he went to his own rooms to bathe and shave and change his clothes. He did not bother wearing his tightest trousers or most fashionable tunic. Instead, he dressed as if he were going back to work—practical wool tweed and sturdy, thick-soled boots. He didn’t feel like making an effort for Elwyn at the moment.
He did go back to work for a while. The old third floor gallery of the Bocburg was right next to his office in the Silver Parlor. So, even as he could hear a troupe of minstrels tuning up and the excited laughter of partygoers, he ducked into his office and quickly shut the door behind him. Trying to ignore the music, he studied maps of the city wall for a while. When he finished with that, he took out a list of soldiers who had been recommended for promotion and studied their files, making notes whenever he saw fellows who might be useful to Presley or Grigory.
The sound of the party next door grew louder and louder, and he thought, “Perhaps I’d better go make an appearance.” And then he thought of how Elwyn was over there enjoying herself, and he said to himself, rather bitterly, “Maybe I’ll sit here until she comes to get me. After all, she knows my office is right here. Yes, I’ll wait for her. That way I’ll know if she really wants me there or not.”
Eventually, there was a knock at the door, but it wasn’t Elwyn. It was Lady Alicia Tynsdale, Sir Robert’s wife and old schoolfriend of the princess.
“Why are you sitting in here?” she said, tilting her head quizzically to one side. “Didn’t you get your invitation?”
“I did. I was just, um...finishing up a few things.” He waved at the papers on his desk.
“No. Absolutely not. That’s the whole point of tonight. You’ll be no good to anyone, Sir Alfred, if you drive yourself until you fall apart from exhaustion. Come relax a little. You’ve earned it. We all have.” Alicia grinned. “Besides, a lot of the knights and officers are with their regiments tonight. So, there’s a shocking number of ladies sitting down without partners for dancing. It’s your duty as a knight to come to our aid.”
Alfred nearly made a comment about how Elwyn could dance with Melanie, if it came to that. But he kept it to himself and let Lady Alicia lead him out of his office and around the corner into the middle of the festivities.
The gallery was one of the most famous and storied rooms in the Bocburg. It was a massive chamber, located right over the great hall, full of ancient works of art and trophies from wars and tournaments long forgotten. On the far side, along the northern wall between two wide arched windows, was a small alcove where Finster’s Book had once been kept, back in the days of the Kingdom of Leornian. The book had been taken to Wealdan Castle centuries ago, however, along with many of the most valuable treasures of the royal family. Even so, there were still a dozen old suits of armor, and jewelry in gilded cases, and tarnished old crowns.
