From the throne room, the people streamed down the grand stairs, out onto the entrance steps, and down again, onto the courtyard where five wheeled biers stood in a neat line. Lodged securely atop these biers were open caskets, within which lay five dead men, all surrounded by white and yellow flowers.Around these black-and-gray-painted contraptions that were further accented by streams of black and gray cloths, the people arranged themselves. They left an avenue open for the families and soldiers that were soon to stream down after them.
When they came, three more events happened that – like the contest that took place back at the throne room – would also serve to feed the Queendom"s rumor mill for a long time to come.
The first was that, with no hesitation at all, Princess Hilde went to stand by her brother"s bier. Those who"d antic.i.p.ated from her a scandalous show of defiance were shocked into gaping. They looked at the Princess, and then they looked at the bier ahead, wherein lay the person who everyone now knew was the true cause of her grief.
The young woman they envisioned from the stories, or from witnessing her past behavior with their own eyes, would have gone straight to that other bier, no matter the consequences. Add to this how that person"s father just made it clear he could be induced to make her dream come true, and the rumormongers" confusion increased even more.
There were those who did not miss the way her own aunt did a double take upon seeing Hilde stopping behind her elder sister, on the right side of their brother"s casket. Even the Princess Gisela had been momentarily snapped out of her seemingly fathomless preoccupation to blink at her cousin who stood opposite her own place at the left.
Only the Queen did not flinch. She stared ahead, face serene despite the recent marks of crying. To her, it was as if this development was not something out of the ordinary. Some might even say she had fully expected it to happen.
These few snuck glances at the Lord General. Would he also take Princess Hilde"s move for what it appeared to be? They found, however, that he was not even aware of what had just happened.
The reason was the second cause of murmurings among witnesses: one of the Lyseans had approached Lord General Alfwin and, after a brief exchange, seemed to have made him agree to step to one side so they could have a little more privacy while they spoke more. After they were done, the result left those who"d been paying attention – including Hilde – to join the ranks of the shocked or the speechless.
After they"d moved far enough that at least three feet separated them from the nearest other person, the Lysean began: "My Lord General…"
"Am I?"
"Pardon?"
"Am I YOUR Lord General?"
The Lysean hesitated. "You are not."
"Then I"ll ask you not to call me that," Lord Alfwin said tersely. "We do not even address our own monarchs as if they were ours. What may I help you with, young sir?"
At the rebuke, Leal wryly thought, "Arnicans…" Then, in a quiet voice, he braced himself to continue.
"I mean no disrespect by this, Lord General – if you would permit it, I wish to stand by your son"s bier, that I may honor him."
Looking at him with unreadable eyes, the Lord was silent for a moment. "A man from a Kingdom so recently an enemy… you would seek to honor my son?" He frowned. "Did you know him?"
"I knew OF him, Lord," Leal replied honestly. "There is no swordsman in Lys who hasn"t."
Hearing his answer, Lord Alfwin let out a brief and grim chuckle. "I have been thinking this since before…" he began in that peculiar tone of amus.e.m.e.nt that contained no joy. "It may have been a blade that had ended my son"s life, but it was that d.a.m.ned fame of his that had truly led to his death." All of a sudden, the Lord"s eyes hardened, and the humor, such as it was, disappeared. "You corner me with this request when you know I cannot refuse?"
The young man lowered his voice even further, this time in humility. Something else it was not used to evoking. "I asked in privacy, Lord General, so that you may freely do so without consequences. I have no expectations, and I give you my word, should you turn me away, I will speak of it to no one. Truly, I only wish to honor Lothar of Arnica – in any way I can."
The Lord gave Leal a long, considering look. "Such boldness," he eventually said. "Remarkable… for a man of Lys." The Lysean did not flinch at the insult. That seemed to decide the older man. "Do as you wish." The Lord was turning around even as he said this. He did not see the young Lysean bowing deeply to his retreating figure.
But others did. They also watched as, with all solemnity, he followed the direction the Lord General went to. While the Lord retook his place at the right side of Lothar"s casket, Leal stood to the left, not right beside it because those s.p.a.ces were still only reserved for family, but beside the people who stood there: the Lord General"s wife and his younger son.
The Lady did not acknowledge him, having no capacity to pay attention to what was around her, but the other young man met Leal"s gaze. Lothar"s brother merely narrowed his dark eyes on the Lysean, who had nodded at him. Then Leal looked down at the body inside the casket and immediately noted the resemblance with the living face he"d just seen.
"Ah," he thought, confirming an earlier suspicion. For a time, he studied the face of the man whose eyes were now closed forever, and when he was done, he looked up, careful not to let his sight stray upon Lothar"s brother again.
Unbeknownst to him, a certain Arnican spy"s diligent campaign to reveal his ident.i.ty was now bearing fruit. From the servants she talked to, the third cause for the new murmurings spread to the masters and mistresses gathered in the courtyard.
Bathing in the searing heat of the noon sun, many wondered if those who were also being subjected to a different kind of heat would be able to tolerate the added pressure. Yes or no? With glee, with apprehension, or with indifference, they waited to find out.