Pausing in the doorway, he looked back. “Emery is a good lad. He was my son’s best friend. James was taken into the imperial army and died in some battle up north.” He glanced at the floor. “Watching Emery on that post was like losing him all over again. Whatever happens now, I just wanted to say thank you.” With that, the doctor left.
Arista had seen the insides of more commoners’ homes over the past week than she had in her entire life. After visiting with the Bakers of Hintindar, she had assumed all families lived in identical houses, but the Dunlaps’ home was nothing like the Bakers’. This one was two stories tall, with a solid wooden floor on both levels. The upper story created a thick-beamed ceiling to the lower one. While still modest and a bit cramped, it showed touches of care and a dash of prosperity, which Hintindar lacked. The walls were painted and decorated with pretty designs of stars and flowers, and the wood surfaces were buffed and stained. Knickknacks of glazed pottery and wood carvings lined shelves above the fireplace. Unlike Dunstan and Arbor’s sparse home, the Dunlaps’ house had a lot of furniture. Wooden chairs with straw seats circled the table. Another pair bookended a spinning wheel surrounded by several wicker baskets. Little tables held vases of flowers, and on the wall hung a cabinet with small doors and knobs. Kept neat, clean, and orderly, it was a house loved by a woman whose husband had been a good provider, but had rarely been home.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” Mrs. Dunlap asked while clearing the dinner plates. She was an old, plump woman who always wore an apron and a matching white scarf and had a habit of wringing her wrinkled hands.
“We’re fine,” Arista told her. “And thank you again for letting us use your home.”
The old woman smiled. “It’s not so much a risk as you might think. My husband has been dead six years now. He proudly served as His Majesty Urith’s coachman. Did you know that?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked off as if seeing him once more. “He was a handsome man in his driver’s coat and hat with that red plume and gold broach. Yes, sir, a mighty fine-looking man, proud to serve the king, and had for thirty years.”
“Was he killed with the king?”
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “But he died soon after, of heartbreak, I think. He was very close to the royal family. Drove them everywhere they went. They gave him gifts and called him by his given name. Once, during a storm, he even brought the princes here to spend the night. The little boys talked about it for weeks. We never had children of our own, you see, and I think Paul—that’s my husband—I think he thought of the royals as his own boys. It devastated him when they died in that fire—that horrible fire. Emery’s father died in it too, did you know that? He was one of the king’s bodyguards. There was so much death that terrible, terrible night.”
“Urith was a good king?” Hadrian asked.
She shrugged. “I’m just an old woman, what do I know? People complained about him all the time when he was alive. They complained about the high taxes, and some of the laws, and how he would live in a castle with sixty servants, dining on deer, boar, and beef all at the same meal while people in the city were starving. I don’t know that there is such a thing as a good king. Perhaps there are just kings that are good enough.” She looked at Arista and winked. “Perhaps what we need is less kings and more womenfolk running things.”
Mrs. Dunlap went back to the work of straightening as they sat at the round dining table.
“Well,” Royce began, looking at Arista, “step one of your rebellion is complete. So now what?”
She thought a moment, then said, “We’ll need to circulate the story of Emery leading the coming attack. Play him up as a hero, a ghost that the empire can’t kill.”
“I’ve heard talk like that around town already,” Royce said. “You were right about that, at least.”
Arista smiled. Such a compliment from Royce was high praise.
“We need to use word of mouth,” she continued, “to get the momentum for the revolt started. I want everyone to know it’s coming. I want them to think of it as inevitable as the coming of dawn. I want them to believe it can’t fail. I’ll need leaders as well. Hadrian, keep an eye out for reliable men who can help lead the battle. Men others listen to and respect. I’ll also need you to devise a battle plan to take the armory and the garrison for me. Unlike my brother, I never studied the art of war. They made me learn needlepoint instead. Do you know how often I’ve used needlepoint?”
Hadrian chuckled.