The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

That was the signal.

The driver climbed back up onto the perch, clicked his tongue, and gave the beasts a little snap with the whip. Both of the men clung to the back of the carriage as it began to lumber across the courtyard. Ankarette sat on the carriage seat and folded her hands in her lap, feeling exhausted from the long night’s interview. The carriage made it to the end of the courtyard before being halted again by the gatehouse guards. Just as she’d expected.

She parted the curtain as a soldier approached. “What is it, sir?” she asked impatiently.

“Are you alone in the carriage, my lady?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “See for yourself.”

The soldier nodded and twisted the handle. He poked his head inside, looked both ways, and nodded when he found her alone. “Apologies. It’s the king’s orders that every wagon be searched upon entering and leaving.”

She settled back on the bench and folded her hands across her knees, staring away as if the conversation utterly bored her. The soldier nodded to the driver and then secured the door again. With another click and whistle, the carriage trundled through the gate and across the moat bridge, entering the hive of Pree.

As soon as they were past, Ankarette knelt by the bench and lifted the seat. She’d already removed the plank and she could see the edge of the larger bottom chest. She pried loose the nails and then pulled the edge of the chest open, revealing the soles of two heavy boots.

“Are you quite comfortable, Alensson?” she called into the void.

“It may be a bit crowded, but it’s better than a stinking privy hole,” he said in a muffled tone. Ankarette smiled as she grabbed his ankles and began pulling him into the carriage to join her. He wriggled and squirmed to help, and soon he was sitting on the bench across from her, his gray hair askew, a mischievous smile on his mouth.

“A cunning lass,” he said. “Cutting the boxes in the middle like that and stacking them was an inspired idea. If they’d opened the top one, they would have seen my head and shoulders.”

“If they’d opened the top one, they would have found themselves with daggers in their ribs,” Ankarette answered with a shrug. “One poisoner and two Espion would be more than a match for those simple guards at the porter door. I had planned for the possibility that I might need to kidnap you earlier in the evening. Your eagerness to escape only made the task easier. Now sit down. I have some questions before you continue your story.”

“I assumed you would,” Alensson said. The carriage jogged and tottered a bit as it went across the uneven cobblestones. He parted the curtain with his fingers, glancing worriedly and hopefully at the scene, a small smile of relief twisting one side of his mouth until he let it fall back into place.

“She gave you the sword and the scabbard,” Ankarette said pointedly.

“And you want to know where they are now,” he replied with an evasive smile.

“Yes, that is true. As I told you when we met, that was my mission—to find out where King Lewis was hiding them.”

“And now you know from my story that they weren’t taken from her when she was captured,” he added.

“Exactly. She was given over to Deford’s men eventually after being in the custody of the King of Brugia. While tracing the origins and history of the blade, I spent some time in Brugia to see if I could discover rumors of it there. It’s safer visiting Brugia than Occitania at the present. I have it from reliable sources, who were poisoned and quite cooperative, that the sword they took from the Maid when she was captured did not have the markings. I knew nothing of the scabbard’s power until your tale, so naturally I’m eager to find it as well. It would be a great asset to my king.”

“It would indeed. As I said, the blade once belonged to King Andrew. The scabbard also did, though it originated in Leoneyis. The histories of the legends of the Lady of the Fountain show that when the need arises, the blade and scabbard will return to the land.”

“But they have both been missing since the Maid’s war,” Ankarette said. “She brought them back and then they were lost. She gave them both to you.” She could hear her own eagerness in her voice. “You mentioned before how much you coveted them. Then they were freely given to you. Why would she do that?”

He looked away from her, staring at the curtain, his face clouding with fatigue and sadness. “I don’t have the sword anymore,” he whispered.

“I didn’t think so,” Ankarette said. “You’ve been imprisoned several times for rebelling against King Chatriyon. The only reason Lewis didn’t execute you long ago is because you’re somewhat of a hero among the people. You are noble in a court that is lewd. You are still her Gentle Duke.”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “That was many years ago. I was very young. I was no stranger to suffering, but I did not realize how much I’d be schooled in it later.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You wanted the full story, and I will give it to you, Ankarette.” He looked her in the eye. “These are painful memories. I’ve not shared them with anyone in a very long time. But I trust that you will keep my secrets. And share my pain.”

She reached over and laid her hand on top of his. “I’ll tell you what I know and you fill in the gaps. There is comfort in sharing another’s pain. I’ve seen my own share of sadness as well.”

A crooked smile stole across his mouth. “I don’t doubt it.”

Ankarette released his hand and then cupped hers together in her lap. “King Chatriyon refused to ransom the Maid. Not that he could have afforded it, even if he were so inclined. She was taken by the King of Brugia but held in custody at the castle of one of his liegemen, the Count of Luxe, who had gone with him to Occitania.”

“You are well-read, Ankarette,” he said approvingly. “Very few remember the name of the Count of Luxe. Do you know it?”

“His name was Peter,” Ankarette said. “I know this trite piece of history because my master’s wife, the Queen of Ceredigion, is his granddaughter.”

An ironic smile crossed the duke’s mouth. “Isn’t it strange how events twist and turn and come around again? We all play parts upon some grand stage. The Fountain wills the roles.” He shook his head. “Yes, Peter of Luxe had a daughter named Jaquette. She was born the year Occitania fell in the Battle of Azinkeep. You remember that Deford was married to the King of Brugia’s sister?”

“Yes,” Ankarette said. “You mentioned that in your tale.”

“She died. Some thought a poisoner did it because they were childless.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if that is true. But his second wife was her.”