He addressed Serovek first. “If they've come for the Order, don't linger. Your horses are waiting in the stables. Someone is saddling them as we speak. There's a rear gate big enough for a pony cart to get through and leads directly into the woods. No one can see it from the path leading to the main gate. You'll be gone before the fighting starts.”
“You have our sword arms if you wish them,” Serovek said. “We'll stand with you.” Anhuset nodded her agreement.
Tionfa's wry smile belied the resolute flatness in his gaze. “You know as well as I do that the margrave of High Salure cannot fight with the Jeden Order against his own king.” He turned to Anhuset. “And you are an ambassador for the Khaskem. Joining us would be seen as a declaration of war by Bast-Haradis.”
Serovek's shoulders drooped. “I'd hoped you might say something different, but I'm not surprised.”
“You knew you'd have to remain neutral.”
Serovek nodded. “Allow us to stay long enough to learn what they want.”
The abbot nodded. “So be it. Come with me. You can stand out of sight near one of the battlements and hear both parties.”
Anhuset stayed next to Serovek as they followed the abbot and a contingent of monks up three flights of stairs and onto the monastery's roof with its high, crenelated walls. The Beladine troops had crossed the bridge and paused outside the gate, their armor and weapons flashing in the bright morning sun. Their commander nudged his horse forward. The creak of wood as bows were drawn sounded loud in the tense silence.
Tionfa kept his profile to the company below as he showed himself at the battlement's edge. He carried a shield to duck behind in case of arrow fire.
“Pray some idiot archer doesn't lose his grip on the string and fire off an arrow,” Anhuset muttered to Serovek.
“Now would be a very good time to pray,” he replied.
The troop's leader gazed up at Tionfa. “Abbot Tionfa, we haven't come to fight.”
“By the look of you, you haven't come to have tea either,” Tionfa said. “What business does the Royal Beladine have with the Jeden Order?”
“We come on command of King Rodan for Serovek Pangion, margrave of High Salure.” There was a short, gravid pause. “He is under arrest.”
Tionfa glanced briefly at Serovek, who'd gone pale and scowling. “On what charge?”
Anhuset's unease exploded into outright fury when the troop captain replied.
“Treason against the kingdom. Sedition against the crown.”
Chapter Fourteen
A romance unlike any other.
Serovek heard the words as if from a far distance. Treason. Sedition. Words that were the antithesis of everything that his life was define as a faithful military governor to the Beladine kingdom. He'd never much cared for the wily old king, and he'd exercised his leadership of High Salure in ways His Majesty might not approve, such as his friendship with Brishen Khaskem, but he'd never been disloyal to his country or his king.
“What madness is this?” Anhuset's eyes were like torches, her lips drawn back to expose her teeth as she demanded an explanation.
His thoughts racing, Serovek stared past her and didn't answer.
This was Bryzant's doing. Of that, he had no doubt. His steward, excellent with accounts, was also obviously a fair hand with strategy. He hadn't relied on one plan to get rid of Serovek. He had two. If an upstart warlord with delusions of kingship failed to do it, then a king consumed by paranoia and jealousy just might.
Popularity wasn't a sin unless it bought one the admiration of a kingdom's populace. Then it became a threat, at least to the current ruler. What venom had Bryzant poured into the king's ear to convince him his suspicions were not only unfounded, but so much worse in truth? Another thought made Serovek's blood run cold. He was currently in a stronghold, just not his, and if a contingent of the king's men had ridden this far to capture him, what was going on at High Salure?
“Say the word,” Anhuset continued. Her hand dropped to her sword pommel. “I will fight with you against this idiocy.”
This woman, parsimonious with her displays of affection, willingly courted her own death to defend him. A romance unlike any other, he thought with an inner smile. He stroked her arm.
“Ah, firefly woman, how I wish such a situation might be solved with the hard swing of a blade and some bloodletting,” he said. “Unfortunately, this isn't one of those time and will require a lot more delicacy if we don't want to start a war on two fronts.”
The abbot employed an old but effective tactic of delaying any acknowledgment the commander's statements, allowing Serovek time to plan what he might do. He shouted over the battlements, “Why would you think the margrave of High Salure is here?”
“Let's not play games, abbot,” the troop's leader shouted back. “Half the valley knows he's here, along with a Kai ambassador from Bast-Haradis.”
Tionfa glanced at Serovek, one eyebrow raised in question.
“Tell him sha-Anhuset is no longer here. That there was no reason for her to stay once we brought Megiddo safely to you, and she's returned to Bast-Haradis.”
“What are you doing?” Anhuset practically hissed the question.
When Tionfa relayed Serovek's words, the troop leader shrugged. “She isn't our first concern. We're here for the margrave. If you don't turn him over to us, we'll simply return with a larger force and take him.”
Serovek had expected just such an answer and was ready with one of his own when the abbot said “What do you wish to do?”
“Give myself up, of course.”
This time Anhuset shoved him. “Are you mad too?” she snapped. “That's an admission of guilt, and you aren't guilty.”
He grabbed her shoulders. She was stiffer than a pike stand. “Listen to me. I hoped something like this wouldn't happen, though I'm not surprised it did. This is Bryzant's doing. I know it. A secondary plan in case Chamtivos didn't successfully complete his task. I can explain more later.”
Not at all appeased, she lashed out at him. “You say that as if you'll live to do so.”
He'd have to step carefully and present his argument posthaste, before she decided he was too much of a dimwit to understand his own dire circumstances and take the decisions out of his hands. He wouldn't put it past her to suddenly pull back and punch him hard enough to knock him unconscious.
“That's certainly my intention.” He stroked her arms, speaking urgently. There was only so long the troop's captain would be this patient. “Rodan is a suspicious bastard who sees a threat to the throne in every shadow behind every tree, but he's also clever and a good strategist.
“He has two advantages in play at the moment. I'm away from High Salure, in the territory of a rebel warlord, and enjoying the hospitality of priests many in this kingdom consider heretics. If I remain behind these walls, Rodan will raze my fortress to the ground and arrest those he considers loyal to me. He'll then send a full army to attack the monastery and declare the Nazim heretical.” Tionfa's nod and grim face lent strength to his argument. “This valley finally has a chance for peace. It doesn't need another conflict created by a one man's ambitions or, in my case, one man's innocence. I'm no more guilty than you or the abbot here, but if I don't willingly turn myself over to them, the repercussions will be far greater than my arrest. War started, lives unnecessarily lost. And you need to be well away from any of it. You know as well as I do that Rodan has been spoiling for war with Bast-Haradis since King Djedor signed that trade agreement with the Gauri.”