Now this last day in Torunn was wheeling to a close. The sun had disappeared behind the white summits of the Cimbrics in the west and Andruw was seeing to the last details of the command’s organization. Corfe set off for the Royal palace and his audience with the Queen Dowager, and so preoccupied was he with the events of the day and the planning for tomorrow that he did not take off the scarlet Merduk armour, but wore it through the corridors of the Royal apartments to the bafflement and dismay of footmen and courtiers.
“L EAVE us,” the Queen Dowager Odelia said sharply when Corfe was shown into her apartments by a gaping doorman.
They were not in the circular chamber this time, but in a broad hall-like room with a huge fireplace occupying one wall, logs the thickness of Corfe’s thighs burning within it and iron firedogs silhouetted against the flames. The fire was the only light in the room. Corfe sensed rafters overhead, invisible with height. The walls were heavily curtained, as was the other end of the room. Rugs on the floor, soft under his boots after the stone of the palace corridors. The sweetness of a gleaming censer hanging by long chains from the ceiling. Crystal sparkling with firelight on a low table, comfortable divans drawn up to the fire. The place was how Corfe imagined a sultan’s chambers might be, upholstered and draped and hidden, hardly any bare stonework visible. He took off his brutal helm and bowed to the golden-haired woman whose skin seemed to glow in the hearthlight.
“You look like a bogey-man destined for the terrifying of children, Corfe,” Odelia said in that low tone of hers. A voice as dark as heather-honey, it could also cut like a switch.
“Take off the armour, for pity’s sake. You need not fear assault here. Where in the world did you get it from anyway?”
“We must make do with what we can get, lady,” Corfe said, frowning as his fingers sought the releasing straps and buckles. He was not yet familiar with the working of this harness, and he found himself twisting and turning in an effort to take it off.
The Queen Dowager began to laugh. “We had a contortionist come to amuse the court with his antics last spring. I swear, Colonel, you put him to shame. Here, let me help.”
She rose to her feet with a whisper of skirts, and Corfe could have sworn he saw something black scuttle from beneath them into the shadows beyond the firelight. He paused in his struggles, but then Odelia was before him and her nimble fingers were searching his armour for the straps which would loosen it. She had his back-and breastplates off in a twinkling. They thumped dully on the rug, and after them in swift succession came the vambraces, the baldric which supported his sabre, his gorget, pauldrons, thigh-guards and gauntlets. He was left standing amid a pile of glinting metal, feeling oddly exposed. He realized he had enjoyed the sensation of her hands working about him and he was almost disappointed when she stepped back.
“There! Now you can sit and sup with me like a civilized man—if a badly dressed one. What happened to the fine clothes I had the tailor run up for you?”
“These are my campaigning clothes,” Corfe said awkwardly. “I take my command out at dawn.”
“Ah, I see. Have a seat then, and some wine. Stop standing there like a graven image.”
She was different this time, almost coquettish, whereas before she had been intense, dangerous. In the kindly light of the fire she seemed a young woman, or would were it not for the veins thrown into vivid relief on the backs of her hands.
He sipped at the wine, hardly aware of it. The fire cracked and spat like a cat. He wondered if he dare ask her what he was doing here.
“The King knows of your . . . patronage,” he said as she sat as if waiting for him to begin. Her gaze was alarmingly direct. It seemed to draw the words out of him. “I do not think he approves of it.”
“Of course he does not. He resents what he sees as my interference in his affairs, though they were my affairs before he was born. I am not a figurehead or a cipher in this kingdom, Corfe, as you should know by now. But I am not the hidden power behind the throne, either. Lofantyr grows into his kingship at last, which is good. But he still needs someone to watch over his shoulder sometimes. That is the burden I have taken upon myself.”
“You may have set me up for professional ruin, lady.”
“Nonsense. I knew you would equip your men somehow, just as I know that you and your command will acquit yourselves admirably in the fighting to come. And if you do not, then you are not worth worrying about and I shall cast about until I find another promising soldier to bring under my eye.”
“I see,” Corfe said stiffly.
“We are all expendable, Corfe, even those of us who wear crowns. The good of Torunna, of the whole of the west, must come first. This kingdom needs capable officers, not sycophants who know how to nod at Lofantyr’s every suggestion.”
“I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be able to accomplish with my five hundred savages in the south.”
“You will do as you are told. Listen: Lofantyr has begun outfitting what he sees as the true expedition to bring the rebellious southern fiefs to heel. It will be under the command of one Colonel Aras and will march in a week or ten days. Two thousand foot, five hundred horse and a train of six guns.”
Corfe scowled. “A goodly force.”
“Yes. You are being sent to deal with Ordinac at Hedeby—not one of the most important rebels, but the king feels he will be more than capable of tying down your motley command; he can put over a thousand men into the field. By the time you have been trounced by him, Colonel Aras and his command will have arrived on the scene to pick up the pieces, send you back to the capital in disgrace and get on with the real work of the campaign, the defeat of Duke Narfintyr at Staed.”
“I see the King has everything planned in advance,” Corfe said. “Is there any hope for my men and me, then?”
“I can only tell you this: you must defeat Ordinac speedily and move on to Staed. Colonel Aras does not outrank you and thus cannot give you orders. If you both arrive together at Staed, you will have to share the conduct of the campaign between you and thus there will be a greater chance of success for you and your men.”
“What do you think of my chances, lady?”
She smiled. “I told you once before, Corfe: I think you are a man of luck. You will need all your luck if you are to prosper in this particular venture.”
“Is this a test you’ve had the King set for me?”
She leaned closer. The firelight made a garden of shadows out of her features, started up green fires in her eyes. Corfe could feel her breath on his skin.
“It is a test, yes. I promise you, Corfe, if you pass it, you will move on to better things.”
Abruptly she grasped his worn tunic and pulled him close. She kissed him full on the lips, softly at first and then with gathering pressure. Her eyes were open, laughing at his shock, and that suddenly angered him. He buried his fists in the gathered hair at her nape and crushed her mouth against his.