Page 23

It's just before noon and I've been in conference with the High Council since early this morning. I’ve been presented with one issue after another with no resolutions, only disagreements and petty arguments.

Between all of those, my increasing hunger, and a fitful night's sleep, I'm quickly running out of patience with the whole disagreeable lot and am about to call an end to the meeting, when the trumpets sound and the Master of Ceremonies announces the arrival of the Holy Cleric.

“All hail the Holy Cleric, please rise,” the Master of Ceremonies commands the High Council as the Holy Cleric makes his entrance.

I was given notice of his intention to attend today’s meeting of the High Council this morning and can only think I have the Grand Master to thank for his presence here.

He enters the Grand Hall flanked by a number of acolytes.

He is dressed in bright red, his cloak billowing out behind him, and his acolytes in canary yellow.

The overall effect is one of an approaching flame, which, judging by the Holy Cleric’s face, might not be altogether incorrect.

He doesn’t usually attend the weekly meetings of the High Council, having made it quite clear he has far more important matters to attend to in his role as the spiritual leader of the people.

His regular absence is something I am most grateful for and I accept it as one of the small mercies I am permitted in my role as queen.

Therefore, I am somewhat unnerved by his presence here this morning, it can only signify he has something on his mind which I presume he won’t delay in letting me know.

He halts his march a few feet away from me and performs a slight nod. “Your Majesty, I trust you are well recovered from your recent period of indisposition?”

“I am, Holy Cleric, thank you,” I reply. “Pray tell, to what do we owe the honour of your presence here today?”

“I'm here to discuss the arrival in the castle of the emissary from Ellerban and also to offer my advice in the matter of Lord Greythorne’s proposal. I believe a decision in relation to the latter must be forthcoming sooner rather than later.”

How very interesting, I muse, yet another of my so-called advisors who is overly concerned with the presence of the prince in the castle. Why are they all so worried?

“What is it you wish to know about the emissary?” I ask.

“Can you disclose to us the subject of your discussion with the emissary? And was there any particular reason for you dining with the emissary in private? This is most irregular, and I must ask if this was a condition he insisted upon?” The note of censure in his voice is unmistakable and I’m in no doubt that the purpose of his presence here today is twofold.

One, he wishes to find out more about the prince and two, he wishes to express his displeasure at not being invited to dine with me and the prince and also to publicly reprimand me for dining with him in private.

I’m having none of his disrespectful attitude and in as haughty a tone as I can muster, I ask, “Are you quite finished? Or are there any more questions you wish to fling at me, Holy Cleric?”

The warning in my voice hits its mark and he visibly pulls his neck in. “No, that is all, my Queen. Apologies if my desire for information offends you, but a surprise visit by an emissary from Ellerban is out of the ordinary and I have a number of concerns in this regard.”

“You need not worry yourself with the emissary and the purpose of his visit any longer. I dined in private with the emissary last night as I felt it was unfair to expect him to attend an official banquet after the attack he suffered on his journey here, and with his men still suffering gravely from their injuries.”

“So, a private audience wasn't something he insisted upon,” the Holy Cleric asks.

“No, it was I who suggested the emissary dine with me in my private quarters,” I reply. “And I can confirm he is here to discuss hunting rights to the red pig and the issue of increasing incursions by Greythorne’s men into Ellerban.”

The Holy Cleric looks at me suspiciously. “That is all?”

“That is all,” I reply. “And as soon as he has sufficiently recovered from his journey and his men are in better health, I will organise an official banquet. Until then, I intend for the emissary to be treated as a highly regarded guest of the castle and accorded due respect. Now, what is it you wish to know about Lord Greythorne?”

“I presume you had time to consider your response to his proposal whilst you were indisposed, Majesty, and have come to a decision.”

The implication in his words and accompanying snide tone is that I was using the excuse of being unwell to avoid any contact with the High Council and thereby not expose myself to their influence.

The latter being something the Holy Cleric and Grand Master like to inflict upon me at every opportunity.

“Firstly, Holy Cleric, I do not consider Lord Greythorne’s demand a proposal. It is a demand with a threat attached and not something I deem warrants a response at all.”

There is a collective gasp at my words, followed by a low rumble of mumbling and shaking of heads.

The Holy Cleric’s dark eyebrows furrow together into a severe frown. “You cannot be serious, Majesty,” he declares, and I don’t miss the anger in his voice. “To treat his proposal as such would enrage Lord Greythorne, and that would be most unwise.”

I wait several moments before I speak, a trick I learned from my grandmother, which is most effective at unnerving the person with whom you are in an argument.

“There you go again, Holy Cleric, calling it a proposal when it is anything but, and I didn’t say I wouldn’t respond, merely that I believe I shouldn’t.

How wonderful my life would be if I could simply do as I wish.

Suffice to say I’m working on a solution, but no final decision has been made yet and I will inform this council of any such decision when I see fit. ”

The Holy Cleric looks most displeased with my response but before he can say anything the Grand Master jumps to his feet.

“My Queen,” he announces, “I would strongly urge you not to take too long in making your decision, there is no benefit to be gained by irking Lord Greythorne any further. On the contrary, it would perhaps endear you to him should you show some enthusiasm for his proposal.”

I’m so incensed by his words, I can hardly breathe. Irk Greythorne? To hell with irking him, I plan to downright infuriate him! Somehow, I manage to get my fury and breathing under control. I rise from my seat and deliberately walk very slowly over to the Grand Master.

The Grand Hall stills in silence and it’s as if time itself has stopped as I look him in the eye. “It would seem, Grand Master you need a reminder of who exactly rules this realm. Kneel before your queen,” I command, my voice as sharp as cut glass.

His mouth falls open in shock and he stands there looking at me like a stunned mullet. “Now!” I bellow into his face.

He drops to his knees and stares at the floor. “I’m s...s...sorry, my Queen,” he stutters. “I didn’t mean to cause offence.”

I turn to face the Holy Cleric and the rest of the council.

“You would all do well to remember that you are simply here in an advisory capacity. I am the queen of the realm and ultimately the decisions that affect the fate of this land rest with me. I won’t be rushed or harried when it comes to making those decisions, and now I am taking my leave of this meeting.

I’ve had quite enough of this assembly for one day.

” Let them put that in their pipes and smoke it.

With that I gather up my skirts and march from the room. As soon as the door slams shut behind me I lean my shaking body against it. I’ve never spoken to the council like that and I’m not sure what came over me to speak in such a manner now.

All I know is, since returning from Ellerban I somehow feel different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I feel less shackled by my duties as queen and have a growing sense of possibility – the possibility that my reign can be different. I can be different.

I’ve also had an unfamiliar hum of energy buzzing through me all day which has put me slightly on edge. I’ve found it increasingly difficult to concentrate and feel distracted, but I don't know by what, like I've been upended by an unseen force and knocked off centre.

I straighten myself against the door, take a deep, steadying breath and set off at a quick pace for my chambers.

The amount of time it takes me to get there isn’t enough for me to burn off the anger simmering in my veins or the strange energy I’ve felt all day.

The latter has now transformed into a heightened tension and I feel as taut as a bowstring stretched almost to release point.

Release. I realise that’s exactly what I need and I know just where to get it.

I quickly free myself from the confines of my gown and don the black leather and war cloth of my Khaleeni uniform.

I pull on my boots and fasten the cloak around my shoulders, grab my sword and press the stone that opens the secret passageway to the Khaleeni camp.

Fifteen minutes later I’m leaning over the balcony of the main building of the camp, watching Kes and Ailish practice their swordplay in the courtyard below.

The clash of metal on metal and the flash of sparks from metal on stone heightens my restlessness and I dash down the stairs, eager to join in.

I wait until both warriors have parted before asking if I can join.

“You can take my place, Majesty,” Ailish replies. “I have some business I need to attend to.”

“You mean you need to leave before I wipe these stones with you.” Kes laughs.

“Dream on, Commander,” Ailish laughs in return as she slaps Kes across the back and turns to walk away.