Chapter 8

'Betrayed?' King Duncan said. 'Why would his own people betray him? Last I heard, Erak was a popular choice as Oberjarl.'

It was the following morning and even Baron Arald's spacious office was looking slightly crowded with the members present. In addition to the King and his daughter, Sir Anthony, Crowley, Halt and Pauline, Baron Arald and Sir Rodney, Horace, Gilan, Will and Alyss were all seated around the central desk, where Arald had given deference to the King. Svengal, exhausted by his ride to Araluen, was still sleeping off the effects of the journey. Although, Will thought with grim humour, the effects might be longer lasting than he expected. A novice leader, Svengal would be stiff and sore in every muscle and joint when he awoke.

The previous evening, after Will had reported the basic facts of Svengal's arrival, it had been decided to leave a detailed discussion till the morning. The wedding celebration had continued as if there had been no interruption. That had been Lady Pauline's decision. As she had said to Halt some weeks earlier, this was a big occasion for many of the guests – perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to brush shoulders with royalty.

'Let them enjoy themselves,' she had said. 'We can deal with this in the morning.'

Halt smiled at her as she said it. It was confirmation of the Baron's good judgement in appointing her to her high diplomatic position.

Pauline also had an ulterior motive. She knew full well that this would be one of the few occasions in her life when she would persuade Halt to dance with her and she had no intention of letting it pass merely because Oberjarl Erak had carelessly got himself captured by the Arridi. It was, she thought, a matter of retaining a sense of perspective.

So the dancing and feasting had continued. Then, just before midnight, an open carriage, pulled by two white mares, had arrived at the entrance to the dining hall. The newlyweds led a procession down the central aisle and were cheered aboard by a horde of well-wishers. In addition, hundreds of others had arrived from the village itself, where the Baron had contributed two steers to be roasted and several kegs of ale for a giant outdoor feast.

These newcomers lined the path to the gatehouse, where the massive drawbridge and portcullis were open. Others waited outside, on either side of the road winding down the hill towards the forest. As the carriage passed by, they pelted it with flowers and cheers in equal amounts. Halt, who had spent his life in covert activities, moving unseen and unnoticed through the country, found it a novel and uncomfortable experience to be the centre of attention. He felt strangely exposed without the comforting concealment of his camouflage cloak and slumped low in his seat, trying to disappear into the plush cushions. Lady Pauline, on the other hand, sat upright and waved regally to the cheering people. And since the vast majority of those who arrive to gawk at any wedding go to see the bride in any case, his reticence went largely unnoticed.

'Where will they be going?' a blacksmith's wife asked of nobody in particular as the carriage clattered down the hill.

A housewife next to her – one of those people who always know the answer to every such question, replied with smug certainty.

'I've heard that, deep in the woods, there's a special love-nest been built for them. A bower of flowers and precious materials where they'll spend the night.' Her imagination aided by her own statement, she then added authoritatively, 'What's more, there are specially trained songbirds in the trees and pure white deer will be grazing in the clearing for my lady's enjoyment.'

The actual facts were more mundane. The carriage would stop at the little cabin just at the fringe of the forest, where Halt and Pauline would wait until the crowd had dispersed. Then they would board another, less ornate, carriage drawn by two nondescript bays and return to the castle, where Arald had set aside a suite of rooms as their permanent residence.

So here they all were, discussing the remarkable turn of events that Svengal had brought to their door.

'Erak's popular with the majority,' Will told the King, in answer to his question. 'But there's a small faction in Hallasholm who would like to see him lose his position. Small, but vocal and persistent.'

'I assume our treaty has something to do with this?' Crowley asked. When Halt had led the Skandians to victory over an invading Temujai force, he had capitalised on the situation to create a treaty where large-scale raids on Araluen were discouraged by the Oberjarl. In Erak's case, 'discouraged' translated pretty much as 'forbidden'.

'It doesn't help, that's for sure,' Will said. 'And the anti-Erak faction are using it as a lever to create dissension among the others. But it goes deeper than that.'

'If there's an anti-Erak faction,' Lady Pauline said, 'one assumes that they must also have their own leader in mind. Who might that be? Do we know?'

'We do,' Will told the room. Although he and Horace had both been privy to Svengal's news, they had decided that Will would conduct the briefing for the others. It was part of a Ranger's training to know how to assemble and report facts as cohesively as possible. 'It's a man called Toshak, a crony of Slagor's.'

His eyes met Cassandra's as he said the name and he saw understanding dawning there. Slagor had tried to have Cassandra executed when she and Will had been among the Skandians. Later, she had discovered his part in a plot to betray the Skandian forces to the Temujai.

Alyss saw the byplay between Will and the blonde Princess. Her lips tightened slightly but, trained diplomat that she was, she swiftly composed her features before anyone noticed.

'Slagor?' the King said. 'But surely he's dead? Erak had him executed for treason at the end of the war, didn't he?'

I tried to convince him not to,' Cassandra put in. I thought it was a bad idea and I felt… responsible, I suppose.'

The King shook his head. 'No. It's unpleasant, my dear, but it had to be done. Slagor betrayed his country in time of war. You can't leave people like that unpunished. He deserved what he got and you have nothing to blame yourself for.'

'The Princess has a point, however,' Halt said. And as the others looked at him, he went on to explain, 'Executing a criminal often makes a martyr of him. Once he's dead and gone, people all too often forget the crimes he's committed and start to see a more sanitised version. A person like that starts to be seen as a victim, then as a figurehead for anyone who has an axe to grind. No pun intended,' he added, remembering that Slagor had been beheaded. Will nodded in agreement. 'That's pretty much the way Erak sees it, according to Svengal. Toshak, the leader of a rebel clique, doesn't give a fig about Slagor's fate. He's using him as a symbol to further his own purpose. Which is to take over as Oberjarl.'

The King nodded slowly. It made sense. 'Which is why Erak doesn't want Svengal going back to Skandia with the news that he's been captured – and that it'll cost the Skandians eighty thousand reels to get him back. It might be quicker and cheaper just to elect a new Oberjarl.'

Sir Rodney had listened to the conversation so far without speaking. Now he frowned thoughtfully and posed a question.

'Given that there may be people who want Erak out of the way, that's still no proof that they were involved in his capture, is it?' he asked. 'After all, that might just have been good luck on the part of the Arridi.'

Will nodded. 'That could be right, Sir Rodney. But there's more to it. The Skandian raiding fleet meets before any raiding season and assigns territories by lot. So the other captains – and Toshak was one of them – knew Erak's ship would be raiding that part of the coast.'

'Still,' Crowley said, 'Rodney has a good point. It could have been simple luck on the Arridi's part that allowed them to ambush Erak. They could have heard a wolfship was in the area and set up the trap – arranging to sell him the false timetable. There's no hard evidence that Toshak was involved.'

'Except for one thing,' Horace put in. He felt Will was being besieged on all sides and might need a little help. 'They weren't just waiting for any wolfship. They knew it was Erak who was coming and they knew he was the Oberjarl. Only a Skandian could have told them that.'

Rodney and Crowley both nodded thoughtfully, seeing the logic in the argument. Cassandra was watching her father anxiously. She felt they were getting off the real point.

'We'll lend Erak the money, won't we, Dad?' she said. Her father looked up at her. He was inclined to do so, but he hadn't totally made up his mind. Eighty thousand was a lot of money. Not a crippling amount, admittedly. But it wasn't a sum you would just throw away.

'I'm sure Erak is good for the money, your majesty,' Halt said. He had already decided that, in the unlikely event that Duncan wouldn't agree to the loan, he would go and shake Erak free of the clutches of the Arridi tribesmen.

'Yes, yes,' Duncan said, still considering. 'And the actual amount is sure to be less. The Arridi would be insulted if we didn't haggle a little.'

'I owe Erak my life, Father,' Cassandra said quietly, but firmly. The use of the word 'father' alerted Duncan to the fact that she was beginning to think he might be reluctant to help Erak. Before he could say anything, she continued.

'Not just when he helped Will and me to escape. But later, when Slagor exposed my true identity and tried to have me killed, Erak was ready to get me away then.'

Duncan raised a hand to calm her down. He could hear her voice rising in pitch and he didn't want a confrontation with so many people present.

'Cassie, I fully intend to pay the ransom. It's the mechanics of the whole thing that are a little difficult.' He could see that this statement satisfied his daughter, but she looked puzzled, so he went on. 'For a start, I'm not putting eighty thousand reels – or whatever the final amount might be – on a wolfship and waving goodbye as it sails off for Arrida. There's too great a chance that it could be lost… storms, shipwrecks, pirates. It's too risky.'

Lord Anthony coughed apologetically. 'There's always the Silasian Council, your majesty,' he said, and Duncan nodded in his direction.

'That's what I was thinking, Anthony.'

The Silasian Council was a cartel that traded in currencies, rather than in goods. They provided a means by which countries could exchange funds without the risk of dispatching actual cash or bullion on long perilous journeys. Countries deposited money with the Silasians, who paid interest to the depositor. They also undertook to deliver any amounts that might require transfer – either in fact or as deposits from one country's account to another. The council took a percentage of each transaction as its fee and guaranteed safe passage of funds as part of its service. The risk of loss during transfers was more than covered by their fee.

'Are the Arridi signatories to the Silasian agreements, Anthony?' Duncan asked his Chamberlain now. Lord Anthony's face twisted in thought.

'I doubt it, your majesty. At the last listing, they weren't there.'

'In which case, we'll have to arrange for the Council to do an actual cash delivery. That means someone will have to negotiate the terms and the final amount with the Arridi and get them to agree to the arrangement, and the fee to be paid to the Silasians.'

Fees were usually paid by both sender and receiver.

'I can do that, your majesty,' said Halt quickly. But the King shook his head.

'No. I'm afraid you can't, Halt. There's a protocol involved. We're dealing with the ransom of the ruler of a country. And on the practical side, there are negotiations to be carried out. That needs someone of high rank – a national seal-bearer. It is a matter of national funds so it needs someone of royal rank. Ideally, I should go myself.'

Halt shrugged. That would be fine with him.

Then Duncan added, in a frustrated tone, 'But I can't at the moment. I'm supposed to be organising the peace talks between four of the six Hibernian kings. They'll fall apart if I don't arbitrate among them.'

'Then give me your seal and I'll go in your place. We'll say I'm your long-lost cousin,' Halt said. He had very little time for the proper way of doing things. Duncan sighed and looked at Crowley.

'Have you never explained to your wild man how the system of royal seals and signets works in the civilised world, Crowley?'

Crowley raised his eyebrows. He suspected that Halt had engaged in numerous fraudulent activities to do with royal seals over the past twenty years. But this time, they couldn't take the risk.

'The royal seal can only be used by a member of the royal family, as you know, Halt,' said Lord Anthony. 'If you were to use it, any negotiations you carried out, and any agreements you reached, would be fraudulent and therefore void. If that were exposed, it would take years for Araluen to regain the trust of other countries. We can't risk that.'

Halt snorted, his usual reaction to formalities and protocols. Lady Pauline placed a calming hand over his own and he looked at her and shrugged apologetically. Then, trying to keep his voice reasonable, he asked: 'Couldn't you give me a warrant to act on your behalf, signed over your seal?'

'If it were another country – Teutlandt or Gallica, for example – that's exactly what I'd do,' Duncan replied. 'But unfortunately, even though the Arridi speak the common tongue, they have their own alphabet and written language, which bears no resemblance to ours. We have nobody who can write or read it and presumably they have nobody who can read ours. So a warrant authorising you to act on my behalf might just as well be a shopping list given under my seal.' Duncan paused, chewing his bottom lip in frustration. 'No. I'll have to go myself,' he said. 'But it'll have to wait till I've dealt with these damned Hibernians. No offence, Halt,' he added, remembering that Halt had originally come from that irrational country. Halt shook his head.

'None taken, your majesty. But there must be some other way,' he insisted.

'The answer is staring us all in the face,' Cassandra said. 'I'll go.'

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