I'm not sure about this.
Input appreciated.
CHAPTER ONE
The Earl of Hest shuffled from his gaurderobe, nightrobe hoisted above his hips. Still ranting in his deep, gruff voice, he bent for Wyne’s attention.
The groom of the stool went about his menial task, dabbing at Caedwalla’s proffered rump with a linen wad. Heolster Baleback took a sip from his goblet to hide a frown, his leige lord’s tirade background noise to growing concern
. It was not Wyne’s duty which caused Baleback’s brows to crease, nor the sight of Caedwalla’s uptilted arse; as gentleman of the bedchamber these nightly ablutions were a matter of course. The frown came at the smear of blood punctuating each faecal streak, expertly folded into the moist rag with every swipe Wyne made.
Since the excommunication edict, he mused, running a hand through the remains of his hair.
He bleeds more since the Church took his redemption. The irony! To face death now when there is no assurance of passing Heaven’s gate. Furtive glances his direction from Wyne warned him of a minor conspiracy between the Earl and his groom. As if hiding this would make it any less real.
The fools. Damn them, the bloody fools!
" How long must you continue in this, your Grace?"
Caedwalla paused in his rant, glowering back over his shoulder. Heolster studied the craggy face, worn and weary. The war and illness had robbed his eyes of their vitality. Where before that glare could set a man to trembling under its scrutiny, now they were tired, the lustre washed away.
"With what? The war? As long as it takes, old friend. Until the Henthetites tremble at the merest mention of my name. Until the end of days, if needs be. Damn it, Heol, what would you-"
" Do not play the fool, Caedwalla The Betlic. We have been friends too long for such games." He indicated the blood smeared pad of linen. " I refer to that. You bleed."
Wyne made a feeble effort to hide the rag, muttering as his tunic became smeared in the attempt
.
" I bleed, my soldiers bleed - what of it? Piles, God preserve me Heol. I have piles. Like the grapes of Delphi, hanging ripe for the plucking." His glower grew more fierce, brown eyes flashing. " You’d bleed too, with grapes such as these and a clumsy oaf wiping your noble arse. It is wine I make on the privey seat, and Wyne here is my vintner. Besides, it is right for a ruler to shat blood. A measure of the cold seat I sit in a draughty hall while the common-folk make petitions of their small cares." He waved Wyne away, grumbling for wine. Another change since the Church’s edict.
He gulps wine as a fish sups water. Oh my friend, how these days try you!
" Piles be damned Caed! It is past time you sought a healer," he raised a finger to his liege.
"
Before it is too late. The girl, perhaps? They say she has performed miracles for the peasants. She may heal what ails you
, in return for the kindness of your protection." He hooked a thumb at the groom as he returned bearing a silver platter and slopping goblet.
" ...and I know the whispers you make with
that wretch when my back is turned - to hold his cur tongue about how your gut boils, how your back knots in agony. You are not a patient man. Believe me, I
know! You would not keep such as he close, who slops your wine with no care, were he not so close lipped on your secrets."
Caedwalla bristled, batting Baleback’s finger aside and jabbing his own thick forefinger into his friends chest.
" You will beware of raising a finger to me, sir! I like it not and you’d be well to remember that. Enough on this, keep your tongue on it. Enough I say!"
Heolster glared back, then lowered his eyes, chastened. Lifelong friend or no, it was not wise to anger the Earl. In their youth he’d learned that lesson the hard way, when they were but pages in the Tyracant king’s household. The white scar which ran from his lip to chin was a constant reminder of Caedwalla’s temper. He fingered it now and studied the other man closely. The earl had shed weight over the last month leaving his face sallow and pale. Whilst still barrel chested and broad as a bear, muscle had grown lax and hung limp from once firm arms. Caedwalla had once boasted of being able to throw a javelin as far and as hard as a scorpion. Now, Heolster noticed with horror, he struggled to raise his cup to his lips.
Tommorow, he promised.
Tommorow I will bring the girl to see him. Or maybe the painted man from the city . The old fool can’t shy away from a healer if I set one before him.
The Earl grunted as he sat on the huge bed, wincing as he shifted his weight for comfort. His eyes dared comment.
" Sit, Baleback and be thankful I am not a resentful ruler. I doubt His Majesty’s man would be so glib about the royal arse - why would I permit my chamber man to be so?" He nodded to a high backed chair by the bed.
Settling, Heolster grinned to ease the air between them.
" Because Henri’s man is naught but a sycophant and no friend. Sir Douglas Fairestowes, I recall. He’d baulk at the sight of his King’s shitty hole but clean it by mouth, for the sniff of new titles."
The Earl laughed, his anger ebbing.
" Aye, you have the right of it there. And we are still friends, even after all these years, are we not?"
" Your Grace...I already have titles and no taste for shit. I do what I do for love. I am your friend, your servant, your council. Be certain on it."
Caedwalla’s smile dropped. Brows still chestnut beneath a greying widows peak, drew tight.
" Then council me true. Your appraisal on our tidings." He glanced to where the message from Lord Renweard lay atop his bedside table. Baleback cleared his throat.
" Camden has the first legion with him and has layered the pass from ford to plain with earthworks. Any push the Henthetites make will result in horrendous losses for them. All he has to do is sit tight behind his pallisade and wait for autumn. Then, the Brusfeld and Faeramari levies must withdraw for the harvest - harried back to their homes by our allies beyond the escarpment. The Churchmen will have to relinquish the pass to escort them back safe. In a month, all that will remain before Renweard’s host, is a sea of grass.
You were wise to support a standing army - they can retain the field while our foe returns to reap."
The earl nodded. " I Surmised as much myself. Yet the Silvershields require coin, where the church’s levies repay obligations. Obligations are free, trained warriors are not. How stands the treasury?"
" It will cover the costs, though barely. The officers of the treasury have new taxes prepared for the city, though if truth be told the Church’s trade embargo has hurt our coffers sorely. I hear Marlin and Muad have suffered a blight. We can negotiate new concessions with these if we are swift enough. Wealth from grain trade with the southrons will generate revenue for the spring campeign." He scratched at his scar, thoughtful. " I would advise you stand down the Silvershields when Indelfin withdraws to winter, though. They can billet in the city and turn their coin over to the merchants. That way, it finds its way back into the treasury faster."
" Agreed." Caedwalla yawned. Once a man for whom sleep was a distraction from carousing, ill health had curbed his youthful excesses. " I must to bed, old friend. We will talk on the morrow, when I am rested."
Baleback stood and bowed.
" Until the morning then. I have a discourse on the early Anamide I want to look over tonight, it is most fascinating. I will-"
" God, man, no! You cherish your mouldy old books, I my sleep. Let us both endulge in our chosen repast, and not bore the other with the details. Go!"
He pulled the thick covers over himself and shooed Baleback away. Picking up the candlestick from the dressing table, Heolster stepped over the snoring Wyne beside the foot of the bed and left the earl’s chambers.
Sleep well, master and dog both. Tommorow...yes, I will bring the girl. You’ll thank me for it one day.
That's the first section of the first chapter. If anyone is interested i will post the remaining section another day. As I said, any advice is appreciated.
) Good imagery. Good dialogue. Strong characters. (I'm curious about the painted man).
