The continued delicacy with which Arthur Uriel Banes, formerly Arthur Chubs, formerly Mr. Chubs, was handled by the guards – plural, several more had joined the first one – left him reeling in shock and suspicion. Was he going to be executed? He barked a laugh at the thought. It would serve him right.
Reaching Forbearn was a pleasant journey of five days. Because he was in the company of the royal guard, he had everything he could need. He wasn’t even really a prisoner, considering. The only thing they had done was ensure a guard was stuck to him like a leech. Since he hadn’t fought the first guard, they had decided he wasn’t a flight risk. So they more or less left him alone as they looked forward to an end to their quest and a return to home and sweethearts.
When they were half a day away from the palace, the company stopped. Had Arthur not been observing them, he wouldn’t have realized they were hiding. Why they would want to…before he could finish the thought, he heard the trumpets. He had been at court too long, and attended to Reifire for too long to not know what it was.
It was a herald announcing the arrival of King Janah.
His first instinct was to hide himself. But then he decided to approach the flap of his tent to see what was happening. He hadn’t seen Janah in close to twenty years. He was keen to catch his first glimpse of the boy…a boy who was well on his way to being forty years old!
He had his father’s slim shoulders, he noted. Tall, strong but not bulky. Then he, like his father, had worked more on his speed and agility than brute strength. Despite himself, Arthur found himself nodding, his chest puffing in pride.
He wore a simple shirt, robe and pants. There were no adornments on his person to declare he was king. Except his bearing, his eyes, the way he effortlessly took control of the camp and brought the guard leaders to heel. He was a king alright, even without the accoutrements.
Reifire would have hated this boy, thought Arthur suddenly, a conviction so strong he felt breathless. Janah looked too self-assured, too in-command. Like he didn’t need the accoutrements to proclaim his rank. He led by example.
Arthur smiled ruefully and turned away. Tears were prickling his eyes. Maybe this was Janah and his mother’s ultimate revenge. To ensure he did not turn out anything like his father. And yet, Arthur couldn’t fault them. From that one glimpse, he could tell Janah was a fine king.
At least it had been worth it, thought Arthur, tears falling, a sob working to free itself from his throat. At least the five of them had done one good thing.
*
He was brought to Janah’s tent close to midnight. If the move had meant to teach Arthur he was an inconvenience and here only on the good humour of his king, nothing could have communicated it better.
“Leave us,” commanded Janah and the three people inside the tent left immediately. Not even token protests were offered. The guards that had been outside the tent also left.
“Planning to kill me then?” asked Arthur flippantly.
Janah reached him with two quick strides. When he had had removed the sword from its scabbard Arthur did not know. The tip of the sword touched Arthur’s throat. It was a light touch. Not a threat but a warning.
“I should, for killing my father, your king.”
He didn’t take the warning. Though his heart was beating in his chest and he was in danger of emptying his bladder, he said, “Are you saying you’re not enjoying being the king?”
The tip dug into Arthur’s throat. He didn’t dare swallow even though his throat was parched now. He stared into Janah’s eyes, so like his father’s and yet without its madness.
Janah grinned, but there was no humour in his grin. He removed the sword and sheathed it. “Sit. Please.”
Arthur was trembling as he made his way to sit at the chair to Janah’s left. The king poured them both a measure of brandy, clinked their glasses and studied him.
He squirmed but tolerated the scrutiny. He gulped the brandy and then reached out for the bottle, without invitation, and poured another.
“Have you been treated well?”
He spilt some of the brandy at the inane question. “Yes. Your guards are commendable. They obeyed you not just in letter but spirit too.” He raised his glass as if in salute and drank a sip.
“When did you decide to kill him then?”
The brandy went in the wrong way and Arthur had to cough and hit his chest to get it out. “We…” at his raised eyebrow, he amended, “I had thought he was getting better. You remember when he invited you and Romeena back to court?”
Janah nodded though his lips were pinched.
“I had thought the madness had passed. Then I saw the dungeons. That’s when I knew it wouldn’t pass. He’d destroy the empire that he had built for…”
When Arthur did not speak further, Janah got up and started to pace. “That’s the question I haven’t been able to understand. Executing the troupe I can understand. I don’t but I can find it in my heart to forgive it. But the rest. What followed? I cannot.”
Arthur wanted to reassure him. Tell him that there was no reason for him to fear he would turn out like his father. But in all honesty, he couldn’t say that.
“I know you think if you can find a way to explain it you will be able to put it behind you. But there is no explanation Janah. Believe me I have looked. I have looked, and looked, and…”
Another sip, another gasp.
“You just cannot explain some things. It was like a horse gone mad, trying to break away from the stables but instead trapping itself even more.”
He realized it was a bad analogy when Janah said, “Is that why you had to put him down?”
Arthur refused to feel guilty about this. It had been the right thing to do. “Yes,” he said simply. “I tried reasoning with him. Once I left court. I told him I wouldn’t be party to his madness anymore. I…” he stopped. Yes, the court knew what they were to each other, even Janah and Romeena had known, but that didn’t mean he had to rub it in his face.
“Didn’t help?”
It did, for about a month. Reifire had gone insane when he had realized Arthur had left. He had slashed all the clothes in his rooms with his sword and threatened to kill himself if the guards didn’t bring him back. Arthur had returned, feeling triumphant.
“It didn’t,” he said because that was the short answer.
“So the five of you made a plan to assassinate your king.”
“Yes.”
Janah sat back down. His agitation seemed to have left him. He looked only curious now, almost boyishly so. “Tell me how you planned it.”
This is Chapter 24 of 26 of The Travelling Librarian series. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.
Psst: I also have 2 ebooks on Kindle – and if you’re on Kindle Unlimited, they’re free!
- Read The Gunslinger here.
- Read 23 Letters of Love here.
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