The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Sixty-Six

Breakfast was a somewhat strained affair. The kitchen staff had proven their worth by producing tureens full of fluffy eggs and glazed gammon, in quantities to feed double the party that sat down to eat, but only Lord Vanatis seemed to have an appetite that morning.

Usually a small plate was suitable to suffice him. The tutting of his tailor was enough to ensure that Vanatis never over indulged, but something about this gathering brought about a hunger in him, and he piled his plate high before taking a seat at the head of his table.

The Countess of Tellsbury sat to his right, a place of honour which did not go unnoticed by that over-ripe Wallia who had been pushing half a sausage around his plate for nearly ten minutes.

They'd each been provided with quarters in the southern wing to rest after their journey. Hand organised jugs full of piping hot water be delivered to the rooms, giving Vanatis the chance to give his choice of cravat the due time it deserved.

The Countess had reappeared freshly coiffed and wearing a sweet blue gown which had clearly been made for a woman significantly taller than herself, and to a style which had not been seen in the capital for at least three years. But he supposed that was what counted as fashion out in the countryside.

Her husband looked to be some sort of dogsbody to the provincial knight, and he dressed like it too: a padded jacket, leather breeches and stout boots. The sort of clothes made for running errands and stomping across farmland, not making a pilgrimage to the greatest city in the world. Whoever arranged that marriage clearly had something in mind beyond helping out a couple of moon-eyed lovers.

Vanatis wiped his mouth and laid down his napkin. "Now that we are well fed and rested, perhaps it's time you tell me what this visit is about, Wallia. Not that I'm not enjoying the pleasure of your company," he said, letting his eye slide over the Countess and making her blush.

Wallia cleared his throat, his hand fidgeting with his knife. "As a senior member of the King's Council I thought it my duty to return. None too soon as it happens, the entire city looks to have descended into chaos."

"Is the council to be reconvened then? I do not appear to have received an invitation to attend."

"Well," said Wallia, the knife clanking against his plate. "Well, I had no idea things were so bad before we arrived."

"So it is mere providence that we have to thank for your happy return?"

"I wouldn't say that. I mean..." his blustering came to a stand still. Vanatis smiled. So the country air had done little to help. The man was still a fool.

The knight shifted in his chair. "A country without the King's Council in place can be nought but anarchy. Without the proper authorities in place, they'll be a civil war by the end of the month."

"And which side will you be fighting for, Sir... Hilton, was it?"

Hilton's nostrils flared and his fingers curled, as if itching to reach for his sword. "For the right side, obviously."

"Obviously."

"You are amused, my lord? I see nothing to laugh about. I swear I saw monsters walking the streets."

"Monsters?"

At last, the man had something interesting to say. But much to Vanatis' disappointment, Wallia lifted his hand in a silencing gesture.

"It was horrible," came a small voice from beside him. It was that of the Countess. She turned wide, horror filled eyes towards him. "One of them tried to get in our carriage. It had skin the colour of rotting flesh, and fingernails that curled round like talons." She shuddered, a gesture that made the lace trimming the top of her bodice dance delightfully. She was turning on quite the performance. Vanatis was almost impressed.

He glanced over at her husband, to see what effect his wife's theatrics were having on him, but the young boy was spreading an inch of yellow butter into his bread, smoothing it down with the dedication of a master craftsman.

"I promise you, dear lady, that no harm will come to you from these creatures. You have my word, and my protection."

The Countess took a gasping little breath and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "You cannot imagine how safe that makes me feel."

Vanatis reached forward for his glass, and let the side of his little finger brush against her hand. By accident, of course.

"I am honoured to serve a lady as exalted as yourself."

From the other end of the table, Wallia coughed, spluttering all over his plate. So that was it. Vanatis did a few mental calculations. Calantha was a cousin to the royal family. Not close enough to ever be in serious contention for the throne, but perhaps one young girl was as good as another in these troubled times. So, who was this pretty, but hopeless boy? Vanatis chanced another glance at the husband, who was now biting into his bread, and leaving grooves where his teeth carved through the butter. Blond hair, pale skin, and something of the florrid around his cheeks.

Ah, thought Vanatis as he looked between the boy and Wallia. The man who could not get a son from any of his wives had managed to produce a bastard. And now he wanted to elevate the illegitimate brat to the throne. How touching.

After all Wallia's efforts to separate his daughter from that stable boy of her's, or whatever the hell he had been, he might have tried to promote her to the role of queen-in-waiting. But then, Vanatis supposed, someone had to be left at Hoxleigh to watch the princess. All safe, tucked away on Wallia land, guarded by his spinster daughter.

That was quite the plan. Vanatis wondered who managed to come up with it for Wallia. Perhaps that yokel knight of his was more than a hired sword. Or maybe it was that shrew of a wife that the knight had brought with him. She hadn't said a word yet, and had spent the entire meal sniffing each item on her plate as if her delicate nature couldn't possibly cope with such vulgar city foods.

Gods knew what they ate in the countryside. Raw pig and mud stew probably.

"You are quite right, Wallia," said Vanatis, lifting his voice so that it carried along the vast expanse of table. "The city has been let loose, and the Chancellor has lost control of the Citadel. It is time that the council took hold once more."

"I'm glad you agree. Someone must take charge."

Oh yes, someone really should.

Vanatis picked up his glass and offered it in a silent toast to his fellow council member.

Hand was waiting for him by the foot of the stairs, his dark blue livery contrasting deliciously with all that golden hair of his. The servant bowed and Vanatis struggled not to grab hold of that beautiful man. Such a distraction, but not one Vanatis was willing to give up.

"Any messages from the girl?" he asked.

"Nothing as yet," replied Hand is his efficient, yet curiously honeyed tones.

"I think a visit may be in order."

"I'll see to it."

Vanatis watched as Wallia and his knight strolled across the marble entrance foyer, giving each other big manly pats on the back. That wasn't the attitude of people attempting to place a cousin over the rightful heir on the throne. Vanatis frowned. If he had a princess living in his county, and a son of marriageable age, he would not have planned such a convoluted plot. It would be the princess, and not her companion, who would have been supping at his dining table that morning.

"Immediately, if you please. I fear things are going to be moving much faster than I had anticipated."

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AUTHOR NOTE: Vote, comment, and be merry, for next week there'll be a new chapter!