The burden of choice sec.., p.1
The Burden of Choice (Second Son Chronicles Book 9), page 1
Other Books by Pamela Taylor
Second Son Chronicles
Second Son
My Father, My King
Pestilence
Upon this Throne
Shadows
The Weight of the Crown
Destiny
A Feeling in the Bones
Pamela Taylor
Second Son Chronicles – Volume 9
©2023 by Pamela Taylor
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
The author grants the final approval for this literary material.
First Digital Version
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-68513-223-1
PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING
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For Marlo
“Alfred?” Samuel’s voice jars me out of my trance. How long have I been staring at the words on the paper in my hand?
Now you must choose. Your kingdom or the boy’s. It is time for the debt to be paid.
I’ve been vaguely aware of the guards taking charge of Gunhild . . . of Laurence admonishing them she can put up a nasty fight . . . of Cedric . . . or was it Carew? . . . asking about a scar on the stranger’s face, looking to affirm that it was the Teuton king who sent the message. Of that, there’s no doubt. But, of course, they haven’t yet read his words.
Of all the scenarios Samuel and I postulated about what might happen when Denis came of age . . . all the discussions with Jasper and Evrouin and Carew about how we would respond . . . Even as we learned more and more about the brewing unrest in our neighboring kingdom and contemplated if or how it might affect us . . . or how we might come to the aid of a fellow monarch . . . Never did we imagine anything remotely like what we now face.
Has the Teuton been masterminding events in the Eastern Kingdom all along? Or did his spies simply uncover a situation he could exploit to his advantage? Either way, the anxiety that has nagged at my mind for so many months is now a reality that’s descended heavily onto my shoulders in the space of three short sentences.
I hand Richard the message and gesture for him to pass it around to the others in the room. By the time Coliar has closed the door behind the guards, everyone has read the message, and I retrieve it from Peveril’s outstretched hand as I resume my seat. All of them seem to be waiting for someone else to speak first. “Rather different from what we’d planned for, Jasper,” I address the knight commander.
“Yes, Sire,” he replies then, after a brief pause, adds, “Yes and maybe not so much. The presence of the Teutons does alter what we thought we might face in the east. But I think what it means is adjusting our plans – not starting over completely.”
“Is that possible?” asks Richard, his tone one of incredulity.
“It’s not out of the question, my lord. Thanks to the king’s insistence that I humor his visceral unease with certain modifications to the construction of the eastern garrison, we may be in a better position to respond to this new threat than we would’ve been otherwise. That doesn’t mean we don’t have to alter some things, but—”
“How quickly can you be ready to bring the Council – in fact, all the lords – into the picture?” Richard interrupts Jasper’s temporizing.
“Don’t rush them, Devereux,” says Samuel. “Plans concocted in a hurry can be full of more holes than a butt used for archery practice. Besides, my brother and Thorssen aren’t yet back from their errands.” Something of an understatement of their missions to prevent hostilities breaking out between the Peaks and the Territories by revealing it was Teutons, not Peaksmen, who’d sabotaged Korst’s tin mine. Phillip has the added task of finalizing the contract for Geoffrey’s marriage to the Peaks king’s daughter, Eirwen. This may put paid to Geoffrey’s hope of traveling to the Peaks for the betrothal announcement. On the other hand, that announcement might very well work to our advantage in this new conflict – something to challenge the Teuton’s assumptions.
“We may have to fill them in when they return.” Richard’s comment brings me back to the current discussion.
“I understand,” says Samuel. “But consider this. Whatever Gunnvor and the Teutons are up to, they feel in control of the situation. They’ve positioned their forces – here and across the sea – and can bide their time. The Teuton king will want to watch our reaction before deciding on his next move. And he no doubt has numerous tactical options already worked out with his field commanders.”
“Very well,” Richard acquiesces. “Let me rephrase the question, Sir Jasper. When is the right time for me to call the lords together?”
“Tomorrow afternoon might be best, my lord.”
“Let’s say two days hence. I think we should take de Courcy’s advice to heart.”
“With respect, your lordship, tomorrow might be better. You see, while you and Lord de Courcy have been talking, I’ve come up with an idea. Some might say it’s hare-brained . . .” Smiles all around the room acknowledge my own propensity for such things. “. . . but I think it could be what we need to change the balance of power. And time may be of the essence. I just need to work through it with Sir Evrouin. Sir Samuel too, if I can have a few moments of your time, my lord?”
“Would half an hour from now suit your needs?” Samuel asks.
“It would indeed. Permission to go get things underway, Sire?”
“Of course, Jasper,” I reply. “In truth, I’m looking forward to hearing anything that might help us out of this dilemma.” He bows quickly and hurries out the door. “The other part of the dilemma, gentlemen, is how to get word to Denis. Thanks to Peveril, we know Denis’s situation and his deployments, but he’s undoubtedly expecting us to be poised to come to his aid straightaway.”
“Any chance the Teuton king sent him an equally cryptic message?” asks Carew.
“Quite likely. And all the more reason we need to get word to him about how we intend to handle our own situation and still fulfill our commitment to him.”
“I can return, if that’s what’s needed,” Peveril offers.
“I’ve no doubt you would . . . and I’m grateful for the offer. But it seems to me that would be precisely the sort of move the Teuton would be watching for. Stealth is what we need. The longer we can keep him guessing about what we might be up to, the more we can tempt him into showing his own hand.”
Laurence recognizes my meaning straightaway. “I suspect you’ll also want the messenger to have the skills to help Denis work out how to mesh our plans with his own. And you’ll want someone you trust completely.” I nod in reply. “In that case, if Sir Cedric is willing to maintain his current state – maybe even add a touch of the smell of the sea that most fishermen can never seem to shed – I can get him in. What I can’t promise, in these circumstances, is when or how I can get him out.”
All eyes turn to Cedric, who hasn’t had the opportunity to shed the worn peasant clothing or the scruffy beard and unkempt hair of his scout’s disguise. My raised eyebrows convey the implicit question. “If Carew can spare me, Sire.”
“Are you certain, Cedric?” Carew asks. “You’ll be on your own . . . on a rather uncertain mission.”
“We’ve worked too hard getting that boy safe on his throne to just abandon him now, sir. Permission to join Sir Jasper, Sire? If I’m to know how to help King Denis, I’d best learn everything I can.”
“Learn it well, Cedric,” Laurence chimes in. “Whatever you carry will have to be in your head if we’re to get you in safely.”
“Permission granted, Cedric. And you should be present when Jasper briefs the lords. I trust you’ve no objection, Devereux?”
“Would it matter if I did?” Richard chuckles and Samuel grins.
“Very well, Cedric. Off with you and cram that head of yours full. We’ll talk privately before you leave. And Cedric?”
“Aye, Your Grace?”
“Thank you.” A quick bow is his only reply.
“Perhaps I’d best see to arranging the guards for our prisoner, Sire,” says Carew, “as it seems I’m to be deprived of my deputy for who knows how long.” The smile on his face tells me this isn’t a complaint.
“I know guarding Gunhild is an added burden, Carew, but until we figure out what to do with her, it’s necessary. Get someone strong from among the kitchen maids to search her thoroughly for anything that could be used as a weapon – I don’t want her screaming rape if the guards do it. Just be sure whoever you get is up to the task if she puts up a fight. She should get decent food – and make sure she eats. We don’t need her starving herself.”
“As you wish, Sire.”
Carew’s departure leaves the rest of us alone with the burden of knowing we’re soon to be embroiled in another fight – and that there’s absolutely nothing we can do to prevent it. The best we can hope is to somehow find a way to preserve both kingdoms.
“I’m sending for Lady Mary and Simon,” I announce. Richard nods his assent, but no o ne else offers a comment. “If anyone objects to having a woman in the Council chamber, Richard, then we’ll just meet elsewhere. The library perhaps. Or Jasper’s office. I simply refuse to send the men of the Meriden estate to war without the Meridens having a say in the matter.”
“I have a better idea,” says Richard. “Let me send for them. That will send a stronger message to anyone who thinks to object.” This time it’s Peveril who nods. “She can’t be here for tomorrow’s meeting though.”
“I’m guessing what Jasper has in store for tomorrow,” says Samuel, “will just be the bits that can’t wait. He’ll want to present the bigger plan only after he has all the adjustments completed.”
“In which case, Phillip should be back in time for the full plan,” says Richard. “What about Rainard, Alfred?”
“Hard to say. A couple of days or a week or more, depending on where he found Goron and if he had to travel all the way to see Korst in person.”
“Let’s hope for sooner,” says Richard.
“As for you and Ademar,” I address Peveril directly, “I’ll leave it to the two of you to work out how you want to prepare your lands for what’s to come.”
“I’ll talk with my son this evening, Alfred, but I suspect he’ll be anxious to get home to shut down the quarries properly and move his family into the castle. Besides, I think I may yet have some influence should anyone venture to object to your inclusion of Mary and young Meriden.”
. . . . .
When Gwen and I climb into bed this evening, I tell her everything Peveril reported about the threat to Aleffe province and Denis’s port, as well as what Cedric discovered about the Teutons on our border, before showing her the message. She crumples the paper in her hand, snuggles close, and lays her head on my chest. “I had so hoped we’d finally put fighting in the past.” Her tone is wistful . . . melancholy.
“No more than I, my love.” I take the crumpled paper from her and drop it on my bedside table, to be smoothed out in the morning and placed in safekeeping with the chronicle. If only destroying the page could obliterate the threat! I hold her close. “There’s something you should know. It was Gunhild who brought the message.”
“So perhaps it really was her I saw that day in the market.”
“Perhaps.” I’ll say no more. There’s no reason for anyone else to know Laurence has been using Gunhild as a spy for more than a year now. A spy whose reliability we’ve always treated with some skepticism, never completely certain if she was a double-agent for her brother Gunnvor. And now, we have to wonder if it was the Teuton king stoking the fires in the background all along.
“How could you possibly choose?” Gwen asks softly.
“There is no choice. Both kingdoms must survive. And if the Teuton thinks I would choose otherwise, he’s made a grave error of judgment. The question we have to answer is not which, but how.”
She caresses my hand then brings it to her lips. “I assume you have some ideas for how?” She phrases it as a question.
“Jasper’s been working on plans for months. We’ve known all along we might have to come to Denis’s aid. What he’s been working on most recently was based on the fact that we couldn’t be sure if Gunnvor’s ambition would be aimed at his own king or at us. An upstart Gunnvor we could deal with rather expeditiously. And even if a threat from Gunnvor coincided with the need to support Denis, Jasper had plans to deal with both simultaneously. It’s the presence of Teutons on our border that changes things. But Jasper’s not entirely pessimistic, so we just have to wait and see what he has in mind.”
“Will you include Geoffrey in the Council meetings?”
“I’m still trying to decide. For tomorrow though, no. Samuel told me secrecy is key to what Jasper wants to do, and that’s a burden I don’t feel comfortable imposing on a young man who’s not yet of age, even if he is the heir.”
She laughs softly. “I suspect he’s actually up to it, Alfred. But let’s not throw water just yet on the flames of his impending betrothal.”
“He’ll have to know eventually.”
“So will Edward.”
“So will everyone.”
To a man, the faces around the table are grim. Richard, Peveril and his heir Ademar, Samuel, Papa Ernle on behalf of Rainard, Rupert, Guyat Bauldry, Sir Jasper with Sir Evrouin and Sir Cedric seated just behind him, Laurence, and Montfort. The Bishop’s seat is empty by design.
At midmorning, I’d made my way to the church in search of the wisdom or solace that often comes from quiet time spent alone at the tombs of my father and grandfather – and now, even my mother. Their voices in my head may be fading with the passage of time, but I can still feel their presence in that sacred place – a presence that calms my mind and brings clarity of thought in even the most troubling circumstances.
Somehow, the bishop always seems to find me there just as I’m ready to leave, and thankfully, this morning was no exception and served my second purpose well. I found him waiting at the foot of the stairs from the crypt up to the east transept. “I trust you found the peace you were seeking, my son?” His most frequent greeting on these occasions.
“For myself, perhaps, but sadly, not for the kingdom.”
He allowed me to precede him up the steps. “Why so ominous, Alfred?” he asked.
When we reached the top, I asked him, “Father, will you hear my confession?” He and I long ago reached an accommodation to use the seal of the confessional when extraordinary circumstances require we speak freely but with assurance of absolute secrecy. I first used it to discourage him from attending a war council when we learned of Charles’s planned invasion and couldn’t risk that he might be compelled by ecclesiastical means to reveal our plans to the wrong people. He used it two years ago, when he thought it necessary to ensure that neither of us could be implicated in the papal inquisition launched against me. Now I’ve no choice but to use it again. I know the hold that the Teuton king has over the Pope, but have never revealed the secret. What I don’t know is how widely that might be known within the Church hierarchy. And though I know what threats the Pope has already made to keep the Kingdom East of Rome from intervening on Denis’s behalf, I don’t know what orders he may already have issued to archbishops and bishops to prevent any attempt to thwart the Teuton’s ambitions. So the risk, should our bishop learn anything of our plans, is unimaginable.
Nothing further passed between us until we were seated in the confessional. “Father, forgive me for I have sinned,” I began. “It’s been many months since my last confession.”
“What’s troubling you, Alfred?” came from the other side of the screen. His direct question told me he already understood my purpose.
“It seems my destiny is to rule at a time when threats to the peace arise far more frequently than I’d like.”
“And what new threat do you now face?”
“From the east. I’m sure you recall the challenge from that quarter on the day of my coronation.”
“I do indeed. But it was my impression that was put to rest on that day and has troubled you no further.”
“A belief I shared. And yet it seems the failure of that day has festered in the mind of the brother of the young woman whose child was the claimant – the man who is now head of the family and lord of the estate. We’ve learned he’s recruited other lords in the Eastern Kingdom to his cause and intends to try once again to lay claim to our throne by force.” It felt more than a little unsettling to withhold from him the information about the Teuton’s role since he was so forthcoming with me about how to deflect the papal inquisition. But I must. Everything you’ve said is true, Alfred, I reminded myself. And it has to be enough to make the case for discussing war plans without the bishop’s presence.
“And so you must once again take up arms to defend your kingdom,” came the voice through the screen.
“Something I would avoid if there were any way. But Gunnvor’s armies are already being positioned on our border. And our information tells us he’s hot-headed and fueled by ambition to claim what he believes was wrongfully denied to his family. That leaves me no choice but to call a gathering of the lords and our military leaders to prepare.”
