so different?”
Jaymes grunted, dropping his hands. “I don’t know,” he replied. “And I have to be going.” He started toward the door, then stopped and turned back to her. “One more thing. I want you to stay in your chambers until I return,” he said. “There are too many threats abroad for you to venture out safely. You will be safe here and well cared for. Marie has a bed in your anteroom, and I’ve ordered a full platoon of guards to stand by, to make sure that you want for nothing.”
“Want for nothing? I want to walk around the palace-the city!” she retorted angrily, crossing to him. “What kind of threats are out there that can’t be stopped by an escort of your personal guards?”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, his expression maddeningly serene. “I don’t want any chance of exposing you to violence-or the gods know what else. Illness, pestilence-they’re all about the city these summer months.” With a meaningful look downward, he placed a hand on her stomach. His touch made her flinch, but he didn’t seem to notice her reaction.
“Remember, it’s not just your own health at stake,” he cautioned.
With that, he gave her a perfunctory kiss, turned, and marched out the door. The sergeant of the guard did not even glance at her as he closed the door behind Jaymes Markham, Emperor of the Solamnic Nation.
Soon after, Jaymes left the great city with the bulk of the Palanthian Legion: a force of five thousand men, some four hundred of them mounted knights. In the wake of the column rumbled heavy wagons hauling three bombards, the last surviving cannons from the six that had been employed in the Battle of the Foothills more than two years earlier. At that time Jaymes Markham had commanded the four armies that broke the half-giant Ankhar’s invading army and dispersed the fleeing remnants into the wilds of Lemish. The outcome of that war had solidified Markham’s control over all the realms of Solamnia. He had ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity for Solamnia.
The army passed through the city’s Crown Gate, with the rugged Vingaard Mountains and the narrow cleft of the High Clerist’s Pass beckoning on the horizon. It had been more than two years since the soldiers had waged battle, and that was enough time for the wounds to heal and the grim memories to fade. They were men of Palanthas, loyal to their captains, generals, and emperor. They would serve with dedication and courage.
To be sure, the time since the end of the war had not been spent in mere recuperation. Once the Lord Marshal had assumed control of all Solamnic Knighthood forces in the lands of the Old Empire and claimed the mantle of emperor, he had announced his goal was nothing less than the restoration of the ancient regime. While he had maintained the overall structure of his military-the forces were still organized into three armies, augmented by a legion of troops in Palanthas devoted to the emperor’s personal service-he had tinkered with longstanding traditions in armor, weaponry, unit organization, and tactics.
The campaign they embarked on would put his improvements to the test. Most significantly, the regiment which had been the standard infantry formation for more than a millennium was broken into four, or sometimes five, companies of about two hundred men each. The companies allowed the army commander to maneuver his troops with greater precision than ever before. The ratio of light cavalry in each formation had been increased, often at the expense of the heavily armored knights that had traditionally been the backbone of the Solamnic Knighthood. Flexible, light, and fast, they would outmaneuver, rather than overpower, any foe.
The emperor had also encouraged the employment of the Clerist Knights, priests who were trained in magic at the ancient Solamnic centers on Sancrist and would cast their spells in the service of the cause. Under the overall command of Lord Templar, clerists were assigned to each regimental headquarters, and at least one apprentice accompanied every company on the field. By dint of their magic, the holy knights facilitated communications between the army commander and his individual units.
Another fundamental change in the way the knighthood waged war was evidenced in the personal command style of the army leader. No longer was he seen, resplendent in a bright uniform, gilded epaulets gleaming as he rode a strutting, prancing charger. The modern emperor wore a woolen riding cape that was drab compared to the scarlet tunics worn by his footmen. He rode behind the advance companies of light cavalry and was surrounded by a staff of couriers, together with his chief clerist-Lord Templar-and a half dozen of the Freemen.
Such was the force of the Emperor’s determination, and his authority, that the changes had been implemented with very little resistance from the officers and the ranks. For more than a year, his army had trained and studied and experimented. Finally, for the first time, the new style and tactics would be tested on the battlefield.
That was, if the rebellious inhabitants of Vingaard Keep did not immediately recognize the error of their ways.
The people of the city stared as the army marched off to war. Their mood was somber, with a few offering cheers for the troops and many shouting best wishes to individual soldiers-husbands, brothers, and sons-in the ranks. The emperor himself the citizens regarded warily, not so certain of the impending conflict as they had been of his necessary campaigns against the barbaric Ankhar. The troops looked straight ahead and marched in perfect cadence.
The emperor rode a nondescript roan mare with the casual ease of a natural horseman. His personal guard of Freemen, a hundred strong, rode white horses and looked alertly around as they rode close by their leader. Even as the party passed beneath the arch of the city gate, Jaymes could be seen talking and listening to his aides, confirming the order of march in the column, receiving detailed lists from the quartermaster regarding the provisions in the baggage train, and having a word with Lord Templar about the most recent auguries regarding the Vingaard rebels.
As the column, and the command party, headed around the first curve of the encroaching mountains, there were those among the emperor’s men who noted that their commander had not once raised his head to glance back at the city they were leaving behind.
CHAPTER TWO
Lady Selinda Markham looked out the clear, glass window of her lofty chamber, conscious that the glass alone had cost the equivalent of a half year’s pay for one of her nation’s ordinary citizens. Though she had grown up with such luxury, only recently had she taken to considering its relative value. She knew that glass was a precious commodity, rare, valuable, and beautiful.
Yet it was only with great effort that she resisted the impulse to drive her fist through the expensive glass, to shatter the pane into a spray of shards tumbling to the courtyard so far below.
How dare he!
Selinda, like all other Palanthians, knew Jaymes Markham would brook absolutely no challenges to his claim of absolute power. But this-his imprisonment of her! It far exceeded his authority, Selinda believed. Even her father would never have had the audacity to speak to her as her husband had, only hours before.
While she looked through the window, Selinda’s hand drifted to her belly, touching the imperceptible thing that had taken root there, though it was not yet beginning to affect her slender shape. Her tower room offered views in three directions, but she did not so much as glance at the roadway heading into the mountains, the route taken by her husband’s army. Instead, as she stroked her belly, the princess of Palanthas gazed northward, past the city’s teeming docks, to the masts of the crowded harbor, and the sparkling blue waters extending to the limits of her vision on the northern horizon.
She knew her husband and his soldiers too well even to try to persuade the guards at her door to consider relaxing their duties and letting her out for a short while. They would hem and haw and shuffle their feet, but in the end they would obey the emperor. She would not be allowed to leave her chambers.
What a pretty prison I’ve made for myself! she thought, remembering back. She had been long been intrigued by the man, even though he was an outlaw when they had first met. Fascinated, she had paid wary attention to Jaymes as he exonerated himself, then rose by acclamation to the command of all the Solamnic Armies. As lord marshal, he had been surprisingly gracious to her. Then, one time during a visit, he had come to her chambers and they had shared a decanter of wine and talked; that was when she had fallen helplessly in love with him. Almost
