“I’d be enjoying it more without your claws in my arm, Majesty,” said Lady Sofia, staring straight ahead.
Aramilla only smiled in response. “You’ll calm down soon and feel silly that you reacted so to a few drops.”
Lady Sofia tried to drag her arm away but Aramilla’s fingers tightened on her elbow, hard enough to make her gasp. Lady Sofia struggled for a moment more, but the queen was relentless and she sagged, allowing herself to be drawn along in the royal wake. There was silence for a time and when Aramilla examined Lady Sofia’s face from the corner of her eye, she saw unhappiness but no longer rage. On reflex, she shifted her approach. “I very much like your dress, my dear,” she said, admiring the other woman. “Where was it made?”
“It’s Frankish,” said Lady Sofia dully. “A tailor in Massalia.”
“You must give me his details. Such silk: it appears he can train spiders into willing employment.” That drew an unwilling smile from Lady Sofia, who was capitulating. Aramilla left it there, squeezing her elbow once more. “I think I shall go and speak to my husband.”
The queen broke into a trot, leaving her ladies behind to join the plump King Osbert ahead. He was as preposterously dressed as most of Aramilla’s retinue, wearing a helmet circled by a gilt rim and a vast shaggy bear fur about his shoulders. Each hand gripped the leash of a straining hound and the king was fussing over the hurt they might be causing themselves.
“May I have your arm, my love?” asked Aramilla, drawing level.
The king bowed elaborately. “My queen.” His mighty voice made the air around Aramilla quiver. The dogs were passed to a nearby steward and the queen threaded her arm through her husband’s proffered elbow. She could feel the damp heat as he sweated beneath the fur.
“How wonderful to be away from Lundenceaster,” she said with a sigh, leaning into him as they navigated a tawny puddle.
“Quite so,” said King Osbert, approvingly. “I have rarely felt so light.”
“The city is restless,” Aramilla agreed sympathetically, giving his arm a squeeze. “There are fewer worries here without the courtiers and priests constantly demanding your attention.”
The king flapped a gold-weighted hand. “The Anakim, the Anakim. That’s all I ever hear from them.”
“Maybe the day is approaching when you will not hear those words again. The tidings sound well, from the north.”
King Osbert raised a finger and waggled it before him, twisting his head to give her an indulgent smile. “Not so, my dear lady. I fret about my men north of that dark river, now that they are no longer steered by the experienced hand of dear Earl William. A fine man: may God take him. I am minded to recall them all. The campaigning season is over already. We bloodied their noses and we can retreat with the loot we have claimed and the wrath of God placated. And without wise Earl William there to guide them … I fear for those soldiers.” His melodious voice sounded close to breaking under the pity that loaded it.
“Quite so, Your Majesty,” said Aramilla, nodding. “A seasoned warrior. Which campaigns did he lead? I recall him being at Eoferwic. And in Iberia, of course.”
The king shook his head a little. “Indeed, indeed, but neither was his finest hour.”
“No,” said Aramilla sadly. “I fear both are remembered fondly by the Anakim. At least more so than the campaign currently under way.”
“Well, quite,” said the king. “Look what he achieved in the first battle. But when one leads from the front, one takes great risk upon oneself.”
“So what did he achieve? What did the dispatch from Lord Northwic say?” probed Aramilla.
“Oh, it paid tribute to his bravery. It was most warm on that subject.”
“How did he defeat them?”
The king’s head wobbled from side to side on its neck. “Well, Northwic claimed that Bellamus of Safinim was instrumental in that, and that his plan crippled the Anakim and forced them to retreat. I can scarcely believe that of a commoner, though there is little doubt that he is a capable man.”
Aramilla snorted. “I am thankful Northwic leads our men in the north. Bellamus? A mercenary upstart able to defeat the Anakim? There is little he is good for. He has no business anywhere near a battlefield.”
“Now, now, my queen,” rebuked King Osbert. “Let us not be unkind. I often believe he is cleverer than others recognise.”
Aramilla was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was warm. “You have been truly generous in your support of him,” she said, leaning into her husband again. “I have always admired your ability to see beyond his origins.”
“We must be generous in all things if we are to rule effectively,” said King Osbert sagely.
“And you are generous too, not to recall them. If Bellamus was truly responsible for that first victory, then you could leave him and Northwic in charge,” she said. “Northwic is noble enough to command the army’s loyalty and Bellamus can compensate for his lack of experience against the Anakim.”
“Perhaps, perhaps,” said the king,
