“Then it is time.” I looked up to find Renato staring at the last missive and the black wax seal.
“It appears so.” Tucking the High King’s last wishes beneath my cloak in the pocket of my overshirt, I turned my attention to Mesitas’ letter.
After two long paragraphs of the usual diplomatic wording, he finally got to the point. The High King was dying and would pass at any moment. He urged me to make great haste to the capital as soon as possible, for if I should miss the High King’s death, he would be forced to take on the role of proclaiming the next High King.
The second letter from the six lower kings declared their intention to follow the Mesitas’ leadership until my arrival. They also requested that I notify someone who would be the next High King, so that they could begin preparations for taking the high throne.
I was still mulling over all of this and trying to understand what it could mean when my eyes fell upon the date at the top of the kings’ letter, Hornatat III. It was Hornatat XX, three days to the high holy day of the goddess on the XXIII when the High King, ailing or not, observed the rituals in the temple of the goddess. If High King Honorus rose from his death bed to fulfill his duties, he would surely return to it dead or on the brink of death. I had three days to reach the capital.
“Renato, inform Giles I leave immediately. Tell him to pack lightly for only two days of travel and then follow with everything else.”
“You are leaving?”
“I am returning with the envoy. The High King is dying and the Mesitas is attempting to strip me of my duties at his death bed by informing me too late.”
“In that case, are you sure it is safe to travel with the envoy?”
I lifted my face to find him watching me with worried brown eyes. I smiled. “If you are concerned for my safety, you may accompany me. I would welcome your company.”
“I would be honored, master.” An eager light shone in his eyes.
I could not help the smile. “Then do as I instructed you and then pack for yourself. Pack light for I intend to travel quickly by horseback. You do ride, yes?”
“Practically grew up with a horse between my knees.”
“Good. Now go. After I inform the envoy of my intentions, I shall return to my study to gather a few things. Meet me there.”
With a swift salute, Renato gathered his cloak about him and rushed out into the cold. Left alone to my thoughts, I immediately reached out to my own Master. Almighty. You know the path that has been laid out at my feet and You see the end of every decision. Please grant me wisdom that I might choose Your will. May all this be to Your glory. Amen.
Seeking out Orthius, the messenger, in the kitchen, I found him devouring a warm meal of stew and bread. Upon seeing me, he quickly rose to his feet, almost knocking over the chair in his haste.
“Please be seated,” I entreated him. He shook his head as he attempted to swallow his mouthful. “I only came to tell you not to rush. I shall be accompanying you as well as a friend of mine on your return trip. It will take me a little time to pack; so, enjoy your meal and lay down for a short rest. Someone will come for you when my friend and I are ready.”
“Very well, master,” he replied and bowed, but did not return to his seat until after I had left the room.
After a brief trot across to my study, I shook off my cloak and began the preparations for departing. I was just stacking the last of the letters that needed my immediate attention when Tristan and Horace both burst through the door.
“What is this about you leaving?” Horace demanded.
“You cannot leave without an escort,” Tristan informed me, as he pinned me with his piercing eyes. “The prophecy alone is reason enough to be cautious.”
“If the goddess wants him dead there is nothing he can do to prevent it,” Horace contested, turning to Tristan. “However he cannot be leaving now. It is the middle of the yearly hermitage. The Sept Son has never left the compound during the hermitage in all of our history.”
“Forget the hermitage, Horace, and the goddess has no power here. That prophecy was just a cover. The Mesitas is just using it so he can assassinate Hadrian and then call it the goddess’ will.” Turning back to me, Tristan thumped his fist down on the desk, sending pages flying. “I am telling you, Hadrian, this is a plot to kill you off. How do you know the envoy isn’t an assassin?”
Meeting his worried gaze, I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t Tristan. I told you already, my life is in the Almighty’s hands.” Horace made the sign of the goddess before his forehead and took a step back.
“You know I believe in the Almighty, to an extent, but faith doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use your head, Hadrian. At least take an armed guard.” Tristan leaned forward. “Please, for my sake.”
“I am taking Renato with me. He should be enough. I don’t want to seem arrogant, but I am an adult. I know how to handle myself.”
“But can you watch your back?” Tristan asked.
I met his worried gaze and smiled slightly. “I told you. I am taking Renato to do that.”
Straightening, with a sigh, Tristan frowned. “You always were a stubborn one, boy.”
I grimaced at him. He was twenty years my senior, enough to give him right to call me boy.
Seeing his chance to further his argument, Horace jumped into the fray again. “The Sept Son never leaves the compound during the
