Chapter 29
Relam peeked around the door to the audience hall. Sure enough, they were there. The king, his chatelain, and the commander, all exactly as they had been when Relam passed by nearly an hour ago.
The prince slid around the door and into the audience hall. As before, the lanterns were extinguished, the only light filtering in from the clerestory above. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall, rebounding off the walls and ceiling.
“Father,” Relam said, bowing slightly. “I must speak with commander Eckle for a few moments.”
The king stirred, lifting his gaze from the floor to look at Relam. “Speak,” he commanded, his voice low and quiet.
Relam shifted uncomfortably. He had hoped to separate his opposition, divide and conquer as it were. “I have decided on four men to serve as my personal guard,” he announced, glancing at Eckle.
The commander nodded. “Excellent. Was my list helpful, your highness?”
“Most helpful,” Relam said, smiling thinly. I’ve never had so much fun ripping something to shreds, he thought privately. “I have selected Wil, Johann, Eric, and Galen.”
“They were not on my list,” Eckle said, recoiling.
Oops, Relam thought.
“I went to the guard barracks and interviewed some of the men,” Relam said, shrugging. “These four seemed to be the best qualified, and I have known them for some time. They will serve me well.”
“Take them, then,” Eckle grunted. “They’re of no use to me.”
Relam nodded. “Thank you, commander. I feel much safer already.” He turned to his father. “Is there anything I can help with, father?”
“No,” the king replied, stirring briefly.
“Then I’ll be going,” Relam said, dipping his head slightly.
As he turned towards the exit, Lord Clemon stepped forward nervously.
“Your highness?” he called. “Might I have a word with you, in private?”
“Of course,” Relam replied. “Walk with me.”
Relam’s father made no move to stop the chatelain so Clemon hurried across the audience hall to join the prince, his soft shoes whispering on the floor. Relam waited until Clemon was level with him, then began walking towards the outer door once more.
Once they were out of the audience hall and the door closed, Clemon sighed.
“This can’t go on, your highness,” he whispered fiercely. “I don’t know what ails your father, and I have never seen him like this. He refuses to attend to anything, small matters or large, and sits there all day every day, sometimes through the night.”
“And you’ve stayed with him constantly?”
“As much as I can. I’ve missed a couple nights of sleep this week,” Clemon complained. “I mean, I don’t blame him with your mother’s death and all but-”
“Blame him,” Relam snapped. “He lost a wife, I lost a mother. Am I sitting, staring into space all day and warming a stone seat? No, I am training with Oreius, the sword master, and trying to manage that fool of a commander he appointed!”
“Eckle may be a bit . . .” Clemon trailed off uncertainly as Relam glared at him. “He has shortcomings,” Clemon admitted finally, straightening his stoles.
“Thank you,” Relam muttered. “As though I had not noticed that myself.”
“The point is, your highness, that your father can’t keep doing this forever,” Clemon said. “Something has to change. I would suggest that you take over for him but-”
“Absolutely not,” Relam said flatly. “If I am seen taking over the kingdom people will wonder if my father’s ailment is my doing. Or, worse, if I had a hand in my mother’s death as well. No, now is not the time to be filling in for my father. Appearances are everything, and if I am not careful my innocent attempts to help would be construed as something sinister.”
“But, your highness-”
“How much of the work can you take on?”
“I’ve been taking on almost all of it!” Clemon protested. “But there are things that have to be done by the king himself. Things to be signed, council meetings to be held, court cases to be adjudicated. Then there’s the matter of some troubling reports from the south . . . the Assembly is ignoring them of course, but your father should be doing something about them.”
“What sort of things?”
“Raids,” Clemon replied promptly. “Organized raids, apparently, maybe by - well, never mind by who,” the king’s chatelain amended hastily. “Anyway, so far, I’ve managed to postpone or cancel almost everything with the flimsy excuse of mourning for your mother’s passing but that happened nearly two weeks hence now and sooner or later people will demand access to their king. As they should!” he added with some feeling.
Relam sighed. “I know, Lord Clemon. I know. But what can we do?”
“It seems nothing,” Clemon said sadly, looking back towards the audience hall. “He was such a good man. A good friend. A good king.” The chatelain shook his head. “I know I can be tiresome, but it’s the nature of the job. I have to bother him constantly if I want anything done. But he’s always been patient with me and tolerant and we’ve worked well together to manage the kingdom through good times and bad.”
“And he appreciated your help,” Relam assured Clemon. “Without you holding the details together, we’d be in serious trouble.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Clemon said, mollified. “But we wouldn’t be as well off as we are now, that’s for sure.”
“How much longer can he keep on like this?” Relam asked. “No, wait, don’t answer that. I have a better question. How long can the kingdom afford for him to carry on like this?”
“A few days, maybe,” Clemon said shrugging. “We’ll have chaos among the nobles before too much longer, and the Assembly has never
