The Unfortunate, стр. 39
The mention of her brother caused Marlisa to recall the dreadful battle that had ended the Armanian civil war.
It had been Beadurof’s father who had led the pre-dawn sneak attack against the Highlands army, who had been so merciless, and who had forced Marlisa’s own father to surrender. But despite its horror and ruthlessness, the final conflict of the Lowlands-Highlands War had ensured peace and unification of Armania but at the cost of so many lives. So many men—husbands, fathers, and brothers—never saw their families again.
Marlisa had not been a witness to the battle, but the account that had eventually been described had been more than enough to mimic the actual horrors that had transpired. The battle cries that had preceded the waves of onslaught—the thuds, and clinks, and clanks of shields and weapons impacting—and the moans of approaching death amidst all the chaos.
She had been in her private chambers when the Highland’s army, what was left of it, had returned. Eager to see firsthand, she had rushed to the upper ramparts of the castle and had watched as the men marched closer. They had been reduced to a third, perhaps less, of what had departed five years prior. Their solemn expressions had been enough for Marlisa to understand, but that had not prepared her for the ultimate horror. Midway between the two groups, there had been nearly a score of wagons, all carrying a body. Knowing fallen comrades would not have been randomly chosen but, rather, were the bodies of the army’s superiors, Marlisa’s heartrate had immediately galloped, and with tears welling, she had fallen to her knees. She had already sensed dark news.
✽ ✽ ✽
As the queen concluded her memories, she could hear Deogol recalling the same events.
“I was there. I saw your brother fall, but I swear he died fighting. He was a true warrior.”
Died fighting. A true warrior. The recollections were like what Marlisa had initially been told, but the words were more compassionate coming from Deogol.
“That is more than what the king can profess,” the man accused. “Like your brother Beadurof was also an only son, but your brother was noble enough to fight rather than hide in a tent as his men died.”
“It was the will of Fate,” the queen answered meekly. “Perhaps my father and brother were not supposed to rule over a unified Armania.”
“And perhaps it was not meant for Beadurof either!” Deogol answered, seemingly unconcerned to challenge authority.
Of course Marlisa was not going to condemn or even scold him for it. To an extent she agreed, but she did not allow her emotions to reveal her true thoughts.
“I am sorry,” Deogol apologized with a sigh. “I speak without thought. The king has brought me nothing but hardship is all.”
“For many years you were one of Beadurof’s most respected knights,” Marlisa reminded. “He even promoted you to serve as the head of training activities.”
“A lot of good it did me! For the past five years, I have been forbidden from even approaching the royal residence. I am lucky I still possess a head let alone still reside in the capital.”
Marlisa took Deogol’s hand. “I know, but as I have always stated, what is done cannot be reversed. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding. You were left to take the blame for another’s treasonous actions, but I convinced Beadurof. I caused him to acknowledge the lack of evidence and to regain his senses. All that matters is you are still alive.”
There was a long pause before Deogol nodded. “You are right, as usual.” He pulled her closer and allowed the tranquility to resume.
As they sat in each other’s embrace, Marlisa pondered the situation concerning Drunacht, Yorcia, and all the other minute yet critical factors. If the plan were to succeed, they would need all the support they could afford, and she allowed several additional moments before inquiring, “You would do anything for Banan, yes?”
He smiled and kissed her brow. “You know I would. Why?”
“Times of hardship await, and he will need all the support possible.”
The request for Deogol’s help had not been introduced to explain even the slightest intentions of what had been planned. It had been nothing more than asking for moral support because it was all he, as a commoner, could have offered. It was not that Marlisa had lacked trust. She understood what would occur if the plotting were discovered, and that was not a situation in which she wanted Deogol to be involved. She would never place him in such danger.
✽ ✽ ✽
Until then any individual who had been approached for help had not been told everything, and it had been for good reason. The fewer the better. Despite this belief, however, Marlisa had decided that for one of those individuals, it would be necessary to understand the whole story. Rather than return to Caberton Keep, the queen used the early morning hours to travel to the local, country village where Jenn had been raised and where the handmaiden’s mother, Aurnia, still resided.
It was midmorning by the time she arrived, and with the hood of her cloak pulled far over her brow, Marlisa slinked her way through the bustling streets of the city’s poorest district. Why did I come this way? Why? Because I thought it less risky to be amongst hordes where I could blend rather than the main part of city in which I would have been more exposed. But after having done so, she wished she had chosen differently. She could not even move ten paces without having to push her way past another or having the same done to her, and each time contact was made, the queen could not help but cringe at the thought of the numerous unbathed and possibly pox-ridden passersby.
Marlisa did her best to peer over the mob to determine her location. A few more streets and she would be able to take a