Book 2, Chapter 23: High Table Scheming

“Princess Cayce, you met Earl Carlisele this morning.”

As the party went on, I eventually found myself over on the duke’s side of the table, being introduced to his bannermen. “Yes, Lady Brinley’s father. Nice to see you again, Lord Carlisele.”

“This,” the duke placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, “is Earl Hafthon.” A wide man, not a tall man, coming up to the duke’s shoulders, but large and muscled enough to give even Morry pause.

I smiled, waiting. As the princess, damnit, I wasn’t curtsying first!

He rumbled out, slight bow, “Your Highness.”

“My Lord,” I smiled and curtsied.

“And this gentleman is Earl Crygmore.” He was of medium build, medium height, sported a medium beard, auburn to match his mid-length hair. I was thinking, wow, if this is a game, here’s the base male model.

“Your Highness,” he bowed midway.

“My lord,” and the same curtsy. I was ever so glad, in reflection, that Brin’s mother had stopped the duke from dragging me around, introducing everyone. I’d have wrecked knees from all the etiquette.

“Well now, let’s retire to my study.”

“Shouldn’t we invite Earl Yohstone?” said the wide and imposing Hafthon.

“Oh, yes. Cayce, would you mind?”

“Uh, ok.” As I walked over to Maitlan, who was talking with another lady, I could hear Brin’s father say, “You mean to invite that girl to our discussions?” Unfortunately, I’d moved too far away to hear the reply.

“Hey, looks like you’re invited to our after-supper party.”

“Who is ‘our’?”

“Duke Bechalle and his advisors I presume. Come, see for yourself.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He turned to the lady and excused himself, then walked with me back to the duke and companions who, upon seeing us coming, headed for wherever this study was. “And you are invited?”

“I seem to be.”

“We were to have a discussion about retaking Yohstone, I didn’t realize you’d be invited.”

“Well, my men currently make up half the forces at our command.”

“Yes, well, I’d thought you’d given over command to Bechalle.”

I decided to force him to say it to enjoy the uncomfortable atmosphere that would create, “And, why is that?”

“Because . . . because . . . you’re a young girl.”

“No one just gives twenty thousand men away.”

“Well, how much experience have you had in the field?”

I smiled sweetly at him and stuck my arm in his, “Twenty thousand men is nearly seven times more troops than you have. Come along, we don’t want to keep the grown-ups waiting.” We followed through the door at the back, which led to a short hallway. Metal banging, pottery clinking, to the right, probably the kitchen area. To the left, another door, lighter and open, and beyond a spiral staircase leading up.

At the top, the duke took us through a large wooden door, reinforced by metal. I wondered if he had reason to be so protected. Inside was yet another roaring fireplace, the room was warm, several sofa-chairs around a small table. One side faced the dining hall, so we could people watch, if we wanted. A shoulder high wooden railing, ornately carved and thick, cordoned off this room.

“This,” the duke said, holding a crystal glass container of what looked like dark whiskey, “is my private reserve. This particular barrel has been aged for five years.”

I was surprised as I hadn’t seen any examples of distillation here. They didn’t even use the world ‘alcohol.’

He poured the dark liquid into a round, short glass and, when everyone had one, the duke looked only at me, into my eyes, “Let us retake what is ours.” And drank.

I took a sip. It was harsh. Not unlike whiskey, but harsh, with the clear non-ethanol overtones of cheap alcohol. Migraine inducing stuff if you went too far. If this was distilled, they hadn’t isolated the hearts well enough. “Is this distilled?”

“Distilled?” He looked puzzled. “We call this ‘alejack.’ It can only be made in winter. You set the ale barrels outside and remove the ice as it forms.”

“Oh. Wow, well done.” Ice distillation or, more accurately, condensation. Water freezes before alcohols do. Removing the ice concentrates all alcohols, not just ethanol, which is why this had such vile, burning flavors. All brewing produces off-alcohols, such as methanol, isopropyl and more. Stuff you’d rather clean with than imbibe. Heat distillation removes these as alcohols evaporate at different temperatures than water. All you have to do is separate out which alcohol you want – ethanol – and not drink the rest. Use the bad stuff for de-icing! Or sanitizing surfaces.

The aging probably removed the methanol, at least. I hoped. It evaporates at very low temperatures and five years would probably be enough to entirely get rid of it, meaning that the harsh flavors came from isopropyl and fusel alcohols. Oh, well, who wants their eyes to work anyways? “It’s good.” I tried really hard to not grimace. I tried to smile and took another sip to prove it.

Maitlan laughed, the other men joined in, “A little too rough for a girl, eh?”

“Now, now,” Bechalle said, “Princess Cayce is as tough as they come.”

“It is just a little rough. A man’s drink, for sure.” I set my drink on the table, mostly full. What a wonderful excuse to not put that into my body!

They laughed again, more lightly. Reinforcing their position over me on the sex hierarchy, I guess. Well, come tomorrow, I’d have my revenge in their hangovers.

The duke gestured at me, so I sat down and then they all sat. Whoops, I hadn’t realized I was holding up everyone on account of manners. He started the discussion, “We are all agreed that we need to drive the Ketzillians from our lands. The problem as I see it is threefold. One, getting our forces across that bridge. Two, ensuring that the Laemacians don’t take advantage of the situation. And three, the Barclays. We do not know if they are in rebellion and declaring for themselves.”

Hafthon leaned his big shoulders and head forward, “Princess Cayce, the Barclays are largely your problem. My earldom is willing to help you with it, of course, but they are considerably closer to your castle and are, in fact, your bannerman. What solutions do you suggest?”

I tilted my head, blinking and blinking. “Uhm.” Damn, here I sat, finally, at the big boy’s table and I hadn’t worked out my strategy in advance. “I was planning on resting my army for a month and then setting out for Castle Barclay.”

He looked incredulous. “A month?”

“Would two months be better?” I had no idea. I wanted to turn my pikemen into a sarissa force, with training. How much time would that require?

“You’d be marching your troops to Barclay in the middle of autumn. You’d be risking a lot. If that’s your plan, it might be better to overwinter here.”

“Something I was thinking to suggest myself,” added Bechalle. “You see, waiting solves all three problems.”

“Oh?” I was feeling woefully unprepared for this meeting. But how was I to prepare for it? I’d have to work on that.

“Yes. Earl Crygmore, how soon can you muster troops here?”

“At least two weeks to a month, I’d say. Perhaps 20 000 strong.”

“Yes, and the same is true for me,” added Brin’s father, Earl Carlisele.

“In a few weeks, it will be fall. We could likely drive off the Ketzillians then. Probably, such a short window would prevent the Northern Barbarians from descending to our castles and certainly it would dissuade a Barclay attack if that were on their minds.”

Based on their descriptions, I was guessing winters here were harsh. But I was troubled. “You’re suggesting I stay over winter here?”

“Unless you’d like to return to the field, yes.”

“That’s probably not a great idea. What about returning to retake my castle?”

“You’d be putting us all in a precarious position were you to undertake that. If I lent you my troops, the Ketzillians would cross the river and take my castle. The Laemacians might descend and do the same. And there’s no guarantee you’d be able to retake it.”

“So, overwintering is the best option?” asked Maitlan.

“It seems to me it is. Gentlemen? Princess Cayce?”

“I’m considering.”

Earl Crygmore put down his drink and said, “I’ll alert my soldiers to be ready for war at a moment’s notice, but I am for overwintering, too.”

“We could prepare for a late spring campaign,” said Hafthon, sitting across from Crygmore. “Plus, it’ll give the Princess here time to indulge suitors.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s perhaps best if you considered marriage, my lady. You are the only surviving member of the royal family. It’s on you to secure the royal lineage soonest.”

“I didn’t come here to get advice on marriage from you.” I was tempted to pick up that drink, but then I thought of the cleaning fluid it contained and counted to five instead. Overwintering . . . sounded like a terrible idea. I’d have to discuss options with Morry tomorrow.

He continued, “Nevertheless-”

The duke raised his hand, “No need to press the issue. The princess is well aware of her duties.”

“Our next problem is our line of attack. I suggest to you both, Princess Cayce and Earl Yohstone, that we begin by crossing the bridge, heading straight west to retake Castle Yohstone before heading down to your castle at Dernamouth. From there, we can direct our forces back across the river to Castle Barclay, ultimately restoring the Kingdom.”

Imagining the maps I’d studied on the way here, Castle Yohstone was west of here. It made sense from the duke’s perspective to eliminate the enemy positions before heading south to free my castle. To do otherwise would leave his own castle exposed. I was happy enough that he was offering this, for it meant I didn’t have to marry anyone. Unless that was the duke’s endgame. After all, it looked like he had all winter to work on that.

“That seems to make the most sense.” The other men agreed. Of course they would, their own holdings were nearby. They continued talking, about the kinds of divisions they could raise – infantry, cavalry, peltasts and the like – then moved onto discussions of winter holdings.

“Ah, I apologize,” the duke began, “these topics are of little concern to both of you. If you’ll excuse us, Princess Cayce and Earl Yohstone, we can work out these unimportant details ourselves.”

“Alright.” I rose. “I will think on this and give you an answer shortly. Thank you, gentlemen.”

“Princess Cayce,” asked the young earl, rising with me, “allow me to walk you to your apartments.”

“Uh, sure.”

He bowed to the men, “Thank you, lords. Until tomorrow then.”

Maitlan then hurried in front of me to open the door. I walked through as he held it, wondering why he was so awkward. He wasn’t, after all, a teenager. Unless he just looked older, I’d pegged him in his early twenties. But now that I was looking at what passed for facial hair on him, maybe he was younger.

People were still mulling about the supper tables. Not many, but there were some. I went back to stand near my seat and, lucky for me, the serving girl who’d taken care of me was there. “Hey, could you bring me another glass of your special wine? Actually, better bring a jug.”

“You want to sit and talk more?”

“Oh, I was, uhm, bringing it for the walk. To my room. I mean, not going to drink the whole thing myself in one sitting! Well, probably not anyways.”

“Uh, I know this place where . . . it’d be just the two of us.”

“No.”

“I mean, we could talk in private.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“My lady, I’m trying to get to know you better.”

“Talk as we walk, then.” I thanked the serving girl for the wine, she winked at me while giving him a glance, and we walked away. We walked in silence for a bit, along the stone passageways that had carpets hanging off them. Tapestries. They looked like old carpets to me.

“You’re very pretty, Princess Cayce.”

“Oh. Uh. Thank you.”

“And a remarkable girl. Holding your own back there, with the men.”

“You, too.”

“Well, I’m a man. Of course, I could.”

“Are you though? How old are you?”

“Nineteen. And an earl, remember.”

I coughed. There wasn’t enough wine in the world for me to consider a nineteen-year-old boy a suitor. “I see. You’ve had a great responsibility thrust upon your shoulders, then. Becoming the earl and all that.”

“It is difficult, but something I was born to do.”

“How do you feel about staying the winter? You must want to race back and retake your castle at once.”

“I do! The waiting is killing me. But we don’t have enough clout to get us more soldiers. I want to go back, in secret, and see how the villages and hamlets are doing.”

At that, I felt some sympathy for the boy. If he was worried for his peasantry, then he was good in my books. “How are commoners treated here in war? Will the Ketzillians rampage across their lands?”

“Probably depends on whether they want to destroy the earldom or rule it. I just hope they don’t try to organize a resistance and get crushed. What I need is fighting men. If they do that, the Ketzles might kill all the able-bodied men.”

“Ah. So, you’re less worried about the villages as you are about future soldiers?”

“Of course! They’d be the quickest means of refilling the ranks of my army.”

I stopped him, before a staircase that led to the floor I was on, took him by the hand, wine jug in the other, “There’s more to ruling than having your peasantry fight your battles. You should be worried about their families.”

He brushed my hair back with his other hand, “You look stunning in the torchlight.”

I backed up as he stepped forward, letting go of his hand, “Alright, these are mine. My stairs. Up I go!” Holding onto the wine jug carefully, I bolted up the stairs.

He followed. “Hey! Cayce, I haven’t finished walking you to your rooms, yet.”

“Cayce?”

“Princess Cayce, my apologies. Your cousin called you by your first name.”

Nearing the top of the stairs, “Yes, well, his castle and all that.”

“You can call me by my first name.”

“This door. This one’s mine. Thank you, my lord, you did a wonderful job escorting me in safety. I’ll catch you later!”

“Catch me?”

“Sleep well!” I opened up the door, slid through, closing it quickly.

***

Brin had set up our apartments. I was impressed again by the large greeting area, its many sofas and chairs, fireplace, and wide hallway that led to other rooms and our bedroom. There was even a small library. It was like a crazy expensive hotel that you were upgraded to and didn’t know how to use properly. I made a point of it to remember to sit in all the chairs at least once.

“How did your talk with Uncle Albion go?” smiling Brin stood up from near the fireplace, placing a book on the side table. She’d made tea, left it out for us.

“Look, I brought wine! Would you like some?” I poured myself a glass and her, too. “We didn’t talk about marriage, Brin. It was a war meeting. When to go off and fight, which direction and how many men, how soon.”

“Oh, how unusual.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that. It wasn’t a long meeting. I should be grateful they invited me to it, respected my opinion.”

She took her glass, my hand in hers, “He must respect you to invite you to a man’s meeting.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. Earl Yohstone, the older one, was also invited, so it was boy and girl safe. No bad words were uttered! He did pass out perhaps the worst whiskey I’d ever tasted, what’d he call it . . . ?”

“What’s whiskey?”

“Alejack!”

“Oh, that stuff is awful.”

“Yeah, like cleaning fluid.”

“We snuck some once, spit it up straight away. What’s cleaning fluid?”

“Vinegar. Reminds me of vinegar, except it smells better.” We sat down in front of the fireplace. It was still just a bit too warm to keep the fire burning bright and high, but somehow the room required it, and so it was lit, the flames dancing happily between the stones. “He doesn’t want to marry me, Brin.”

“Oh? That doesn’t make sense.”

I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t make sense for you. It makes perfect sense for him. My army isn’t strong enough to stand on its own, the kingdom is about to collapse.” I sunk deeper into my chair. Took a sip. “Others will fill in the power vacuum. Maybe he’s waiting to see how it all resolves?”

“No, he brought you here for a reason. He’s just being coy. It’s a tactic, make you want him, the marriage, more.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Cayce, if he didn’t want to marry you, why spend soldiers to rescue you and your army?”

“Well, I still don’t want to marry him!”

“You don’t have many options.”

“What about Laemacia? Maybe I can raise an army there.”

“What are you talking about, why would they give you an army?”

“Albian and Brundle, they said I was born to a princess from Laemacia.”

“Oh, the concubine. I’m not sure how much weight that holds in their lands. They’d just as soon kill you as treat with you.”

“Treat?”

“Make a treaty. Would you? I mean, if you were the emperor, with a nice, fat army at your disposal, and this tiny, little girl comes to your land saying, ‘Hey, I’m the empress,’ would you share power?”

“No. Good point. But they’re apparently having a civil war about who is the emperor.”

“Oh! That’s good news. For you, I mean. I still think you should marry my uncle. I’ll talk to him on your behalf. Get him to see reason.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Just let me handle it.”

“But you’re so bad at this!”

“What, getting married?”

“No, statecraft. I swear, you need a council of girls on your side. More ladies in waiting! Maybe I need an assistant.”

“I need way more alcohol if you’re going to pressure me into marrying your uncle.”

“Alcohol?”

“Wine. Ale. Mead. Any of those, in large quantities. Brin,” I said, smiling devilishly, leaning toward her, “what about Earl Yohstone? The older boy Maitlan.”

“No! How can you be thinking about him?”

“Well,” I gestured wildly with my left arm, “he’s just soooo handsome! And dreamy. And young, younger than your uncle.”

“I can’t believe you’re seriously considering him, Cayce! He has nothing, no armies-”

“He has 3000 soldiers.”

“That’s as good as nothing!”

“I’m just teasing. He was hitting on me pretty hard back there. It was all I could do to get away.”

“Oh my gods, Cayce, where’d he hit you?”

“What? Oh, no, hahaha, not like that! Flirting, he was flirting.”

“Flirting? You use language in the strangest way. Have you had too much wine again?”

“Not near enough. But this’ll be my last. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”       

“Flirting, huh. Well, from his point of view, he has to get your attention before you attract more suitors.”

“Oh god, that’s another thing. Bechalle suggested I should hold court for more suitors, especially since we’ll be staying over winter here.”

“That’s great news!”

“How so? I don’t see anything great about it.”

“Lots and lots of banquets, visiting nobles. Oh, the attention you will receive! I’m jealous! I wonder if the new Duke Barclay will make an attempt?”

“We talked about this. Certainly not. The boy must hold grudges.”

“Oh Cayce, it won’t be about what he wants, but what the dowager wants. She still sees you as a means to power. It’s simply through marriage now.” Brin snapped her fingers, “She must have known about the Laemacians! It’s the empire she wants.”

“That’s almost enough to make me marry your uncle. The thought of her anywhere near me . . .” I stared off into the fire, watching it wave back and forth.

“If he’s giving you the winter, it’s something you can accomplish.”

“Brin . . . let’s just talk about something else.”

“But you see now, right, that he’s not like everyone says.”

“Yeah, ok, I’ll concede that. He’s been perfectly gentlemanly. Treating me more as an equal than any other man here. Ok, sure, from that light . . . I’ll give you that much.”

“You are absolutely falling in love.”

“Brin!”

“Well, what do you want to talk about then?”

“The first thing I want to know is where you put my armor.”