The sound of marching footsteps interrupted them. A group of soldiers swung through the doors and approached, stealing his attention. The odor of horse and dust violated the fragrance of the garden with their entry. Their faces expressed weariness and concern, as if they had traveled a long distance to find him. A wind of urgency preceded them, and Tobias turned sharply to meet them.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice rougher than he had meant it to be. Diantha took his hand. She wore a kind smile but winced once and held her belly. When he drew in an anxious breath and looked at her, she merely shook her head and smiled again. It wasn’t time, not yet.
“Why the interruption?” he asked the soldiers.
“Vasil, a moment of your time? There are people at the northeastern gate asking for entry.”
“People? Who? Where are they from? Why come all the way here to tell me? Why didn’t you just give them entry?”
“They are refugees from Casdamia.”
“Refugees?”
Diantha placed her hand on his arm and whispered in his ear. “I’ll be in our chamber. Take care of this.”
He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want her out of his sight. She had had trouble delivering the twins, and though no one expected this to be a multiple birth, he needed to be with her for support. The soldiers bowed, and she nodded to them before she took her exit.
“The emperor Bahldi has been assassinated,” the lead soldier told him as soon as the door closed.
“Bahldi assassinated?” He gasped. The legendary Bahldi, emperor of the richest empire in the world, had ruled with an iron fist for more years than Tobias had been king of Potamia. Their nations wavered between peace and war for centuries. Always alert to the Casdamian’s imperialism, neither Tobias nor his father trusted the man.
“There’s been an insurrection in the empire. These immigrants who have come begging for entry haven’t given us any details, but we have suspicions that they might have been involved. We need your word on the matter.”
“How many people?”
“Our guess is a couple of hundred. There are women and children, Vasil. They claim that they cannot return to their homes.”
“Where else would they go if not here?” Tobias asked.
The soldier shook his head. “They answer very few questions. When we refused them entry, they demanded to speak to you.”
“Are they armed? Are there soldiers with them?”
“There are no soldiers that we know of, but we’ve seen Casdamian military weapons on some individuals.”
Two hundred refugees at his gate and his wife was home giving birth! Were these people immigrating at any other time, their passage would be a simple matter, but with an assassination and an insurrection in a neighboring empire, especially one so powerful as Casdamia, allowing amnesty could cause a war.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Blakely from Fairmont, Vasil.”
“Blakely, I’ll ride with you,” he said, hesitantly, flagging another valet. “Tell my wife I will be with her as soon as I return.”
He rode alongside the soldiers and the flag bearer, the red and gold banner of Potamia beating with the wind as their horses rumbled over the dirt road at a steady canter. With torn thoughts between the foreigners at the border and his wife’s condition, Tobias weighed the possibilities.
My commitment is to the kingdom but how can I allow my family to suffer? If Diantha has trouble giving birth and I’m not there—. I cannot even imagine not being there!
He regarded the men he rode with, their set jaws, the sweat and dust collecting on their tired bodies, yet they rode with resolve. They have families and still they are loyal servants. As their king, I should be more dedicated than they.
Sylvia would call the midwives from Prasa Potama, and all would be well. He shouldn’t worry so. He’d come home to a baby boy.
The gate lay at the edge of the plains before the eastern hillside of Prasa Potama’s boundary—a wall that tapered into limestone cliffs and jagged ridges impassible by any other way. A long day’s ride from the castle, the road itself was rough with fissures and gullies, hard on horses and carts even at the crest of the buttes. Steep switchbacks hindered their descent, making travel slow.
Twilight fell on them much sooner than Tobias would have liked, and as he rode with his men through the gorge, he thought of his wife, and whispered prayers to his gods that they would watch over her.
Torches had already been lit by the time they reached the portcullis. The sentries who guarded the entry greeted him with the customary two-fisted salute on their chest and a slight bow. He slid off his horse and strolled to the portcullis where he surveyed the scene on the other side of the iron bars. The foreigners had erected a campsite, made fires, and went about their business as if they were nomads accustomed to the way of life of a vagabond. They wore Casdamia garb of wool cloaks and knee-high boots, visiting with one another, preparing meals. There were women and children around the campfires—little boys like Barin and girls like Rhea and Olinda who wore soiled linen tunics and leather sandals wrapped around their feet, rope for belts tied at their waists, their hair askew from playing in the dirt, faces unwashed from lack of water. Others wore finer clothing. One woman he noticed wore the garb of a Casdamian noblewoman, a blue silk cloak, dyed from indigotin, a plant rare in Potamia, for his kingdom lacked the damp climate of the more tropical regions in far eastern Casdamia. Only their nobles would be so fortunate to afford such a hue. This woman must be wealthy. He wondered if there were more of her family here.
Covered carts encircled their encampment, and the sound of lyre mixed with the crackling of the fires.
“They seem to be well-prepared for their trip,” Tobias whispered to a soldier. “As if they knew they were going to be fleeing.”
“It appears so.”
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Captain Murphy, Vasil, from Norbury.”
“From Norbury, is it? An officer. Are you educated?”
“In a respect, I attended the academy for a short while.”
“So, you are a critical thinker, I would presume.”
The man smiled. He had dark eyes, a firm jawline, and wore his uniform proudly.
“One must weigh all evidence in order to come up with a reasonable conclusion, sir, if that’s what you mean.”
“It is. So, tell me, you’ve been here all day. What do you make of these people?”
The captain inhaled and hesitated. “I don’t wish to condemn them, Vasil. But considering the distance they’ve traveled, and the healthy condition they all seem to be in, it seems to me they knew they were going to be on the road a long time and they’re thus prepared.”
“My thoughts, exactly,” Tobias agreed. “Do they have a leader?”
“They do. There are three men that speak for the company.”
“Bring them to the gate.”
Murphy bowed and nodded for two soldiers to accompany him into the refugee’s camp. They slipped through the gate, creating a strong military entrance among the people, their armor flashing the red of firelight, their capes tucked behind their sheaths as their hands rested on the hilt of their swords. Tobias watched them walk to a tent lit by lantern light. Three men met them. To Tobias’ surprise, one man wore black Casdamian spaulder besides his heavy wool gambeson. He wore belts across his shoulder and around his waist hung the same weapons Tobias had seen on Casdamian soldiers. After speaking briefly, the men followed Murphy back to the gate.
For safety, Tobias remained behind the iron bars of the portcullis, surprised that the men bowed when they addressed him.
“King Tobias.” The man with the weapons spoke. “What a joy to meet you at last.”
“Who am I speaking with?” Tobias asked, his voice quiet.
“Elwin, nephew of the late emperor,” the man said. When light from Murphy’s torch shone on his face, Tobias saw Elwin was ten years his elder, at least. A curly silver beard decked his chin and hid his mouth, wrinkles clawed at his dark eyes and creviced his brow, but he had a sparkle that spoke of deviance and it worried Tobias.
Nephew, eh?
“And this is my son, and his friend.” Elwin did not give their names, and Tobias didn’t ask. They bowed. Two zealous youth in Tobias’ eyes.
“And why have all these people come to Prasa Potama?”
“We seek refuge. There’s been an insurrection in our homeland, and the empire has fallen into chaos. Our emperor is dead.”
“I’ve been told. How did he die?”
“Murdered. Rebels breached his palace and slew him.”
Tobias raised his chin and studied the men. They were strong, all of them, even the older one—broad chested and well built. “And why are you not fighting for the emperor’s family?”
“We worry for our own families.” Elwin’s son said. “The rebels are tearing the city apart and killing those who claim support of the emperor.”
“And you want me to offer my kingdom as your sanctuary?” Tobias asked. “How do I know you’re not part of the rebellion?”
The man spread open his arms and turned to the campsite behind him. “Look at us! Why would we cause you harm and risk the safety of our families?” He turned back to him, smiling. But to Tobias, the smile seemed insincere. If the man were lying, it would not be the first time warriors had hidden behind the innocent. “You have our word. We only seek to live a quiet life within your borders.”
“And where would you go if I refuse?”
Elwin’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at his son and their companion as if the notion had never crossed his mind. He bowed again to Tobias.
“Surely a great king like yourself wouldn’t turn a humble company of refugees away. We would be worthy of your kingdom, Vasil. All of us are tradespeople, workers. We’d be an asset for you.”
Tobias grunted, turned his back on them, and walked away, nodding for Murphy to follow him up the stony trail that led through his own soldier’s camp. Torches burned in among the boulders where the Potamian guard had their own tents pitched. He passed them and walked up the slate pathway until he had a bird’s-eye view of the foreign encampment and sat on a rock overlooking them, hidden in the shadows. Captain Murphy sat next to him.
“I don’t like it,” he told Murphy. “I’m suspicious of them.”
The captain fixed his eyes on the people below.
“You’ll be casting them away?” the soldier asked.
Tobias shrugged and shifted his weight.
“I think they are hiding something. I sense they are lying to us.” Tobias said. “That Elwin is Bahldi’s nephew alarms me. That he wears Casdamian black and has military weapons means he fought alongside the slain emperor.”
“My thoughts as well,” the captain agreed.
“With the power of the Casdamian’s military force, the emperor’s murderers couldn’t have been a band of rebels attacking from the outside. No. Bahldi’s army would have stopped them before they reached the gates of his castle, and they would have immediately executed the leaders. Who would be the most likely to have a successful coup with such a military force?”
“Someone inside the castle,” Captain Murphy answered.
“Exactly. The assassination had to have been a coup organized by someone within his gates. Assassins who would have made plans to vacate their families before committing the crime—and they would run farther. They would cross the mountain ranges and attempt to assimilate into Potamian’s kingdom. So, tell me. Do we stand a chance if the Casdamian army attacks?”
“Judging from his father’s past conquests, it’s highly unlikely. Moshere would destroy our kingdom. His forces are great and powerful, more so than ours, and some say there is even a thaumaturge that haunts the empire and gives the Casdamian army magic to wield.”
Tobias contemplated on the captain’s words for a long while, watching the camp, studying their carts and the people moving about. There were women and children, yes, but there were also able-bodied men, men who walked proud and straight-backed like soldiers even though they weren’t wearing armor. He scratched his beard as he pondered aloud.
“If I am right, and they are part of the insurrection or worse, if they are the assassins, I would breach a treaty to allow them entry. We walk a fine line with our neighbors to the east already. As a king, I have no choice but to keep my word. I am committed to my people. Let Elwin take responsibility for his own. They cannot enter. I’m sorry for the innocent ones.” Tobias had no time to reconsider. He needed to be home, and he wished the vagabonds had not troubled him with this. He stood and whistled loudly to the soldiers at camp.
“Send them on their way in the morning. There is nothing here for them! Tell them to go back to Casdamia, to defend their lands and their homes.”
With that, he waved to Blakely and the other men who had escorted him to these wildlands.
“Saddle my horse. I will leave tonight.”
To be continued.