The Bloody Rebellion of Farris Grimholt

The King's Man

'Lord Richard Ravenswood and his wife, Lady Myra Ravenswood,' called the herald as they entered. The great hall was filled with people in all their finery. King Aeron was seated at the high table beside Queen Edith, with the emerald at her throat glowing like an eerie star. Severyn and Aelwyn were seated to one side with their wives beside them. On the other side was High-Reese Farwell and Myrdol of the White Cathedral. Ravenswood, as was customary, came to the fore of the hall and bowed before the king, with Myra curtseying to the royal couple. There were several other people behind him, magisters, wealthy knights and supporters of the royal house of Hallam. On the dais at the head of the hall was a low platform where musicians were playing flutes and fiddles.

Richard's place was set at the head of the first table in the hall, looking towards the royal house. He took his seat, allowing the servants to pour out the wine for him. He held up a hand when his cup was half full. Queen Edith looked down at him and he raised the cup to her. When his father had died he had been given the barony east of the River Holt, which had been in their family for many generations, even as far back as the days of the Mage, it was said. Their family was one of the oldest families in the kingdom, along with the Barks, the Eldas and the Blacksows. The Ravenswoods had been named protectors of the crown for over two centuries and Richard was expected to continue in the hereditary role of kingsguard.

The sky outside was still light as they were brought the first course, cold meats, cheese and freshly baked bread, Richard looked over the serving girls with a weary eye. There were no great beauties amongst them. He had long since grown tired of his wife. They had been wed to one another when he was still a young man, and she in the first flush of youth. At first she had proved adequate company, charming, educated, and reserved. But he had soon grown bored of her occasional flashes of anger and perpetual talk of the Mage and his disciples, whom she held to be the highest of all people in the land. His wife prayed ever night for a child, though it did them little good. It was said that the disease that had swept north eight years before had made barren many of the women of Rhen. Richard's own father had been a pious man, and although Richard was required to say the words and attend the ceremonies, he did not share his father's love of the Mage, or respect for the reese and magisters who professed to know his mind.

A second course of veal, venison and boar, served with roasted vegetables, arrived as the sky outside was blushing pink as a maiden's cheek, darkening to purples and reds that stole across the floor through the tall windows. The band had begun a more placid recital of music. Richard had little understanding of music, judging most songs worth by their brevity. This piece had been composed for the wedding feast of they youngest prince of Hallam. The next three courses arrived in turn, pheasant and partridge, hare and chicken, and every other animal that walked, flew or swam in the kingdom.

Richard looked across the faces at the high table as he ate. Queen Edith wore the haughty, arrogant expression that he particularly detested in women. She had been brought up to rule, the daughter of a petty-lord. There were rumours around the castle that the queen was the true power behind the throne. Richard had heard that in the pleasure-house there were men who desired to be bridled and led around the room in the manner of a horse. The thought of King Aeron in such a position brought a wry smile to his lips. No position for a man to find himself in, he thought. He knew that the king would do nothing without her consent. A foolish and pious man, he loved and respected his wife more than was wise or fitting for a king.

Severyn, the heir to his father was a rash and impetuous youth, who would no doubt be willing to follow his father to war. Aelwyn had always seemed a weak and sickly child to him, who would no doubt be taken by a swift breeze before long. His betrothed, the daughter of Lord Bark, seemed to have more courage about her. But there is little courage in a woman that cannot be beaten out of them. They must be trained, as one trains a dog, by a harsh word, or if that will not suffice a stern hand. If their loyalty is not given freely, it might be won through fear.