Heart of the Crown

4. Treason!

Four

Treason!

Spring 960 MC

King Leofric of Weldwyn sat upon his throne, staring at the man in front of him. Lord Hartly Babbington, the Baron of Falford stood before him in chains, his face staring at the floor, ready to face the king's justice. The members of the Earls' Council were nearby, waiting to hear the proclamation. Everyone in the room knew there could be but one outcome; death, for the baron's actions had placed the security of the entire kingdom in peril.

The king spoke only two words, "Explain yourself."

"Your Majesty," Lord Babbington pleaded, "I have only acted in the best interests of the Crown. Long have we feared our neighbours to the east. For almost a thousand years we have lived under the threat of attack from Merceria. It was only a matter of time before they once again tried to conquer us."

The king was not a man easily moved. "And so," he said, "you thought you'd accelerate the process and convince them to invade us sooner?"

The baron's face paled, "That was never my intention, Your Majesty. I was assured the uprising had an excellent chance of succeeding. It would have placed a sympathetic king on the throne of our nemesis."

"Tell me, Lord Babbington," the king continued, unswayed by the man's arguments, "what do you know of Lord Garig?"

The baron straightened his back and raised his face to look directly at the king.

"He is a most trustworthy man," he said. "He represents powerful nobles in the realm of Merceria."

"And how, precisely, do you know this?"

Lord Babbington was suddenly at a loss for words.

The king continued, "Did he mention, by name, the nobles who support him, by any chance? Did he indicate how many troops they had raised on their own? Perhaps he gave you an outline of how their military campaign might progress?"

The baron stared dully at the king.

"I thought not," said the king. "It appears, Lord Babbington that you have failed us completely. This Lord Garig came to our court with empty promises. Since that time, I have had people look into him. There is no record of a lord by that name in Merceria, as far as we can tell. You have been lied to, and the result is that your actions have placed the entire kingdom in jeopardy."

"Surely not, Your Majesty. We have the mightiest army-"

"Our army is woefully unprepared to fight off an invasion from the east. The bulk of them have been sent west to stave off incursions by the Twelve Clans. We cannot fight on two borders; we haven't the numbers."

"Then perhaps, Your Majesty, we need a stronger leader!"

The entire room sat in silence, stunned at the words.

King Leofric rose to his feet, stepping toward the condemned man. "If you were unhappy with my leadership, you should have brought it to the attention of the Earls' Council. As it is, you have violated the law. I have no choice but to pass judgement on you." He looked around to see the nods of approval from the assembled nobles. "It is my judgement that you be stripped of your title and condemned to death. The execution will take place within the week." He cast his eyes around the room. "What say you, my lords?"

Almost as one, the nobles agreed. The king waited for the noise to die down. "Very well," he continued, "the earls have spoken. You shall be taken from this place to the dungeons. Your execution shall be carried out in public as soon as arrangements can be made. Take him away!"

The guards came forward, grabbing the prisoner by his arms. The former Baron of Falford was dragged, screaming, from the room.

"Now, my lords," continued the king, as the sounds died in the distance, "we must make plans. We have to decide how we will respond to this emergency. Let us adjourn to more comfortable quarters."

The earls followed the king from the throne room.

Alric had just returned from a ride and was walking past the throne room when the door opened. A guard held the door as his father entered the hallway. "Ah, Alric, go and fetch Alstan and meet me in the reading room."

"Father?"

"We're meeting with the Earls' Council, I want you both there."

"What about Cuthbert?"

“I’ve sent him west with the army. We'll send word to keep him informed. Now hurry along, we've no time to waste."

It didn't take long for Alric to locate his oldest brother; he was sitting outside with his wife, Lady Elswith. Alstan's marriage had been arranged years ago; his wife's father was a powerful earl. The two princes took their leave of the Lady, making their way to the reading room, their father's favourite place to hold meetings. It was a large room, full of bookshelves, boasting a long table, around which sat almost the entire Earls' Council. King Leofric preferred the more relaxed atmosphere of the room to the official council chambers, and the earls tended to agree.

"Ah, Alstan, Alric, come and have a seat," their father invited.

They dutifully took their places, while a servant brought them some wine.

"I have asked my sons here," continued the king, "so that if something should happen to me, the plans may be continued." King Leofric raised his hands to still any objections. "Let me assure you, gentlemen, I am in perfect health, but sometimes decisions must be made by local commanders, and since my sons could command our military forces, it is imperative that they understand what is happening."

Alric scanned the faces of the earls. They seemed calmed by the statement.

"Now, let us continue," the king said. "I've asked the Earl of Faltingham to go over the salient points. If you would, Edwin?"

Lord Weldridge stood, the better to command the earls' attention. "We find ourselves in a prickly situation, gentlemen. Due to the actions of the traitor, we are faced with the prospect of an invasion."

There were nods from the earls; they had all born witness to Lord Babbington's sentence.

"How dire is it?" asked Lord Warford.

"If it had happened last year, we'd be in a relatively good place, but with the recent developments in the west, we've been forced to move the bulk of our army. Our eastern border is now woefully unprepared."

"Can't we recall the army?" asked Lord Mainbridge.

"And leave the western border to the mercy of the Clans?" someone said.

"I'm afraid," continued Lord Weldridge, "that Lord Canning is correct. We cannot move troops off the western border without exposing us to more danger."

Once again, Lord Mainbridge raised a concern, "Is it possible that Merceria has incited the Twelve Clans for this very reason, to strip away our defenses in the east?"

"We cannot eliminate the possibility," continued Lord Weldridge, "though I think it unlikely. Coordinating such a move would prove difficult."

"Yes," agreed Alstan, "we know the Clansmen to the west seldom work with each other, let alone allies that live hundreds of miles away."

"So," continued Lord Mainbridge, "we can't get more troops eastward. What do you propose, that we just offer them the Crown of Weldwyn?"

There were objections all round, and Lord Weldridge let them die down before speaking. "King Leofric has suggested we send a delegate to the court of Merceria and try to reason with them."

Once again objections arose, but the king stood, quieting the room. "I know you think of Merceria as the enemy, and in some ways, they have been. Since the founding of our kingdom, they have been an ever-present threat to our east. Despite our prejudices, they are people, much like us; I have to believe that. I believe they can be reasoned with."

"Your Majesty," objected Lord Canning, "are you suggesting we subjugate ourselves?"

"No, Aelford. I'm suggesting that diplomacy might work where arms have failed in the past. It will, at least, buy us some time. If we stabilize our western border, we can move troops east to mitigate the threat."

"And who shall we send?" asked Lord Mainbridge. "Surely not the Crown Prince?"

"No," interjected Lord Weldridge, "I have volunteered to go."

The room grew quiet as each person thought it through. It would be a dangerous mission, they all knew it. It was just as likely that the King of Merceria would execute an envoy from Weldwyn instead of welcoming him.

"I admire your courage," Lord Mainbridge spoke up, "and we send our prayers that you might be successful."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Lord Weldridge returned. "I shall pray to Malin for guidance."

As the conversation devolved into details, Alric soon lost interest. His uncle was going to Merceria! He wondered what this might portend. Such a mission had never before been attempted; surely they were on the cusp of great events!