“I will, my lord,” Ankarette said with a small bow.
He gave her a kindly smile, one that showed the depths of his appreciation for her rare and useful talents. “It’s time to begin the negotiations, per your strategy, Ankarette. Are you sure it is safe to go to the bridge?”
Ankarette smiled knowingly and said nothing.
Everyone in the camps on both sides of the river had their eyes fixed on the ruler of Kingfountain as he approached Montreux Bridge on foot with the nobles of his realm, all save his youngest brother, who was brooding in his tent. The small group was trailed by the Deconeus of Ely, who gently swung a smoking thurible, invoking the power and blessing of the Fountain on the proceedings.
Ankarette, her braided hair concealed in a cowl, waited amidst the soldiers near the shore of the river. As the soldiers shuffled forward to get a better view, Ankarette and the six heavily armed Espion with her mingled in their midst. The soldiers were the king’s guardsmen, but they were wearing the arrayment of common soldiers. A phalanx of pikemen formed a wall by the bridge, holding the crowd back.
The poisoner was close enough to hear the sound of boots as they tromped across the wooden slats of the bridge, held in place by stone girders. The bridge was not massive, probably only ten yards across, and—just as Alensson had forewarned her—two huge timber cages had been formed at either side to provide a physical barrier between the opponents. It was just as Alensson had forewarned. The illusion of safety.
The king wore his royal regalia and the hollow crown, and there was a sword belted to his girth. Beneath his robe, he wore his hauberk. Despite his age and a few bouts of ill health, he was still a formidable swordsman. The other lords looked oblivious to the danger they were facing, and Ankarette noticed the prideful smile on Dunsdworth’s face as he innocently walked toward what would have been his doom.
The deconeus came in behind them, swinging the thurible more gently, and then stood at the end of the gate as it was closed behind them.
There were voices up on the bridge, and Ankarette wished she were close enough to hear them. But she knew Tunmore would give her a full account later. With a gesture from one of the Espion, the phalanx of soldiers parted slightly, letting Ankarette and her men pass. Everyone’s attention was on the nobles assembled on the bridge, the King of Ceredigion and the King of Occitania meeting at last to arrange peace between their fractious lands.
The soldiers pivoted slightly, blocking the view as Ankarette and the Espion passed close to the edge of the river and started down the small embankment. She made a gesture and each of the Espion put a rag against his nose and mouth. She did the same.
They slipped beneath the bridge and moved amidst the reeds of the river. The Espion were equipped with long boots to endure the mud. One of them paused, examining the ground, then looked at her and nodded. Yes, he’d found boot prints in the mud revealing the trap laid for Eredur. A trap that was about to backfire.
The sound of muffled coughing came from the concealed wooden door at the base of the bridge. The men who had come to assassinate Eredur and his nobles were inside the hidden compartment. But Tunmore was standing on the trapdoor. And the poison from his thurible was sinking down into the hidden compartment with the incense smoke.
Ankarette motioned for the Espion to get ready.
The secret door shuddered open and men spilled out, their faces chalky and gray as they clawed at their throats, unable to breathe. Some fell face-first into the mud, twitching violently.
Another man came out, garbed all in black. Ankarette recognized him, looked into his panicked eyes as he struggled to breathe through his constricted throat. This was the black knight who had killed Alensson.
He staggered to his knees in the mud, gazing piteously up at the queen’s poisoner. She gave him a knowing smile and watched him die.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The Heir of La Marche
Ankarette longed to be back in the poisoner’s tower at Kingfountain palace. It was atop a winding stairwell in the highest spire. After hearing the story of the Maid of Donremy, she wanted to stitch a replica of the Maid’s banner, and while her deft fingers worked at needle and thread, she would ponder Alensson’s story and glean from it lessons that would help teach her wisdom. But before she could enjoy that peace, she had to report back to her queen.
The Queen of Ceredigion was a beautiful woman with a past so rich and secretive that few truly knew it. She was an adept practitioner of politics and had long learned that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. As Ankarette walked down the secret Espion tunnels hidden within the bowels of the palace, she thought of how time and chance made kings and queens of the most unlikely of people. The queen was the daughter of the Duke of Deford’s second wife. Some whispered that the queen was Fountain-blessed and had somehow used magic to seduce the king into loving her. It wasn’t true, of course. But not all power belonged to those who were Fountain-blessed.