The Inquisitor Ch. 34

Far above the princess, through countless layers of rock and stone, two sentries on guard at the castle's main entryway abandoned their previous pursuit of leaning on their poleaxes. They put their backs to the two massive spindles flanking the roadway, slowly raising the stout portcullis. From above them, trumpeters on the battlements heralded the arrival of the outlanders.

From over a low rise came the company of men. They passed through and between the throngs that had gathered in the fields below the castle walls, and were met with cheers as they passed. Many of the champions who marched with the outlanders took note of many men throughout the crowds who cheered not, but instead cast surly looks at them. They champions recognized the hardened faces of warriors, and though they spoke not of it between themselves as they passed, each marked it down in his memory.

The great tower clock struck ten bells as the chieftain Tymrilll slowly rode under the portcullis and arched sally port and into the great interior courtyard of the castle. His mount breathed thick fog in cool morning air. From 'round the primary and secondary battlements, the courtiers and citizens and soldiers of the Queen cheered the newcomers.

"Hail Champions!" "20 gold pieces on the red-armored lance!" "Blackshield shall dominate any swordsman!" Cries of jeer and adulation roared all around. Painted ladies of the court hooted and called with hungry lips to their favorites behind batted eyelashes.

At last the entire company had filed into the great courtyard, and stood waving to the crowd from their horses. Some flexed muscles for ladies, some made mad faces at children before breaking into hearty smiles, some held aloft their bright blades.

The crowd roared and cheered. And all at once, the deafening noise fell to a hush. High above them, the great Queen glided out onto her balcony and regarded the gathered crowd and the company of heroes assembled below.

Many of the champions stood dumbfounded, staring up open-mouthed at the vision who had appeared on the high balcony. She was resplendent in a long, flowing white gown. It was cinched tight at the waist, and her breasts filled it in a most appealing way. All thoughout the shimmering garment was woven gold and silver strands, and she positively gleamed in the morning sun. She raised her elegant hand and gave salute to the men assembled.

"Hail, worthy Champions!" said she in a powerful and regal voice. "Our realm is most honoured by your presence. Please, set feet upon our ground, and be welcome."

A new cry of cheer went up from the crowd. The Queen continued on, commanding the rapt attention of everyone.

"Our doors are always open to the Kinsmen of Our King, Comrades in arms! Imprisoners of the great and terrible dragon, we bid you most welcome!"

The roar ascended once again, thundering about the walls of the courtyard and beyond. At last they died down, and the great chieftain spurred his mount forward a few steps, retuning salute to the Queen. "Hail, mighty Queen! We, your Kinsmen are most pleased to return to these lands, and are most honored by your welcome! Twenty and five years have gone past since the last Tournament of the High Moon, and we rejoice with all who are gathered, and will stand with you this very night for the Rite!

The crowed roared again, many of the champions sending up laughing calls and whoops. "And don't forget the Revel, my lord!" cried many of his men! The gathered crowd laughed heartily with them. At last, quiet returned and Tymrilll finished his pleasantries.

"And so, mighty Queen Belladonna, we, your Kinsmen, salute you! Long may you reign in peace and beauty!"

Even the Queen's elegant hands could not quell the great cheer which went up. It's roar was resounded by the multitude assembled 'neath the castle walls. The cacophony of mingled sound ranged out for many, many minutes.

After an age, the Queen restored the peace, softly soothing the crowd back to her attention. At last, she spoke once again.

"We thank Tymrilll, the great Bear Chief, for his hearty words of kindness."

"We have prepared fine ground for the Games. Come, please be welcomed. Our stable hands will see to your mounts, our cooks shall see to your bellies, and a great many of my ladies in waiting and the ladies of court will be very glad to make your acquaintances later tonight at the Revel. At the tolling of twelve bells, the Games begin!"

- - -

The Queen was true to her word. As she smoothly glided out of view aloft, stablehands took the outlander's mounts and led them away. Fresh hay was brought, and coats were brushed. They braided colorful bands of fine cloth into their manes and craftsmen saw to their shoes and saddles.

The men were immediately set upon by well-wishers and glad-handers. Hearty claps on the back and mighty guffaws of laughter and good cheer greeted them. Flagons of mead, fresh fruits, wines, soft cheeses and breads, all were happily brought forth. Jokes and stories and news of the outside world was exchanged with good humor.

Many of the men took but little to eat, preferring to complete without full bellies. But some of the beefy warriors took mead and wine and meat and bread, and ate heartily. Any who wished were led through the grounds, and pages and squires expounded on this and that, their tales growing taller than themselves.

Armourers took charge of the company's weapons and mail, sharpening arrows, affixing dullards to lances to avoid accidental skewerings. Swords were brightened, armour cleaned and polished until they gleamed like stars. Leather boots and girdings were mended, tunics sewn and patched with fine cloth. Each and all craftsmen to their duty, ordered to extend the utmost courtesy and hospitality to the Kinsmen of the King.

A fair number of the company were seen to by various citizens of the realm. Their red and painted lips greeted the men, and their arms and bodies enfolded them. As Tymrilll and a number of his lieutenants passed by a small alcove, he caught sight of one of his warriors, his member buried deep inside a dark-haired maiden. Tymrilll merely shook his head and walked on, smiling as he left his man to ram her again and again until she plucked him from inside her, moving quick and hungry to catch his spurting seed in her waiting mouth.

Tymrilll and his captains were shown through various rooms and chambers. They were shown exquisite tapestries, weavings, high art and sculpture. All the wealth and power of the realm was turned out and polished for the outlander's visit and the coming festivities of the High Moon.

As they passed an enormous carving of a seductive nymph fashioned from smooth white marble, a man and another walked quickly past. He bumped shoulders with Tymrilll, hard enough for the chieftain to rest his hand upon the pommel of his sword. Tymrilll turned, meaning to playfully chastise the man for his rudeness, and was surprised to look upon the Prince.

"Ah, prince Tar Quinne... I must not have seen you there. Forgive me." Said Tymrilll, bowing a low half bow."

Tarquinne turned as well, and as he saw who he'd insulted, his sharp face immediately softened.

"Oh, Lord Tymrilll... the mistake was mine. Please forgive my hurry, I was completely absorbed in matters of state... was not looking where my steps were taking me." He returned the chieftain's bow, and the insult was forgotten.

"May I present our Royal Judge and Lord High Executioner." said Tarquinne, gesturing to the man who walked with him. The man was tall and strong, bedecked in long robes of black and crimson, and his head was hooded.

Tymrilll bowed very low, extending the proper courtesy for a personage of power and high rank. As he straightened, he began with the formal pleasantries of greeting.

"Hail, worthy Judge. Yours is an honorable esta..." Tymrilll stopped short, his eyes meeting those of the stranger behind their golden mask. His mouth hung open and he seemed at a momentary loss for words. He quickly recovered his wits and completed the greeting in proper fashion.

The Inquisitor returned the deep bow. "And to you, most noble Chieftain. May your days be long and your manhood even longer."

The prince's head quickly snapped round to regard the Inquisitor with incredulity. He was most surprised by the off-color and familiar remark made by the Royal Judge. In all the time Tarquinne had known him, he had never once heard him make even the smallest joke or pun. He was shocked for him to speak so roughly with a noble visitor, but to his credit he said nothing, choosing instead to look confused.

Even more surprising was the great guffaw of hearty laughter from the outlanders and their chief. They laughed and boasted and jeered as to who among them most fit the witty response. Even the Inquisitor's usually blank face bore a wide smile 'neath his golden half-mask.

Seeing the prince's confusion, Tymrilll explained the less formal greeting of soldiers past, and the prince seemed to accept this answer, supposing perhaps they had served together in some campaign long ago. Perhaps that was the reason for the Inquisitor's mask, perhaps his face had been horribly maimed. Tarquinne hurriedly said his goodbyes. As the prince and the Inquisitor walked away, Tymrilll caught a backward glance from the robes man. Though no words were spoken, the great Chieftain understood.

- - -

Far below them, the princess had at last discovered what she sought. She replaced the books and scrolls and hastened from the Library Within the Dragon-Hold. She pushed against the great door with all of her weight, until at last it locked again with a deep resonating click.

She hurried up the winding stair, up from the depths below the castle. She snuffed the torches as she ascended, leaving the passage behind her dark as night.

She was terribly winded when she at last reached the lading at the top. She stood still for a good while, letting her breathing return to normal and listening for anyone who might be waiting inside her chambers.

After long minutes of silence, she decided to take a peek inside. All was still within her chambers, and she felt certain she was alone. She quickly entered, locking the door behind her and heading straight for the bathing chamber, where she returned the old key to its hiding spot.

As she passed the looking glass, her reflection made her stop short. She was a mess, hem of her dress ratty and soiled, a bodice lacing frayed, hair wild and dark. Eleven bells struck from the great tower clock, and the princess breathed a great sigh of relief, and began to draw a bath.

As the hot water began to fill the basin, she thought again of her lost maid, Chrysanthemum, and hot tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head and blinked them away, but as she bathed, they fell like rain.

Her poor dear love, lost! Gone forever from this world, taken by the hands of her own blood. Her love, her Chrysanthemum, a maiden who had once been Queen, devoured by the evil within her sister. The princess cried bitter tears for the maid. As the steam rose from the water's surface, the will and resolve of the princess doubled and redoubled.

This very night, Chrysanthemum, the King, and her father would be at last be avenged!